#oh my god..... they were both baritones..............

[jonphaedrus]

it's midnight mods asleep post fitzier opera au snippets

“If you must know, I’ve considered it, but I don’t have the right amount of fucks nasty energy.” Francis choked on his own spit. “The right what?” “Fucks nasty!” James laughed. “Haven’t you noticed that all successful Don Giovannis look like they fuck nasty? It’s all about raw animal magnetism, and I haven’t got it.” “I have never in my life had raw animal magnetism.” “Tell that to my libido at fourteen.” “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Francis groaned. “No, I shan’t. Christ, James.”

[tonycries]

WAP!

Synopsis. How was he expected to not lose control the first time he goes in raw?

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, bréeding, mating press, jealousy (Nanami’s side), improper use of Gojo’s technique, true form! Sukuna, dp, praise, creampíe, spítting, really REALLY needy pússydrunk boys, cúmplay, some HEINOUS things, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.6k (whoops)

A/N. Got a bit carried away but oh well hehehe.

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - “A-another?”

Toji Fushiguro never stutters, he never sounds unsure, he never lets that deep baritone voice of his break so pathetically at the end of his sentence. 

Except for now, that is.

With you folded into such a mean mating press, spreading your shaky legs to flash him that heavenly view. As if that wasn’t enough to have Toji’s head spinning already, you give him a hazy, determined nod, “Another.”

Another. Oh, it’s all he can do to hold back a guttural groan when thumbing apart your puffy folds, eyeing the way you were clenching up at him eagerly.

“Another, huh?” Toji echoes, his free hand coming up to slide back that thin layer of plastic on his swollen cock. Slow. Torturously slow. Hissing at the cool air kissing his aching length, “Then-” He glides his leaky tip across your glossy entrance, smirking at the way you arch into it like such a slut. “-this pretty cunt better actually give me another kid, doll.”

And then Toji’s pushing in - slow, ruthless little pistons of his hips that have you scrambling further and further up the mattress. Veins pulsing against your plushy walls in a feverish thump! thump! thump! 

Of course, he wasn’t faring any better. 

“O-oh.” Toji throws his head back, brows scrunching at the feeling of your sweet sweet cunt. “So this is- fuck- what ya feel like, hm? Hold on- wait- wanna test something-” 

“Ngh! Oh-” you squeal when two thick fingers dip down to toy with your throbbing clit, bucking your hips up in a way that has Toji sinking in deeper. Blinking away the shocked tears behind your lids, “T-Toji– don’t be mean.”

But you doubted he could hear you - fuck, you doubted Toji was even breathing at this point. Because his eyes were widened, jaw dagging open ever-so-slightly to moan, “Fuck- oh my god- ya squeeze me ngh- even tighter without that fucking condom.”

And he’s so fucking awe-struck - and you’re being fucked so dumb - that you don’t even realize it when he’s bottoming out. Still pushing in, trying to squeeze even deeper into your gummy walls. 

“F-fuck can’t believe you’ve been holdin’ out.” he spits, sounding so genuinely bewildered, pulling your hips back messily to meet his. Heavy balls smacking you with each rough, depraved thrust inside. “Ohhh m’never letting ya hold out on me again, doll.”

Your nails leave angry, red marks down, down, down his sculpted back. Glassy eyes begging - pleading for any once of mercy for the monster you’ve brought on. “N-never?”

He gives your ravaged clit a light smack! with the pads of his fingers - both a little punishment and a sneaky little way to feel you clamp down on his thick cock in surprise again. Huffing out a low laugh, “Yeahhh you’re not getting off easy. Never.” And, usually, Toji was so suave, so infuriatingly in control - but right now he’s running his mouth as sloppily as his hips. Panting into your open mouth, “Gonna hafta let me f-feel this cute pussy all the fuckin’ time now. Gonna hafta let me breed her.”

And shit it wasn’t enough. It’ll never be enough. 

In a split second, Toji falls back onto his knees, pulling you upright to splay out so prettily on his lap. The change in position pushing him in deeper and deeper and-

“That’s what I hah- like to see-” One hand squishes your cheeks together and forces you to look down at the way your poor pussy was bulging and struggling around Toji’s cock. So so angry and drenched with all your syrupy sweet juices, glistening all the way down to his twitching balls. “Ya look so much oh- shit- better drooling all over me and not some condom, doll.” Toji’s sharp teeth graze your ear, abs rippling underneath your touch as fucks up into you so animalistically. So ferally. Sharp, long jabs of his hips, just dragging your sloppy pussy all over. “N’ even better when she’s ngh- painted white, right?”

The only response you’re stupidly giving him are a handful of teary whimpers, thighs burning with the wet smack of skin on skin. 

And the way you’re bucking down pathetically to meet his ruthless cadence, but you don’t  even realize that until Toji lets out a strangled groan. “Heh, ya like that?”

“Mhm.” you whine. “L-like it so- much- like feeling you like this- ah-”

He’s pulling you into a messy kiss - if it can even be called that, just a lazy, messy drag of his lips and that scar against your lolling open mouth, “Tha’s my girl. Ya like feeling me raw, hm?” Each word nudges his fat head against your bruised g-spot in a way that has Toji so drunk, so high off you and that pretty cunt. Twiddling a thumb on your sensitive nub. Over and over and over. “Ya like the ohh- fuck- idea of giving me another? Making Megs a big brother?”

“Yes! Fuck yes yes yes I-”

Toji doesn’t hear the rest of your sentence - nor does he really give a shit. Not when your cute cunt is squeezing around him so fucking tight that it was almost hard to ram his cock inside. 

Milking the fucking soul out of him as you cum, a broken little ah! ah! ah! leaves your mouth when with a couple, sloppy thrusts Toji can’t help but paint your pussy a sinful white. Thick, hot ropes of his seed that slosh inside your gummy walls - cumming and cumming so much that he feels it drip out your slit.

Meshing together in a lewd combination at the soaked base of his still-rock hard cock, one that makes Toji keen gruffly. Pooling his seed on the pads of his fingers, he bullies them back into your still-stuffed hole, “So…are we sure it took?”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Right here right now

Everyone knows Nanami Kento as a patient man - a sensible one. The one person at the office they could trust with anything and everything.

Only you knew Nanami Kento as the type of man to just drag you into the break room in the middle of the work day, spitting out a barely-there excuse about “a meeting” to the rest of your confused coworkers. When in reality he was shoving you near the nearest flat surface and bunching your cute skirt up at your hips. 

“Ken- what-” you sputter in a daze, blinking up at the panting man above you. “What happened?”

The only answer you’re getting is the clink-clink-clink of Nanami’s belt unbuckling, stray strands of blond sticking to his furrowed forehead as he takes in your slutty position. 

Scoffing, “Can you at least tell me what-”

Your words die in your throat at the feeling of something so warm and rock-hard making a mess of you down below. And - sure enough - you’re met with the sight of Nanami’s fingers nudging apart your flimsy panties - just enough for his fat head to kiss against your puffy folds. Sending a fresh wave of your slick coating his hand once more. 

“Don’t have a condom.” he speaks to you properly for the first time since coming in here, gruff and strained against your ear. “Guess we’ll hafta make do, darling.”

Fuck, you’ve never gone without a condom with your boyfriend before - but now that you’ve felt the sensation of his deep slit rubbing against your hole, the dip of his veins tracing against your walls, well, shit you think you might just be addicted. 

Nanami isn’t too far behind - because he lets out a deep groan. “O-oh. Fuck, remind me to do this more often.” Chest heaving as he pulls out ever-so-slightly, only to run a fist down his length, smearing your syrupy sweet juices in a glossy sheen along his cock. “Who said you can feel this haah- fucking good, my love? This all f’me?”

It’s only with this that you’re realizing that he still hasn’t explained yet. 

Reaching out a hand to pull on Nanami’s favorite yellow tie, you bring his face mere millimeters from yours. Breathing out, “E-explain or m’walking out.” 

You wouldn’t - you knew that. And Nanami did too, but that didn’t stop that greedy part of himself from stilling inside your puffy folds, having you struggling and clenching with the effort to take in his girth. 

“Jus’ wanted to hah- feel you. To really feel you.” he’s nosing up your racing pulse. Strong hands pushing your legs so far apart on the table that it burned. “To actually prove to this cute pussy that she’s mine. S’that s-so wrong?” He’s fucking you like he wants to prove a point - in long, purposeful strokes that roam for your g-spot. Gritting out, “Especially when you’re so warm. So heavenly. N’ some people here can’t take a hint.”

Ah, so that’s what it was all about - that new intern at the office who seemed particularly attached to you lately. Enough so that it had Nanami acting like this - not that you were complaining, obviously. 

No sooner is the realization hitting you that Nanami’s smashing into your sensitive spot. Hard.

A large hand hastily covers your mouth as soon as it sags open. Only growing more and more desperate when Nanami starts up a quick tempo. Hitting it over and over and over- “Shhh shhh, darling.” he groans, fucking you deeper and deeper into the table. “I know it’s good. Ngh- oh my god you feel fucking perfect- But we wouldn’t want ‘em to hear, right? Though-” And then he’s flashing such an uncharacteristically smug smile, gaze just devouring you through his long lashes. “-wouldn’t mind ‘em knowing that you’re mine.”

And it seems like he was torn between forming coherent thoughts and just rambling about how sinfully good you felt. 

“K-Ken-”

But Nanami wasn’t done - far from it, in fact. He was running his mouth, words slurring and stumbling with each jolt of his hips forward. 

“Shh, let me do all the work, darling.” Drawing gentle, purposeful circles on your clit, “Jus’ sit there n’- hngh- let me feel this pussy some more. Let her soak me some more. Been waitin’ for this too long- oh- They’d never know, right?”

It’s all you can do to nod, barely-lucidly, “N-never. Only you, Ken.”

And now, unfortunately for you and your poor cunt, it just seemed like Nanami was pussydrunk off the feeling of your gummy walls milking the fucking soul out of him. No longer just proving a point - no, oh, he was lost in the way you were so soft. So messy - forming a cute pool of slick on the table below, on his heavy balls. 

Eyes rolling to the back of his head, “Fuck him. Fuck them all.” 

You flinch as he catches your lips to spit out heated little profanities into your open mouth, biting and tugging filthily on yours. Almost babbling at this point, “They’ll n-never know how ngh fucking heavenly this cunt feels. How perfect you’re wrapped around me.”

Both the obscene squelches from below and your broken little whimpers were reaching a feverish height, coupled with Nanami’s rumbling groans. And it’s only when you let out a particularly loud whine of “Ken–” that makes him grow even girthier inside you. 

Stretching you out so good, he lets out a warning whisper. Low and dangerous, “Careful.” Sending a wave of goosebumps down your spine - all the way to your ravaged cunt, “I hear he’s got a meeting here soon.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - The cocky one

“Hah, such a cocky smile, gorgeous.” Geto shakes his head down at where you were on all fours for him. Arched like such a slut against his angry tip, throbbing and glistening between your legs. “You sure you’re oh-”

Whatever mean little retort - and that smirk - is wiped clean off of Geto’s pretty lips when you fuck yourself back onto his rock-hard cock. Gritting your teeth at the sheer stretch when your sloppy hole finds his red, leaky tip, determinedly stuttering him down, down, down until your ass was pressed up against those tufts of black at his toned pelvis. 

“W-whoops.” you sigh when your skin smacks against his abs, tone saccharine sweet. “What were you hah- saying, dear?”

Geto lets out a strangled groan, head tipping back, fingers blindly finding your hips to keep them from fidgeting. Fuck, you were so heavenly - so addictive. He could feel himself rubbing up against every ridge and dip of your tight pussy. 

“You little bitch.” he sighs, heavy eyes locked on where the two of you were connected. Your pussy lips bulging so sinfully around him, making him grow even larger. Longer - hitting spots you never knew existed. “Now that’s just ngh- playing unfair.”

Unfair? Oh, you could teach him about ‘unfair’. Unfair was when he’s jutting his hips forward in slow, shallow strokes just to fit inside - no rhythm or rhyme, like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. Unfair was when he strikes your ass with a sharp smack! grinning at the way the flesh jiggles against his palm.

Unfair is when he leans down to murmur thickly, the change in angle having him barrelling deeper inside your snug cunt. “Isn’t it?”

“N-no.” your lower lip wobbles. 

“N-n-no.” Geto grins, “Stuttering too? That’s crazy, what happened to my smug girl from- hah- before- oh fuck-” 

But oh for all how cocky Geto was acting, he was so weak against the way your gummy walls clench down so fucking tight around him - on purpose. Stuttering down to milk him like you wanted to draw out something delicious. Like you couldn’t stand being even a hair’s breadth away. 

“Haaa…” he lets out a broken shudder, two hands wrapping underneath your inner thighs to just drag your sloppy further down, settling deep - so impossibly deep - into your gut. Distantly, some part of him hoped that you left marks - a cute lil’ ass print against his abs for him to admire later. “Fuck- fine. Fine-” 

You whirl your teary eyes over your shoulder - and it was so difficult to look behind you. Because Geto was so unfairly pretty - long, inky hair curtaining his pussydrunk eyes, twirling all the way down to where his delicate blush dusted all over his cheeks, his chest, his rock-hard abs. Involuntarily, you find your sloppy cunt clenching again, rubbing up so deliciously against that prominent vein down the middle of Geto’s length. 

That coaxes out another drawn-out groan from your boyfriend, and a traitorous buck of his hips - his fat head hitting right on your g-spot. “I said fine.” he barks out, teeth bared. “Y-you win. Ngh- you win the bet. Fuuuck you win, just let me- ngh just let me fuck this pretty cunt. Now.”

Ah, right. The bet - that single, mindless little comment earlier today about who’d break first if you two went in raw. 

And, clearly, there was an obvious winner. 

Because Geto isn’t waiting around for your kiss-bitten lips to drop into some taunting remark, hell, he can’t even wait for you to register his words before letting his hips lose control. Ramming into you in quick, jagged thrusts that abuse your hidden sweet spots. 

Over and over and-

“Y’feel so soft, gorgeous.” he purrs into your ear, pushing all his all his body weight in an attempt to hold your slutty cunt still. Setting up such a mean pace, “So warm- ngh n’ m’tired of pretending it isn’t driving me crazy.”

You keen when Geto cranes his fingers to deftly roll over your clit, “S-so much for not breaking first.”

“Awww c’mon now.” Geto’s balls smacking against your ass get louder - harsher. “I already s-said you win. Hah-” God, he’s barely in control of himself with the way he catches your lips in a messy clash of a kiss. Hot tongue nudging apart your plump lips to spit a steady stream of saliva. Once. Twice. Some of it missing and splattering against the corner of your mouth, “N’ you know what m- ngh- buying you as a p-prize?”

Your knees are weakening pathetically now, sliding further and further apart on the silky sheets with each harsh slam of his cock - only to be pulled back up by an impatient Geto. 

“Do you?” he hisses, pistoning his hips so hard now that your knees were hovering midair - held up by a frenzied Geto. Who plows on deliriously, “Gonna buy ya- nghh fuck- the pill. So many- cuz you’re gonna fuckin’ need it-”

And need it you did. 

Because it only takes a few more seconds of this maddening song and dance before Geto’s cumming and cumming so hard it was like he couldn’t - wouldn’t want to - stop.

Pumping thick, hot rope after rope of his seed until your high was crashing into his. Until his cock was so raw and twitching sensitively. Until his balls were squeezing so painfully, tears stinging behind his eyelids with each ram into your fluttering pussy. 

“Best out of three?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Overheat

Oh this was a dream - or heaven. Maybe both. Because here was Choso sprawled out so prettily on his damp navy sheets, dark hair untied, half-lidded eyes gazing up at a sly angel - you - straddling his toned hips.  

Pussy lips swollen and drooling down where you were positioning his fat, leaky head right at where just a simple nudge of Choso’s squirming hips would have you split apart on his swollen cock - raw. 

“Cho~” your heady voice breaks through his stunned reverie, “You alright, baby?”

“Y-yes.” his words catch in his heaving chest. And Choso’s so embarrassed - still so stuck on the heavenly view below - that he’s barely even registering the hand of his that makes its way down to rest on your steady waist. “Just that-”

And then Choso’s giving an impatient tug on the fat of your hips, inching you so agonizingly close to his needy, red tip. So close he could practically feel you already - he could imagine how soft and warm you were bound to be.

You huff out a low chuckle, “Awww poor baby.” Grinning at the way your boyfriend takes one of tits into his mouth to muffle his embarrassed whine. He alternates between sucking and rolling his tongue over your sensitive nipples, “Is this what you- hah- want?”

And the way you sandwich his thick cock between your slit has Choso’s ministrations on your nipple stuttering. Whispering out a muffled little, “Y-yeah…”

“Louder.”

“...”

Tutting, “Or, I could just get a condom since you’re so shy-”

“No!” Choso rasps out wetly, and the sudden outburst seems to startle you both. But especially Choso who only blabbers, pussydrunk and slurring already, “No no no no no- need this-” He claws at your hips, edging you closer and closer to sit on his soaked, twitching cock. Bucking his hips up wildly, the slick coating your dripping cunt making him slide messily across your folds once. Twice. “Need you so bad- wan’ feel you wanna feel this pretty pussy- ngh- please. Fuck!”

Both of you let out a synchronous moan when he finally manages to sink his fat head inside your sloppy entrance. So thick, stretching you open so well despite not even being halfway in.

“F-fuck.” Choso’s hazy eyes widen, and he immediately flattens his feet on the bed before pulling back. Only for his poor, oversensitive balls to squeeze so painfully- before covering your dripping cunt in rope after rope of his seed. Your pussy too heavenly, his sanity too gone. “Sh-shit m’sorry m’sorry- ngh.”

Your eyes widen, “Ch-Cho did you-” 

But he doesn’t let you finish - was probably too embarrassed to before stuffing your gaping, needy hole with his thick cock again. And again. And again and again trying to relieve that first time. “Oh, is this okay? Is this r-really okay?”

You don’t even know what he’s asking about - not when Choso’s sliding you deeper and deeper down his cock. Sculpted body bowing into yours when he starts bouncing you up and down like his favorite sextoy - reveling in the lewd squelches below and those pretty moans leaving your lips. 

“S’your fault, y’know?” he pants, ragged. Hips fucking up uncontrollably, drunk off the feeling. “Y-your ohhh fuck- your pussy feels too good, baby. N’ she’s s-so soft. So warm with my cum.”

And it was so sloppy, your boyfriend was never one to shy away from making a mess out of you both but this. Oh, you were losing your fucking mind with his harsh pace, letting that lewd combination of his cum and your slick glisten all over his abs, your thighs, your filthy cunt. All the way down to where his heavy balls were sure to leave marks for tomorrow - right alongside his pelvis against your thighs, fingers on your hips. 

“Y-you’re so-” you lean over to dig your nails into Choso’s pecs, and he takes the opportunity to bite and tease your poor nipples once more. “-filthy, Cho.”

He swallows, and fuck you don’t think he’s ever looked prettier. Adam’s apple bobbing, cheeks flushed, eyes narrowed and miles away. “It’s this hah- p-pretty pussy, baby. R-raw? Seriously? She’s driving me insane.”

At that last, broken word of his sentence, Choso throws his head back as if merely remembering that there was no little plastic separating his throbbing cock from your gummy cunt was enough to make him go crazy. 

Hips pistoning up faster, molding your cunt to his shape. Bruising your g-spot with each thrust - and your cervix, too, just as a little stray reminder that you’re his from the inside out. Gasping out, “Just look at her.”

When you snap your head down, he’s already spreading apart your puffy folds with two fingers, giving you the perfect view of that creamy sheen, Choso’s reckless, maddening hips, the way your cunt was bulging and soaking his painfully hard cock. 

Only getting sloppier. Harder. Drunk with each thrust. 

“She’s so pretty.” he grits out, “So heavenly. Might just b-be my new hah- obsession.” Just babbling nonsense in strained, jagged words that come out after each brush of his fat tip against your g-spot. So hard that you were stumbling precariously on top of his wild hips. “Yeah- new obsession. My heavenly obsession” he eyes down your quivering thighs, those breathy moans that told him you were close.“N’ I wonder how much more heavenly you’d be if I cum inside?”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Take both, dammit.

“B-both?”

The only response you get are Sukuna’s fingers tightening around your throat, sharp nails dragging dangerously over your racing pulse. Pulling your dazed face closed to gift you with a low, cocky hum, “Both.”

And then you can’t breathe - not because of the large hand taking its place around your neck, no, but because Sukuna was suddenly nudging his weeping, fat tips against your sloppy entrance. Lips curling up into a devilish grin at how you were quivering in- fear? Anticipation? 

Either way it had you keening tearily, “Kuna it won’t- fit!”

“Hmm,” Sukuna purses his lips in mock-thought, free hand dipping down to roll his index against your clit. “Let’s ask her why don’t we?” Any and every noise of surprise you manage to yelp out are overshadowed by the most obscene squelches you’ve ever heard in your life. Like Sukuna was well and fully intent on proving his point by circling his thumb around your sloppy hole until you gave up. And he was. “She says she’s just dying to take it. What’s your excuse, brat?”

Truly, it was the first time you’ve tried taking both your boyfriend’s massive cocks - and just one of them required specially made condoms and such extensive teasing and toying to stretch you out enough. 

So one thing was sure - you weren’t making it out alive. 

You’re startled out of your reverie by a dark chuckle from above - shit, did you say that out loud? “Well, only one way to find out.”

It’s all that’s said before he’s pushing in - both at once. Fat heads bumping into each other as Sukuna grinds against your snug pussy in shallow, short rolls of his hips. 

“Tch.” he clicks his tongue when your feeble ring of resistance struggles to take him. A warm hand of his comes down to soothe over your head slowly, gently - uncharacteristically so. Whispering, “Shhhh, shhh breathe. You got this. You can take it- hah- you always do, right?” Hips getting just a bit more forceful. A bit more calculated. “You can-” Before that sweet hand on your hair tightens to push you down, hard. “-take it.”

Oh, you should’ve known - should’ve gotten an inkling that the king of curses always gets what he wants. Always. 

“Oh my god- oh my god, Kuna! S’so deep-”

A startled smile spreads over Sukuna’s face, eyes widening in surprise. “Ohh, shit. Shit, brat.” He angles his head just right to spy down - just to make sure. “If I knew you felt ngh- th-this good, I’d have done it sooner Much, much sooner.”

But fuck for how cocky he was acting right now, Sukuna was in fucking heaven. 

Dipping his head down to hide the blush dusting his cheeks, and that euphoric glint in his eyes, Sukuna starts moving in hurried, methodical little thrusts to squeeze even deeper inside. 

“Hngh- it’s- ah- can feel you rubbing up inside me, Kuna.” you whine into his ears, hips bucking up wildly. 

“Yeah?” he breathes, but it comes out more wobbly than he intended. Biting his lower lip to keep those loud fucking moans slipping out from the feeling of rubbing against himself and your raw gummy walls and himself. “Y-ya like this? What happened to ‘o-oh s’too big, Kuna’?”

You manage to get out a weak, “F-fuck you.” 

“No, brat. I’m fucking you.” Sukuna growls, ramming into you faster. Sloppier. Heavy sets of tight balls stinging your skin, “Both of me.”

God, the stretch was so much, like he was pushing into your lungs. And that thundering thump! thump! thump! of matching sets of veins against your dripping cunt was so sinful that you let his little comment slide. Driving you to insanity. 

Instead, your teeth grazes Sukuna’s earlobe to give a soft tug, making him turn his head and look right at your fucked-out face.

His hot breath fans your face, “What, brat? Can’t talk? Or is it that you want-” He catches your ravaged clit between two fingers again, rolling languidly. “-her to talk?”

And God, if it was double the stretch on your too-tight cunt, then Sukuna was determined to make sure it was double the pleasure for you. 

His fingers just so frenzied on your clit, rubbing tight, messy patterns - not even circles anymore because fuck Sukuna was too impatient, too depraved for that right now. Swollen cocks sliding in and out with reckless abandon, getting easier and easier with each glossy sheen of your sweet sweet juices all over them. Massaging all those sensitive spots he’s mapped out so well to hit his end goal - your poor, ravaged g-spot. Hitting it over and over and over and-

“Kuna!” you scramble for the sheets, the headrest, his shoulders - just anything to keep whatever’s left of your sanity. Sobbing out, “I-I’m close- ngh ah! I’m so close.”

“Close, hah?” you hear from above you, the last thing before the smacking of skin-on-skin becomes almost deafening. Coupled with Sukuna’s strained groans, now unable to hold them back with each time he’s kissing your cervix - your g-spot. “Then cum. Cum all over my cocks, brat.”

Hips stuttering as they get harsher with purpose. Violent, even - having to rest a hand on top of your head to keep your body from being jolted too far up the bed.

So it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same. You’re screaming out Sukuna’s name, body bowing into his vice-like grip. Dripping cunt trying desperately to milk him so tight.

It was too much. 

Your poor pussy was overfilled to the brim with each and every spurt of Sukuna’s hot cum, thick, white globs that dribble down your thighs. Filling you up so much you think you could explode and- “Aww look at you.” Sukuna coos, thumbing apart your pussy lips to watch her soak in his never ending cum. “Wonder if she can take another load?”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Experiment…

The great Gojo Satoru is many things - powerful, complex, a pain-in-the-ass to most - but being hesitant to experiment is decidedly not one of these things. 

Which is what found you splayed out underneath him, brows furrowed, legs trembling while he drags his weeping tip up and down your puffy folds. Just dipping between your lips, pooling your sweet sweet juices on his head - up and down up and down up and-

“Toru.” your deadpan voice cuts through his fun, hips arching off the bed impatiently. “S’not gonna work.”

Gojo sticks his tongue out with all the maturity he could muster up, “It will, sweetheart, just watch.”

“Will not.”

“Will too.”

“Will-” you cut yourself off in frustration, “You’re just all talk-”

Whatever insult on the tip of your tongue - along with all the air in your lungs - is knocked out by Gojo finally pushing in. Finally stretching out your sloppy hole on his thick mushroom tip, all stuttering and clenching in an effort to accommodate him.

He groans, cheeks flushing because fuck maybe this’ll be harder than he thought. “S’gonna work- if I can concen- ohh fuck don’t squeeze me that way- if I can get limitless to- no more late-night convenience store runs.” 

But oh right now the only thing on Gojo’s mind was that maybe you two were better off with walking the two blocks down to buy condoms - because he could feel his limitless slowly thinning out with each inch he sinks into your snug cunt. Slowly waning - much like his fucking sanity. 

“Toru!” you squeal when it’s like something snaps. That little glow in your boyfriend’s eyes dims as his entire body stiffens, breath hitching in his throat, and his cock- oh his aching, rock-hard cock - so warm and just throbbing so rapidly against your walls in a beat that matches your own. You could feel him all the way in your stomach. “D-did it work?”

Something is whispered into the crook of your neck - and you’re craning your head closer to understand. “What?”

There it is again.

This time, however, you pull Gojo from his safe haven, tugging admonishingly on those soft, white locks. All the while murmuring, “Use your- oh.”

Oh.

Fuck. 

Gojo’s eyes were half-lidded, pupils blown. So utterly wrecked when his aching cock grows even larger inside you, stretching you to your limits. Such a delicate pink blush decorating his cheeks, dusting over those plump, parted lips, ones which wobble and gape open noiselessly a few times before he manages out, “D-didn’t work.”

And fuck then it was like a dam had broken. 

Because Gojo’s previously stalled hips were moving now - grinding forward slowly, deliciously. Only growing girthier - so unfairly so - with each movement. 

Two large hands coming up to paw and knead your ass to keep you still while he begins fucking you into the mattress. 

Letting out whiny, bewildered moans - as if Gojo himself couldn’t believe what was happening - “Didn’t work.” He repeats, like a mantra. “Didn’t work didn’t work didn’t- didn’t work- hah- n’ I don’t regret it one bit.”

“H-hah?” you whimper, “So you’re-”

“Yes.” Gojo interjects, and if you were in any better state of mind you’d have told him off for interrupting you. But oh how could you when he was reeling his hips back, back, back, just kissing your sloppy entrance with his leaky tip - before splitting you apart all over again. “Yes yes yes- oh yes. M’feeling you- all of you. Why the fuck didn’t you t-tell me you were so ngh-” Long fingers graze over your pulsing clit, making him all but scream in pleasure when you clamp down. Hard. “-heavenly!”

Fuck you weren’t making it out alive - and he wasn’t either.

And he sounded so genuinely upset - how were you this warm? This dripping wet all around him? Hell, Gojo thinks he’s soaked all the way down to his heavy balls already.

“Soaked?” your eyes widen when Gojo gives you a shocked laugh - fuck, has he finally lost whatever sanity he had left?

“Mhm.” he nods, a familiar glint of madness in those summer blue eyes. Breathy, pussydrunk little ministration matching his words, “Soaked. Absolutely fucking hah- soaked. Me. Me me me- s’me-” Gojo spits into his open palm, once. Twice. Before smearing the mess down his length, making it easier for him to slide in and out of your needy cunt,  “-not some stupid little piece of plastic. Oh, m’never buying those again-”

He was fucking you so needy. 

Just ramming his cock into you as he pleased, hitting all your most sensitive spots - your cervix, your g-spot, tugging at your clit. Having the bed frame and you making such loud noises every time his thick tip was gliding across your gummy walls, matching with the tempo of his fingers.

“It feel so- good, Toru.” you whine. Hips stuttering forwards, making the most lewd of squelches as you try to meet Gojo’s fast, utterly wild pace. “Fuck fuck fuck- oh.”

“Yeah? My baby likes ngh- taking me in r-raw.” you smile when you catch the way Gojo’s face flushes as his voice cracks on that last word - like he still couldn’t believe it himself. 

Though, he didn’t like that quite as much as you. 

“Huh? Laughing at me? M’gonna ngh- you lil’ minx. M’gonna give you something to laugh about.” Each word punctuated by a mean thrust, and if you were in any better state of mind, you’d have caught the way Gojo’s eyes glowed ever-so-slightly. Tiny pricks of purple lightning dancing across his bare skin, “Because practice makes perfect, right, sweetheart?”

A/N. I’m ngl Gojo’s one was just me wondering how far limitless really went sooo there ya go.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[gamblersdoll]

fwb, relationships, small angst, smut. long fic alert, not proof read, some fluff and some jokey jokes :p worked on this since 11 am.

katsuki bakugou didnt do the whole relationship thing. he felt like it was.. too intimate, too intense for him. a mere distraction for him and his career.

he thinks hes the only one who thinks that, seeing how shitty hair and pinky got together. the way that idiot and the emo chick were always together— fuck, chargebolt made her his whole life, which was fucking ridiculous.

he was more fond of the casual fucking, either going on tinder or hinge or whatever fucking apps there were. his account was booming though, several thousand of messages every five minutes. it annoyed him, shockingly.

“dude, can i get a fuckin’ minute of peace?” he barks out, silencing his phone and pinching his bridge.

“bro, you literally downloaded a dating slash fucking app, and you are the second pro hero.” kirishima reminded him, feet on the coffee table and swigging his soda. “get what you paid for.”

“get your fucking feet off’a my damn table, are you a caveman?”

he hated how kirishima was right, thinking he wouldnt get some kind of attention from an app when he was a hero, an attractive one at that.

so he deleted it, he’ll try going out more than possibly be stalked on a dating app.

he hated how every woman threw themselves at him when they saw him, he doesnt like that much attention. even in highschool, it overwhelms him. every girl in this damned bar was all over him.

well… excepting one. which so happened to be you, you just wanted to be left alone and drink to your hearts content. bakugou can clearly see that, and keeps an eye on your for a bit. later on though? oh he’s gotten loose enough to finally come up to you with ease.

“what’cha drinkin?” he asks, an arm supporting his weight on the bar table.. his cheeks were a slight pink, but he doesnt drink enough to make himself so tipsy or drunk.

“strawberry mimosa?” you chuckle, it literally says it on the can. “you must be blind or drunk to not be able to see that.”

an eyebrow of his quirks up, he’s intrigued. “i ain’t drunk, hon’.” he chuckles, “and do you even know who i am?”

“even if you are the ‘great explosion murder god, dynamight,’ yer off duty.” you snark back, hearing a baritone laugh come from his throat.

“and how would you know that?”

“well, pretty sure they wouldnt let you drink onna’ job.” you retort, turning to him now and crossing your legs. you hear a ‘yeah?’ and you nod.

“you sure, sweetheart?” he asks, taking another sip of his ‘oktober fest’. he sees you nod, and he hums. “how are you so sure?”

“pretty sure its common knowledge, but, common sense aint common no more.” you pull the final last word, dynamight nodding and tilting his drink to yours. you both clink your drinks together, holding the eye contact that he initiated.

the drive home was hell, the way he had struggled to keep his eyes on the road, your foot sliding across his lap and feeling him slowly get solid by the second.. you were a little vixen werent you? and to open the door without dropping you was more smooth than anything.

he practically ripped your clothes off, a nipple becoming his first victim and you arching into his mouth. he chuckled, youre so sensitive, arent you baby?

god, he hasnt had a good pussy in a long time.

his body molded into yours, kissing your neck and then lying you down and dragging his tongue down your supple skin until he got to your ankles, then back up to your nipples.

he never kissed your lips though, yet, he also didnt taste you.

the crack of the morning dawn showed its ass bright and early, your frame still within the bed and he was on the other side. interestingly, you both groan groggily and flutter your eyes open, head peering up and looking around.

lucky for you both, you werent hung over. you both peak over to each other.

one blink, two blinks, three blinks… bitch, say something!

“uh—“ you both say, redirecting your gazes and chuckling.

“you wanna go or me go?” he asks, watching you point to him and he nods. “did you like last night?” he asks, just a common courtesy to ask. he sometimes cared. it just depended on how you were in bed.

“i liked it,” you said, getting up and putting your panties on. “i did sleep with the second pro hero.”

he hums only.

“did you walk or drive to the bar?” he asks, pulling up ‘uber’ and looking to you. you mutter a ‘walk.’ and you give him the addresses to your house.

“you just randomly give out your address?” he asks, an eyebrow raised and hes hunched over.

“you just sleep with random people you dont know?”

he sucks his teeth, “you got such a mouth on you.” he taps on the confirmation button, “your uber will be here in thirty.”

“you seemed to love it last night, dynamight.” you glares at you for a second, you putting your dress back on and smirking. “but thank you, sir.”

sir?

you both make small talk, until the uber gets here and dynamight walks you to the car. he leans against the door frame, watching you strap in and take off.

katsuki bakugou wasnt a relationship type man. no, those were distracting and too intense for him. but yet, he invited you over again after exchanging numbers.

this was just casual sex, nothing more nothing less.

“you mean to fuckin tell me—“ he cuts himself off, pausing the show that you both were watching. “you ain’t never had your pussy eaten?”

“well.. no? thats bad?” you ask, taking a sip of the apple cider he brought from his fridge. “you cant get mad either, you haven’t either.”

“i had eaten something spicy, you want burnin’ pussy?” he retorts, taking a sip of water to cleanse his palette. “dont answer that, just lie the fuck back.” he shakes his head, softly pushing you back.

“sir, yes sir.” you joke, feeling his body weight hover over you and kiss your neck. you moan, feeling your shirt be pushed up and shorts be pulled down. he kisses your inner thigh, licking a long stripe up your bare clit— you pulling back for a second.

he peers up at you, heavy and lidded eye’s looking at you. “you good?” he asks, pausing all movement. you nod, feeling him hum and then slowly and softly kiss your clit again. you settle down, moaning his hero name, thats all you know him by.

“call me katsuki, hon’.” he mumbles in your pussy, spreading your lower lips apart and putting your clit in his mouth. he suckles on it like the sweetest candy he’s tasted, his cock starting to get harder by the second.

your breath is starting to hitch, a hand flying to his hair and gripping at the root. he grunts, eyes rolling back for a second and then hips bucking into the couch.

“fuck— mhm.. pull my shit, baby.” he groans, moving down your slit and putting your legs onto his shoulders. his tongue alone is making you clamp down on nothing, he can feel it.

your hips move on their own, grinding down against his lips and chin and he lets you use him, use him to make you feel good and cum on his face like no other. he takes pride in this, being the only one whos ever made you writhe in pleasure because of him.

“go ‘head, come on my face, mama.” and that only set you off, legs trying to close as your orgasm ripples through you in waves and he laughs, rubbing circles in your clit to add more to it. you try to close your legs, you try to push his hands away, only for him to swat at them. “aht aht, dont you fuckin’ go anywhere.”

you lie limp, feeling drained and youre trying to come down from your high and how good it feels to be devoured by him. “you said.. katsuki?” you whisper, and he finishes cleaning up the spit that dribbled down your cheeks and up your back.

“yeah.” he reiterated, pulling your shorts back up and patting your clothed cunt, watching you jerk.

katsuki bakugou wasnt into relationships, no, fuck that. he wasnt into the intense stuff and was damn sure not really intimate.

but yet, he finds himself liking the little things on social media, primarily tiktok. he hates the way people look so happy within relationships, some of them even being heros in different countries or even just here. but, he hates the way it gives him ideas, and brings a smile to his face.

ping!

he looks back at your messages, a small smile on his face and he feels his heart race—

the fuck was his heart racing for?

“do you want to go out for dinner tonight?” he replies back, feeling a pang in his chest, but it wasnt out of fear or anything. he watches the three bubbles pop up, and your response is all he wanted to read.

‘sure, surprise me.’

and he does, taking you to a michelin starred restaurant and making you order the most expensive thing. because he would feel bad if he only order the most expensive things, right?

“do you like it?” he asks, cutting into the steak that he ordered and watching you eat your food.

“yeah, i do. i just sometimes eat slow.” you reply, him nodding and then tapping his foot. “do you mind if i take it home?”

“… why would i be mad if you took food home, stupid?” he asks, like you just asked him if he claps with shitty hands.

“just askin..” you say, watching him wave over the waiter and ask for a box and the check. “we can split the bill if you want.”

he darts his eyes back to you, scrunching his face up and giving you a once over.

“what?”

“split the bill?” he asks, making sure he heard you right. you nod, and he nods with you. “give me yo fuckin’ wallet.”

“because i asked if you want to split the—?”

“did i speak japanese? give me your damn wallet.” he snarks back, snatching your wallet from your fingers and putting his metal card on the check book. “some damn split the bill.”

“well sorry..” you mumble, putting the left over food in the box.

“you can tell me how sorry you are later when we get home.” he suggests, an eyebrow raised at you and a smirk. “you can choose how much to tip.”

“deal.”

both of you could barely get up the stairs, him slamming you against the walls of the corridor that lead to upstairs, but hes already on his knees and shoving your panties to the side, spitting and licking on your pussy.

“wrap this around— yeah, good job.” he praises, holding you up by your legs and thrusting into your soppy walls. “fuck, yer tight tonight.”

your fingers pull at the root of his hair, open mouth moaning against his neck and kissing at it. you feel his groans reverberate in your body. “katsukiiii..” you moan, biting your lip.

“yeah, yeah, yeah, there ya’ goo..” he strews out praises, pressing his head against yours and kissing your neck back. “make me proud, thats it.”

“gunna cum.. gonna cum, kats—“ you say, feeling you clamp and feeling your walls contract against his walls of the house. he grunts, spilling his seed within the condom and growls in your neck.

“hey.. katsuki?” you asked, lying next to him in his bed. he opens his eyes, looking down to you.. “can i ask you something?”

“ask away.” he says, patting your rear and focusing in on you.

“why dont you ever kiss me?” you ask, he furrows his eyebrows, leaning up a bit.

“i do kiss you?” he retorts, something that he doesnt understand. the fuck were you talking about? he kisses you.. he kisses your neck, your head, your fucking pussy for crying out loud.

“yeah, everywhere but my lips.” you reject, sitting up and watching his movements.

he tilts his head for a bit, clicking his tongue. “thats just too intense and intimate for me. and, quite frankly, im not into it.” he admits, then he watches you frown. “what you frowin’ for?”

“we are literally laying in the bed, in nothing but boxers and a shirt and panties.” you remind him of your situation, the fuck did he mean it was ‘too intimate?’ “how can this not be intimate, but a kiss is?”

“this..” he circles to you and himself, “this is just casual fucking.” he tries to remind you, but he starts to grow agitated when you get up and start clothing yourself. “the fuck you doin?”

“this is just casual? but yet you took me on a fucking date.” you say, growing agitated and frustrated yourself.

“that was dinner, not a date.” hes starting to get annoyed, thats why he didnt do this shit often. “i am in no fucking bounds to you, youre not fucking special.” he says, running his fingers through his hair and breathing through his nose.

you stare at him, putting your shoes on and then grabbing your purse. “youre right, im sorry.” you say, grabbing your phone as well and then looking back to katsuki. “ill see you later, ‘kay?”

he stays quiet, getting up to open the door for you and then closing it behind. “for fucking christs sakes..”

he goes back to the king sized bed, closing his eyes and turning the television off. this night already went to shit, and he just wanted to sleep it off.

he wakes up the next day, he’s got another two hours before he goes into patrol. he figured he could just text you to come over, its a new day and apologize, have you stay for a couple hours until he came home and fix something.

“hey, you wanna come over and talk about it?” he typed, sending it to you and waiting for your reply.

twenty minutes had past, its weird. usually youd be up by this hour, but eventually you did respond a thumbs up, and he tided up the living room and waits on you.

“hey.” he gruffly says, letting you in and closing the door behind you. he smells something strong. “did you use incense or some shit?”

“no, its body spray.” you say, plopping on the couch and he smells it again, then it wakes him up even more.

“you wanna try again?” he asks, folding his arms and holding his scowl. “did you just come from someone else’s house?”

you stay quiet, staring at him. the fuck did he want from you?

“you fucked another guy?” he asked again, caging you in and staring into you. “because im not in the fucking mood for these fucking games.”

“am i not allowed to?” you ask, getting to his level as well and then matching his scowl. “im in no fucking bounds to you.”

“so you want to be fucking petty, thats what the fuck this is?”

“to the fuckin’ t.” you respond, grabbing your things and shoving past him. he grabs your arm, pulling you back and staring into your soul.

“who the fuck was it?”

“none of your fucking business, i didnt ask you about the bitches you be fucking that’s not me.” you retort, but it only deepens his scowl, into a face filled with venom.

“i dont be fuckin other bitches.” he growls, then scoffs when you laugh softly. “the fuck is funny?”

“you dont be fuckin other girls?”

“why the fuck would i?” he asks, putting his hands in the air in confusion. “you think i just spread my legs to anyone and everything?”

“wow, i must be so special to know and have that.” you snarkily say, walking to the door.

he groans in agitation and yells. “bitch, fuck you!”

“fuck you, too bitch!” you shout back as he makes his way to you and you slam the door behind you.

the fuck were you both even arguing for?

bakugou wasnt the same after that, he was more stressed at work, feeling the after effects of the argument and not hearing from you in weeks. its shown in the way he fights the villains on the job, a tad bit— no, alot more aggressively than usual.

and he wasn’t going out anymore, just work, gym, then home. he wasnt in the mood, he felt… alone, depressed, like he was missing something.

he had everything that hes had, so what could possibly be fucking missing?

he scrolls on his timeline, seeing that you posted another story at work. he felt his heart pang, a knee bouncing, and like he wanted to reach out.

was he seriously missing you right now?

he sucks his teeth, his head dropping and he’s feeling like such a fucking idiot. he felt it, like he couldnt go a couple of days without you. he needed relief, a certain one.

you both meet up at the bar, the same very place you met and then flirted hard. he watches you sit down, a new dress, huh?

you looked so damn gorgeous, it genuinely pissed him off.

“what do you want?” you ask, telling the bartender for a strawberry mimosa, your usual.

“i..” he tries to say, he hasnt done the whole ‘im sorry’ thing since highschool. “i was wrong.” he admits, staring back at you and watching your face. “was wrong fer callin’ you a bitch, and saying you werent special. and fer gettin’ mad that you slept with someone else.”

“hm.” you hum, tapping your foot and holding your drink. “ill let you in on a secret through the grape vine.” you say, watching him raise a single eyebrow.

“i didnt sleep with some other dude, it was your old cologne.” you say, watching his face contort into confusion. “you showed me an old cologne you used to wear when you were scrolling on tiktok with me. you were half asleep though.”

it all finally clicks when he remembers, and he rubs his face in pure embarrassment and anger. “im going to fucking kill you, bitch.” he says, not truly angry, but embarrassed.

you laugh, and his chest feels less tight. “im sorry for doing that, just tried to show you that what you said wasnt cool.”

“i respect that.” he says, drinking his moonshine.

“thats such a bitch drink..” you watch him swig, and he growls.

“says the one drinking a gotdamn mimosa.” he retorts, and you both finally have a good laugh after about thirteen minutes in.

he feels good, better.

katsuki bakugou wasnt the relationship guy, its too much for him.

but with the way he has you laying ontop of him, a discarded used condom in the trash bin next to his bed. he liked where he was at, the way the sun shined on your face and skin.. he pondered at the earliest hours of the morning. he didnt have to work today, that was good for him since he had you to spend time with. might even a plan a date for you tonight—

a date? the fuck?

he feels himself inclined to you, watching tiktok on the lowest volume so you dont awaken. he keeps seeing these couple tiktoks, watching how they go from tinder, to being married and shit.

could.. could that happen to you? he feels sick, like he was getting clammy and his heart pounded, a imaginative feeling that he finally proposes to you, gives you a couple brats that run around the house he just bought—

…aw fuck no.

“which dress fits me more?” you rummage through the hangers of dresses in the store, he only watches you and picks one out in particular. a split thigh dress with sleeves, since it was about to be fall. “oh, so you want my ass to fall out?”

“your ass aint going to fall out.” he chuckles, pulling it and putting it against you. “youd look good though.”

“would i really?”

he tilts your head up to his, looking into your eyes instead of your soul this time. “always.” he watches you get heated in the face, pulling away out of flustering and scramble to the next aisle.

once you finally start to check out everything, which was just a mere dress that he suggested and some more shirts, you pull your wallet out, just for him to slap it out of your grasps.

“the fuck?!” you say, picking it up and the cashier was already inserting his card.

“told you that when youre with me, i pay.” he reminds, taking the receipt and bag and then holding the door for you.

“did you have to slap my wallet out my hand, though? couldve been robbed!” you say, putting it back in your purse and grumbling.

“anyone trying to rob you infront of me is just stupid.”

“i guess..”

eventually when you got home, katsuki put the goods down onto the couch and then headed to the kitchen, cranking up the flames on his stove. “oh em gee, youre going to cook for me?”

“why did you say it like that, you dumbass?” he turns to you, a confused but laughing face. “yes, im cooking. you need to stop eating out as much.”

“i eat out maybe twice a week.” you say, and he purses his lips. “what? you saying im big?”

“i did not say that.” he growls, tossing the pan and sautéing the veggies. “what?” he asks, seeing your concerned face.

“you have no care for your pans or pots..” you say, watching his shrug and mock you. “on tonight’s episode of hells kitchen..”

“gordon ramsey wouldnt last thirty minutes with me.” he comments, shaking his head and sighing. “im the best cook.”

“no objections.”

and he was, making you a chicken bowl with rice, sautéed vegetables and toasted brioche bread. “thank you, katsu.” you say, the nickname rolling off of your tongue and you didn’t really think of it, but kissing his cheek.

he freezes, staring at you and an eye twitches.

“…what? did i have to brush my teeth after every meal too?”

“katsukii katsuki katsuki!” you moan out, legs pressed to your ears as he pounded away into your cervix. he growls into your ear and pulls you back up, flipping you onto your stomach and wrapping his arm around your throat, holding you in a headlock.

he groans, drilling his cock into your gummy spot that made you see stars like no other. this was more rougher, deeper, and fast paced than any other of your fucks. this one felt.. different.

all because of a fucking kiss on the cheek.

“katsuki!” you squealed strained, eyes rolling back and gritting your teeth trying to endure his cock inside of your fluttering walls.

“fuckin cum, beg me to let you cum.” he growls with venom, and desperation runs him completely now. he hears you, crying out his name and then fucking him back. “fucking god—hah!”

you cream along his shaft, his cock starting to twitch and he drags you up again, putting you back into missionary to slip away into your spasming cunt to just still inside and keep going.

“k-katsuki what are you?—“ he cuts you off by crashing his lips onto yours, a pang into your chest and arms wrap around his neck to pull him closer. he groans in the kiss, stopping his hips.

he pulls away, looking down to you with a narrowed gaze. “what?” you ask, his face getting a little bit softer.

“i dont want to just casually fuck with you anymore.” he says, getting closer to you. “think… think im in love with you.”

“..so.. because i have sex with you, youre in love with me?” you ask, his face dropping and he flicks your head. “ow— fucker!”

“no, stupid..” he says, “i like the moments we dont fuck. like dinner dates and the.. domestic shit i guess.” he says, biting his lip.

“so you admit that they were dates?” you snicker, and he chuckles in defeat.

“whatever you wanna call them, baby.” he says, but puts a hand on your cheek and. “i love you.”

you try to take it serious, but one factor. “can you tell me this without your cock being in me?” you ask, he shakes his head and pulls his hips back, allowing you to sit up.

“love you.” he says, his heart beating out of his ass.. or so it feels like it.

“i love you too, dummy.”

“now you fuckin ruined my moment.”

[endless-ineffabilities]

Aaaand, CUT! (a Chemical Override minishot)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: I've been watching a ton of The Office bloopers, which inspired this random little thing. This is set waaay back in part 1. Oh, the good ol' days.

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Ewan and the reader film a promo spot for season 2. They try to, at least.

The press day in Paris had been going smoothly for the most part. At least, that was how it seemed. You hoped that you have been able to act smooth, so to speak, having to sit in close quarters with a guy who can make your heart race a mile a minute, and all he has to do is turn those blue eyes in your direction. 

You and Ewan were halfway through your schedule of interviews and promo. But by the time the crew set up for the next clip—a quick promotional spot—you both were running on caffeine and shared inside jokes. 

You couldn’t believe you were sharing private quips with Ewan (Aemond himself!) but you found it easy to get lost in your dynamic. These were the kind of jokes that only made sense after hours and hours of interviews, with lights glaring in your faces and scripted answers rolling off your tongues like a broken record. 

You stood next to him, the House of the Dragon logo projected on a screen behind you. The task was simple: introduce yourself and tell the audience to watch House of the Dragon Season 2 on Max. Fifteen seconds, tops.

But you two had already spiraled into a fit of laughter in the last three takes. 

Somehow, saying the line together, “Go and watch House of the Dragon Season 2, only on Max,” had become the hardest thing in the world.

“Alright, let’s try this again,” the director said, sounding more tired than frustrated. “From the top.”

Ewan turned to you, his lips twitching. “Bet you crack first, darling.”

Your mouth fell open in faux indignation. “Shush. I got this.”

“Let’s see, shall we?” His gaze dropped briefly to your lips before he straightened up, ready to go.

The red light on the camera flicked on, and the cameraman waved a hand as a signal for you to begin.

You barely had time to shoot Ewan a warning glance before you introduced yourself. 

He followed smoothly, “And I’m Ewan Mitchell.”

It was going fine. Smooth, even. So professional.

Until you reached the part where you had to say the final line in unison.

“Go and watch House of the Dragon Season 2, only on—” Ewan dropped his voice an octave, dragging out “Max” in an over-the-top baritone that sent you over the edge.

“Pffft—shit!” you snort uncontrollably. “What was that?” You pressed a hand to your mouth, trying desperately to keep it together, but it was too late.

Take, ruined.

“What?” Ewan crumbles into laughter, his low chuckle infectious.

The director sighed heavily. “Cut!”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, wiping at the tears forming in the corners of your eyes. “We’re never going to get through this.”

Ewan leaned in, ducking his head to whisper, “You’re adorable when you laugh.”

“Stop it,” you shot him a look. Act cool. “You’re distracting me on purpose.”

“Stop what?” he smirked. “I’m just trying to help.”

“Right. Some help you are,” you said sarcastically, though the warmth in his gaze made it impossible to stay serious for long.

“Come on, focus,” he teased, nudging your arm with his elbow. “We’ve got a job to do here.”

“Maybe you should focus,” you retorted, arching an eyebrow. “You’re the one who keeps messing up with that ridiculous voice.”

He laughed again. “What can I say? I thought we needed some extra charm.”

You gasp playfully. “Is that your subtle way of telling me I don’t possess enough charm?”

“Oh, darling,” he said, “I could never say that to you.”

You clear your throat. “Mhmm… okay, well—”

His smirk stayed right in place, as he leaned back coolly.

“Alright, guys, one more time,” the director called out. “Please, just this one. Action.”

You stood a little straighter, determined to get it right this time, then recited your line. 

“... and I’m Ewan Mitchell.”

Together, you spoke in unison. “Go and watch House of the Dragon Season 2, only on—”

But this time, Ewan leaned in just a fraction, whispering right at the end of the line, “Max... or maybe just come watch it with me?”

His breath was warm against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. You lost it completely.

“Oh my god, stop,” you gasped between fits of laughter, swatting at his arm. “Ewan, you can’t say that!”

The director groaned from behind the camera, clearly on the verge of giving up. “Alright, five minutes, people. Just take a breather.”

You were still laughing as you walked off the set, shaking your head in disbelief. “We’re never going to get this done.”

Ewan followed you, his grin softening into something more intimate as he glanced your way. “Maybe we could be stuck here all day together. Would that really be so bad?”

Your breath hitched slightly. He wasn’t looking at you like he was joking anymore. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words got tangled up somewhere between your brain and your throat.

Thankfully, the crew called you both back for another take before things could get any more complicated.

Once again, you took your places under the lights. You made the mistake of catching Ewan’s eye, and the memory of his earlier teasing flooded back, making it impossible to keep a straight face.

Ewan raised his eyebrows at you, as if daring you to start laughing again.

“Don’t you dare,” you whispered through gritted teeth, fighting the urge to laugh.

“I didn’t say anything,” he said, his lips twitching.

“You’re thinking it.”

He chuckled under his breath, his voice low. “I was thinking of something else entirely.”

Your cheeks burned. Before you could even process what he meant, the camera started rolling again.

You took a deep breath and said your line without a hitch.

Ewan jumped in, his voice perfectly smooth and serious this time. “And I’m Ewan Mitchell.”

Together, you said, “Go and watch House of the Dragon Season 2, only on Max.”

You made it. You actually made it through the line.

The director hurriedly shouted a relieved, "Aaaand, CUT!" then added, "Holy shit, you two—with all that flirting, I'm amazed we made it this far today."

[madhattervanessa]

Crush

Summary: Your hot neighbor, Simon Riley, has returned from abroad again and this time, you decide to be brave and confess your feelings to him.

Warnings: Porn WITH Plot I guess lmao, some spanking, hair pulling, but nothing actually heavy, mutual masturbation, nipple play, fingering, p in v, creampie

Words: 3698

Masterlist - Mobile Masterlist

next Part

-

It’s absolutely stupid.

You twiddle your thumbs before planting both hands on the counter again.

Stupid.

Crushing on your neighbor? Forgivable.

Crushing on a hulking man like that, with those soft brown eyes, his stupidly beautiful blonde lashes around them, his deep baritone, his strong hands-

Totally forgivable.

Crushing on a military man who is barely home and barely talks to you?

That should be where the line starts.

Still.

Your cheeks warm immediately when you hear the familiar heavy footsteps coming down the hall towards your door.

Maybe the note had been stupid.

Oh god.

What if he thought it was stupid?

The knock on your door doesn’t leave you much room to think.

You do know him. So this shouldn’t be too awkward.

It’s just Simon.

So, you open the door, chin already tilted up to adjust to his height.

“Hello, love.”

“Hi”, you breathe out, already nervous.

“You mind if I come in?”

You step aside for him, eyes never leaving him as he gets inside.

He mutters a thanks, slowly making his way inside. When you shut the apartment door, he is already turning towards you.

“I-”, he starts and you look down to the scar splitting his lip when he licks over it. “-I didn’t know you uh-” he furrows his brows before starting over. “I like you like that as well.” He scratches the back of his neck and meets your eyes again. “Bloody childish way to say that, huh?”

You smile at him, suddenly feeling very warm and gooey inside, at the sight of this intimidating man looking like a boy talking to his school crush.

“I did leave a note so- I guess we’re kinda even on that.”

“Right.” He sighs.

“So… Coffee?”

“Yeah, that would be nice, I- I brought those croissants you like.”

“So you were coming to confess anyways?”, you tease. You win a little chuckle.

“Just a thank you for keeping the landlord off my ass, love.”

You hum and watch as he opens the door again.

“You comin’, then?”

“Yeah, just, one second. I got a new roast at the shop that you will like.”

“Alright. I’ll leave the door open.”

“Okay.”

-

He is looming over you as you switch out the beans in his grinder before you pull the espresso shots for your coffees.

“You alright?”, you murmur, not looking up as you fill the metal pitcher with milk.

“Yeah. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“I know you can handle a broken bone with a smile, Simon. The bar is in hell.”

He huffs. You glance at him to find him leaning against the corner of the kitchen counter, still watching you intently.

“So it is.”

You steam the milk for his latte in comfortable silence.

“Why me?”

You smile and set the pitcher down, briefly knocking some air out of the foam before you continue assembling your drinks.

You can hear the rest of the question he has in his head.

It’s not that Simon is a particularly nice man, nor was he in town for long since he had moved into the building 2 years ago.

“I’m pretty self-sufficient, you know.”

You’re met with silence again. He is watching your hands as you pour pretty patterns into the coffee.

“I like spending time with you when you’re here. I miss you when you leave.” You shrug, keeping your question of, is that not enough? to yourself.

“You know I’m not…” A good man. Enough. Loveable. Able to love anyone.

You’d heard the line often, especially on the veteran’s evenings in the small community you had amassed.

You just hum and turn around. You blow over the hot coffee in your hands and take a first sip.

Your eyes meet his again and just like with the grumpy, scared cat in the alley a street over, you blink slowly, trying to communicate that this is enough, it’s okay.

He pushes off the counter and carefully takes the cup out of your hands. He holds onto one of them as he sets the cup down on the counter behind you.

You are holding your breath, startled and hopeful as he stares down at you.

You don’t dare blink as he leans in closer, and just barely tilt your chin up to his. His hand feels clammy as it holds onto yours.

Your eyes close and you wait, your heartbeat quick in your chest as you feel his breath on your mouth.

Soft, dry lips meet yours in a peck, a shy press of lips against lips.

You inhale shakily through your nose and grip his hand harder as you pull back a little. 

You wet your lips and carefully sneak another look.

Simon’s eyes are still closed and you watch, transfixed, as he rolls his lips, as if to taste you again, before he opens his eyes, too.

You grab his shirt and tug, silently demanding another.

He hums and dips his head for another kiss, this one more insistent.

You let your tongue lick over his lip. It makes him grunt and pull at you, forcing you on your tiptoes as you keep kissing, slowly working each other’s mouths open in an unhurried exchange.

When you part, you can feel your heart in your throat.

He’s pretty. 

His thin lips are slick and shiny with your combined spit, his brows slightly furrowed as he looks at you.

“Can we fuck?”

You bite your lip at him, waiting for his answer as you watch the words wash over him. There’s just a minimal pulse of his pupils and a barely-there intake of breath.

“Thought I was going to take you out a few times, first.”

“I think the brunches and buying me coffee counts.”

“Tha’s different, love.”

“Is it?”

You fiddle with the hem of his shirt, still looking at him.

He doesn’t answer, just keeps looking.

“So, that’s a definite no?”, you murmur. He takes a deep breath.

“Let me ease into it.”

You smile at him and nod.

“Yeah, I can do that.”

His gaze lowers to your lips. 

You stop yourself from leaning up towards him, simply tilting your chin up a little. 

You wait for him to close the gap.

You don’t have to wait long.

He bumps into your chest with his, his head tilted as he kisses you again, carefully pecking at your lips with his, once, twice, then three times, before he licks your bottom lip.

The pressure makes you walk back a little until you bump against the kitchen counter.

His hand that has been holding yours moves to hold on to your hip instead. His other is moving your face to his liking. You let yourself be guided, losing yourself in the sensual kiss you share, the movement of your tongues against each other.

You let the hand that was holding on to his shirt wander up, over his hard stomach to his chest, until you reach his neck. You gently hold on to him, struggling to breathe before he finally pulls back again.

You’re panting slightly as you open your eyes again.

He groans, closing his eyes again and pushing his forehead to rest against yours.

“Fuck”, he murmurs, his nose nudging against yours, lips brushing slightly before he puts a little distance between the two of you.

“Why’d you stop?”

“Feels like you’re testing me.”

“I’m not. Just… letting you go as far as you like. I just-” You exhale shakily, looking at him, again. “I just want to be close to you, Simon.”

He nods and bends towards you to kiss you again. His hands wander down to your thighs. You gasp into his mouth as he lifts you onto the counter.

He steps forward, between your legs, before pulling you flush to him. You can feel him straining against his jeans, his hard cock pressing offensively against your sweatpant-covered center.

“Close ‘nough?”, he murmurs against your lips and you hum out a soft sound. You let your feet tangle behind his legs, urging him closer until he presses up hard against your clit.

“Mhm”, you moan. He looks at you, his breath stopped, before kissing you again- this time he’s rougher and the way his hips move up against you has you moaning into his mouth.

“I want you”, he groans, grinding his cock into you a little harder. “Want to do right by you.”

“Shut-”

He kisses you, again, silencing your protests. His hands are holding your hips, helping him grind against you. You are fisting the collar of his shirt, tugging him towards you as you nip at his bottom lip with your teeth.

He grunts and there’s an aborted moan that slips from his mouth into yours.

You grin and go to do it again but he holds you back by your throat, a gentle but warning touch. It makes you look up at him, mouth still open with a smile stretching your cheeks.

“Careful.”

“Or what?”

“You don’t want to get into a game of escalation with me, lovie”, he rumbles, his hand dropping. His thumb rasps over the seam of your pants and you gasp into his mouth.

“Don’t want to escalate just- mhn- just want you to stop treating me like glass, Simon.”

He hums and presses another short kiss to your lips before pushing his thumb down against your clit. 

“‘m treating you like something precious, love, not like glass.” He watches, eyelids low as you strain against him, already dizzy with the pleasure shooting up your spine from watching him rut against your thigh while he slowly pleasures you through your thin sweatpants. 

“I know you’re a tough birdie. Don’t ‘ave to prove it to me.”

“Don’t have to prove anything to me, either”, you challenge. 

He grunts wordlessly before pulling you forward again, your ass almost slipping off of the counter. You hold on to his shoulders in shock as the room spins around you. 

“Bedroom”, he just murmurs and you nod before cradling his head, and kissing him.

He only drops you when you have finally arrived in his bedroom.

It’s an awkward scramble once he has set you down. 

You’ve just flung your panties off when he is on you again, his stubbled face rubbing against your chest. He scratches his teeth over your skin, following it up with a lick over it. He is smearing the width of his tongue up over your breast until he reaches your jaw. The filthy gesture makes you gasp.

He tastes the sound with his mouth, leaning down into you, his hands on the headboard behind you. You have to hook your legs over his thighs to make room for the hulking man.

He blocks out the window behind him and you can’t help but stare at him as he licks his lips before spitting in his hand. You follow his hand down to his cock and swallow hard as you watch him stroke himself, coating himself with spit.

“Want you to touch yourself”, he whispers, so quiet, yoou almost don’t hear him.

He tugs your hand down to his mouth. He doesn’t look away from your eyes as he pushes two of your fingers inside his mouth, then guides them down to lay atop your pussy.

“Show me what you like.”

Your gaze drops down to his cock and you start rubbing your clit without a single thought. He watches intently and you see his hand squeeze a little tighter around his cock.

“Simon.” 

“Yeah?”

“I want you to play with my tits”, you breathe out.

“Fuck.” He stops stroking himself, immediately. “You want me to suck on your pretty tits, love? Yeah?”

“Yes.”

He doesn’t hesitate. He leans in and licks at your nipple, his other, still slick hand, roughly grabs the other to let your nipple roll under his thumb. Your eyes roll back at the feeling.

It’s perfect. 

You slide two of your fingers inside of your pussy and Simon does something magnificent with his tongue on your breast. It makes you cum- quick and easy. Simon stays right where he is, continuing to lick and suck at your nipples as you whine and ride out your orgasm.

You jump when one of his broad thumbs nudges against your clit.

“Simon-!”

“I want to see you cum again”, he groans. You barely lift your hand away from your pussy when he speaks up again. “Put your fingers back inside your wet little pussy.”

“Si-”

He groans and there’s that glint in his eye, like the one you saw when you bit his lip in the kitchen.

“Simon, I want you to fuck me, please.”

He lifts his thumb to his mouth, sucking your slick off of it.

You reach out to stroke his cock and he makes a small sound as you stroke him with your slick hand.

He presses closer. You guide his cock until the tip of it nudges your pussy.

“Wait, are you- don't we need a condom?”

“I have an IUD and I got tested last month, it’s fine”, you whisper.

You know Simon doesn’t fool around when he is away but he says it anyway.

“I want you to fuck me bare, Simon. Want you to come inside of me”, you add, your hand still stroking him.

He groans again and his hips rock forward. You gasp as he leans forward, covering you with his body. He moves you, angling your hips up before he pushes another inch inside. 

His lips swallow your moan.

He is big- you saw, but now that he is pushing his hard cock inside of you, you feel like he is splitting you apart. 

He stops halfway and you release a breath into the small space between your mouths. He gently strokes your hip and nudges his nose against yours before pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

“Alright?”

“Yeah.”

He rocks his hips back and forth, slowly pushing another few inches into you. It makes you gasp into his ear- the sound results in a strong thrust that rocks you up the mattress.

“Fuck, Simon-”

You look down to where he is fucking into you, hypnotized as he stops about halfway, every time.

He sits back, his eyes trained on you as he fucks into you a little harder. His hands wander over the sides of your body until he stops at your hips. He pulls you into his thrusts, fucking you hard but slow. It makes you mewl and you blush at the unfamiliar sound escaping you.

“Simon”, you whimper and he furrows his brow. “Come here”, you sigh.

He wraps his body around you, using his other arm to pull you closer. It pushes your tits up into reach for his mouth. You whimper and arch into him more as he greedily licks at your nipple again, repeating what he had done earlier.

He folds you up further until your thighs are completely resting on his waist, his legs basically underneath your ass. It makes him stroke against something delicious inside of you. You don’t even get to say anything before you’re already coming again.

And then, he starts to fuck you. It’s a chaotic shift, the way he suddenly starts using his grip on your hips as a counterweight to thrust into you, mercilessly giving you the rest of his cock.

You can hear how wet your pussy is and the way it parts for Simon as he fucks into you. The wet, rhythmic squelch seems embarrassingly loud in the room.

“Fuck, love- feel so good-”

You hear the sounds coming from your mouth as if they weren’t your own- hoarse, high-pitched mewls, breathy uh-uh-uh’s, as he ruts into you. When you clamp down on the meat of his shoulders with your nails, you hear him groan.

“That’s it-”

You’re overstimulated at this point but the friction is making you see stars in the best way. When Simon slows down, you sob with relief.

“Made a right mess, didn’t you, love”, he breathes, his own breathing barely stunted while yours is ragged. When he leans back, you open your eyes only to find your legs shaking without his waist to cling onto.

He ushers you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you.

You grumble, barely any strength in your body left to keep it tensed enough to follow him.

You sigh and rest your head on his shoulder, your nose pressed into his neck.

“You need to come-”, you slur.

“‘m letting you catch your breath first. Y’alright?”

“Yeah. Great, actually.”

He hums, obviously not believing you, and the suspicious sound makes you giggle.

You let your hands wander, admiring the broad plane of his chest, the scars crossing it.

He tilts your chin up to his again. His kiss is gentle, barely making your lips part. You can feel one of his hands stroking down your back until he can grasp one of your asscheeks in his hand, kneading the soft skin as he keeps kissing you. You gasp and bite at his bottom lip, smiling as you wait for his reaction- only for a loud smack to reverberate through the room. Your ass burns from his hand and you groan, pushing your forehead against his as you grind your cunt against his cock.

“You like that?”

“Yeah”, you breathe, chest already heaving from the excitement of making Simon use his strength against you. “, do it again.”

He growls and kisses you, his broad palm rubbing over your reddened ass cheek before smacking it again. You gasp into his mouth and lean in closer, rubbing your tits against his chest. Your whole body suddenly feels restless, your cunt rubbing up against his cock while your hands roam over his body, feeling up his arms, his shoulders, his chest.

Simon bodily hauls you up and pushes his cock inside you again. Your legs shake as you try to control how quickly you sink down on him. 

Another smack to your skin makes you whimper and collapse onto him, his cock bottoming out inside of you. He grabs your thighs and you barely manage to lift yourself enough to start to ride his cock.

The sound Simon whimpers into your mouth as you roll your hips is worth ignoring the growing soreness in your muscles. 

“Fuck, that feels good”, he groans. It makes liquid heat shoot through you and you double your efforts, folding your legs over his thighs. Your eyes snap open as he rests his forehead against your collarbone, his hands losing their tight grip on you.

You reach up to cup the back of his head, fisting his hair as you try to concentrate on setting a good rhythm for him. But the way his cock fills you out is starting to make you quiver, the pleasure already mounting up to being overstimulating again.

You’re gasping into each other’s open mouths as you ride him. 

You can feel him tightening his grip on you before he starts to meet your thrusts, effectively bouncing you up and down in his lap. It makes you shake, the angle hitting something disastrous. 

“Fuck, Simon- I can’t- I’m going to cum- a-again”, you whimper. It makes him moan into your mouth and you stutter in your motion as you feel him get even harder, his thrusts short, aborted. You mewl at the feeling and dig your nails into his scalp and his shoulder.

He growls and sinks his teeth into the skin of your breast as he cums. You clench around them and feel a few tears slip over your cheeks as the last few thrusts make you cum one final time.

You collapse into each other and you let your lips brush over his temple before resting your head on his shoulder again.

He is gently stroking your back, not even minding the sweat clinging to your skin.

When he wraps his other arm around your hip and lifts the two of you, you just sigh into his skin. He gently lays you down on his bed.

“Going to be right back, love,” he murmurs before pressing a kiss against your temple. You just sigh and nod.

As soon as he isn’t covering your body anymore, you can feel yourself shivering from the sudden cold. You huff before grabbing the comforter to cover yourself. The faint sound of a window cracking open makes you bury even deeper into the blankets.

“Hey. Eyes open for me”, he grumbles and you startle awake with a confused “huh?”. 

Simon is sitting on the bed, holding out a glass.

“Drink something.”

You groan and bat at his hand but he just wraps it around the cool bottle of water.

“Brat”, he murmurs and you open one eye to glare at him before popping the lid open and gulping down some water. After handing him the leftovers, you watch as he immediately downs it all in one go. He sets the bottle down on the nightstand and just looks at you for a moment.

“Come on. Gotta go shower.”

You close your eye again.

“I’m cold.”

“I’ll keep you warm. Come on. Up.”

You go willingly into his arms.

He is still naked, still warm, and you sigh as you get up into his warm embrace. You stumble towards the shower together. He makes you check the temperature and adjusts it until it’s boiling hot and just to your liking.

When you return from your shower, the afternoon sun bathes the bedroom in warm light.

“You still want your coffee and croissant? Or d’you want to take a nap first, princess?”

You grab the shirt he'd discarded and throw it on before turning towards him.

“Maybe we can… do coffee and croissants on your couch?”

“Yeah, alright. You mind if we catch up on some shows I've missed out on?”

“I’ll probably fall asleep.”

“Alright love”, he murmurs, before pressing another kiss to your temple and wrapping his arm around your waist to lead you towards the couch. Halfway there, he just picks you up bridal style, letting your snuggle into his shoulder while he presses another kiss to your forehead.

-

Thanks for reading!

Requests are open and always appreciated

[thatlittlered]

time warp | aaron hotchner

warning(s): none, just hotch being delicious

GIF by @katebeckets

part one

author's note: I have never updated a story this fast in my life. Another part is coming tomorrow.

Follow me @MadeofLilies on Ao3 and let me know if you want to be tagged here.

-.-.-

The door to his office is open, chatter from the bullpen reaching him when you all get too loud. He can tell Morgan is pestering you about something and the others have gathered around to listen.

“You only have one watch?”

“How many watches do other people have? You act like it’s insane.”

Spencer, like always, feels the need to interject, “I have three.”

You sigh, abandoning your pen and notes.

“I have another one but that’s my grandmother’s, I can’t wear it to work.”

Derek is not satisfied with your answer.

“You have a thousand pieces of jewelry.”

“I know!”

“You are wearing most of them right now.”

“I know, Morgan, you can stop bullying me now.” You pout at him and he pouts back, but his grin is indicator enough that he’s not even close to finished with you.

“Where do you even spend your paychecks, sweetheart?”

“Important stuff. Like shoes.”

“I only have one pair of shoes aside of my trainers.”

Emily laughs, “Yeah, we know that, Spence. Their time is coming to an end, by the way.”

Morgan zeroes in on you again, poking a finger into your knee to get a reaction.

“How many pairs of shoes do you have exactly? Fifteen? Twenty?”

“They were twenty… at some point.”

Triumph.

You almost can’t stand his shit-eating grin.

“There you go. Too bad you don’t get to wear them here.”

“Where do you spend yours? A lifetime’s supply of V-necks at GAP?”

You stand up from your chair, eager to get away from this conversation.

“You’re only mean to me because you know I’ll love you anyway.”  

“Maybe.”

He puts his hand over his heart in feign hurt. Garcia mutters something about a woman’s right to shoes in your defense and you kiss her cheek to thank her on your way to the kitchenette. Aaron still watches from his seat and squirms uncomfortably when he sees Morgan follow you.

You take his mug and pour you both some coffee while he takes a seat, thanking you. You don’t even see Hotch come in.

“Did your watch get lost?”

You almost spill your coffee at the baritone of his voice. Everything he says comes out so official, so professional, as if speaking orders, but not at that beach under the sunrise. Who was he then?

“Yes, it did. Totally on its own and not because I keep leaving my stuff in random places and not looking after them properly.”

“Maybe that’s why you spend so much on stuff, if you keep losing them.”

You quirk a brow at Derek, leaning over him menacingly from your position.

“I swear to God, Morgan, this might be the day you officially lose my affection.”

He takes the cup you’ve poured for him from your hand and slowly walks backwards in resignation.

“No, please, I didn’t mean it.”

You smile at each other and you point a finger at him. Hotch watches with a frown.

“Tread lightly.”

When Morgan’s gone, he can finally step closer to you. Getting to the coffee machine is only the excuse.

“You know, you’re really good at keeping him in check. Maybe you should be in charge here.”

You smile into your cup, “That’s alright, we already have a boss and he’s okay.”

“Oh, is he? Good to know, I can’t wait to have that all over my evaluation files next year.”

You nod. The fabric of his suit jacket brushes against your arm while he pours.

“Some might even use the words ‘pretty good’.”

He hums, “So eloquent.”

Your smile deepens, nose wrinkling upwards in a way that now really can’t be hidden in your cup.

-.-.-

It’s almost time for everyone to head home and for once, he’s trying really hard to make it out of the office before sundown; maybe spend some quality time with Jack.

There’s a knock on his door before it opens and he’s about to send whoever it is away but-

“Hi, sorry, am I interrupting?”

He looks up, uncharacteristically disoriented.

“Uh, no-no, come in.”

“Are you coming to Rossi’s tonight?”

He’s dumbfounded.

“I’m not really sure yet, I have some errands to run when I’m done here.”

“Oh, okay… I just found some old Marvel comics and I thought Jack might like to have them, but I didn’t bring them with me. Maybe I could give them to you tonight? That is, if you make it.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“Do you mind?”

“No, of course not, I just-”, he exhales, “I’ll be there.”

You smile and nod, ready to leave.

“Maybe I could give you a ride and you can give them to me then. I mean,” his thumb scratches his bottom lip uncomfortably, “your place is practically on the way.”

“Have you ever been to my place?”

Aaron laughs awkwardly, “No.”

“But you seem to know what you’re talking about, so I’m going to put my faith in you. Pick me up at seven?”

“That works.”

-.-.-

It’s not even half past six when he rings your doorbell and you open the door still clad in pjs.

“You are so early.”

Hotch suddenly looks so small for such a usually imposing man. He stands in your doorway with nervous hands in his pockets and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him act like this before.

“I’m sorry, I can wait in the car if you’d like.”

“No, it’s okay, come in. I think I knew deep down that you would be; just not by this much.”

 He clears his throat and moves inside to now stand awkwardly at the apartment’s entrance, “I’m sorry, I started way too early from my house. Overestimated how long it would take to get here.”

Your interactions do something to warp his sense of time.

“That’s okay, Aaron, really. You’re just going to have to give me a few minutes because I haven’t had the time to get ready yet.”

He watches, frozen in his place, while you walk towards the kitchen.

“Do you need anything? Coffee, orange juice?”

He almost smiles to himself. He just knew you’d be the type of person to always keep the fridge fully stocked even if you’re barely ever home. He likes the confirmation that he knows you, despite his inability to really make conversation and establish familiarity. He grasps at straws; little pieces of you that he sometimes finds and keeps them close to his heart.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

You still bring him a glass of water, freezing cold, just like he likes it, and rest it on the coffee table.

“You can sit, if you want.”

“Right.”

He smiles and sits almost robotically. When he picks up the glass, he softly wipes the ring of water that’s formed underneath with his hand but you don’t see it.

“Let me just grab the box.”

“It’s a whole box?”

“Yeah, I got it at a yard sale.”

“You bought it? You really didn’t have to do that.”

“Well, now that him and I are officially friends I have to do something to maintain the relationship, seeing how I never actually get to see him.” You sit beside him while he looks through the various issues. There have to be at least fifteen in here.

“Yeah, neither do I,” he really appreciates the comforting hand on his shoulder, “This was very nice of you to do, thank you.”

You smile and nod at him.

“Actually, I also have something I wanted to give you; I just need to get it from the car.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, give me a moment, will you?”

He’s out and back in a second. Practically runs back into your apartment when you open the door; a small gift bag in hand.

“I would have brought in with me, but I chickened out at the last minute.”

His fingers linger when he hands it to you. It’s almost a caress in passing.

“You got me something?”

It’s a digital watch, neatly sat on soft velvet.

Was that the errand he had to run?

“Oh, Hotch, thank you so much, but you really shouldn’t have. I know I joked around today, but I would have actually gotten around to getting one. I am not that financially irresponsible.”

“It’s nothing really, it’s not an expensive watch.”

“Oh, okay, as long as it’s the cheap, trashy stuff. Phew.”

He laughs and you realize you’re both standing in your doorway again.

“I just wanted to do something nice.”

“You’re nice to me all the time.”

His brows furrow, “It doesn’t feel like I am.”

“It must come easy then.”

“It does with you.”

He meets your gaze and you stay there for a while.

“Can you help me try it on?”

“Of course.”

He clasps it high on your wrist, just like he’s seen you wear the previous one. The color matches your jewelry and it’s excruciatingly sweet just how much attention he pays to details.

“I just wanted to thank you, I suppose, for the other day. It meant a lot to me.”

Aaron’s hand doesn’t leave your arm, instead wraps gently around it instead, as if one of your bracelets.

“It meant a lot to me too.”

His breathing is heavy, his voice barely a whisper. What you are doing feels like a secret; like it’s meant to be hidden from the rest of the world.

“I’m not sure you mean that in the same way that I do.”

Your other hand comes to rest on top of his, thumb passing softly over protruding veins and scars. He thinks, for a moment, it might wipe them away.

“Then you’re not the people expert that you think you are.”

His laugh is heartbreaking.

“Guess I’m not very good at that either.”

You hum, “You’re okay.”

Neither of you is moving but it feels like you’re getting closer.

“So eloquent again.”

You can’t help but beam with pride at how comfortable he’s getting with your banter. A whole world unlocked and open for you to see. His body is drawn to you, almost folds over and around you to be closer. As close as he can possibly get without touching you more.

“It’s the worst moment possible now, when you’ve just given me a gift and picked me up from my place, but I think it deserves to be said that I would very much like to be kissed by you.”

His eyes flutter close.

“It really is the worst moment possible,” his hand slides slowly from your wrist to elbow, taking in the feeling of bare skin, “but I would very much like to kiss you.”

“But you won’t.”

His hand stops traveling up your arm, drops back onto your wrist and without really meaning to, pulls you closer.

“No.”

You stay like this for a while. Nothing but soft breathing to be heard in the room.

“I should probably go.”

You look up in surprise, “Are you not coming with me?”

“I’m sorry, I just…” he touches the inside of your palm and traces the lines as if to remember them, “I wouldn't know what to say or do after this.”

You smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes.

“It’s alright, I understand… I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The loss of his touch is like a sudden drop in the temperature around you. You both feel it.

He doesn’t meet your gaze again, simply gathers the box and clears his throat as if that will magically return him to what he’s used to being.

“Yeah. Tomorrow.”

You see him press his lips together before he turns to leave.

When you get to Rossi’s, the team is disappointed to know he’s not coming after all, but they’re not surprised. JJ asks you about the new watch and you lie. You can tell Emily is not convinced but she doesn’t say anything about it, merely smiles at you and inches closer with her chair.

Aaron spends another night alone. Jack is at a sleepover with a friend that he didn’t have the heart to pick him up from all of the sudden.

That’s the cost of being a stone, he supposes.

part three

[devilmademewriteit]

Ultraviolence

pairing: raider!joel miller x fem!afab!reader

summary: thank god—a handsome stranger saves you from the grips of a pack of cruel, cruel men. unfortunately, said stranger, joel miller, is cut from the exact same cloth as the rest of them.

warnings: oh. boy. rough sex/smut (fem penetration, fingering, cum play if you squint) so 18+ only content; fem!afab!reader; raider!joel; canon typical violence; mentions of hair pulling/reader having long hair; light dacryphilia; age gap; pet names (baby, darlin’, sweetheart, girl); slapping, spanking, choking; !!!NONCON!!! (sexual violence/assault, coercion, allusions to more sexual abuse—Dead Dove, Do Not Eat y’all, protect yourselves).

word count: 4k+

no use of y/n in this fic

alright y’all!!! here is the non-con raider!joel fic!! stay tuned for the version coming out soon wherein Joel actually rescues the reader LOL join the taglist to be notified when I post it!!! y’all’s requests will quite legit be the death of me BUT this was fun to write so im not mad. this version is just purely depraved & Joel ‘Big Dick’ Miller is a mean mean man. wrote it pretty fast too so b nice 2 me.

love u all, sorry for searing your eyeballs:)

-em<3

—

The stucco prickles and tears at the flushed skin of your cheek, a reminder that it’ll be winter soon. The birds are sure of it, and most of them managed to get away before the frost stood a chance of nipping them.

You didn’t.

After a few years of non-stop struggle, losing everything but your own life, you figured there were worse ways to go. At least you would be… well—you, in the end.

In whatever shape this man and his leering group of accomplices left you in.

“Against the wall,” and his voice had been the crack of a whip, snapping by your ear as electricity shot up and down your spine, as the tingling realization that the chase was over—the jig, up—settled into your bones. “Spread your fuckin’ legs.”

There were more hounds around… waiting.

Always waiting.

They’d already gotten to your old, tattered clothes. The brisk air bites at your exposed skin, but at least the cold would account for the violent shivers wracking your limbs. Even as the beast pins you to the side of the decrepit house, forces himself between your knees, your primary preoccupation is to stifle your fear.

They’d get everything else on display—but they would never get to see that.

When the screaming starts, those confused grunts, huffs, and squelches of a blade carving into flesh, you mostly commend your own imagination:

“I did it. I’m in my happy place. This will be quick, then.”

But then a rough, unfamiliar hand grabs hold of your naked waist, flipping you around, slamming your spine against the frosty stucco.

This is real.

And you bear witness to his carnage.

He painted the side of the house into a mosaic of inter-mingling blood, splattered like a Pollock against the grass, the wrinkled clothes and the rugged face of your salvation.

His eyes rake over your still-trembling body before he wrenches a red-coated knife—never breaking eye-contact—from the throat of the man you’d been at the mercy of just a few seconds ago.

Blood gushes up from the fatal wound, and you both watch the cruel scene, mesmerized. The attacker’s eyes dull, all evil dissipating from that once-ferocious gaze. The rescuer’s big, wide hands flip him over, stripping him of his stained beige jacket. Then, he carelessly kicks the lifeless form face-down onto the yellowing grass.

“Put it on.”

You uncross your arms, snatching the coat from the stranger’s extended hands. It doesn’t bother you, its belonging to him.

He’s dead; you get his coat.

A fair exchange.

He keeps an eye on you as he sorts through the pickings: a few strips of dried meat here, a loaded gun there (two bullets in the clip—you watch as he checks), and a few good blades, stashed inside pockets, bags, and down shirt-fronts.

The man straightens up.

Tall.

“Get in front of me,” his low baritone strikes you, causing your knees to concede to a slight wobble. “You run, you die. Got it?”

Texan.

Slowly, you nod, and a firm grip circles your wrist, tearing you from the wall.

“Walk.”

Your heart hammers—near deafening in your ears—as the stranger stalks behind you, directing your trembling movements with brusque, snapped commands.

Finally, the scattered orangey-red leaves begin to multiply, the domestic remnants of a past civilization thinning. The neighborhood opens into a field; large oaks and slouching willows shiver under the weak glare of the afternoon sun.

There’s a house up there. It seems to be in alright shape (some things are built tougher than others) and it’s certainly a step up from a few of the more… unsavory places the outbreak had led you to.

Nearing it, you take not of how much it resembles a barn-house. Red, pentagonal roof, and a big, wide, brown front door.

Gingerly stepping a foot on the cracked wood of the porch, you turn to face your rescuer, uncertainty tying slippery knots in your tummy.

Because there’s clamour coming from inside. There’s people in there.

The momentary hesitation allows you to get a good look at your rescuer: he’s greying and dark—mixed, likely, or just disposed to a stubborn tan—and probably in his mid forties. Probably handsome, too, if it weren’t for the resident cruel scowl deepening his apathetic expression, or the violence dancing in his eyes.

A raise of his eyebrows.

“I tell you to stop?” He nods towards the looming house. “Move.”

But… you don’t.

“Are you gonna kill me?” and you’re downright shocked by the strength—the resignation—of your tone, the way the question comes out so matter-of-fact.

That sparse mustache crinkles in the corners, teasing into something wicked. “You want me to?”

“No.”

“So get movin’, then.”

That left little room for debate.

So, you turn, fingers and knees shaking with anxious anticipation. He cuts in front of you at the last minute, shoving the front door open with his knife at his side—for you or for something else, you’re not entirely certain.

He pulls you into the foyer by your forearm; to your great dismay, you’re faced with an entire group of middle-aged men. Killers—for sure—leering at you with that same starved, animalistic look your rescuer had fixed you with.

Then, he tosses the bag on the floor.

“Found ‘em by the school. Decent haul.”

Their eyes tilt to your shuddering frame, dwarfed by the jacket weighing down your shoulders. One of them looks strangely familiar, proud features reminding you of something else you were afraid of. “No shit, huh,” he commends, “Nice work, Joel.”

Joel.

As the shaggy-haired man speaks, his voice strikes familial resemblance, and it dawns on you. Your rescuer’s brother, or at the very least a cousin.

And what he says is a clearly marked taunt. That much is clear. Uttered with the kind of cruel camaraderie which collected on the tongues of men who committed acts of violence together.

Who hunted together.

And it’s obvious you’re not being rescued. Just… reclaimed. Redistributed.

Fuck.

Another voice joins the mix. “How much you think y’could get for her?”

Joel’s profile turns, harsh, brutal lines forming as he assesses you. “Depends,” and then—ohmothermary—he smirks.

“Gonna have to test her out first.”

A few snickers.

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.

You’re trapped with nowhere to go, once again surrounded by a gaggle of soulless monsters. Fear grips you, but thankfully, it’s muted, now, having been mostly expended during the harrowing events of the morning.

Just an hour ago, pressed to the side of an abandoned house, you’d allowed yourself to give up.

So, it feels easy—natural—settling back into that rhythm.

To submit to your inevitable, violent fate.

Joel’s voice cuts through the clamour of your racing thoughts. “Upstairs, the room with the open door. Go.”

Eyes glued to the floor, you put one foot in front of the other, your insides twisting and turning inside your core. Fuck, you can feel the pairs of eyes following you with every step you take. The stairs creak as your weight presses into them, squealing like wounded prey.

“N’ take that fuckin’ jacket off,” Joel calls after you, the echoes of his booming voice and the group’s degrading laughter chasing you all the way up into the room—the one with the open door.

And it’s nice, surprisingly. Dusty, admittedly, and clearly having belonged to someone else—a long, long time ago—but the bed is made, the window lets the light in, and the walls remind you of cinnamon.

No, this wouldn’t be the worst prison. Or the worst place to die. It’s a sure-fire step up from the gutter between two dilapidated houses.

You keep the jacket on, shivering under its weight. Even as you hear footsteps climbing the stairs, even as the more rational, civilized side of your mind urges you to accede to your (non)rescuer’s every command.

The conversation downstairs dies off just as Joel rounds the corner, appearing in the doorway—a giant. Though your stomach lurches, and though your legs feel like putty, you hold your ground.

“I’ll fight, you know,” you hiss, watching him seal off the entrance to the room behind him. His flannel has droplets of blood on the collar—reminders of your previous captor—would your other attacker have been a better option? Who’d be more merciful to your quivering body?

You charge your voice with every last modicum of strength at your disposal. “I’ll fight.”

He turns, smirking softly at your clenched fists. “S’good, sweetheart. I like a little fight.” He stalks towards you, swiping his thumb along the plushness of his bottom lip, his intimidating presence forcing your back to meet the flat hardness of the wall behind you.

So much for fighting.

There’s nothing living in his eyes as he says it—nothing save the roiling flames of hunger: “You see those guys downstairs?”

You glare up at him, trying not to notice the alluring hook of his nose, or the way your body works against you, responding to the earthy smell of him.

Then, you nod, wordlessly.

“Did you count ‘em?” He splays a hand beside your head, using one hand to pry your arms uncrossed.

Again, you nod. “How many?” He asks, his voice deceptively soft.

“Five.” Breathless.

“S’right, sweetheart. Ever had your lil’ holes stuffed by five guys at once?”

A swallow, and your voice cracks when you’re finally able to put it to use. “No.”

He pries your elbows to your sides, pulling the beige fabric open, revealing the torn remains of your underwear.

It’s almost a croon, feigned concern underpinning his low tone. “You wanna see what it’s like?” He drinks in the sight of your bare chest, almost groaning at the sight of your naked front.

It’s not cold anymore; no, suddenly you’re very hot.

“No, please, no.”

He slips the coat off of your shoulders, letting it fall in a heap to the ground. He assesses you once more: studying every square inch of your skin under his shadowed eyes.

“M’only gonna say this once, sweetheart.” All that fake-gentleness fades from his tone, replaced by the sadistic, authoritative timbre he’d first greeted you with. “I need you to be very careful.”

You’re frozen—all that fight, it drains out of you, captivated by the raider’s looming form, his mesmerizing speech.

“You’re alone, yeah?” A nod, which he acknowledges, trailing a hand up the length of your waist. “S’what I thought. N’ the way I found you today? That’s a best-case-scenario for a girl like you, out here on your own.”

He drags a finger up the centre of your breast, skilled fingertips just barely brushing the peaked nipple. You lean into his touch—the near imperceptible arch of your back doesn’t go unnoticed, and you kick yourself internally as the corners of his lips twitch up.

Still, the raider ignores your trembling.

“You’re mine, now,” he continues, egged on by your involuntary movement. “Means you’re gonna be a good girl n’ do as I say, n’ I’ll make sure I’m the only man who touches you.” His big hand drops to his heavy silver buckle, and the clearly defined, bulging lines underneath it have your heart clawing out of your chest. Joel senses your fear—and it only makes him harder. “I don’t like sharin’ what’s mine, y’know? But you try anything—you step outta line—I’ll throw you to my guys downstairs.”

His hand finds your throat, hunger and warning beating to the same rhythm in his gaze. “I have no problem watching.” He gives your larynx a squeeze, multitasking as he pulls the strap of his belt through the worn loops of his denim. “Understood?”

You have no words left, shaking from head to toe as the reality of the situation finally settles in.

As he works the intimidating weight of his cock out of his jeans.

A huff. Joel flips you over, impatient, pressing your scraped up cheek to the cinnamon-brown of the wall.

Déjà vù.

Your knees are separated by his own, and his weight flattens you. He wastes no time: lining himself up, his tip separates your folds. Resistance is futile—with one hand, he holds your thighs open—even as they try to press themselves closed, even as you whimper at the rough, male knuckles pressed to bruise on the insides of your legs.

Leaving his mark.

It’s not an option to simply take it. Joel forces you to participate in the sinful act: “I asked you a fuckin’ question,” he growls, gripping your chin indelicately. “You understand me, girl?”

A swallow and a flinch as you feel the head of his cock poke at your entrance. “Yes. Okay. Yes.”

“Yes, Joel,” he corrects. “Use my name. You’re mine now. Use my fuckin’ name.”

Tears prick the corners of your eyes at the promised savagery in his tone. Holding back a sob, you respond: “Yes, Joel.”

You watch his hand, large and capable, splaying out a mere inch away from the tip of your nose. “Good,” he commends. “Z’are the only fuckin’ words you know, from now on.”

His free hand slaps against your hip, yanking you down onto his hard length. Your hips buck up against his abdomen, responding to the pull of his fingertips, even as you cry out at the sting, the stretch. The raider tries to force himself between your walls—muttering a grunted “shit”—and thrusting up against your ass.

But you’re too tight, too tense, and your stubborn body refuses to open up for him. Finally listening to you.

“Relax,” he orders, surprisingly softly. He moves his hand from your hip to the apex of your thighs, rubbing rough circles against your clit. Fuck, how’d he find it so fast? You gasp at the feel of his fingertips against your most sensitive, touch-starved spot, hating yourself for the way his pressure makes you feel.

Because…

Because—fuck.

It feels… good. The man knows exactly what he’s doing—methodical in his ministrations, prepping you only enough to ensure his own eventual pleasure. “S’too tight, baby,” he breathes against your neck, “Need to loosen up for me, yeah?”

He’s not gentle. No part of it is gentle. Nonetheless, pleasure ripples through your centre and down your thighs as he effectively turns you on.

“Thaaaaaa’s right,” and his voice is mocking and taunting and degrading as he drags his digits away, grabbing and pulling at your breasts, instead. Feeling the involuntary release of your cunt, Joel finally pushes himself in, sheathing the long, thick length of his cock inside you.

“Need to show this pussy what it’s fuckin’ made for.”

A current of pain flutters up your cunt just as he fills it up to the brim. You can’t help it—your stoicism crumbles to dust—and a soft, scared, pained whimper tumbles from your lips.

And he groans at it, thrusting roughly, over and over again. And again. “Hurts, does it?”

His breath is hot against your ear, and despite the fear, the ancient instincts gripping your bones, telling you to run, run, run, fight, fight, fight—it’s… enticing.

Hot.

“It hurts.”

He laughs, low and dark, bringing his hands to circle your hips, steadying you as you stumble on your tip-toes.

“Cry about it.”

And he keeps on going, tearing you open. The way his girth touches every starved part of your insides leaves you wanting, even despite the sting of his fingernails biting into your hips, the tears and cuts stinging at your opening.

You hate yourself for it.

But you clench around him, stifling a pathetic moan.

God, no—I am not enjoying this.

He breathes another laugh. “Feelin’ full, baby? Tell me how good it feels, c’mon,” and your inhalations come in heaves as he pounds into you, delivering a harsh slap to the side of your hip, hard enough for your skin to ripple from the contact. “Do as I say.”

When you refuse to sate him, swallowing all of your little noises, Joel grips your throat, bringing your head slamming against his shoulder. Your back arches into a perfect crescent, spine contorting at his will. A gasped cry fans out against his salt-and-pepper jaw.

A sob—of fear, of frustration, of reluctant pleasure. “You’re evil.”

The grip on your throat tightens, and he looses another laugh, squeezing your skin, muscles, and tendons oh-so-tight.

You’d be wrecked, bruised—branded—come sunrise.

“Yeah?” He groans, cock slamming up into your very guts.

“M-mhmm—” and the saltwater tears start pouring, trailing glistening slopes down your cheeks in long, long lines. Distantly, you hear his answer—“Yeah, well, you’re wet”—as those silver droplets keep on falling. Where they come from, you aren’t certain; of course, the terror, the physical torture, and the frustration at your entrapment contribute to the mess under your eyes.

But that warmth… the unbridled desire radiating between your thighs… that wasn’t helping, either.

“Fuuuuck,” he groans, muttering another “S’it—s’right,” and releasing your throat to tilt your head up to face him. He drinks in his creation, the ruined sight of your tear-stricken face, and his cock swells between your beaten walls. “God, you look so fuckin’ pretty takin’ it from me—cryin’ like your lil’ pussy ain’t desperate for this.”

Joel smiles when you sob.

It goes on for a while. He doesn’t tire quickly, bringing you right up to the edge of reluctant ecstasy before you remind yourself of the hatred you owed the man fucking into you. You get used to the sound of his hips snapping against your skin, your cries mingling with his gravelly, low grunts. It’s a dirty, depraved symphony—orchestrated by the monster between your thighs.

You can’t help the moan that escapes your lips when he finally, finally brings his fingers back down between your legs. He grunts in approval, barely grazing the length of your folds, pressing his thumb into the delicate flesh of your thigh, instead. “Dirty lil’ girl—fuckin’ dyin’ to be an old man’s whore, z’that it?” and he doesn’t even touch you, focussed on his own pleasure, but the proximity alone is enough to have you wrecked.

And you just can’t help it: “J-joel—”

“Y’know,” he chuckles, slightly out of breath, slowing his strokes to address your wanton whine, “You’re gonna make such a good lil’ fuck-toy, baby, f’you keep makin’ those pretty lil’ noises for me.”

The reality of the situation comes barrelling down on you as he acknowledges—praises—your enjoyment of his torture.

This man… this man was cruel. He was hurting you, and enjoying it.

You struggle against him, a pathetic show of weakness. Joel holds you in place effortlessly, arching your back further, keeping your hips preened back to receive the harsh thrusts he delivers to your torn, ruined cunt. “Where you goin’?” He laughs at your pathetic attempt at resistance, grips tightening. “Thought we were havin’ fun, baby—don’t it feel good?”

And he quickens again, slamming into every needy spot inside you. His breaths grow shallow, as rough as his hands and the ferocity of this punishment.

“No,” you manage, fingernails digging into his forearm.

He tuts, the vocal click constricted with lust, and his hand travels the length of you, settling against that aching bud between your thighs. “Fuckin’ liar.”

He presses down, proving his point. Your entire body tenses as pleasure ripples through you—despite your best efforts, climax crests through your core, threatening to implode within you. Joel hums, smirking when he feels your legs parting even wider.

“S’mine now, alright? You’re mine now.” He crams every inch of his cock up inside you, pulling you flush against his chest. “S’okay to come for me—s’okay, baby, I want you to—s’fuckin’ right, let go for me, baby—” and his crooning takes you over the edge.

Christ, it feels so good.

You clench around him, high-pitched pleas and moans tumbling from your lips, his own pair dragging down the swoop of your ear. In that split second, Joel—the devil at your back—is your favourite thing in the world: your hero, your haven, your God. Fuck, you could just kiss him, marry him, fuck him over and over and over and over—

A hand clamps over your mouth during those brief, blissful moments; the man practically bounces you up and down the length of him, muffling the cries of pain and pleasure tearing from your sore throat against the rough skin of his palm. He groans inside your ear—a stammered, sinful “fuuuck”—and then he’s spilling his seed inside you, shoving it impossibly deep as those quick, harsh strokes stutter and slow.

You come to, waking up from your pleasure-drunk daze. Before you get the opportunity to wriggle away from him, the monster flips you over again, slamming your shoulders to the wall. With his forearm barring your chest, and despite your fear and ire—somehow, all you can think about is the fact that he’s not as out of breath as he really should be (given his age and, of course, what he’d just done to you).

Joel leaks out of you. His cum paints masterpieces down your legs.

He slides his free hand down the length of his cock, collecting the last bits of slick clinging to him and not dripping out of you. The intermingling juices are brought to the roundness of your breasts—the raider slathers your sore peaks with his own spend.

“Nobody’s gonna fuck with you—but that means you’re Joel’s girl. Hear me?” With your head bowed, you glare up at him through silver-lined spider lashes, shame beating at your cheeks. When you hum your acknowledging “uh-huh,” the stranger continues on, gripping your jaw to angle your gaze up: “Means you listen—you-you don’t fuckin’ try me—n’ you take everything I give you, every fuckin’ time. Understand?” He tucks his softening length back in his pants, dark eyes dancing with satisfaction as he leers at your destroyed form.

When you don’t respond, he brings the back of his punishing hand colliding with the side of your face.

Something between a squeal and a gasp tumbles from your lips; Joel catches it, placing the pad of his thumb to your bottom lip, pressing down. Your cheek stings from his harsh slap, delivered on top of the scrapes and wounds a different cruel man had left upon your skin.

“I don’t wanna hurt you, baby, but I will f’I have to,” and he’s earnest, commanding and pleading at once. “You gotta answer me.”

Slowly, you croak out a timid, “Yes,” and an “I understand,” followed by a final “Joel.”

Nodding, he straightens, the violence in his gaze fading just minutely. When he lets go, you stagger—the raider senses the instability of your knees, reflexively snaking a steadying arm around your waist.

You’re not sure where the impulse comes from. Perhaps it’s exhaustion, the aftermath of your orgasm, or maybe it’s just a sick, twisted desire to sink into something beyond your body—either way, you respond to Joel’s support by throwing your arms around his neck.

And he responds by lifting you, walking you over to the bed, and tossing you down on the sheets. Awakening into reality, you scamper back, grabbing and yanking at the surrounding bedding in a desperate attempt to cover yourself.

But Joel pays you no mind.

Having had his way, he’s through with you—for now. Nonchalantly, apathetically, he runs a hand through his hair, tracing heavy steps towards the door.

“Lock the door when I leave,” he instructs, but his tone is soft… possessive and commanding, yes, but… caring. “Don’t open it for anyone but me.”

He waits for your show of understanding, your near imperceptible nod.

Then, he sighs, yanking on the handle and giving you his final address over a pair of creaky, squeaky, rusted hinges. “Try to sleep, sweetheart—got a long night ahead of you.” Chuckling to himself, he leaves the sanctuary of the room.

All you can hear as your body grows heavy and warm, travelling somewhere far, far beyond this violent world are the echoes of male laughter down the hall, and a familiar, satisfied, gravelly voice:

“Not worth much, now. Might just fuckin’ keep her.”

And you slip away, dreaming of belt buckles, blood-stained collars, and the lung-squeezing heat of the setting Texan sun.

—

He used to call me DN

That stood for deadly nightshade

'Cause I was filled with poison

But blessed with beauty and rage

Jim told me that

He hit me and it felt like a kiss

Jim brought me back

Reminding me of when we were kids

With his ultraviolence

Ultraviolence

Ultraviolence

Ultraviolence

I can hear sirens, sirens

He hit me and it felt like a kiss

I can hear violins, violins

Give me all of that ultraviolence

He used to call me poison

Like I was poison ivy

I could've died right then

'Cause he was right beside me

Jim raised me up

He hurt me but it felt like true love

Jim taught me that

Loving him was never enough

With his ultraviolence

Ultraviolence

Ultraviolence

Ultraviolence

I can hear sirens, sirens

He hit me and it felt like a kiss

I can hear violins, violins

Give me all of that ultraviolence

We can go back to New York

Loving you was really hard

We could go back to Woodstock

Where they don't know who we are

Heaven is on earth

I would do anything for you, babe

Blessed is this union

Crying tears of gold, like lemonade

I love you the first time

I love you the last time

Yo soy la princesa, comprende mis white lines

'Cause I'm your jazz singer

And you're my cult leader

I love you forever

I love you forever

With his ultraviolence

Ultraviolence

Ultraviolence

Ultraviolence

I can hear sirens, sirens

He hit me and it felt like a kiss

I can hear violins, violins

Give me all of that ultraviolence

—

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[xerotiny]

Chasing Stars in the Dark // Request

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x Reader [best friends to lovers]

Warning: smut, hard dom!yunho, sub!reader, manhandling, fingering, big cock yunho, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, degradation, rough sex, cunnilingus, Yunho as a hard dom but still caring, etc.

Note: do not proceed if you're uncomfortable with any mentioned tags. Grab yourself a couple of snacks because this long as fuck. And not proofread.

Requested By: wattpad request

Gist: having broken up recently, you call your best friend and ramble all your sad tales to him. Yunho always kept an open mind and listened to your every chatter, no matter how envious he seemed listening to you. However, finding you seemingly heartbroken, he suggests you return to your hometown. Because he was too. Although, going back home might mean having more boy problems than usual.

Song rec: Stars by SKY

Word Count: 24,665

"And he said, I dress like a slut!" you whine, aggressively sucking on the straw to get the remaining drink out of your glass.

The loud noise caused you to earn bothered glances from the surrounding people. You take a look around, seemingly unaware of what you had done, and bow your head a little; you turn back to your laptop screen, finding a familiar face grinning at your disastrous mistake. He doesn't need a reason to snicker at you, and why would he? Every moment of your life is mangled deeply within the awkwardness defined by your body, he only found it endearing. Did he?

"Stop it, Yunho," you groan, rolling your eyes at him. "That wasn't funny."

"To me it was," he shrugs.

You were sitting in the campus cafe, with your laptop propped open on the table and your favourite drink by your side. Mellow sun hung over your head, shining bright and dithering to the cloudy skies which the winds blew by. In the daze of the sunshine, you occupied the window counter with a long table and stools for seating; you preferred the single seating instead of the booth 'cause it would not engage you in unnecessary interactions. Or so you thought. Being an introvert, social interactions weren't really your strong suit. "But coming back to your real issues," he clears his throat, "he really said you dress like a slut? Oh my god. The audacity."

The moment his voice raised a baritone, you knew he was being overly dramatic about this situation; in a way, it seemed like he was mocking you. And maybe he was.

You roll your eyes again, "Yunho, I'm being serious!"

He whines, "so am I, Liyah. The audacity of a man to tell you how to dress is sheer atrocity and arrogance."

"Yeah yeah," you sigh, "but he was so perfect, Yun. Like, my Prince Charming."

"Okay, I wish I went deaf before hearing that," he jokes, two of his sleek fingers pointed at his forehead to mimic a gun, "kill me now, please."

"I wish I could," you huff, biting your lip. "I wish for many things; I wish I could get back with him."

For the first time in a while, you were yearning something else than comfort. Usually, after your breakups, you would call up your best friend and he would try to ease your mind over it, but this time you were craving for your best friend to be with you. Which was highly unlikely considering you both were in different cities, pursuing your undergrad degree. Coming from hometown, you were diaper buddies, born in the same hospital, on the same day, being neighbours and your families being lost long friends. This wasn't sheer coincidence; this was something from the book of fate for best friends.

Best friends. Those two words made your heart bitter. Agreed, when you two were kids, you were really good friends, always at each other's side and having each other's backs. You two were ride or die. Though, along the senior years of your high school, you started to see Yunho in a completely different light. To define it best, you were in love with him. Well, to be fair, love doesn't happen overnight, it takes time; and for you, it had taken eighteen years of your life to make you realise how fucked up you were for him. At times you wonder if he was too. Not that he would say it outright, but over the past years he had gone further and beyond to make you happy.

"No, Liyah! Repeat after me," he leans closer to his screen, the camera noting every detail of him, "I should not give second chances to hubristic dicks."

"I should not give second chances to hubristic dicks." You repeat, deadpanning, however.

"Was that so hard?" he leans back on his chair, adjusting his big headphones overhead and heaving out a breath, "Liyah, you don't deserve a guy like him. All he's ever done is second guess your relationship, judged you for your preferences and has never once respected your opinions."

He rolls back a little on his chair, grabbing his half-eaten snickers bar from the table and taking a good bite of it; he was in his dorm room, wearing a black tank top and jogger shorts. The room was kept dark with the drapes drawn over the windows, you could discern him through the screen only because his table lamp was burning directly onto him. Though, considering the murmured darkness in his room, you could still read the minute details on his face; his soft doe eyes, the hazy brown in them, and his plump lips almost too kissable to resist. The only surprise in his appearance was his hair. He had dyed it to a vivid colour of ashen blue, a complete contrast to his ebony hair you were used to.

"He was a misogynist." Yunho adds, "having such old school thoughts about women, and..." he trails off, "and it was visible in the way he treated you. I would never understand why you even considered dating him. I already told you he was a red flag."

You pout, "maybe because I was bored."

"If you're bored Liyah, maybe play a game or something?" he monotonously replies, satire reeking from him, "don't fall for dicks."

"Yeah, it's easy for you to say because you've never had your heart broken," you retort, "you've broken countless, however. How do you sleep at night?"

"Sound and peaceful, why?" he cocks his one brow up, "look, I haven't found 'the one' yet. A lot of them are pretentious bitches who only care about my dick."

"T-M-I, Yunho." You groan, "and it's quite obvious, girls are going to be after your body."

"Yeah, you think so?" he purposely places his elbows on the table, folding his arms to flex them. "I never caught up on that."

"Eat shit, fucker," you poke your tongue out at him, "no, seriously. You need to find yourself someone who stays longer than the time you take to pull your pants up after sex."

"Jeez, you have a way with your words, and that's really elaborate." He leans back, stretching his arms over his head, his muscles contorting to his command, "tell me, have you done anything stupid yet?"

"What do you mean?" you sound a little guilty.

"Don't fuck with me," he deadpans, keeping a warning tone instead, "you know exactly what I mean. Whenever someone breaks your heart, you plot a revenge story, and it never goes the way you plan them to."

"You're still salty about last time?" you whine, "we both knew it was a mistake. Lesson learnt. But you were my partner in crime, so..."

"Leave it," he sighs, rubbing his hands over his face, "I still feel grossed out remembering what we did. You're pretty ruthless, you know that?"

"If he thinks his car is the only love of his life, then he had it coming."

"You wrecked his car beyond repair. You should know guys love their cars." He pouts softly, and you retaliate, "yeah, and you still joined me because you didn't want me to do it alone."

"Of course!" he exclaims, snickering a little, "I wasn't going to stand by and let you ruin your ex's car all alone, he deserved it."

"You are such a dick," you laugh along, "you can't pick a side, can you? Okay. Jokes apart. I'm not planning anything crazy this time. I'm far too old for that. Besides, I have assignments due before our summer break starts. So, guess what? I'm stuck typing hundred words per minute."

"You are stressed out," he mumbles, leaning on the table with his elbow and then resting his chin on his hand; he sighs, dazed by you. "Is that why I can see frown lines on your forehead? They're so prominent, ugh."

"What, really?" you unconsciously touch your forehead, worried. "Haha, very funny."

"Hey, I'm trying my best to ease your tension out." He shrugs.

You roll your eyes, adjusting your wired earbuds before looking away; grabbing your glass of strawberry smoothie, you peer further off the window in front of you. While you were busy studying the passersby on the promenade of your campus, Yunho was busy studying you. Mellow silence fills your ears for the time being he was staring at you, staring your hazel eyes melting away into sheer exultation as you sipped your drink. He always found you quite alluring. The way you'd scrunch your nose when you liked something, the way your cheeks would pop out when you smiled, and the way you'd get so easily flustered by compliments; every little thing about you was etched in my mind, almost ingrained.

Yunho continues to let his eyes linger on you, adoring your eyes and your lips; admiring the way you were sitting alone, tugging at the straps of your camisole in an attempt to keep them in place. He had never noticed you for your appearance or your vanity, he only saw you for your smile, your silly habits and your captivating personality. So, when he was quite engrossed in ogling your face, it weighed on him how badly he had fallen for you.

"What, cat got your tongue?" you mock, putting your glass down and letting it clink against the table. Pulling out the claw clip from your hair, you let it fall on your shoulders.

"No, I was just thinking."

"What?"

"That I gotta stop engaging myself with you and your shenanigans."

You roll your eyes for the umpteenth time, and he grins, "I'm joking. I wanted to ask you something."

"Go on."

"What are your plans over the summer break?" he asks, genuinely appearing curious as his brows fold up.

"I haven't given it much thought," you mutter, running hand through your hair, "I was thinking of applying for a full-time job or something."

With a subtle tug of your shoulder, you heave out a sigh and shake your head. Although, you had pretty much no motivation to think about your leisure holidays in front of you because you were too depressed about your breakup. You wouldn't say 'your now ex' was truly the one for you, but you were most definitely dwelling on the fact that you're going to have to be alone while your lifelong crush flirts with other women. That's the sad reality of unrequited love. You're deep into your thoughts, delving even deeper into your notions of your ex-boyfriend and your crush, seeming to shut out everyone around you. Yunho too.

"Liyah, are you listening to me?"

You snap back to reality, lips trembling and eyes quickly falling onto Yunho's face. "I am."

"Be a better liar, Liyah," he groans, shaking his head, "never mind, I was saying if you have nothing planned for your summer break, you can come back home." He has certainly gotten your attention now. "Well, I am too," he shrugs, "just as a favour to Mingi."

"What, why?" you muse, ruminating about the newly mentioned individual who happened to be your friend too. "You owe Mingi a favour?"

"It's not a bad thing," he pouts, "just volunteering at the summer camp."

"You want me to volunteer too?" you deadpan.

"Yeah," he mumbles, "I could use some company. You know I'm not too fond of the people back home, especially the ones of my age. And then there's unwanted attention from girls."

"Oh, Jesus Christ, Yunho," you monotonously speak, "if you want me to be the lady repellent, you could've said so."

"Not exactly a lady repellent. I'm not trying to soil my chances with Alexis." He smirks, "we've been texting. And let's say there are some details I can't tell you."

"I know," you roll your eyes, "by the way, texting and sexting are two different things. Genius."

"Her body," he mouths, cupping the air in front of his chest.

You narrow your eyes at him.

"Okay, no objectifying," leaning back into the chair, he rests his arms behind his head, "I'm kind of surprised Mingi did not text you regarding the volunteer work."

"We lost touch."

"Really?" he scoffs, "hard to believe considering you two were really close back in the days. Didn't he have a big fat crush on you?"

"It was a teeny tiny one." You state, "besides, we did not interact much after graduation."

The look on Yunho's face tells you he doesn't believe you; not even a bit when you're trying to forget about those days, all the times you were close to this person. Song Mingi was a good friend of yours, you met in middle school and had known each other since then. He's a little goofy and timid, an introvert more likely. Somehow, to your surprise, Yunho and he got along perfectly. For some reason you were worried about that they won't because you thought Yunho would feel left out. He never did. Yunho did not show any sort of disdain towards you making new friends, not even once.

Though, there'd be a time when he'd started showing his bitterness towards Mingi; at that time, you pushed it away, seemingly thinking it was nothing more than playful envy between the two of them. Both of them competed for your attention, considering all was a friendly banter. Until it wasn't. Mingi had a crush on you. Big time. He confessed it to you at the end of your graduation party. You kept Yunho in shadows regarding this fiasco, although it was stifling to not share everything with him as you usually would. That night, you gave Mingi a well thought riposte.

You told him the truth.

You unveiled your deepest secrets to him.

He was quite understanding. Not judgemental at all.

You liked Yunho. Always had.

When Mingi got to know of the truth, he chuckled and said, "I'm not dumb to be so oblivious. But I think he's the real fool to not see it."

You laughed along, stating, "it's been ten years. I'd give it some more time."

Mingi couldn't believe you, "you've liked him for ten years? What, since you were eight?"

You nodded, "come on, it's not that bad. I'll tell him eventually, taking one step at a time. Because, who wants to ruin such a good friendship with him."

Mingi did not say anything later on, he only wished you luck and pecked your cheek. The night was absolutely beautiful, somewhat schematic due to your realisation. If you don't confess soon, you'll be stuck with someone who's not him. And it goes both ways. After graduation, you and Yunho both chose to leave your hometown in search of better opportunities, both having been accepted into colleges cities apart.

If you recall your high school years, you had mentioned it a few times to him, that you'd want to go to the same college as him. But nothing goes as planned, does it? It's been three years since graduation, both of you in your junior years at college, and million miles away. You're grateful to the weekly, or sometimes monthly, FaceTime sessions with him; it gives you a sense of calm and comfort. Well, witnessing the joy on his face, for every little thing, does.

Yunho clears his throat, "what happened that night, Liyah?"

You take a deep breath, dismissing your reminiscent thoughts. "Nothing, really. We talked."

"If you say so." He doesn't believe it at all. "So, what's your answer? Do I see you over the summer break?"

You couldn't resist his sly smile and tempting eyes. "Sure. But I'm only doing it 'cause you forced me to. You definitely owe me one."

"Okay, princess." He rolls his eyes, "I'll see you then. Unfortunately, I have to take my leave now. Got a class today."

"Whatever." You poke your tongue out at him, "see you soon."

The call disconnects and you're all alone in the cafe with your empty glass of smoothie, a few other students and your phone buzzing quietly. You peer over the notifications once the screen lights up, finding texts from Yunho.

Yunho 🐾🐶 do you believe in coincidences?

You why?

Yunho 🐾🐶 mingi texted me he was asking about you seems like someone's not over their crush yet

You leave it, yun

Yunho 🐾🐶 nope see... now you have more than one reason to come back.

You fuck you

Rolling your eyes, you put your phone aside and groan at the situation; flustered, your face heats up and you try to hide the tint of red on your cheeks by laying your head down. Planting on the counter face first, you start pulling your thoughts apart. There's no way your summer break was going to be peaceful, neither here nor there. Though, you could say you were very much determined to confess your feelings to Yunho.

It was just...you were worried it was going to cost you your friendship with him.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

            Summer break was here. The awful heat brought awful dread to the pit of your stomach, because you weren't prepared to meet either of the boys you were apparently close to. If you could put your nonchalant mind to work, you would realise you owe Mingi a relationship, and a draught confession to Yunho. The very sad part of your ordeal was the way you would approach it; you can't be lax with yourself or them, you can't be straightforward either. You had to think it through, whatever that is you had planned.

You were engrossed, immersed in the mindless notions when you park your car in the driveway of your suburban house. How badly had missed this place. The house is still the same, the grey walls, the wooden overhang, the roof tiles, and the aesthetically pleasing front porch stairs. Right beside yours, a meter apart, was Yunho's house. The Victorian style architecture never ceases to impress you, neither does the lush lawn and intricate landscape.

Heat simmers you out as you get out of the car and proceed to grab your bags from the trunk; putting a hand overhead, you try to save yourself from the sun before hastily making your way to the front porch. The overhang provides you with gelid shade, while you fumble with your bags to find the house key under one of the potted plants scattered on the porch. Upon finding it under some dead plant, you put the key in and turn it; the door unlocks and you're pushing past to get inside, your bags following after.

The vestibule, seemingly cooler than the outside, is empty and dark. To your surprise, the entire house is left cloaked in darkness. You slip out of your shoes, heaving out a sigh as the heat starts dissipating, bit by bit. Putting on the house slippers, you lug your bags behind you and come to a halt in the darkened living room; the drapes were pulled over the windows, not letting any lights pass through. You were aware your mom wasn't home; she was at work. But at least she could've left the curtains open, make sure you weren't blinded by the darkness once you come home. There's no point in thinking about your father, as he's usually out of town for work, awfully lot.

Chucking every notion into your mental bin, you stride to the windows and uncover the drapes, pulling them to the side while sunlight filters in. You turn around on your feet and quickly rid yourself of the wispy kimono you had over your body. Once you were out, you slump yourself on the couch and close your eyes. After a three-hour long drive, it was the first time in the day you had felt your skin breathe; however, you could've preferred for the air conditioning to be a little lower in the temperature.

You fish out your phone from the pockets of your shorts, which were stuck to your skin tightly because of the heat. Tugging at the straps of your embroidered camisole, you huff out a few breaths before going through your notifications. No recent texts from your mom, and no replies from Yunho. You had called him in the morning, before leaving your dorm room, informing him of your departure. He was ecstatic, evident in his voice and told you he had arrived a couple of days before you.

There was no need for you to have bittersweet sentiments about him reaching first, but you were somehow least prepared to face him, now that he was before you and gave you no time to think what your first words to him be. You two were meeting after three years, and the last time you remember, you hadn't gone a day without each other. Separation anxiety is a real thing, you thought. After many years of considering it a hoax, you had come to terms with it. Living in a different city without Yunho felt dreadful, a mere struggle till you could stand on your feet and do everything on your own.

Let's say you two relied on each other a lot. A lot.

"No texts?" you groan, opening yours and Yunho's chats. "You gotta be some kind of dick to ignore me..." sulking, you sink further back into the couch and rest your head against the edge. "Ahh..." you sigh, out of sheer spite and boredom.

You close your eyes again, not wanting to stare at the bland and vapid ceiling; the thought of you meeting your best friend after three years, swirls in your head. It's gonna be easy right? No awkwardness, no silences, and no teasing. Right? You have been FaceTiming each other, anyway, don't know why you have to be so worried about it. Perhaps, you were nervous to see him after a long time, only because you had confessions to make.

Lost in the vastness of your inklings, you don't perceive many things in your surroundings, especially the muffled footsteps ascending to your back. Your body flinches when a pair of hands grab your shoulders, eyes wide and on an alert; but your view is constrained to a dark silhouette covering its face with a purge mask.

"Gotcha!"

"Fuck!" you scream, managing to slip out of the person's grip and getting off the couch.

You've not even composed yourself when you hear a raspy voice rumble from behind the couch; from the apparent person standing behind it, clutching onto its stomach and throwing his head back in laughter.

"Oh my goodness," the all too familiar voice echos in your head, "you should've seen your face, Liyah."

When the dense vibrations of his laughter come to a halt, he whips off the mask from his face, revealing his fading ashen hair stuck to his forehead. Yunho smirks at you, flicking the mask on the couch before walking around to drop down on it. He takes a breath of air, perhaps tired from all the laughter while you narrow your eyes at him, your arms over your chest.

You're watching him with amusement; maybe it was the epicurean sense of your gaze, 'cause you couldn't help but drool at the man he had become. Yeah yeah, it sounds weird to you too. Maybe, spending three years away from each other had numbed your senses. Even after all the FaceTime sessions, you were erratically attracted to him; his toned body and how it was hidden beneath an oversized graphic tee and denim jeans. The most endearing thing about him, his shirt having a handwritten typography spelling out 'smile, zero worries'. That is definitely his personality.

"Not funny, jerk face."

"Oh, it really was," he chuckles, shrugging off his black leather jacket and letting it hang over the armrest of the couch. "Your face was worth going through all the trouble to find this mask in my attic. Too bad I did not have a camera on me."

"Is this how you welcome me back? By petty pranks?"

He shrugs his shoulders, letting his head fall back, "I had many things planned for your welcome; guess my efforts fell short. I'm not as lively as I used to be before."

"I'm glad you aren't," you grumble, going to pick up your bags when Yunho quickly scrambles on his feet and picks them up for you. "Woah, what a gentleman."

"Snark all you want; I know you love me." He snides, holding two of your bags in either of his hands, "to your room, then?"

You shake your head and roll your eyes, taking the lead as you walk down the hallway. As the hallway curves to a corner, the stairs begin and you take one step at a time, Yunho hauling the bags behind you.

"Would it be stupid if I asked you how you got in?" you mumble, calling to him.

Yunho heaves a murmured chortle, "babes, the balcony of your room opens right into mine. All I had to do was take a leap of faith. Literally."

"That's trespassing, I'll have you behind the bars," you retort.

"Aww, then wouldn't you miss me too much?" he pouts, "I got to jail, you lose a best friend and die alone."

"Pretty elaborate," you continue walking up the stairs, quite leisurely to keep the conversation between you two going, "I'm not dying alone. We made a deal, remember?"

"Right, we were born together, we will die together." He sighs, "we made a lot of hollow promises back then, did we not?"

The two of you are at the top of the stairs, you've stopped in your steps while he's standing next to you. Either of your eyes bore into each other's, searching for the verity of your so-called promises and pacts you had made when you were kids. It's all fun and games when you're kids, when you don't even think with a fraction of your mind and believe every word you say is genuine and candid. You and Yunho had your own sets of bargains ready by the age of fourteen; you were silly then, to consider yourself making covenants with your best friend about every little thing.

Not married till 30? You were going to marry each other.

No first kiss in your teens? You were going to be each other's firsts. And that applied to everything.

These were some of them, but the thought of being each other's first was a wild one. Luckily, you both had your first kiss at the age of sixteen; it was memorable for you, but terrible for Yunho as he remembers the girl he liked was only using him to make her ex jealous. It's all in the past. You're both twenty something now: twenty-one, one year away from graduating college. Of course, things, situations, conflicts, have taken turns for the better.

At the top of the stairs, it's just you and him, lost in the translation of the language your eyes spoke. What were you even trying to convey? Biting your lip, blinking uncontrollably while your heart pounds in your chest, too hard for you to think it would drop down to your gut. Maybe you were taking an apprehensive approach to your dynamic with him, because once it shifts, you know there's no going back.

Yunho clears his throat, looking away from you and stepping forward, "your bags are really heavy. What do you have in these?"

Your body shudders softly, squeaking at the absence of him next to you. "Just clothes."

"How many pairs did you get?"

"Not many..." you weren't sure if you were making sense to yourself, because you hadn't quite snapped out of your trance yet.

The little stare down at the top of the stairs was a homebound reverie to you. It put you in a deep state of cognisance, fulfilling your heart's desire because you were now persuaded by your stupid self to believe you had fallen in love with him. The soulmate type of love. Was it? It had to be. Because no one knows you like he does. Knowing every crack and crevice in your soul, knowing every little detail about you, remembering it, ingraining in his memory; he had to be in love with you, too. Right? It only made sense.

Yunho's long gone from your point of vision, and you're still stuck to the floor, contemplating, musing, or ruminating. No matter how you made overtures to your thinking, there was no way you'd think he reciprocates your feelings. Maybe it's too much wishful thinking. Has to be.

"Liyah, where the fuck are you?" he playfully calls out to you, his deep voice breaking you apart.

You shake your head and promenade down the narrow hallway once it the main structure branches into two; your house was like a labyrinth of hallways, and you'd find yourself lost in the maze at times. You don't know how Yunho remembers everything, but maybe it's habitual for him to remember, as much as you do for his house. Walking in your room, you find Yunho closing the balcony doors he had left open.

"No thoughts. Clear mind." You mumble to yourself before trudging further inside.

Yunho, alerted by your presence, turns around and offers you a smile. That goddamn smile. The one which shines brighter than the moon and the stars, heck, it would even put them to shame. His smile brought butterflies to your stomach, and the familiar feelings started bubbling under your skin. You were fucked.

Well, you might want to hold onto that thought just yet.

You're left to act on your instincts when he prances towards you and wraps your little frame in a bone crushing hug. He missed you. Clearly. His arms are tight and snug around your shoulders, his head tilting down to rest his chin on yours; your height difference gave him the biggest advantage ever, towering over you like a giant teddy bear. He was soft, and warm, comforting to you. Maybe why you did not think twice before hugging him back as tight as you could; you bury your head in his chest, inhaling his scent which was long lost in the virtual reality of FaceTimes. You missed him too. A lot.

Yunho always smelled like a sybaritic man, someone who'd be addicted to the life of luxury and pleasure. It was too sensual for you and your senses. Imagine, hugging your best friend who's basically sex on a stick. Yeah, your hormones were going crazy. Downtown crazy. You pull back from his embrace before you could feel yourself dripping in carnality by only inhaling the heart notes of his scent and step aside to fall onto your bed.

Not much was spoken. Not when you had practically snatched yourself out of his hold and flumped on the bed. Yunho doesn't bother saying anything to you, only maybe, he finds it better to just lay next to you on the bed. You prop yourself up by your elbows and turn your head to look at him; he was resting against the headboard with his head tilted to a side while his eyes remained fixed on you. There's a frail curl on his lips. And you wonder what it was about.

"I really needed that hug, thanks." You speak up, turning on your side and letting your head fall on the mattress; you still peeked at him.

Yunho couldn't bear the sight of you, innocently looking up at him through your lashes. He couldn't really help it either because your scent had put him in a daze of the past years, the reminiscent years of him stealing sniffs of you to realise how alluring your scent was. You always smelled luscious to him, having the hints of strawberry and coconut to your skin, your hair, and your lips even; he didn't know when he was addicted to you.

"Because of the breakup?" he asks, grabbing the fluffy pillow from next to him and hugging it close to his chest.

"Because I saw him again, before coming here," you blurt, "I wasn't ready for a confrontation. He approached me, already decided to win me back."

"What did you say to him?"

"I couldn't say anything," you mumble, "like words disintegrated on my tongue. I was blank. My heart desired to say one thing but my mind refrained from saying anything at all."

"You really weren't ready to see him," he snickers, "it speaks for the better of you, doesn't it?

"That I don't need him like I used to before?"

"You're growing independent," he points, "he never was the right choice for you, yet you let him get to the deepest parts of you. Liyah, don't make the mistake of going back to him. Find yourself a better man."

"I'm trying to," you sound despondent to him and he suggests, "there's not much time for the night to dawn over. I'll cook something for you and set up the rooftop, like the old times."

You sit up straighter, narrowing your eyes at him while your lower lip tugs down. "I don't trust you in the kitchen. Leave the cooking to me. You go set up the rooftop."

"You're leaving the hard part for me," he groans, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. But you know what I like right?"

"Lasagna? Mac and cheese? Jajangmyeon?" you list, pulling yourself out of the bed and staring at him, "I'm whipping up something easy. Too lazy to do go all culinary mode."

He gets out of the bed too, rolling his eyes at you before putting the pillow down. "Just make some P-B-and-J."

"We're not in middle school anymore," you state, already turning on your heels to exit the room. "I'll make some pasta."

"Whatever you want," he shrugs his shoulders and proceeds to walk to the balcony.

"I'll be back soon. Be careful upstairs."

"Don't worry, okay? I've done it countless times before. I'll be fine."

You nod and head downstairs to the kitchen. However, light on your feet, you were shaking with anticipation. Maybe this could be an opportunity to confess? It has to be right? Why else would he suggest it? You know your rooftop rendezvous have always been romantic; what's anti romantic about rooftop dinners? Nothing. Nothing compares to eating under the moonlight with the one you can rely on. It has been a long-time tradition for the two of you. The moment either of you spiralled down the road of depression or anxiety, you'd be up on the rooftop, looking at the stars.

In the kitchen, you're drifting around like a giant cloud, working yourself up to prepare good food for both of you. This is where you in a slump, thinking of easy ways to whip up something delicious. Given, you also had to consider the limited source of ingredients you have in the refrigerator. You're way too over your head, pondering. What if you make something disappointing? What if he doesn't like what you make? You're practically scratching the back of your neck, standing still in front of the closed refrigerator with thoughts circling around one thing; what to make.

Amidst the dense tranquility of the house, you groan out softly and pull the door of the refrigerator. Opening it, you find nothing of useful. This is atrocious. You're contemplating, deranged by the extremities of your mind, you have half a heart made up to prepare peanut butter and jelly sandwiches as he had suggested. But that is too basic. Is that what you would want to feed the man you had been in love with? Probably not.

Your dismayed conscience doesn't let you rest for even a second, immensely saturated on outdated thoughts and emotions; the noise in your head is quite louder than the affable footsteps resonating across the kitchen. It was when a warm hand had engulfed your shoulder bone, then you were brought to your reality with Yunho standing next to you. His face was shrouded with despair yet the desperate shine of the sinking sun had lighten up his eyes; he seemed to be in a melancholic state, lips jutting out. The warmth of his hand slips down your shoulder, alerting you somehow.

"Hey, what's wrong?" you ask, closing the refrigerator door.

He stood adjacent to the window, his ashen hair appearing as a cerulean tuft of sea, his face cherishing the golden glow. Was it possible for him to be any more attractive than he already is?

"I nicked my finger," he mutters, glancing down.

Your eyes trail along his, witnessing the alarming cut on his pinky finger. It was a long gash, deep even; why else would there be rivulets of blood cascading down his skin? Panic stricken, you hold his hand on yours, both of your palms cupped his hand to pull him closer to you. The contrasting shade of blood against his pale skin was terrifying, not as much, but it was genuinely intimidating. More blood oozes out when you bring his hand under your sharp gaze to inspect.

"How can you be so clumsy, Yunho?" you half-yell, half-question him, nibbling on your lower lip.

"I was careful, okay? I don't know how I cut myself; probably on the roof tile or something, I don't know," he explains, exasperated.

"Does it hurt?"

"No."

"I don't see..." you tilt his hand in a way to catch it under the dimming light of the sun coming through the window. "There isn't anything stuck in the cut."

He stays quiet, watching you, leaning over your petite body to wonder what you had been observing for long; it was certainly disporting to him, how you were so keen on studying the little slash on his skin, rather than his eyes which had been speaking to you for years. Absolutely ridiculous. He knows how you were, how eye contact always brought you a sense of unease and discomfort. And maybe holding a serious stare down with him might have been too heavy on your heart, because he even knows how desperately it hammered in your chest.

Biting down on his lower lip, Yunho refrains every strain in his muscles to lift up your chin and kiss your lips right there and then. He had been eager to taste them, always was. You have no idea how dire his yearning is, how avidly he dreams to be with you. In a broader perspective, he understands when to wear his heart on his sleeve and make it obvious to you. And for the time being, he hadn't found the perfect moment to. Not when you were used to relying on him for comfort every time you had a break up. He might not show it, but he absolutely despised all your ex boyfriends, he was jealous too. And listening to your tales of how they treated you, he certainly felt his blood boil. You deserved nothing but queen treatment, and none of your past ventures were treating you like the queen you are.

There's a stifling ache in Yunho's heart, burning all the way to his throat till he's suffocating in the silence he created.

"Come here," you softly tug at his hand, bringing him to the sink, "we'll get this washed first and later we can treat it."

Your attention is focused on his bleeding hand, which showed no signs of stopping any soon. Turning the tap on, you keep his hand under the running water and while the water splashes through, the cut becomes cleaner and devoid of blood. Regardless, it doesn't stop the bleeding.

"Okay, it won't stop bleeding," you grumble, hastily turning the tap off. "What were you thinking, Yunho? How can you be so careless? Oh geez..."

"Hey, it's not that bad, come on." He tries to reassure you, "just slap on a bandaid and it'll be fine."

"It's not going to be fine!" you yell at him, "look at your hand, its like a faucet right now. How do you think a bandaid can stop this?"

You had given your rational and calm thinking to the anxiety; not understanding what to do, you take a step back and stare at him. Helpless. That's what you felt, over a little cut on his finger which won't stop bleeding.

"You're panicking for no reason, Liyah." He sighs, bringing his hand close to his face, "think with a clear mind. Do you have any turmeric with you?"

You nod your head, remembering there's a small jar of turmeric in the back of your condiments cabinet. Quick on your feet, you rush to the cabinet and raise yourself on your tippy toes to open it; once opening it, you scour through it and grab the bottle of turmeric.

"Okay, and?" you stand in front of him, holding the bottle tightly in your hand.

"Take some out and press it gently on my cut," he murmurs, offering you an encouraging smile.

You do as he says, pinching out a little bit of turmeric and pressing it lightly against the cut. The yellow condiment clots with the blood, ceasing the bleed in mere seconds; his hand was still streaked crimson, which was starting to dry on his skin. You should probably tell him to wash it before it leaves a taint behind, but you're too riveted by his hazy smile to let that thought come across your tongue. However what does come to your mind is to bash him for his stupidity.

Taking a breath of relief, you stare at him and groan, "you stupid little jerk! What if it had been serious than that? God..."

"Yeah, even in those circumstances you need to be levelheaded. Panicking won't bring you much satisfaction." He whines, "you wouldn't last a day in nursing school."

You poke your tongue out at him, "I don't need to."

"Silly goose," he mutters under his breath and rolls his eyes.

You were growing too fond of the current situation to retaliate in any way. How often did you get the opportunity to hold his hand? Considering you were best friends there were countless opportunities where you had the chance to. But this was different. Very different from the old times; you were alluded by his eyes to even move away from him. It's not very often that you get caught up like this, with a setting sun, a beautiful gradient of orange and red covering your faces in its sheer glow, and the dithered proximity of nothingness.

Minutes drag by in silence, you didn't want to be the first who moves back, and he didn't want to either. Sullen by the growing darkness, as the sun departs and calls out to the moon to illuminate the world, you're forced to take a step back. You clear your throat, dropping your hands to your side at first, then you timidly tug a few loose strands of your hair behind your ear.

"It's good to know that you care so much," he blurts out of nowhere, heaving out a breath thereafter, "but you really don't need to worry so much about me. Save that worry for someone who actually deserves it."

"Are you saying, you don't?" you prompt, glancing down at the floor; as the moonlight breaks through the window, you're struck by your inviting silhouettes stretching on the floor.

"I'm not," he whispers, "I don't deserve all of it."

"Oh," you drawl, "you don't have to be such a saint, Yunho. I know my heart."

He takes a step closer to you, "so your heart says to worry about me all the time? Does it grieve when I'm in pain? Does it know what my heart feels?"

"Why are you being so difficult to reason with right now?" you muse, wanting to run away from him, because he had taken another step closer to you, "Liyah, do you even know what..."

"It doesn't matter," you shake your head, suffocated by the closeness between you two. "Your wound's better now. I'll make something easy and meet you upstairs. Just—just carry the six pack with you."

Yunho had something to say, but he suppresses every bit of him and watches you head over to the refrigerator. He stands by your side when you pick up the six pack from the refrigerator; without making a sound, he takes it from your hand and leaves you stranded in the kitchen. There you are, alone in the dark with your gruelling afterthoughts on your outburst. Could it even be termed as an outburst?

Whilst you're closing the refrigerator door, your phone buzzes in the back pocket of your shorts. When you bring it out, you're not surprised to receive several texts from your mom.

Mom 🦋🩵 hey i know its really rude of me to keep you alone and you're just back from college... but i dont think i can make it home early i'll try to get out of here as soon as i can though till then, just spend your time with yunho I'm assuming he's still there see you soon, bby lol

You need to tell her that L-O-L means something else; no one uses it to abbreviate "lots of love" anymore. Stifling a laugh, you urge out a groan because now things were about to get even more awkward between you and Yunho. If at least your mom had been here with you, she would've kept you in loop and not made it seem so awkward.

The fate was on your side to ruin your relationship with him, it seems. Because there's no way you would be able to confess your feelings now. Not that you know he doesn't really care or reciprocate to them. How pathetic. You had been hoping for everything to surf the smooth waves, but in reality it was all crashing down like the high tides in the ocean. Could you really see yourself falling into the deep sea, where barren waters are symbolic of your love for him? You weren't sure anymore.

As the night dwindles along with uncertain time, you are making your way upstairs to your room; the way to the rooftop was through your balcony, a short ladder adhered to the adjacent wall which lead up to a plain space amidst the conceding panels of your roof. It was only a flat surface with meagre space, the centre was covered with cozy picnic blanket. Yunho sat by himself, legs crossed and knees to his chest; he stared up at the sky, looking at the array of glimmering stars. His hair moved with the air, the frisky night breeze playing with him and leaving behind tender caresses against his face.

He grows aware of your presence, as you come to sit down next to him. Placing the plate of food between you two, you bring your knees to your chest as well and stare up at the sky; you were mimicking him, his details. A while goes in silence when he sighs and turns to you, his eyes linger on yours before glancing down at the plate between you two.

"P-B-and-Js?" he muses, letting his lips curl by a corner. "Someone settled for easy."

You roll your eyes, "do you want it or not?"

"Of course," he mumbles, picking up a piece from the plate before taking a bite of it. Amidst all, he hands you a beer from the six pack, "you need to catch up with me."

As you take the bottle from his hand, he waves his own, having held it in his other hand; the bottle had been half-empty, impatiently guzzled. You're muddled as you stare at the crown of the bottle, not knowing how to remove it. Yunho breathes out, expressing his annoyance playfully before snatching the bottle out of your hand and giving you his to hold.

"No problemo," he teases, fishing out his car keys from his jeans and propping it right under the crown; with one simple tug, the crown flies off and falls down, leaving the beer to bubble up. "There you go, ma'am."

"Thank you," you mock, taking the bottle from his hand and giving his back. "You have nice tricks up your sleeve."

"Oh, you don't know..." as he trails off, silence settles between you two.

In the ambiguous nightfall, you two are brooding over little things of your life; the past where neither of you had made it obvious you had a thing for each other. Maybe, you did. You made it so obvious for him to catch up on the hints. But Yunho being Yunho, never got around them. In this solitude of quietness, you wonder if you could speak your heart to him. If you could let go of what shackles you and set your heart free. You wanted to tell him everything, what, how and why.

"Stars bring you a sense of wonder, don't they?" he speaks up, glancing at you before looking back up at the stars.

"I believe they remind me how small we are in the vastness of creation, in the space, in the deliberate cosmos," you mumble, biting your lower lip as you take a sip of your beer. "Why do you ask?"

"I don't know," he shrugs lightly, "maybe I'm questioning our existence amid the macrocosm. Or, perhaps I am looking for more profound definitions to our bond."

"We're friends, Yunho," you whisper, wispy and breathless, "we have been close to each other since we could remember."

"What if our destiny had been written in the stars?" he questions, turning fully towards you. "It's not coincidental for us to have everything so perfectly arranged; the stars had to do something with our fates. To intertwine them, to make them..."

You don't say a word, whiling in the serenity of arrant obscurity. The light booze was bitter on your tongue, but not as bitter as the words you had trapped.

"Are you instigating something, Yunho?" you guzzle a good amount of beer before picking out a piece of sandwich.

"Maybe I am," his eyes were fixated on you, reading every minute movement, "do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

You turn to face him, mouth full with the bite of sandwich you took, and your eyes seemingly teary. There's something in the way he was looking at you, plump lips trembling in an attempt to get the remaining words out of his mouth, but he did not make a sound. You were too eager to hear him speak; continue with the conundrum he had brought up.

Was he the one confessing?

Was he the first to do so?

So, he does reciprocate your feelings, doesn't he?

"Liyah, I—"

Ping! Ping! Ping!

Your phone rings out loud, alerting you of the incoming texts; you flinch, pulling yourself away from Yunho and taking your phone out from the pocket of your shorts. Caught in a daze, you read the texts you had received.

Song Mingi.

What did he want now?

You open your chats with him and go through the texts.

Mingi 🎀 hey! heard you're back in town why didn't you call me? anyway, since you're back are you free right now? the couple of us are going cliff diving you know, by the abandoned railway line let me know you're in san gets cranky when he doesn't have a total headcount. :)

You quickly reply back to him.

You sure! who else is gonna be there?

You get an immediate response from him.

Mingi 🎀 san, me, alexis, chris felix and jiyeon maybe and yunho... he's with you right? can you ask him? i texted him hours ago he hasn't responded yet

You glance at Yunho and then back at your blaring screen; though, you weren't feeling all too well noticing Yunho shift his attention from you to the stars.

You i'll drag him with me if I have to don't worry we'll be there where do we meet?

Mingi 🎀 oh, everyone's bringing their own cars so i think it's better if we meet directly at the spot leave soon! we're already on our way there. see you shortly bye xoxo

You alright!

You put your phone back inside your pocket, and then proceed to put the half-eaten sandwich back in the plate; tapping Yunho's shoulder lightly, you get his attention.

"Who was it?" he asks, taking a swig of his beer.

"Mingi," you add, "he's invited us to cliff diving." You gulp the remaining bit of your beer and wince, "where's your phone? He's complaining that you aren't paying him enough attention."

"Ah, that dick," he curses under his breath and hastily pulls out his phone from the pocket of his jeans. "My phone has been on silent from the morning."

He goes through his text messages while you finish your beer and place the empty bottle down. "Did you say yes to that?"

"Yeah, why not?" you shrug, "cliff diving sounds really fun. Come on, we should leave already."

Getting on your feet carefully, you dust your the back of shorts unconsciously and as you are about to leave, Yunho sneaks up from behind. One hand on your shoulder, other holding the bottle of beer, he takes a gulp of the drink before murmuring, "are you sure you want to go? It won't be awkward for you with Mingi there?"

You chuckle, "Mingi and I are okay. We're out of the awkward phase."

"Alright," he murmurs and finishes his beer.

Dropping his hand from your shoulder, he follows you back downstairs; the six pack and plate of food are still lying on the rooftop, while the two of you are in the living room. Yunho picks up his abandoned jacket from the couch's armrest and shrugs it on. You do the same, draping the kimono on your shoulders, the one you had taken off after coming home. Meeting with the chilly air outside, you walk to your car parked in the driveway, but Yunho stops you.

"Let's take my car," he suggests, nudging his head in the direction of his house.

"Fine by me." You shrug and pout, finding no harm in the suggestion.

On the way over to his house, Yunho pulls you close to his side by hooking his arm around your shoulder. Your feet fall in synch as you take long strides together; past the broad metal gates of his house, you're strolling on the yellow bricked promenade surrounded by lush bushes, seemingly of flowers which release their heavenly scent at night. The night bloomers, if that thing even exists. You're swayed to the musky undertones of Yunho's scent and the mirth of the grass, not understanding what was happening in your heart or your mind.

For one moment you and Yunho are on the brink of confessing your feelings for each other and the next you're taking a step back and pretending to be okay. Does that even make sense to you? Because it wouldn't make sense to anyone else.

Yunho rubs circles on your shoulders, rubbing his hand thereafter. "It seems like we have a lot of unresolved things to talk about. We'll deal with them later, right?"

You nod, humming along. "Maybe those things don't need resolving. Maybe we just need to be upfront."

"Maybe we do." He mumbles under his breath and once you've gotten close to the garage, he lets go of you.

Standing at a distance, you hug yourself to prevent the cold from seeping in your heart. The gelid breeze of the night is known to be exuberant. You wait for Yunho to bring the car outside, somewhat lost in the meagre revels this night has to offer. The roar of a car's engine reverberates, snapping you out of your reverie to find yourself staring at Yunho's car. He flashes you a worried look before nudging his head at you; taking the sign, you hasten yourself to settle in the passenger's seat.

"You're zoning out awfully lot, Liyah," Yunho states while you buckle yourself in. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, Yunho," you assure him, slightly irked by his constant worry. "Let's go, we don't want to make them wait."

Yunho sighs, as if he had given up on you, "okay."

The drive is lot quieter than it would've been if you hadn't ticked off Yunho. Well to say in the least, you both were not in the mood to speak anything at all. The radio was too loud any way, you did not need the silence to be filled with useless babbles. You're staring out of the window, watching the trees pass you by as the night approaches a new beginning. Distant landscapes of open fields and mountains soon disintegrate to a dense forest; the valley starts off from this point on, where the abandoned railway bridge levitates over a lake.

When you find the cluster of cars parked in a small open space, Yunho slows down and pulls his own in line. Killing the engine, he gets the keys out and unlocks the doors. You get out without hesitation or even waiting for Yunho. The nightly air carries a sublime scent of earth and sod, while you're hugging your chest and straying away from Yunho. You could hear the distant chatters accompanied by laughter.

The trees only start growing in number, forming thickets and engulfing everything in their darkness. You find your group of friends standing under a giant elm tree; there were exactly the people who Mingi had mentioned before. San, Chris, Felix, Alexis and Jiyeon, engaged in a conversation led by Mingi. They're standing in a circle, dispersed away from each other; San and Chris had a smoke in between their lips, it made sense why the others maintained distance from them.

Your feet crunch on the dried foliage, hailing their attentions to you as you walk past to stand next to Mingi. The pink haired man offers you a small smile, a curve soon vanishing as he glances in your direction to find Yunho swaying along. Mingi doesn't wait until his best friend is closer to him, he sprints in enthusiasm and hugs the man he had been waiting for. The two share a gripping embrace, while the others engage with you.

To say you missed them, it would be an understatement. All of the ones present here, except for Mingi, left the town to find better opportunities for themselves. Everyone is in different cities now, some studying, some having full time jobs. Your eyes lurk around, rummaging from face to face. San hasn't changed a bit, he was still the guy who loved to dress in all black; he wore a black shirt and black pants, heavy platforms on his feet while his tattoos peeked out from under the sleeve of his shirt. Chris and Felix had a contrasting appearance to them from the last time you had seen them; Chris has gotten buff and toned, his arms bulging and flexing under the cutout shirt he wore, even his thighs were insanely toned under the denim shorts. Felix is still the cute little guy, still wearing his jumpers. Jiyeon is still conservative, having her body covered from head to toe with a maxi dress and as usual, Alexis is being the fashion icon that she is, dressed in chic clothes; a crop top and shorts, exposing as much skin as she could.

"We almost thought you wouldn't come," San begins, blowing out a cloud of white smoke.

Jiyeon follows after, "considering you and Mingi shared that night together, you know the night of our graduation party."

You roll your eyes, slapping your hand on her back as she was on your right, "do you have to bring it up?"

"Yeah, maybe nothing happened between them," Alexis blurts, but then glances at you, "what?"

"Nothing really happened between us." You state.

"Oh, come on, Liyah," Chris says with his thick accent, "everyone has been talking about you two since that night. The town needs gossip."

Felix rolls his eyes, "this town is a deadbeat place, all of us left for a reason."

"Yeah, to seek more opportunities." Mingi crawls back to the circle, Yunho behind him by a few steps. "The town is not a deadbeat town. You guys were obsessed with the idea of leaving."

"Yeah, homie," San chimes, "you stayed back because of your family quarry."

"Do you have any wild animals there?" Jiyeon asks, curiosity peaking in her tone.

"A few bears, a passal of boars, and a herd of antelopes." Mingi puts into words, "the hunting season will start after the summer camp ends."

"Ooh, hunting. Sounds fun," Chris cheers, throwing his burning cigarette down on the ground and stomping on it. "Count me in for that."

"Is it even safe—"

"—hey, Yunho!" Alexis's scream interrupts you, and you watch the said woman leaping into Yunho's arms for an uncalled hug.

Not cool.

Mingi comes to stand next to you, hugging you sideways. It catches you off guard, but you settle into his touch as the seconds pass. Well, you needed it. Because you were bubbling with jealousy as Alexis and Yunho hug. You clear your throat loudly, forcing the two to break their embrace and while they do step back, they start exchanging remarks. Flirty remarks.

Alexis squeezes his arms, "someone's been working out."

Yunho scratches the back of his neck and waves her off. "Not as much working out as lifting manikins for classes."

"You're still doing great," she replies, using her high-pitched giggle. "Speaking of which, how's the college treating you?"

They're lost in a conversation while you're bitterly biting back on your tongue to prevent yourself from cursing someone out. Mingi's arm gets tighter around your shoulder and tugs you close to his body.

You grumble, "she has no reason to stick to him like that."

"And you have no reason to be jealous," San mumbles, interjecting in Mingi's thoughts; he puts out his cigarette by throwing it down and stomping on it.

"He's right," Mingi shrugs, "we know you like Yunho. But he doesn't. There's nothing official between you two, so he's liable for some harmless flirting."

Jiyeon pipes in, "if you ask me, Liyah took too much time to understand her own feelings. You can't be attracted to someone out of nowhere. Either you always are, or you're just blinded by lust."

"Jiyeon makes sense," Felix gives you his two cents, "time waits for none, Liyah. If you had the guts to tell him how you felt on the night of our graduation party...who knows, you might've been together now."

"Why are we yapping, guys?" Chris groans, "Liyah's relationship problems only get worse when they're discussed. We're here to dive. And I don't want to waste my night solving some broken lovers' quarrel."

"I would have to agree with this counterpart," Felix mutters, "before the night gets too dark and ambiguous for us, let's just do what we came here to do."

"See, I told you, no one has any business discussing my issues with Yunho," you grumble, taking a step ahead, "I'm here for a nice swim and nothing else."

Mingi follows in your steps, San and Jiyeon do too; Chris and Felix are behind you all, while Yunho and Alexis are the last ones to be in your pursuit. The walk to the bridge was short, merely spanning for about ten minutes; the railway tracks are buried deep in the count, covered with moss and creepers now. Over the seasons, this place gets denser and thicker, one cannot discern a proper path and might get lost.

The moisture laden air hits your face first, dissipating your jealousy as along the walk you couldn't help but think about Yunho and Alexis at the back, flirting and touching.

Mingi places his hand on your shoulder, "race you to the beams?"

You smirk and spring on your feet, running before he could; the beams were these two broad metal bars holding the front of the bridge, these spanned the entire bridge, adhering and supporting the structure over the water. The rusted beams leave a streak of red on your hand when you touch it, while teasing Mingi with your tongue. Others are right behind you, leisurely strolling.

"Wanna go first?" Mingi asks, pulling his graphic tee over his head and leaving him bare; his body was still drool worthy, having a small crescent moon tattooed on his chest.

He gets out of his pants, exposing himself in snug briefs which outlines his cock all too well. Slipping out of his shoes and socks, he makes sure to not step on any gravel under him. He tugs at the waistband of his briefs, and then extends his hand toward you; patiently waiting for you to take it in yours.

You smile at him, smugly. Ridding yourself off your sandals, kimono, camisole, and your shorts, you stand next to him partially naked. Ignoring the low sounding whistles directed at you, it was probably Chris or someone else; although, you were hoping Yunho had caught up on you and your figure, that is if he wasn't busy entertaining Alexis. It was a good day to choose matching lacy underwear, the material flimsy and a little see-through to show off how beautiful your body is. Wind cuts to your skin, suddenly feeling cold; you take Mingi's hand in yours and he leads along the track. In the moment, you're least bothered about the others, only focusing on your hand laced with Mingi's.

He guides you over a wide barricade, making you take a short leap before you're carefully tiptoeing on the narrow edge hanging over the large water body. Your heart palpitates in your chest, falling into your gut as the adrenaline kicks in. The distance between the bridge and the lake aren't much, just enough for your body to spiral down into the depth; around 25 feet maybe.

Mingi squeezes your hand tightly, getting your attention. "On the count of three."

You nod.

"One."

"Two."

"Three."

As the last count echos in your mind, you jump. The support from beneath your feet slipping off, now an empty void of anticipation; you're falling down with Mingi, wind brushing against your body to resist the fall. In the whiling seconds, you come in contact with the frigid barrier of water, then your body submerges inside. Water envelopes you all around, burying you in splintering waves of coldness. You hadn't realised when your hand had slipped off of Mingi's grip, not that it mattered now. Cold currents bubble around you when you swim up to the surface, finding Mingi only a few meters away from you.

Your wet hair sticks close to your skin and face, framing along your cheeks as you try to push away most of it from your eyes. Mingi's hair is in the same condition; he adorns a wide smile on his lips, eyes blinking away the remaining water while he swims closer to you. The warmth of his body captures yours in a gentle touch, arms entwined in your waist, and his face only inches away.

You're laughing, giggling, the sound itself mellifluous to his ears. Clinging onto him, he somehow manages to keep the two of you afloat. In your unconscious state, you wrap your legs around his waist, pushing yourself into his chest.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" he asks you, rubbing his thumbs into the small of your back.

"Making Yunho jealous?"

He juts his lower lip out. "If you're comfortable with it."

"I think we're already making him jealous."

You glance over your shoulder, tilting your head to look up above; the vast distance doesn't let you discern anything happening on the bridge, yet it brings you a new high of exhilaration thinking about making Yunho envious of you and Mingi. A few more minutes pass and Mingi swims both of you away from the point of impact. More chaos is heard above on the bridge, and with your curiosity bursting apart at the seams, you glance up again to find two silhouettes jumping down.

Splash!

The water around them makes a big splatter, creating waves along the way; when the two shirtless figures resurface, you catch a glint of Chris's lip ring and a glimpse of Felix's blond hair. The two of them are quick to swim toward you two, their laughter echoing across the silent cosmos of forest and the night.

"Fuck, that was incredible," Chris remarks, brushing his hair away from his face.

"Agreed," Felix adds, a little out of breath.

Mingi holds you tighter to him and you realise he had started to lose his hold on you. "I think me and Liyah are going to swim to the shore."

"Yeah, wait for us. I don't think I have enough guts to do this a second time," Felix sputters, spitting out a mouthful of water.

"You're no fun, Felix." Chris comments, and he's interrupted by couple of yells.

Jiyeon and San were next, followed by Yunho and Alexis when a long beat passes; you were still strapped to Mingi's waist, and realising you had been weighing him down, you take the effort to push yourself off of him and remain solitary. Even so, Mingi stays close by you, trying to support you to stay afloat. Water sloshes even more when Jiyeon and San join you all. Jiyeon comes up for air, coughing out water and slicking her hair back; San is right behind her, snickering deeply as though he was enjoying himself.

"I am never letting you guys talk me into anything like this!" Jiyeon complains, her hair clinging to her face.

San heaves out a chuckle, grabbing her by the shoulders and pushing her down in the water. Jiyeon is taken off guard, and as she comes back on the surface, courtesy of San to pull her back up, she gasps for air, panting and coughing.

"You're—you're fucking dead Choi San." She aims a punch at him, and it lands perfectly against his shoulder.

"What, it was fun! You should step out of your comfort zone more often, Ji." San dodges a couple of punches until she stops; Jiyeon was shivering.

Yunho and Alexis were swimming side by side, listening to the two make a chaos. Your eyes had never left Yunho in that moment, the second he and Alexis resurfaced, you couldn't stop staring at him. Shirtless, his skin glimmered against the moonlight, the water coated his skin in a thin sheet while his ashen blue hair was drenched and stuck to his forehead. He tries to pick at a few strands, pushing them away to expose his forehead. Panting softly, he lets a smile stretch his lips. Though when his eyes landing on you and Mingi, his smile disappears.

"Don't tease her, Sannie," Alexis groans, "if you like her so much, just be straightforward. All the teasing is too old school."

Jiyeon's cheeks turn red, striking vividly under the moonlight. "Shut up, Alexis."

"Maybe she has a point," Yunho adds, "the teasing and mocking tactic is useless with girls now. They need men who are more candid."

Chris chortles, "we all know how straightforward you've been, Yun. Maybe a little too much to have a reputation around high school."

"Oh please," Yunho retorts, laughing along with him, "girls practically threw themselves at me, then."

"And you were a man with principles to not let their efforts be vain." Mingi mumbles, nonchalantly.

"Come on, guys," you chime in, a smile curling your lips, "we all know who had a reputation in high school. So, pinpointing Yunho isn't proving anything. Especially you, Chris."

"Miss congeniality is at her man's rescue again." Chris replies, rolling his eyes at you.

"Hey, leave it, Chris." Yunho speaks up, leaning back into the water, "it's a beautiful night, why ruin it on something so trivial. Let's put our differences aside for a night, huh?"

Mingi agrees, "yeah, I'm with him on this. We're all seeing each other after what, months? Weeks? Years? It'd be stupid to argue anyway."

"I think the bonding can happen out of the water too, because I'm not staying in here for a long time," you add, and earn a couple of hums in response; Alexis, Jiyeon and Felix had agreed to you.

And to your unbridled surprise, they are the first ones to swim towards the shore. There isn't much distance between you and the shore. From your better judgement, it must be, give or take, 10 metres from where you were. Hurtling a soft squeak, you begin swimming away from your group of friends. Mingi is right next to you, paddling through the water; when the water starts shallowing you out, you know you've reached the grimly edge of the landmass extending into the lake. You pace yourself and get on your feet, skimming over the washed borderline and stepping on the gravel.

"Definitely refreshing." You remark, smiling at Mingi who's walking out of the water.

"What else would you need on a summer night?" he chortles, stretching his arms over his head, "do you wanna go again?"

"I wish," you sigh, shuffling your hair to get some water out, "I don't want to catch a cold."

"Understandable," he mutters.

"I'm never trusting you ever again, Mingi." Jiyeon scoffs, "this was dangerous. Way dangerous. What if the water was infested with crocodiles? Or um, snakes? Had you given it any thought before dragging us here?"

"Oh, please," Felix pipes in, "it's a small lake, it can't be that bad."

Alexis giggles, "lakes can be a home for many creatures; snakes are one of them."

"Oh, my lord," Jiyeon groans, "I'm going to kill San."

"So, I'm thinking you're not going to stay around for long?" Alexis instigates and Jiyeon nods her head, crossing her arms over her chest, "I'm not. And neither is San."

"May gods bless thee," Mingi mocks, rubbing his hand over his face, "what about you, Liyah? Staying for another round?"

"I actually don't want to..." you trail off, eyeing behind him as Yunho walks out of the water, followed by Chris and San. "But I was here with Yunho, and I don't think he'd want to leave any sooner."

"I can drop you off," Mingi shrugs, stepping close to you.

"Drop who off?" Yunho repeats, shaking his head like a puppy to get rid of the water in his hair.

Alexis streamlines to his side, subtly, however. Yunho doesn't pay her any mind for the time being, his attention solely focused on you and Mingi. You couldn't concentrate on the matter at hand because you were too distracted by Yunho's bare figure; his body wasn't as buff as Chris or Mingi, or even San for that matter, but he was well built at places he should be. For some reason, you couldn't quite take your eyes off his body, his lower half precisely. The way his briefs stuck to his thighs and crotch, defined the very vague details of his cock. At least now you know what the girls in high school had been talking about, all those rumours of him being 'huge' were starting to reappear in your mind. And you could say, those were no rumours. Those were facts.

"Oh, Liyah wants to go home." Mingi replies, bringing you out of your daze, "since she came with you..."

You step in, feeling the need to be clearer and firmer, "well it seems like you want to stay here for a little longer and I don't want to ruin it for you."

"I can leave with you if you want," Yunho deadpans.

"No, it's fine," you mutter, eyes glazing over Alexis who was now shooting you daggers with her own, "you're meeting everyone after a long time. Might as well enjoy that while it lasts. Mingi already offered, so it's really fine."

"Yeah, we aren't staying around either," Jiyeon scowls, stomping over to San and grabbing him by his arm, "you're leaving with me. And dare if you invite me back for something stupid like this, again."

"Okay, ma'am," San offers a two-finger salute as she drags him along by the arm; he looks over his shoulder and frowns, "I gotta go, homies. Have more fun in my stead."

Jiyeon rolls her eyes at his dramatic speech. Felix catches up with the two and informs us, turning around for a mere second. "This was fun guys, but I think I'll leave too. Don't go too crazy."

"Are you sure you want to be a third wheel between them?" Chris questions, stroking his lower lip to adjust his lip ring.

Felix rolls his eyes and blows a raspberry, giving him a thumbs down. You shift in your place and tug on Mingi's hand, "I think we should leave too."

Mingi nods, looking down at you, "sure." he then turns to others, "be careful, lads."

"We're hiking back up with you, dodo." Alexis rolls her eyes, pushing herself close to Yunho's side; she let her chest brush against his back, eventually she takes his arm in her hold and drags him ahead.

Finding Yunho's gaze fixated on you while he stumbles on his feet along her, the suffocation in the pit of your stomach rises. You wonder what he was thinking, or if he was simply acting out on his jealousy. Though when you look at him sticking to Alexis like that, all your sentiments regarding him, shatter to pieces. While a tinge of envy does arise in your heart, it also brings you a little peace knowing, you had somewhat managed to make him jealous too. An eye for an eye. Only you were waiting for the time when both of you would go blind.

Mingi wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you with him. His warmth is a little treat to yourself, and his presence was your saving grace. You and Mingi were good friends, not as good as you were with Yunho, but you were getting there. As said before, you and Mingi did share a good time together on the night of your graduation party. Something which you had kept under the wraps to prevent your friends from gossiping, or overall prevent Yunho from knowing about it. No matter how hard you tried to hide it, Yunho couldn't fully give his doubts away. He kept suspecting you and Mingi for a few months, until he let go of it in all and moved on from his silly suspicions.

After hiking up the small, elevated terrain to the parking spot, barefoot and wet, you find San, Jiyeon and Felix drying themselves off to the wind. They have their clothes strewn on the trunk of San's car. Jiyeon shivers slightly, coming her hand through her wet hair. Felix and San are busy in a conversation, least bothered about the gauzy cold. In a haste, Chris walks over from behind you and stumbles to his car; he opens the driver's door and pulls out a pack of cigarettes from the side pockets on the door.

So he was a smoker, now. Great.

"I'll go get our clothes. Wait here." Mingi smiles at you, leaving you by his car and disappearing down the inscrutable tracks.

You lean against the trunk of his car, arms over your chest, contemplating and agonisingly listening to Alexis use her pitched voice to flirt with Yunho. Her secondhand compliments were giving you secondhand embarrassment. How can Yunho even tolerate her? Maybe he was too distracted by the way her tits were spilling out of her bra. And you couldn't give a fuck. It's ironic, isn't it? He was minutes away from confessing his feelings for you and now he's sticking to someone who's not. And it all happened because you were too proud in your ways to dally with him.

"Anyone wants to join us for late night dinner?" San announces, "we're going to Amelia's."

Chris raises his hand, "count me in."

Felix retorts, "I thought you were prepared for a round two of diving."

"Maybe now I'm having second thoughts." He blows out a smoke and slams the car door shut. "I wouldn't mind going for a bite."

Yunho shrugs, "me too. All that swimming famished me. And I cannot resist Amelia's deli sandwich."

"Count me in too," Alexis sings, "we both have a lot of catching up to do, don't we?" she bats her lashes at Yunho, who smiles down at her, whispering, "of course, we do. And we need to test all the things you've been texting me."

You don't catch on the very last of his words as they get too inaudible to perceive, but from the smirk on his face, you knew he had double intentions to it.

"What about you, Liyah?" Jiyeon asks and you shake your head, "I'll have to take a rain check. It's just that I'm not hungry. I just want to jump in my bed and knock myself out."

Till the time you reply to her, Mingi comes back with both of your clothes and your sandals. He already had his shoes on when you glance at his feet. "What are you guys talking about?"

"Going to Amelia's, wanna join?" Chris says.

Mingi waves his free hand in the air, "sounds fun, but I don't think I can tolerate that place anymore. You guys can go."

"Alright," Jiyeon mumbles, "so, you and Liyah aren't coming with us..."

Alexis takes on the hint, "they probably want to get busy for the night."

"A late night check in at the hotel vag. Nice work, Mingi." San quips.

Mingi rolls his eyes, "think whatch'ya wanna."

Your flustered cheeks leave no room for others to think of the obvious, or whatever that had been cooking in their heads; Yunho, however, wasn't too impressed by anyone's remarks, neither was he too fond your cherry glazed cheeks. He wasn't the reason why you were blushing; it was Mingi. His ego doesn't let him believe it.

Mingi ignores the low sounding hoots from his friends and hands you your clothes, the camisole and shorts, alongside your kimono. Your lingerie was still drenched in water, and it would be more sensible if you remove them before wearing your clothes. He puts your sandals in front of your feet, and you slip into them easily; keeping the clothes on his car's trunk, you glance at Mingi with hesitance and then clear your throat.

"Do you have anything to cover me while I... you know...get rid of my wet underwear?" you whisper to him, keeping your words between the two of you only. Not that you were worried about other's overhearing you, because they were too engrossed in themselves to be bothered about you two anymore.

Without saying anything, Mingi goes around his car and pulls out the passenger's door; he has a black jacket slung on his forearm as he makes his way back to you.

"Would this work?"

"Sure." You tell him, "just hold it up, I'll change behind it."

Mingi's cheeks turn red, visibly red. "Are you sure you want me to do it and not..."

"He's busy wooing Alexis for the night, so..." you walk to the front of the car, where one side of it was shrouded with darkness and dense branches of trees.

Mingi does as you suggest him to, holding his oversized jacket up to create a curtain for you to change behind it. You quickly get out of the wet bra and panties, and pull your camisole over your head, then the shorts follow. It feels eldritch at first to wear your clothes without your underwear, but you had no other choice but to. Once you settle into it, there's no awkwardness against your skin, and you tell Mingi to lower the jacket. The man had his eyes closed and head turned at all times, showing off his gentlemanliness.

"That was fast," he continues, "for your information, I wasn't looking at all."

"That's fine, Mingi." You laugh and walk past him.

He's right behind you, "but I think you still have a little bit of issue?"

You glance down at your camisole to find your nipples hard and poking through the soft material. "Oops, I actually do."

Mingi gives you his jacket, without hesitating. "Put it on. I'll be back soon."

You shrug his jacket over. It reeked of his scent, a little bit of nicotine and cinnamon musk. The jacket covered almost everything of you, reaching till your mid thighs. It kept you warm, maybe a little warmer than you had liked it to be. Joining the others, you stand next to Jiyeon, waiting for Mingi as he changes into his clothes where you had changed.

"Ooh, Mingi's jacket, isn't it?" Jiyeon teases, noticing you standing next to her.

You scoff, "it's not what you think."

Unconsciously or consciously, your eyes scatter in search of Yunho amongst the familiar faces. He's not there, neither is Alexis. Your stomach rumbles with jealousy, only a little.

"Don't look for him, he's not here," Chris slurred his words.

"Him and Alexis have gone to bring their clothes and stuff," San shrugs, "are you trying to make him jealous, Liyah?"

"Me? Jealous? Me making him jealous? Oh please," you roll your eyes, scoffing.

"Just thought, because he's been riling you up for nothing; him and Alexis are getting on your nerves it seems." San adds.

Mingi whistles along, marking his presence next to you and while he does, Yunho and Alexis walk out of the dark, hand in hand, both smiling at each other for some apparent reason. You twist your nose and look away, turning yourself to Mingi, you cling by his arm and bury it in between your tits. Mingi is obviously taken back by your stern action, and so does it catch Yunho and the other's off guard.

"Let's go, Mingi," you pout, looking up at him, "we should leave. I'm cold and I want to take a nice warm shower with you."

San rolls his eyes. Chris scoffs. Jiyeon snickers. And Felix curses under his breath, annoyed by your act. They all knew you were pretending and playing along. But Yunho didn't. He believed every word you said and clenched his jaw, tight enough for his cheek to twitch. Alexis was on the same boat as him, believing your frolicsome ruse.

Mingi clears his throat, tugging a few strands of your hair behind your ear and lets his eyes linger on you. It was driving him insane to not do anything at this moment, because somewhere along the lines, he never stopped liking you. He was ready to compromise his silly love for you, all for yours and Yunho's sake.

It takes a minute for Mingi to form his words. "Eager, aren't we?"

"Oh come on, you silly." you slap his chest, playfully, yet Mingi yelps in pain. "We've got a lot of catching up to do and let's be honest, it's not going to happen while we're still here."

"You're right about that," he chimes, looking up, "we'll see you guys later, or at the summer camp. Don't forget, you guys gave me your names for volunteering. Don't back out now, or else there'll be consequences." Mingi warns them, earning a round of groans and whines.

Mingi slips one of his hands around your waist and hides you to his car; San yells out from behind, "wear a glove when making love!"

You could clearly hear Yunho scoff amid the teasing from your friends, but you choose not to react to it. You're suppressing your queasy emotions to yourself, bottling them quite nicely as you get in Mingi's car and strap yourself in. The engine roars when Mingi revives it and pulls out of the parked space.

The ride along with Mingi isn't quiet, no, not at all. Passing by the night of crippling elation, and unsaid judgments, you stare out of the window and ponder. You stole a few glances from Mingi, who hummed an unsung melody under his breath. The chunky rings on his thumbs and fingers, tapped an obscure tune on the steering, an addition to his dilly dally singing. You both had things to say, many more feelings to state and confide, yet you were caught up amid a war of who'd be the first to go.

Mingi clears his throat, "is he still so oblivious or chooses to play dumb?"

You groan, softly in your mind thinking about Yunho and his stupidity. "I don't know, Min! He can't be so blind to all the times I've came through for him."

"So, you think he chooses to play dumb?"

"Maybe, he thinks we don't have a future," you mumble, turning to face him, "and maybe he is right. We can't even be sure of the present to talk about our future. We push and pull, and we'll continue pushing and pulling until one of us breaks and blurts out everything."

Mingi tries to figure out how he would respond to your said comments. In actuality, he had the same idea about the two of you.

He sighs, "you have to take a stand, Liyah. Let him know."

"I know."

And the night dissolves your mind in the haphazard nonchalance of nothingness.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

             Five days volunteering at the summer camp, and you were drained. It wasn't easy looking after kids, they're moody, picky eaters, and rebels. Though for some contemplative reasons, your experience with the kids wasn't as bad as it was with Yunho. In the sheer curiosity of nature, you were left alone; speaking in simpler terms, you and Yunho had a rift between each other, leading to no interactions over the span of this summer camp. You spent most of your time volunteering anyway, so it didn't matter. Not exactly when you also had Mingi's assistance to you for every little thing.

You and Mingi had bonded over the time, it would be the same with you and the others. Talking to your fellow friends, you come to learn how they were handling their lives. Jiyeon is working part time with an animal rescue NGO. San has dropped out of college and chose to be on a professional parkour team. Chris continues to be a menace in his medical school. Felix is an artist's understudy and manages his studies at the art school. And Alexis is pursuing her long-lost passion for being a fashion designer. They're all busy in their lives, headed for the future and passionate about their careers. Catching up with them would be the best moment of coming back here.

"And last summer, she wore my designed outfit!" Alexis chimes in full excitement. "You know, that's when I felt accomplished as a fashion designer."

"It's one of the most famous music artists in our country right now, I wouldn't second guess your happiness." Yunho compliments her, hugging her close to his body.

As the day had passed, all the kids were back to their homes, and as you had time to spare, Mingi suggested ending the night on a jovial note. The night dragged on to be a beautiful one with a full moon high struck in the sky, and what is better than a campfire to spend such an alluring night? You were all sitting in circles, surrounding the fiery pit of fire, the scent of burning wood nuzzling into your nose and the warmth of the fire settling into your skin. The fire crackles far too often, dissipating in the mellow undertones of your chatters. On the scattered logs, you sat next to Mingi; there were two people on each log. Chris and Felix were together, Jiyeon and San were snuggling up right next to you and Mingi, and Yunho and Alexis were sitting opposite to you two. There were other volunteers too; the eccentric teens of the town had left early, leaving your group of friends to luxuriate in the night.

Rising flames of the fire interrupted most my view, but not much. You could catch the glimpses of Yunho and Alexis being touchy and feely, some part of you absolutely despised it while the other waited around for everything to unfold. Mingi gave you solidarity, supporting your crazy notions as the time rolled around. Jiyeon and San were acting very much like a couple; it's not surprising considering they moved to the same city, rent a same apartment, and live together. It was bound to happen one way or another. Chris and Felix did not disclose their love life just yet, not that you know of.

"It was the best feeling ever," Alexis sings, adjusting herself by Yunho's side.

Yunho lets her do as she pleases; he wraps his arm around her waist to pull her close; their bodies seemed to be conjoined and it did not bode well with you.

Yunho chuckles, "of course, it was..."

Their voices die to mere whispers in your mind, you're too fixated on Mingi's feeble attempts at easing you out. He rubbed circles on the curve of your back, his warmth was more intense than compared to the fire in front of you; but seemingly you had started to burn for a completely different reason.

"You have to do something, Liyah." Mingi speaks up, "you can't let her win. Alexis only wants to parade Yunho around for her own sake. He's a trophy wife for her."

"You think I don't know that Mingi?" you bark, taking him off guard. Your aggression wasn't limited to yourself anymore, it was directed at Yunho too. "No one can love him like I do."

He pulls you in for a side hug, embracing your body with his as he leans his head on yours. Pushing you against his chest, he brings his hand to stroke through your hair.

"I know that." He mumbles, "everyone here knows that. Except for him. He's a blind dick, just be upfront with him."

You raise your head from his chest and deadpan, "geez, I never thought of that. Thanks a lot, Mingi."

"Happy to help," he replies back, catching up on your satire. "I'm being serious though. Ask him to meet you at your—oh no..."

Mingi's eyes had been trained on you, but when he takes them off, only for a second, he's met with a catastrophic happening. Brazen and curious, you nudge your neck in the direction his eyes were stuck in. And the ground under your feet opens wide, ready to swallow you.

Yunho and Alexis were kissing. Yes. They were swallowing each other's mouth, and it was a sight you couldn't bear. So, you do what any sensible woman would do, after seeing her crush kissing someone who's not her. You storm off. You run away. You're quick on your feet, untwining Mingi's arms from you and scurrying off into the wild dark. Mingi's protests aren't enough to stop, neither are the silent ones coming from others; you're scampering in your boots to get away from the campfire spot as fast as you could. Only, you hadn't realise that someone else had followed you right after.

For the first time in his years of friendship with you, Yunho was feeling utterly helpless. Disappointing you was never on his list; he didn't want to let you down either. He didn't think he'd break your heart by playing a wicked game of push and pull. He took it too far. Obviously. In the middle of the dense forest, he's in your pursuit; his feet are in synch with yours, but his pace makes him fall behind. He was listening to you sob and sniffle and to him, those were the most vulnerable sounds he had ever heard from you.

"Liyah, wait!" he yells, and you slow down.

Walking on the graveled ground, a path leading to the set of cabins situated at distance from each other, you stop and turn. You find him behind you, right behind you. Remorse evident in his eyes, and his lips quivering; you couldn't bear to see him like that. Never in your years of friendship had you seen him like that. The happy go lucky guy had a frown on his face, tears in his eyes, and guilt painted all over his skin. Of course, you'd be astonished to find him in such condition.

Moonlight breaks through the branches of the tall trees around you, the scent of mildew and moss spreading to the moisture baring air; his face shrouded with darkness, lights up when he steps into one of the moonbeams. And he's breathtaking. He always was.

"What do you want, Yunho?" you spit, spitefully.

"Can we talk?"

"I don't want to talk to you," you state and turn on your heels, ready to storm off again.

Though, before you could even take a step ahead, you're pulled back into something hard; a tight grip on your wrist burns through your skin and constraints any movement from you.

"What?" you gasp, peeking through your squinted eyes to find Yunho's staring right into yours.

You're pressed up against his chest, cheeks turning red when you realise how close you two were. There hadn't been a time where you were so close to each other. With how blatantly the proximity had dithered between you two, you couldn't think straight. Even so, you try to snatch your hand away from his grasp, wanting to be free of his hold. He doesn't let you, he doesn't even budge when you're using all your strength to get his hand off your wrist; you started clawing at his hand, but that didn't work either.

"I told you I don't want to talk to you," you state, firmly.

"But I want to." He whispers, "please, hear me out."

You press your lips together, letting your hand fall down to your side; his skin broke with your nail marks, blood clotting under, waiting to ooze out. Time stands still here, amid the inky phases of your heart; forest speaks of nothing, no sound at all, letting your hearts beating in the while. As the clouds shift against the nightly breeze, the moon hits your faces, lighting up your eyes.

"Okay," you mutter, "I'll hear you out."

He clears his throat and let's go of your hand. Taking a step back from you, he runs a hand through his hair, which falls disheveled on his forehead. Accustomed to his growing silence, you have half a mind of turning away and sprinting back to your cabin.

"What you saw with—what you saw with Alexis, it wasn't my—"

You interrupt him, "it wasn't your fault. I get it. She was the one who came onto you. You had no hand in this..." he looks less guilty hearing you, so you add, "don't bullshit me, Yunho. It always takes two—takes two. Neither of you are innocent."

As your voice breaks, the light in Yunho's eyes starts dwindling down. "Liyah, please..."

"What, Yunho?" you sniff and tears well in your eyes, "you want to justify your behaviour? You want to validate how you feel about me? What do you want?"

Being pushed past your limits, you shake your head and close your eyes shut; turning on your heels, you stride down the vague path leading to the cabins where you were staying in. You must've taken a couple of steps ahead, about to take another when your world spins around; it only stops when you're pushed up against a nearby tree. The way your back hits the trunk causes pain to strike your spine; but then you also realise how confined you were to it, with Yunho's hands holding you down by your shoulders.

"Don't piss me off, Liyah." He states, leaning in close to let his breath tickle your face. "That'd be very detrimental of you to do so."

"Am I pissing you off now, oh." you deadpan, placing your hands on his chest to shove him away. That seemed like the only viable option for you. "I'm so sorry."

"Keep your sarcasm to yourself, Liyah," he mutters, inching closer to let his lips brush against yours, "you want to know why I let Alexis play me like a violin?"

He takes your silence for a yes and continues, "because I wanted to know what your heart truly desires. Did it even want me, or was I just fantasizing a future between us which doesn't really exist?"

"You could've asked me," you mumble, your lips quivering as your stomach twists inside, "you could've asked me, and I would've been upfront with you, Yunho."

Tears spill out of your eyes, streaming down your cheeks. He couldn't watch you cry. Looking away for a second, he trains his now teary eyes on you.

"Asked?" he repeats, "Liyah, we've both been lying to each other since our senior year in high school." His hands slide down to your waist, wrapping around to maintain some distance between you and the tree trunk. "We would've never been real with each other. Let alone, even confessing to each other felt like such a task for us."

"Then what were you trying to do, Yunho?" you mumble, keeping your hands on his chest, "you kissed Alexis. And before that, you gave me hope that we could be together. Now, you're saying we should've been more straightforward with each other. You're not making sense."

"I know I'm not," he grumbles, "because nothing makes sense to me now. I thought you'd confess to me on the rooftop, I had prepared a long ass speech for you, confessing my feelings too. But then, you brought up Mingi—"

"—nothing ever happened between me and Mingi," you intervene, letting your lips form a frown, "the night of our graduation party, he did ask me out. But I turned him down. You know why? Because I liked you." Suffocating under his gaze, you take a deep breath and continue, "I didn't want to start something with him if it meant I had to break him soon. Because I was too hopeful for either of us to make a sound. I was eager to be in a relationship with you. I was impatient to tell you how badly I had fallen for you. But then, we never said anything. We only ruined it for us. How long were we going to yearn in silence?"

Yunho takes a moment to process your words, your phrases of sheer truth before he instigates, "so, you and Mingi...?"

"No, we're not together," you shake your head, groaning softly as you push your body into his; your hands slip from his chest to the either side of his waist.

"Ah really?" he rasps, resting his forehead on yours, "then I wouldn't mind making a sound. I like you too, Liyah. Oh, to hell with it, I think I love you."

You bite back on chuckle, rubbing the sides of his waist as you lean into his touch. "I think I'm falling in love with you too."

"Hmm," he hums before grunting in pure impatience, "ah, fuck it."

In a fraction of a second, his lips meet yours, capturing a daze of lust and hunger before melting into utter passion. He delicately cups your face, the palms of his hands ever so softly caressing your keeps; he tilts your head slightly, giving him the chance to deepen the kiss. You're drowning in the way his lips lay so gentle against yours. Basking his lips into yours, you whimper as frailly as you could, bringing your hands up to his shoulders for support.

The kiss only grows deeper than before, with him pushing his body into yours and keeping your chest flushed against his. Desperation is evident in the sound of his grunt, and in the way his chest rumbles; his teeth sink in your lower lip, thumbs pressing your cheekbones before pulling himself back and letting go of your lower lip. He watches your lip wobble with amusement, smirking to himself as you whine almost inaudibly.

"You know, we were chasing stars in the dark, blindfolded," he murmurs, nudging the tip of his nose with yours, not moving quite back yet. The warmth of his breath sends shivers down your spine, causing tremors to creep on your skin. "We couldn't see our feelings for each other, but at least we knew they were there."

"Yeah yeah, I get it," you huff out, pulling him by the collar of his jacket, "I've waited too long for you, now, why don't you shut up and kiss me?"

"Yes, ma'a—" you tug him down, putting your lips on his to shut him up.

Grasping onto the collar of his jacket, you push yourself into him; your toes curl in your boots upon feeling the lushness of his lips. You're far too gone to resist your desires. All the years of curbing your carnality for him had led up to this moment, where you're kissing him back as ravenously as you could. The hunger is evident in the way his lips move against yours; he bites down on your lower lip, eliciting a murmured gasp from you. The dainty vibration of your noise gets absorbed in the kiss, breaking out into a small and heated make out sesh under the starlight.

Yunho's hands slip away from your face, grazing past your collarbones and then down to your waist. He brings your hips into his, heedlessly grinding his crotch on yours. The feelings make you an airhead, too dazed to realise when his tongue had slithered past your swollen lips and into your mouth. His sloppy, wet and warm tongue plays with yours; its roughness melts when you tackle his tongue with your own, moaning. This was too much, too much all at once; his hips rolling into yours, showing you how eager he was to take you right there and then. You couldn't really believe how desperate he was, or how you could sense the hardness of his cock through his trousers.

Your mind goes blank, chest heaving into his as your body goes erratic to him shoving his tongue down your throat. He twists and turns it inside, plunging down further to touch extreme end of your palate. His tongue almost makes you gag, but neither of you pull away. Not even when your lungs were crumpling and urging you to take a breath. His fingers dig into your flesh, leaving marks through your nifty tank top. Heat starts rising up your cheeks, tipping off every inch of your body when you come to your senses; you were kissing Yunho. The Jeong Yunho whom you had been crushing over for years.

The wait was worth it.

Yunho gasps as he pushes back, taking a deep breath in through his mouth and you watch his chest rise invariably.

"I think we should take this inside," he pecks your lips, "I can't bear this any longer. I fucking need you..."

You brush his hair, letting your fingers tangle in his silky strands while you swipe your tongue on his lower lip. "Do you really?"

He grunts, sounding deep and dark; before you could do anything else to him, he grabs both of your hands by their wrists and pins them above your head. Diving back in to resume the covetous kiss, he sucks on your lips, akin to shut you up. You let him devour you, quite literally; his teeth scrape over your lower lip and you bite back a whimper. His other hand teasingly drags to the hem of your tank top; wasting a second, tracing light circles on your skin, he lets his fingers divulge under first. The cold tips of his fingers delineate strokes until his whole hand is under your top. His fingertips graze the lower part of your tit, teasing you.

He breaks the kiss through halfway again, pushing your body down from the way he held your hands.

"Are you fucking talking back to me?" he leans in to kiss you again, but doesn't really; his lips hover onto yours, so painfully close yet so far away. "Yeah, I fucking need you. I've been craving all of you for the past six years. Your lips, your heart, your soul, I want to touch it all."

"I'm not stopping you, am I?" you whisper, lurching forward to kiss him but he's quick, and tilts his head away. You pout, "you're a—"

He doesn't let you finish and kisses you, stealing your breath away. "Baby, I'm incharge. You better not open your mouth for anything other than moaning and whimpering like the sweet little girl you are."

You nod, humming.

"That's my good girl, now..." he drags his voice to a grumble; he lets go of your hands and instead, hooks his around your knees and picks you up.

"Yunho!" you gasp as you're lifted and slung on his shoulder. His other hand comes to cup your ass, while the one supporting you stays around your waist.

He doesn't respond to you and carries you away from the dark; the upside down view of yours tells you exactly where he was taking you. Catching the glimpse of your cabin, and the bright light on porch of the cabin, you anticipate what's to come. The cabin door is shoved open inside, too harshly to keep it from making any sound. As the vibrations of the thud drown out, you're thrown on the twin sized bed of your cabin.

It's dark, not pitch black, but dimly lit because of the moonlight flooding through the sole window situated above the bed. You huff in stifling annoyance, laying on the bed and supporting yourself by your elbows. Hearing bellicose shuffles from Yunho, you peek up to find him taking his jacket off. It is then thrown on the floor, leaving him in only his black trousers and a pale blue button-down shirt. Amidst the darkness, he meets your eyes, and they don't waver one bit; he crawls onto the bed, and you saunter back till you hit the wooden wall behind you.

"What, are you scared?" he prances close to you, like a predator approaching its prey. You shake your head, and he chuckles, "you can use your words, sometimes."

You purse your lips together, not wanting to utter a sound because you were sure it'd have its own consequences. Squeezing your thighs together, to try not to make it seem obvious that you were beyond aroused, feeling your slick drench your panties and your shorts. Yunho's body shudders visibly as he lets out a harmless laugh, bringing his hands to roam your body before they end up around your waist. He's trapped you against the wooden panelling behind, with his body pressed up against you instead. Moonlight hits his eyes, illuminating the sheer lust in them; pools of melted honey had suddenly succumbed to their darkness. He's perfectly slotted in between your legs, and you take merest of efforts to wrap them around his waist. With an arch of your back, your hips buck into his and your cunt is in direct contact with his raging erection.

"Okay, don't want to speak?" he whispers, tracing the tip of his nose along your cheek and gliding it further down, "fine. Don't. I'll be getting some sounds out of you, anyway."

Yunho likes how you were so desperate for him, how you were rolling your hips to get more friction; practically grinding on his cock, you tried to gauge how big he was. You always knew from the rumours that he was huge, but this was the moment where you'd be witnessing it for yourself. He bites down your lips, before pulling back and sticking his tongue out. You do the same and bring him closer to you by wrapping your hands around his neck. Expecting him to kiss you, you're left stunned when he sucks on your tongue instead. He sucks on it as if it was a piece of candy.

The sloppy sucking turns into sloppy kissing, and you groan into the kiss, intertwining your fingers in few strands of his hair falling over his neck. Yunho chortles, grinding his hips on your cunt to show how hard he was now. You can't think straight; first of all, it's starting to get dark in the cabin, second of all, Yunho's lips had been driving your insane, and third of all, his cock was rigid and feeling it through your clothes was starting to turn you off. Yunho breaks the kiss, pulling back just a little; translucent strings of spit cover both of your lips, keeping them in an illusion of being attached.

A mischievous smirk curls on his Yunho's lips, and he buries his head in the crook of your neck; leaving back bruises, he bites and sucks on your flesh. He knew your weak spot, you had shared it to him the day you had lost your virginity; it was a mistake telling him, because he was figuratively, abusing it for you. The spot lied three fingers below your earlobe, and he was nibbling on the exact spot to bring out the worst in you. It's gonna be bruised purple and blue, and Yunho's going to take the pride in it.

"Yunho!" you gasp and moan, tilting your head to a side to let him have better angle to abuse your neck. Lost in the wind of pleasure, you let your hands slide down his back, resting delicately on his shoulder blades.

"I know," his smirk widens, "did you think I wouldn't remember it?"

The clutter of his whisper melts to silence. His hands which had been on your waist for all this time, were starting to creep up. Except, he had the hem of your tank top in his hold. Pulling it up to your collarbone, he mumbles incoherent words against your neck as your tits spill out. You did not find it practical to wear a bra after your evening shower, and now that you think about it, you made a good decision not to. Yunho's cheeks turn an alluring shade of red upon catching a glimpse of your perky tits.

There had been accidental glances before, whenever you'd wear low cut tops or dresses, even your strapless tops exposed much more of your cleavage than you would intend on. Yunho respected your body, and the boundaries which were conspicuous in a friendly way; he might not be so blatant about it, but on a night or two, you were the starlight of his fantasies while he jerked off. In fact, he would've sworn off on his own words, if it weren't for your thoughts helping him 'get it on' with his ex-girlfriends. He would never disclose that to you, would he? During those moments however, whenever he'd be struck by post-nut clarity, he'd feel ashamed and guilty.

Well, not anymore.

Your body is bewitching, making him lose his senses; the movement of his hips ceases in a sudden state, wrenching out more desperation from you as you heedlessly keep bucking yourself into him. You wonder what made him stop, and your curiosity is sated almost immediately when he pushes himself back and supports himself on his knees. His sleek fingers work on the buttons of his shirt, coming undone one by one. He doesn't take off his shirt just yet only unbuttons the top half of it while leaning over to capture your lips in a head spinning kiss.

His lap on yours, devouring the sweet essence; you press on a moan, rolling yourself into him and pushing your bare chest against his. The soft material of shirt rests over your tits, tickling the pit of your stomach as you continue to push your chest into his. Yunho's chest collapses with a guttural moan, pulling himself away from the kiss. He offers you a smirk, before using his hands to pull the tank top over your head. It's off and thrown on the floor, keeping you bare on your top half for him.

"Are you sure about this?" he asks you, cheeks still red and alluring. Leaning over, he rests his forehead on yours, and lets his lips brush against yours.

You let your hands hover on his back, dipping your fingers only for their tips to lightly ghost along till you wrap them around the nape of his neck and pull him in. "Yeah, as sure as I've been about my feelings for you."

"There's no going back after this," he cups a side of your face and pecks your lips, "so, if you're having second thoughts, just tell me."

"I'm not," you mumble, breathlessly pressing your lips with his, "I want this. I know you want it too."

"Well, I've been wanting this since the day I got myself to fall for you." He smiles, bringing one of his hands to grab yours on the back of his neck. "A lot of things have happened in my mind since then, a lot of fantasies, a lot of desires..."

Before you could ask him about them, he quickly grabs your hand and pins it over your head; he does the same for your other hand, and ignoring your whines, he constraints both of your hands with his one. He's back to rolling his crotch onto yours, giving you the sensory stimulation of his erection through your clothes. The urge to rid yourself from the confines of your shorts was beyond anything, wanting to be naked for him to grind himself on you. As if that thought wasn't enough to make you wet, you were actually clenching at the friction of his cock against your cunt.

The shorts had to go. And his clothes too. You were mewling despair, having never considered yourself desperate for someone's cock as much as you're right now. His knees sunk into the mattress underneath, while your legs remain wrapped around his waist; he slides his free hand down to the waistband of your shorts, fingers fumbling to unbutton and pull them off.

"I just need to know you're okay with everything I have to do."

"Do you need a written consent now?" you groan, annoyed and irritated. "You can do whatever you want, I have no complaints."

"Be careful with what you say," he warns you, forcing his hips into yours to give you more of him. "I don't want you crying later on."

"What do you take me for?" you stick your tongue out, "I have been with many guys before you."

"Did you really have to mention that?" he grunts, pushing his hand past the waistband of your shorts; while his other hand kept yours bound above your head, he was making the best with his one free hand. "I'll teach you a lesson, make you forget about everyone in your past."

"I'll like to see you try—ah fuck, Yunho!" you gasp, fisting your hands tighter when his fingers press on your clit.

"That's right, scream my name," he growls, burying his head in the crook of neck and biting your flesh harshly.

You were going to have red and blue splotches littered all over your skin tomorrow; and that would make it everyone obvious of yours and his nightly venture. Yunho's teeth sink further while his fingers slither along your slit, rubbing you up and down through your panties, making you moan out loud.

"Yunho..."

"Huh, what is it?" he mumbles against your skin, licking the spots he had marked and bitten.

"Please..."

"I don't understand one-word answers, doll," he chuckles, the vibrations preening your skin. "Be clear and say what you want. I'll give it to you."

"Fuck—fuck you," you say out of spite, grumbling as your eyes shut close and darkness takes over. You couldn't stare at the ceiling while he abused your neck, and his fingers worked you up.

"Uh-huh," he tuts, ceasing the movements of his fingers, "what a foul mouth. Be nice or else I won't touch you at all." He brings his hands out and your eyes flutter open at the emptiness; you whine, "please, Yunho. I won't—I won't say that again."

"And I'm supposed to trust you?"

"Please..." you whine again, bucking your hips up. "I'll do whatever you want next time."

"I'm more of a provider than a receiver." His hand dives back in your shorts, his fingers rubbing you through your panties. "And I think we're wasting too much time already."

The moonlight shines through the window again, illuminating half of his face for your eyes; it hits his chin and his nose, keeping his own eyes shrouded in dark. You roll your hips into his fingers as they continue their motion, going up and down along your slit and pressing against your clit whenever they could. Squinting your eyes shut tight, you let the pleasure build and your slick grows denser in your panties; it soaks through, coating bits of his skin as he keeps rubbing you down.

"Getting wetter by the second, I see. Really fucking desperate, aren't you doll?"

He pulls himself back altogether, "keep your hands up, or else I might have to punish you."

You nod, pursing your lips together and then crossing your wrists over another to fix them above your head. In the darkness, as the moon crosses your window, you catch a glimpse of Yunho shrug out of his shirt and hold it in his hand. He keeps it to a side before grabbing your waist and pulling you down on the bed, with such ease that you felt weightless. You plop against the mattress, yelping softly as you let him do as he pleases with you.

"You know, I don't really trust you with your hands," he muses, leaning over as he brings his hand back on yours. "So, let's keep them away for the night."

Taking the sleeves of his shirt, he crosses and loops them around your wrists and then hooks them up with the short and narrow rail of the bed. The sleeves come out in front of the rail, right where the headboard and he ties a tight knot. Your hands are stretched above your head, while you're lying restrained on the bed.

"Perfect." He clicks his tongue and moves back.

Bending his knees and sinking into the mattress, he is right in between with your legs on either side of him. He supports the underside of your thighs, arching your lower back up as it gives him better control over you. Without wasting any time, he effortlessly tugs your shorts down and rids you of them. Light crumpling follows and you know your shorts are lying on the ground along with your top and his jacket. You're squirming under him, too exposed to his eyes, even though you were in your panties; tilting your head up, you peek at him and watch him wet his middle and ring finger with his spit. The sheer coat of them shines under the moonlight and you groan, already anticipating what's to come.

He smirks lightly, as he lets the pads of his fingers rub on your mound through the panties at first and then drags them painstakingly down along your slit, pressing gently against your clit along the way. With a few more strokes, your mouth falls open, moans whispering past it as he picks up his face. His spit covers your soaked panties, wetting them further and they act as your second skin; he purposely presses hard along your slit, eliciting a throaty moan before it subsides to a whine.

His fingers were off of you, leaving you with a feeling of emptiness and confusion. "Let's get you out of these, shall we?"

With one swift breath, he hook his fingers under the waistband one tour panties and tugs them all the way down; you're completely exposed to him, shuddering in your skin as his hungry eyes drink every detail of your cunt. Your panties loosely hang by his pinky finger, while an ordained smirk teases his lips and keeps them parted. He starts palming his crotch, closing his eyes and throwing his head back for the mere minute as his cock begins to harden in his briefs.

"Look at the sheen on those lips," he coos, amused and eyes now fixed on your cunt. And you knew he definitely wasn't talking about the lips on your face. "Fuck, doll. Were you that eager to be fucked by me? So wet and eager for me."

He's teasing you and it's turning too embarrassing for you; closing your eyes you turn your head and whine, "fuck you."

At the realisation, your eyes shot open and stare at him in pure fright, but also a little bit of anticipation. He did warn you before, to keep your mouth clean and shut; now that you had openly cursed at him, all left to do was to wait for the consequences be bestowed on you. Yunho's eyes turn dark, lost in the carnal desire and prolonging the silence before he sighs, a sigh which translates to nothing but terror for you.

"What did I tell you?" he grunts, asking you a question in his commanding tone. "I asked you to keep your mouth shut. If you got nothing better to say, then don't say anything at all...right?"

As your chest rises and falls, convulsing to his utter lust and hunger, you press your lips together and prevent from squeaking any sounds; but to your unbridled surprise, his other hand comes flying to grab your jaw and fingers poke into your cheeks. He's too rough and savage as he forces your mouth open and stuffs your panties in your mouth.

"Much better." He remarks, sinking back on his knees and in between your legs; he fixes his gaze on you, and nudges his head. "If you let that fall from your mouth, oh baby, I don't know what might happen to you."

"Nghhhh..." even your groan gets muffled, and your tongue stays flat against the floor of your mouth; the smooth material of panties does chafe your tongue, but it's only in the slightest.

"Good girl," he praises, delighting himself with a smile before placing his hands back under your thighs. "Now, I have a treat for myself."

Licking his lips, he slouches himself in a way to have his face lowered in between your legs; his warm breath ghosts over your mound, then slowly tickles your skin as it drifts to your slit and folds. He grips your thighs tightly, dentures forming in your flesh as he does. Spreading your legs apart and keeping them propped on his tight, he drools at the sight of your cunt stretching out itself. It wasn't much, but it was enough for his cock to strain painfully in his pants.

"You're so beautiful, Liyah." He mumbles, fluttering a soft kiss over your mound before going further down, "I'm jealous of all the men who got to see this beauty before me. Holy fuck—just the thought itself makes me want to ruin this tight little thing."

His words vibrate against your skin, making you moan and urging you to scream. Alas, you can't really voice your pleasure or your desires. The wispy sensation of his breath tells you how close he was to your cunt, lips hovering over and with only a slight tilt of his head, he'd be all buried in you. The warmth of his hands slowly starts creeping up your thighs, fingers splayed and pressing to create bruises on your skin.

"I have your consent to do what I want, right, Liyah?" he mumbles, cupping the lower part of your ass.

You groan out loud to answer him, finding it extremely torturous to have your hands tied and mouth gagged. Unspoken tremors spread under your skin when his thumbs press against your folds, pulling them apart to reveal the hidden details behind them. He hums in satisfaction at the sight of your pink flesh blooming into delicate petals. You feel the mellow stretch burning your heart, combusting you whole as your patience run low. If your hands were free, you'd be pushing his head in between your legs, wrap your thighs around his face and suffocate on your juices.

Sadly, it was only confined to your mind as Yunho was pacing his actions slowly and steadily. His thumbs press on your fleshy folds furthermore, putting you entirely on a display for him; you swollen nub tautens, needing attention, your arousal just keeps flowing out. You throw your head back into the mattress, arching your neck and holding your tears in; this was embarrassing, but in a good way. You were utterly humiliated to have your best friend slotted in between your legs, learning and identifying every detail of your cunt.

You grumble in frustration and chagrin; all your desires and fantasies erupting a sense of pleasure and wonder in your heart.

"Fucking hell, you sound so heavenly right now." He comments, smiling.

As your stretched cunt glints with an appealing shine (from your arousal), it becomes quite difficult for Yunho to control his inner animal. He dips his head in, tongue sticking out and flat to lick up your slit first. Puckering his lips, he presses a few kisses on your mound before gurgling out a good amount of spit; the coldness of his spit trickles down, perfectly along your slit. You close your eyes even tighter than before, letting a few tears escape.

"Ynnmunnho...!" you try to spell out his name with the scream but fail miserably because of the panties bunched up in your mouth.

"I know, I fucking know, doll..." he whispers, licking and lapping up your juices mixed with his spit. "I'm going to take my time devouring you."

Soon, he's going all in. Pressing the tip of his tongue in your slit, sucking on your clit and tensing all the nerves, he's partially fucking you with his tongue. If only you were able to touch him and scream his name out, it'd be perfect. One of his hands disappears from holding you apart and reappears with its warmth on your folds. His mouth is sucking and licking your cunt, while his finger protrudes at your hole. Letting another wad of spit roll down your slit, his fingers collect it by the tips before pushing inside; his fingers had always been sleek and long, quite girthy too. At first, the stretch from his fingers stings a bit but then it subsides to sheer pleasure. It bubbles in your stomach, forcing you to arch your back and fist your hands tight enough for your knuckles to go white.

"Fuck, you're tight, doll." He remarks, chuckling to himself, "bet none of your exes did a better job at fucking you loose."

His fingers plunge further inside, while his mouth is back on your clit, suckling and slurping up the spit and your arousal. Pulling back only a centimetre, he mumbles against your skin, "such a sweet thing—tastes so sweet and perfect."

You whimper at his words, giving you sensory whiplash before you breathe in hard through your nose. There was no way you could control yourself now, you couldn't even resist your gut burning with a familiar knot tying itself in your stomach. His fingers kept a steady a pace inside, only to switch it up next second; they're thrusting in deep, squealing your walls and curling inside to brush against your g-spot. The sudden caress of his fingers against your sensitive spot, makes you moan and see stars behind your closed eyes.

Grumbling incoherently, you buck your hips into his face and his fingers slip deeper, while his tongue presses further into your clit. The wetness, the roughness and warmth of his tongue were driving you crazy to begin with, and then his fingers start moving in a scissoring manner to stretch you out. This was unbearable, agonising every muscle in your body and more importantly, it was torturing your every being to not scream his name out till you're practically unconscious with a sore throat.

You did not know Yunho was this freaky in the sheets; never once did it cross your mind in the years of your friendship, that he'd be assertive and rough, delighting himself in manhandling. The thoughts in your head are cut short when he lets another clump of his spit roll down your slit, his tongue rubbing in circles and sideways to ruin you completely. It was working. His ways were working. The only downside to this, was your inability to touch him. You would've loved to scratch your nails on his back, create those red marks all over; you would've stroked his ego by chanting his name in your daze.

With that, a very dire notion pops in your mind and your eyes light up before fluttering open; you prod the gag of your panties out of your mouth with your tongue, and let it fall off onto the mattress besides you. Taking a deep breath in to sate your lungs from suffocation, you whimper ever so lightly, not loud enough to catch his attention.

Yunho is engrossed in sucking at your clit, but he's not a fool to not know what was happening above him. He smirks softly, pulling himself back, while managing the rhythm of his fingers sawing through you. Having your head thrown back, and your eyes closed, you don't notice him straightening up only a bit to watch you with amusement.

"You're such a brat, Liyah," he mutters under his breath, "guess I'll save your punishment for the next time. Now, let's get over this."

He brings his fingers out, letting you cherish the emptiness before straightening his posture completely and questions you, "Do you have a safe word?"

You shake your head, heart warming up to the concern in his voice and spell out, "ugh, no...I don't."

Yunho heaves out a sigh before legging his lips fleet with a smile, "I work on the colour system, much like traffic signals; so, red is stop, green is okay, and yellow is pause. Understood?"

You nod your head and then pout, struggling in the restraints; yeah, your hands are numb and on the verge of going limp. "Can you take this off?"

"Not a chance, doll." He smirks, "you can handle it."

Subtly glancing at his pants, he's quick in unbuttoning, unzipping and tugging them off of his legs. All your clothes were either piled or strewn on the floor, and his pants were a new addition. Yunho shifts on his knees to find a comfortable spot, while you salivate over the outline of his cock being so prominent through his abstract painted briefs. They're a mix of red, blue and black and you really didn't think you'd fixate yourself on the pattern of his briefs, but it seemed like they had some minute detail printed on it.

"Stop staring," he leans over and flicks your forehead, his own cheeks turning red along yours.

You whine, as the skin of your forehead starts stinging a bit. "You're just...really hot. It's not my fault—it's not my fault you grew up to be so hot."

"Flattery is devil's work." He rolls his eyes, but still manages to capture your lips in a short lived yet wild kiss. "Hmm, seriously, if you feel uncomfortable at any moment of this, please tell me."

Composing himself, he straightens up and hooks his fingers under the elastic band of his briefs; he snaps it first, and then hauls them off of his legs. Again, they're thrown somewhere on the floor. He's bare in front of you, his cock springing up and touching his lower belly. You were right, the rumours you thought were made up in school, are true. He was huge and thick; the veins on his shaft were bulging out, the tip was red and a little bit of precum had coated the slit.

"I told you to stop staring."

He grunts and that's all you know before being flipped over on your stomach by his arms around your waist. You're pressed up against the mattress, your face buried in the sheets, while one of his hands slithers up your back to wrap itself around your neck. Applying little to no pressure, he pushes your head further into the mattress and groans out softly.

"Fuck," your words are muffled by the mattress.

He doesn't waste any time in propping you up on your knees, letting your lower half raise in the air; your ass was juttinout, while your back arched perfectly on the mattress. Keeping his hand on your neck, he uses his other to slap your ass. It was done with a playful intention, but it was enough to leave a faint impression of his hand on your skin. He repeats for two more times before admiring the red streaks of his hand on your skin, he takes his pride in it before flushing his hips against the back of your thighs and aligning his cock with your hole.

You could hear the shuffling, you could sense his movements regardless of your vision being limited to the white of the sheets; you wanted to turn your head and glance back at him, but his grasp on your neck was making it hard to move. And it seemed like he wasn't going to let you any sooner either.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck," he chants breathlessly, closing his eyes shut and throwing his head back as he enters you; only his tip is prodding into your hole. "Liyah, please relax for me. You're too fucking—you're too fucking tight."

"Nghhhhh...!" you whimper, your spine shuddering when he tries to push himself in you from the back.

This position was your favourite, to say the least you liked the way it allowed one to hit every right spot in you. Yunho may have only gotten his tip inside, but you know the stretch from it was still ugly and unbearing. Only for the time being, however. Once you take a deep breath in and relax your muscles, it eases out your nerves and allows him to slip further in. Not long after, he's bottomed out; his thighs flush against yours, and his cock completely buried in you. He waits a beat for you to adjust to his size. Yunho is self aware, he knows how excruciating it'd be for a woman to take in his cock without any prep or care.

"Yeah, that's my good girl—just breathe—let me know when I can—when I can move," he stutters in his daze, his eyes opening to the heavenly feeling of your walls around his cock. He indulges himself in it, liking the warmth of your cunt and how tight you were.

You press your hips back into his, signalling him the known and he takes the hint before pulling him out; he doesn't pull out all the way, instead he lets the tip of his cock stay in you, promoting at your cervix before he gradually pushes himself in. His concise and slow thrusts give you the ability to adjust around him, getting used to his size in a minute or two.

"Don't forget to use the safe words, okay..." he mumbles under his breath.

As his words reverberate, he picks up his pace and thrusts faster into you; he pulls back and pushes in, lowering his thighs into yours and sticking to a healthy rhythm. His hand comes to support you by resting on your thigh from your lower back, while his other is already pressing your head into the mattress. You were drawling on your breath, suffocating and gasping for air; regardless, you weren't bothered by it, you were too immersed in the sting of your walls stretching around his cock and then relaxing every time he pulled out a little. It was driving you insane.

"Yunho, fuck...faster," you try to voice out, but the words are absorbed into the mattress.

Even if your words were inaudible to him, Yunho picks up the tempo of his hips, his fingers digging in your thigh as he holds onto it for leverage. This makes him go feral, having an untamed desire to ruin and fuck you raw. He brings his hand to the small of your back and lets it rest there, while his thrusts falter but show no signs of stopping.

"You're really—fuck—you're really fucking tight, doll." He breathes out, loosening his grip on your neck before sliding his hand up front.

Grabbing your throat now, he pulls up; your restrained hands limit your movement, and he makes the up the remaining distance by leaning his chest against your chest. Skipping a beat, he increases the speed of his thrusts, plunging his cock deep in you every time he drew out and rammed in hard. A voiceless chuckle sounds from beside you, right near your ear; his head rested delicately on the back of your shoulder, just above your shoulder blade.

Sweat beads trickle on your skin, followed by his whispery chants of your name. You're too turned on by his grunts and moans being close to your ears, salvaging the heated knot in your stomach again.

"Yunho, I'm close..." you mumble, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath.

"Just a little bit, hold it out..." he grumbles, delaying his thrusts to drag out your orgasm.

You groan at the sluggish pace, instinctively pushing yourself back into his cock. Though, when he gently yet threateningly, slaps the curve of your back, you yelp and steady yourself.

"Don't even think about it," he warns, rolling his hips into yours and picking up the pace.

"But Yunho—fuck," your whine is cut short to a moan; bringing his hand to the front, from your back, he offers your filled pussy a light slap.

His hand drops from your throat too and instead slides down to tug on your nipples and grope your tits; his fingers scuttle in your flesh, nails leaving little crescent marks behind and his lips tracing kisses along your neck. He straighten his back and wraps both of his hand around your waist, giving him the better weight to sink his cock into you. And he was delivering really harsh thrusts to your back.

"Hmm, Yunho— I can't—I can't hold it in much—much longer." you say in between your moans, and whimpers, knowing how intense the knot in your stomach had tied itself into.

Yunho hums along, "fuck it."

He flips you on your back, with much ease than before and he slows himself down to short and concise thrusts. You're laying on your back, the shackled shirt of his twisting in the process which did not bring any strain to your arms; though you could say that your arms were tired and numb from staying in one position for so long. Yunho likes the sight of you sprawled under him, helpless and desperate; he wraps your legs around his waist and continues to ram into you.

"You're so pretty—so fucking pretty squirming under me," he growls, leaning over you.

He supports his body weight by plopping his hands on either side of your face and diminishes the distance between your faces to kiss you. His lips bring the much-needed placidity to your heart while his cock is stretching you raw, thrusting into your cunt at an animalistic pace and fluttering your walls. The kiss turns hungry and he's soon devouring your face; you arch your back and let your hips roll into his.

This current position causes you to clench around him; while your own orgasm was a few thrusts away, you were also trying to milk his out. Yunho's lips trail down your jaw and then your neck, tongue going over the hickeys he had left before. The knot which had gone limp a few moments ago, comes back with much more force and intense churning of your gut. You push your chest into his, and he starts to increase his pace furthermore. He had gone feral at this point, bucking his hips into with no care whatsoever.

You're both chasing each other's highs. It takes one longing thrust from him, and you're coming undone, releasing your juices all over his cock as he keeps going at it. Yunho pulls himself back, supporting himself on his arms and offers you smug smile.

"Making a mess on my cock, huh?" he groans, your tense walls pushing him to his edge. "Fuck, I'm close too—gonna fill you up..."

It doesn't take long for him to cum either; right after you, after a few more whiling minutes of thrusting and ramming his cock into you, he too comes undone. The warmth of his cum fills you up, and it keeps trickling down your cunt as he slowly pulls out. A few drops fall on your folds and few dribble down on the mattress underneath you. You're breathless, and voiceless, your chest heaving in the air and dropping erratically to compose yourself.

Yunho falls next to you on the twin sized bed, somehow managing to fit himself in the very little space. He turns to face you, wrapping an arm around you and pulling both of your bodies closer. Now, the two of you actually fit on the bed, snuggling close to each other, reeking of sex and sweat. Your hair stuck to your forehead from the sweat, and Yunho strokes a few strands away.

"I'm...I don't know what to say." he begins, hopefully looking into your eyes.

You rest your head on his chest and wrap your arms around his torso; both are sweaty and sticky, but it's the least of your concerns now.

"Can we talk about it tomorrow?"

"Well, we really need to address this."

Yunho rubs your back up and down, letting his fingertips caress your skin gently and relax you.

"There's nothing to address, Yunho," you bite back on your tone and use a more subtle one, "this isn't a mistake. Obviously. I like you, a lot. And I'm looking for a prospect relationship here."

"I'm alright with that, but..." he trails off, sighing softly and you prop yourself on your elbows to stare at him, finding his lips trembling, "we're both pursuing our degrees in different cities. So, till we graduate we'll be in a long-distance relationship."

"And what do you think that long distance relationships don't work?" you retort, and eventually, slump yourself back on his chest. While your hands rest on his chest, your fingers draw circles and certain patterns; your sentiments become clearer and you mumble, "I was thinking of moving cities, you know."

"Liyah," he whispers, "you don't have to."

His gradual touches on your arm as you lay on his chest, are soft and warm and so his tone as he speaks up.

"We should move in together after graduation. Let's make this long-distance work; and besides..." he drags his words to a mumble again, only to lean down and kiss your forehead.

"We've been chasing stars for long; may they be in dark or the light. They made me realise I need you in my life."

[muiitoloko]

I heard you like Lionel requests 👀 how about Lionel on his wedding day to yn? smutty and non smutty ideas below, your pick

smutty idea: their wedding night, they had plenty of sex before of course but it’s extra special now they married 😌

non smutty idea: he’s nervous on the morning of and his cousin Sinclair gives him a pep talk 😀

Title: A Lion Tamed

Summary: Lionel Shahbandar, a man who swore he could never be tamed, meets the one woman who changes everything.

Pairing: Lionel Shahbandar × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut

Author's Notes: Well, why not write both? 😏 A little nervous Lionel with a Sinclair pep talk and a special wedding night? Sounds like a perfect balance to me!

Also read on Ao3

Lionel adjusted his tie for the umpteenth time in front of the ornate mirror, his reflection staring back at him with an air of irritation. His fingers fiddled with the fabric, tugging at the knot, trying to get it perfect. The suit was impeccable, of course—nothing less than the finest tailoring for a man like him. Still, something about the way the tie sat made him scowl.

Behind him, Sinclair Bryant leaned casually against the doorframe, looking every bit the millionaire dreamer in his tailored gray suit. His blond hair was neatly combed, and his hazel eyes sparkled with mischief, shifting between brown and green as the light from the chandelier above hit them. Sinclair sipped from a crystal tumbler of whiskey, watching Lionel’s struggle with the tie like it was the most riveting theater production he’d ever seen.

“Are you nervous, Lionel?” Sinclair asked, his voice carrying that familiar mix of curiosity and teasing.

Lionel scoffed, the sound deep and dismissive. “Nervous? Why the bloody hell would I be nervous?” He tugged at the tie again, his sharp, hooked nose wrinkling in irritation. “This is just another day, another event. Granted, a tad more important than the usual charity ball, but still… hardly anything to break a sweat over.”

Sinclair smirked, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “Oh, of course. Nothing to be nervous about at all. Just the rest of your life with the woman who might actually manage to tame the infamous Lionel Shahbandar.”

Lionel paused mid-adjustment, shooting Sinclair a glare through the mirror. “Tame me? You’ve been spending too much time with those self-help books, cousin. No one tames a lion.”

Sinclair stepped into the room, setting his drink on a side table. “You can deny it all you like, but I know you, Lionel. You’ve been pacing around like a caged animal for days. And I’ll bet my entire fortune you’ve thought about her running out on you at least twice.”

Lionel turned sharply, his baritone voice dripping with mock offense. “Me? Worried about her running away? Please. If anyone’s leaving anyone at the altar, it’ll be me. And I’ll make it look good, too.”

Sinclair chuckled, shaking his head. “Oh, come on. She’s not going anywhere. The way she looks at you, Lionel… she’s completely in love with you. God only knows why, but she is.”

Lionel smirked, though there was an edge of vulnerability in his eyes. “Well, it’s not exactly surprising, is it? Who wouldn’t be?”

Sinclair rolled his eyes, walking over to fix Lionel’s tie. “You’re insufferable, you know that?” He adjusted the knot expertly, patting it into place with a satisfied nod. “There. Now you look like the arrogant bastard she fell for.”

“Charming,” Lionel drawled, stepping back to inspect Sinclair’s work. “And here I thought you were here to give me some profound words of wisdom.”

Sinclair grinned, leaning against the dresser. “Alright, fine. Here’s some wisdom: Don’t cock it up. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you, Lionel, and deep down, you know it.”

Lionel chuckled, shaking his head. “Wisdom? From you? The man whose last attempt at marriage ended in flames? Spare me.”

The playful jab hit harder than Lionel intended. Sinclair’s smile faltered, the warmth in his hazel eyes dimming as he straightened up, his usual chatter replaced by a rare silence.

Lionel froze, guilt flashing across his face. He hated that look—had hated it ever since they were kids. Sinclair, despite all his brilliance and success, had always carried an innocence, a kind of unshakable optimism that Lionel had fiercely protected over the years. Seeing it crack, even for a moment, twisted something in Lionel’s chest.

“Clair,” Lionel began, his tone softer, almost hesitant. “I didn’t mean—”

Sinclair waved him off, forcing a smile. “It’s fine. You’re right. My track record isn’t exactly stellar.”

“No,” Lionel said firmly, stepping closer. “I’m an ass. You were trying to help, and I… Look, I shouldn’t have said that.”

Sinclair shrugged, his smile more genuine this time. “You’re always an ass, Leo. It’s part of your charm.”

Lionel snorted, clapping Sinclair on the shoulder. “And you’re a bloody saint for putting up with me. Always have been.” He hesitated, then added, “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here. Couldn’t do this without you.”

Sinclair’s grin returned, brighter now. “Damn right you couldn’t. Who else is going to keep you from running out the back door?”

Lionel chuckled, shaking his head as he adjusted his cufflinks. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re lucky,” Sinclair shot back, picking up his whiskey glass. “Now go marry the woman of your dreams before she realizes she could’ve done better.”

Lionel rolled his eyes, but a small smile tugged at his lips. “If she hasn’t figured it out by now, I think I’m safe.”

Sinclair laughed, raising his glass in a mock toast. “To the happy couple.”

Lionel glanced at his reflection one last time, smoothing his jacket and straightening his posture. Then, with a deep breath, he turned to Sinclair, his smirk firmly in place. “Let’s get this over with.”

As they headed toward the grand hall where the ceremony awaited, Lionel couldn’t help but feel a flicker of nervous excitement—though, of course, he’d never admit it. Not to anyone. Well, maybe to her. Eventually. But for now, he had a wedding to conquer. Like a lion.

Lionel stood at the altar, the weight of the moment settling heavily on his broad shoulders. His sharp, hooked nose twitched slightly as he glanced at the growing crowd. The ceremony was nothing short of extravagant—an event fit for royalty, which, knowing Lionel, was precisely the image he wanted to project. He had greeted every important guest, charmed every woman who blushed under his gaze, and nodded politely to every man who dared to make eye contact. Now, standing near the altar, he felt the sharp bite of nerves, something he hadn’t anticipated.

Sinclair stood beside him, ever the chatterbox, hazel eyes gleaming with amusement as he took in Lionel’s obvious discomfort. “You look like you’re being led to the gallows, Lionel,” Sinclair teased, his voice low enough for only his cousin to hear.

Lionel scoffed, straightening his posture. “I’m perfectly fine. Just keeping an eye on things. Must ensure everything runs smoothly.”

Sinclair rolled his eyes, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re fiddling with your tie again.”

Lionel froze mid-motion, his fingers still gripping the knot of his tie. He shot Sinclair a glare but reluctantly let his hands drop. “It’s a bloody nuisance,” he muttered, grunting in irritation.

“It’s perfect,” Sinclair countered with a calm tone, adjusting the cuffs of his own jacket. “And if you touch it one more time, I might strangle you with it. Can’t have you looking rumpled for the photos, now can we?”

Lionel grumbled something incoherent under his breath but refrained from touching the tie again. Instead, his hands slipped into his pockets, patting them absently. A moment later, his eyes widened, and his usual confidence faltered.

“The rings,” Lionel muttered, his voice suddenly tight. “Where are the bloody rings?”

Sinclair blinked, his expression shifting from amusement to exasperation. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Lionel,” he whispered harshly. “They’re fine. I checked earlier. They’re with the best man.”

“No,” Lionel hissed, panic flashing in his dark eyes. “I gave them to him, didn’t I? Or… did I leave them at home? Or in the car? Bloody hell, Sinclair, what if—”

Sinclair reached out and placed a firm hand on Lionel’s shoulder, steadying him. “Lionel. Look at me.” He waited until his cousin’s frantic gaze met his calm one. “The rings are fine. You gave them to the best man this morning, remember? I saw you do it. Stop acting like a nervous schoolboy on his first date.”

Lionel blinked, his baritone voice a low grumble. “I don’t get nervous.”

“Of course not,” Sinclair replied dryly, his hazel eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’re a lion, after all.”

Lionel straightened his jacket, regaining some semblance of composure. “Damn right.”

But Sinclair wasn’t finished. Sensing his cousin’s lingering tension, he leaned closer, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. “Remember that time when we were eight and you decided to ‘conquer’ the neighbor’s garden?”

Lionel groaned, rolling his eyes. “Not this again.”

“Oh, yes, this,” Sinclair continued, ignoring Lionel’s protests. “You strutted in like you owned the place, declared yourself the king of the roses, and promptly fell face-first into a muddy puddle.”

“That puddle was strategically placed,” Lionel retorted, his lips twitching despite himself. “It was sabotage.”

“Ah, yes,” Sinclair drawled, clearly enjoying himself. “Sabotage by a sprinkler system you turned on yourself. Brilliant strategy.”

Lionel let out a reluctant chuckle, shaking his head. “I should’ve pushed you into it.”

“You tried,” Sinclair said with a grin. “But I was too quick for you. Always have been.”

Lionel shot him a sidelong glance, his smirk returning. “I let you win, Sinclair. Just like I’m letting you distract me now.”

Sinclair’s laugh was soft but genuine, the sound carrying a hint of their shared history. “Distraction is my specialty, dear cousin. And judging by the look on your face, it’s working.”

Lionel sighed, shaking his head but feeling the tension in his shoulders ease. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Absolutely,” Sinclair replied, his grin widening. “And you love me for it.”

Lionel’s smirk softened into something resembling affection. “Don’t push your luck.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Sinclair said, though the twinkle in his eye suggested otherwise.

As the music began to swell, signaling the start of the ceremony, Sinclair clapped Lionel on the back. “Ready to do this, Your Majesty?”

Lionel straightened, his confidence returning in full force. “Always.”

But just as he turned to face the aisle, Sinclair leaned in one last time, his voice a low whisper. “If you trip on the way out, I’m telling everyone it’s because of nerves.”

Lionel didn’t bother hiding his grin. “And if you say one more word, I’ll make sure the photographer catches your bad side.”

Sinclair chuckled, stepping back into his place as the doors opened. “Touché, cousin. Touché.”

Clinging to your father’s arm, you stepped into view, radiant in a dress that seemed to capture and reflect every flicker of light in the room. Lionel’s breath hitched, his hooked nose flaring slightly as he drew in a sharp breath. He hadn’t seen you since yesterday morning, thanks to your insistence on that "ridiculous" belief that the groom shouldn’t see the bride before the wedding.

Of course, Lionel being Lionel, had found a loophole. Last night, blindfolded and grinning like a fox that had outsmarted the hounds, he’d coaxed you into bed. His baritone voice had been a mix of teasing and desire, whispering wicked promises as he let his hands memorize every curve of your body. Even now, the memory of your soft moans and the way you clutched at him as he moved within you sent a shiver down his spine.

“Bloody tradition,” he muttered under his breath, though a small, smug smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

Sinclair, standing beside him, leaned in. “You’re drooling, Lionel,” he whispered with a cheeky grin, his hazel eyes twinkling. “Quite the lion you are.”

“Piss off, Sinclair,” Lionel murmured, though his tone lacked its usual sharpness. His focus was entirely on you as you glided down the aisle, every step bringing you closer.

When you finally reached him, Lionel extended a hand, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sent a thrill down your spine. Your father placed your hand in his, and Lionel’s grip was firm, possessive, yet tender. He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “You look so bloody exquisite, love. I’m tempted to skip the ceremony and take you back to bed.”

Your cheeks flushed at his boldness, but you managed to keep your composure, giving him a playful glare. “Behave,” you whispered back, though the warmth in your voice betrayed how much his words affected you.

The officiant began, his voice echoing through the grand hall, but Lionel barely heard a word. His focus remained on you, his thumb absently tracing circles on the back of your hand. When it came time for the vows, Lionel surprised everyone—including himself—with the sincerity in his voice.

He took a step closer, his expression uncharacteristically vulnerable. “You’ve turned my world upside down, darling,” he began, his baritone voice steady but thick with emotion. “Before you, I thought I had everything—wealth, power, freedom. But then you came along and made me realize how empty it all was without you. You challenge me, infuriate me, and make me feel alive in a way I never thought possible.”

His hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped down your face. “You’ve tamed the lion,” he added with a wry smile, earning a soft laugh from the guests. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you that it was worth it.”

You took a deep breath, wiping your tears before stepping forward, holding Lionel’s hand firmly. His gaze softened as he looked at you, his usual arrogance tempered by something much deeper.

“Well,” you began, your voice steady but laced with humor, “I thought I’d start by saying you’ve got some nerve, Lionel Shahbandar, making me cry in front of all these people. Very unlike the strong, composed woman I pretend to be.”

The guests chuckled softly, and even Lionel’s lips quirked into a faint smirk.

“When I met you,” you continued, “I thought you were insufferable. And I was right. You are. Arrogant, cheeky, and so full of yourself I’m surprised there’s room for anyone else in your heart.”

Lionel raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement. “A promising start,” he murmured, earning a soft laugh from the audience.

“But,” you added, your tone softening, “somewhere along the way, you made room for me. And in return, you made me laugh harder, love deeper, and appreciate the finer things in life—like the exact year and vineyard of a bottle of wine or why silk sheets are ‘an absolute necessity.’”

The guests erupted into laughter as Lionel let out an exaggerated sigh of approval. “Finally, someone gets it,” he muttered, earning another wave of giggles.

You squeezed his hand, bringing the focus back. “Lionel, you’ve taught me that love isn’t about perfection. It’s about finding someone who makes your imperfections feel like strengths. Someone who sees all your flaws and still calls you ‘exquisite.’ You’ve tamed the stubborn woman who swore she’d never fall for a tycoon with a penchant for mischief.”

Lionel’s smirk faded into something more genuine, his dark eyes locked on yours as you continued.

“And in return, I vow to keep you on your toes,” you said, your voice taking on a playful lilt. “To challenge you when you’re wrong, support you when you’re right, and make sure you never, ever take yourself too seriously. I vow to love the lion in you, even when you’re roaring about something ridiculous, like the wrong type of caviar at breakfast.”

The laughter returned, but Lionel’s hand tightened around yours, his expression unguarded.

“And most importantly,” you finished, your voice steady and full of conviction, “I vow to be your partner in all things—your equal, your ally, and, occasionally, your greatest adversary in board games.”

The officiant stepped forward, smiling warmly. “Well, I think we’ve all learned quite a bit about the happy couple today,” he said. “Now, the rings, please.”

As the officiant finished his prompt, the grand hall’s double doors creaked open, and a collective hush fell over the room. All heads turned as the flower girl entered—a tiny figure in a pale lavender dress adorned with delicate lace, her curls bouncing with every step. She carried a small satin pillow, upon which the rings rested, glittering under the soft golden light.

The girl was your best friend's daughter, five-year-old Emma, who had insisted on taking this role. She walked with the careful, deliberate focus of someone entrusted with an incredibly important task. Her small brows furrowed as she kept her eyes locked on the pillow, her lips pressed into a determined pout.

Lionel turned his head toward you, his hooked nose twitching slightly in amusement as he whispered, “Well, look at that. A little lioness in training.”

You bit your lip to suppress a laugh, nudging him lightly. “Be nice,” you murmured, though your eyes sparkled with fondness.

Emma reached the altar, stopping just short of Lionel, her face lighting up with a triumphant grin. “I did it!” she exclaimed, holding the pillow up proudly.

The crowd chuckled softly, but Lionel crouched down to her level, his baritone voice dipping into a surprisingly warm tone. “And you did it splendidly, my dear. A performance worthy of a standing ovation.”

Emma’s grin widened, and she puffed out her chest. “Really?”

“Absolutely,” Lionel replied, his dark eyes twinkling with mischief. “If I ever need a security team for my treasure vaults, I’ll call you first.”

Emma giggled, but her grip on the pillow tightened as she whispered conspiratorially, “You have a treasure vault?”

Lionel’s lips curved into a sly smile. “Oh, I have many treasures. But today,” he added, his gaze flickering toward you, “I’m getting my most precious one yet.”

Emma scrunched her nose at the sentiment, clearly unimpressed by the sudden mushiness. “That’s cheesy,” she declared with the blunt honesty only a five-year-old could muster.

Lionel took the ring from the satin pillow, its band catching the light like a promise etched in gold. His dark eyes flicked up to meet yours, the mischief in them momentarily softened by something deeper—something unspoken but palpable. You mirrored his actions, your hands steady as you took the other ring, fingers brushing against his for a brief moment.

“With this ring,” Lionel began, his baritone voice steady and reverent, “I promise to always be your lion, insufferable as I may be. To protect you, to cherish you, and to drive you mad in ways only I can.” The audience chuckled softly, but Lionel’s gaze never left yours. “You’ve tamed me, darling. And now, I’m yours.”

Your breath caught, and your voice wavered only slightly as you echoed the sentiment. “With this ring, I promise to be your equal, your anchor, and, occasionally, your greatest adversary in debates about silk sheets and wine pairings.” A ripple of laughter followed, but you pressed on, the sincerity in your tone undeniable. “I vow to love every insufferable inch of you, Lionel Shahbandar, for as long as we both shall live.”

Lionel’s lips quirked into a barely-contained smirk, his cheekiness reasserting itself even in this moment. “For as long as we live? My darling, I was hoping for eternity.”

The officiant’s voice broke the tension, formal yet warm. “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Lord Shahbandar, you may kiss your bride.”

Lionel didn’t need a second invitation. His hands cupped your face as he pulled you to him, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was equal parts passion and possession. The audience erupted into applause, the sound a distant roar compared to the thundering of your heartbeat. Lionel deepened the kiss slightly, eliciting a few knowing laughs and whistles from the guests, but he didn’t care. For that moment, the world could burn, and Lionel Shahbandar would remain utterly unfazed.

Behind him, Sinclair, ever the chatterbox, stood unusually silent. His hazel eyes shimmered with unshed tears as he discreetly dabbed at them with the edge of his pocket square. Never in his life had he imagined he’d witness this day—the day Lionel Shahbandar, the infamous lion, would willingly be tamed.

As Lionel finally pulled back, his lips still tingling from the kiss, he leaned down, his voice a low, mischievous murmur meant only for your ears. “Now, what do you say we skip the reception, darling, and head straight to bed? I’ve been remarkably patient today, but I’m afraid it’s running out.”

You rolled your eyes, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed you. “Behave, Lionel,” you whispered back, though your voice lacked any real sternness. “The reception is for the guests. You’ll survive a few more hours.”

Lionel’s mouth curved into a slow, wicked grin. “Ah, but surviving isn’t thriving, my love.”

“You’ll thrive later,” you countered, pressing a kiss to his cheek before turning to face the applauding crowd.

Lionel sighed dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. “My wife is already bossing me around. This bodes well for our future.”

The guests laughed, and Sinclair, finally regaining his composure, called out, “And here I thought you’d be the one wearing the trousers, Lionel!”

Lionel smirked, his hooked nose twitching as he shot a cheeky glance at his cousin. “Oh, I’ll let her wear them—for now. But only because I prefer her out of them.”

Another round of laughter rippled through the room, and you shook your head, a mix of exasperation and fondness etched on your face. Taking his hand, you began leading him down the aisle, the applause following you like a wave.

As you reached the end of the aisle, Lionel leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear. “I hope you’re ready, love. Tonight, I plan to roar louder than the applause.”

You laughed softly, squeezing his hand as you whispered back, “Save it for later, Lionel. For now, let’s get through the reception without causing a scandal.”

“Darling,” Lionel said with a smirk, his voice dripping with playful arrogance, “with me, scandal is inevitable.”

At the reception, the air was filled with warmth, laughter, and the soft clinking of glasses. Guests mingled, exchanging pleasantries and indulging in the finest champagne money could buy. The highlight of the evening, however, was Sinclair, who had taken it upon himself to entertain everyone with an impromptu speech about Lionel’s childhood.

“Ah, where do I even begin with Lionel?” Sinclair began, his hazel eyes glinting with mischief as he held the microphone tightly. “You might think you know him—Lord Lionel Shahbandar, the sophisticated tycoon, the lion of the boardroom—but let me tell you, there’s another side to him. A side you’d only know if you were lucky—or unlucky enough—to grow up with him.”

The crowd chuckled, their curiosity piqued. Lionel, sitting beside you at the head table, leaned back in his chair with a long-suffering sigh. He swirled his glass of wine, his hooked nose twitching slightly in irritation as Sinclair launched into yet another anecdote.

“There was this one time,” Sinclair continued, his voice carrying over the room with practiced ease, “when Lionel decided he wanted to start his own lemonade stand. Now, most kids would set up a little table with some hand-squeezed lemonade, right? Not Lionel. No, no. He hired the gardener to harvest the lemons, convinced the cook to make a batch of gourmet lemonade, and then charged five pounds a glass!”

The guests erupted into laughter, and Lionel rolled his eyes dramatically. “They paid for quality,” he muttered under his breath, earning a soft laugh from you.

Sinclair wasn’t done. “And then,” he added, his hazel eyes gleaming with delight, “when the neighborhood kids complained about the prices, Lionel told them—and I quote—‘If you can’t afford it, perhaps lemonade isn’t the drink for you.’”

The room roared with laughter, and Lionel smirked, raising his glass in a mock toast. “I stand by that,” he quipped, his baritone voice cutting through the noise.

Sinclair grinned, clearly enjoying himself. “And don’t even get me started on the time he tried to train the neighbor’s cat to hunt pheasants. Poor thing ended up hiding in a tree for three days!”

At this, Lionel sat forward, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. “Enough, Sinclair,” he said, though his tone was more amused than annoyed. “You’ve had your fun.”

But Sinclair, ever the chatterbox, waved him off. “Just one more story!” he said, his grin widening. “You all need to hear about the time Lionel accidentally glued himself to the dining room chair while trying to fix it. He—”

Lionel stood abruptly, his tall frame commanding attention as he reached for the microphone. “Thank you, Sinclair,” he said, his baritone voice smooth but firm as he plucked the mic from his cousin’s hand. “I think the guests have endured enough of your rambling for one evening.”

Sinclair opened his mouth to protest, but Lionel leaned down, his hooked nose inches from Sinclair’s. “Go eat some cake,” Lionel said, his voice low and conspiratorial. “I had them make your favorite—chocolate ganache with hazelnut praline.”

Sinclair’s hazel eyes lit up, the mention of cake instantly dissolving his resistance. “Well, if you insist,” he said, his voice trailing off as he made a beeline for the dessert table.

Lionel turned back to the crowd, his smirk firmly in place. “I apologize for Sinclair’s… enthusiasm,” he said, his voice dripping with mock regret. “He means well, but sometimes I think he enjoys the sound of his own voice more than the rest of us do.”

The guests laughed, and Lionel’s smirk deepened. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a beautiful wife to dance with—and possibly convince to take me home early.”

You shook your head, trying to suppress a laugh as Lionel offered you his hand. “You’re impossible,” you murmured, allowing him to pull you to your feet.

“And you married me anyway,” Lionel quipped, his baritone voice warm with affection as he led you onto the dance floor. Behind you, Sinclair could be heard humming happily as he piled his plate high with cake, proving that even the most stubborn chatterbox could be silenced with the right incentive.

As the elevator doors slid shut with a soft chime, Lionel Shahbandar’s sharp, dark eyes locked onto yours, a mischievous glint sparkling within them. His hooked nose twitched slightly, his baritone voice rumbling low as he spoke, his words thick with anticipation.

"Do you have any idea," he began, stepping closer, his tall frame imposing but alluring, "how impossibly difficult it was to restrain myself through that entire reception? Watching you flit around in that dress, laughing, smiling... utterly unattainable until now." His fingers traced the delicate lace on your sleeve, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

You smiled coyly, leaning back against the elevator wall, your voice light and teasing. "Unattainable? Since when has that ever stopped you, Lionel?"

His lips curved into a wicked grin as he closed the remaining distance between you, one hand bracing against the wall beside your head while the other slid along your waist. "It didn’t," he murmured, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, "but tonight feels different. You’re mine now, love. Completely, irrevocably mine."

Before you could respond, the elevator dinged softly, signaling your arrival at the penthouse suite. Lionel stepped back, offering his hand with a playful bow. "Shall we, Mrs. Shahbandar?"

You took his hand, your cheeks warming at the title, and allowed him to lead you into the suite. The room was as lavish as you’d expect from Lionel—floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of the city, a king-sized bed adorned with silk sheets, and champagne chilling on a nearby table.

Lionel closed the door behind you with a decisive click, shrugging off his jacket and loosening his tie as he approached. His gaze never left you, his eyes darkening with desire. “I’ve spent the entire day imagining this moment,” he confessed, his baritone voice low and intimate. “Imagining peeling you out of those layers of white until there’s nothing left but you.”

You laughed softly, your cheeks flushing as you reached up to unpin your veil. “You’re impossibly impatient, Lionel. We’ve done this a thousand times before.”

He stopped short, his expression softening as he cupped your face with both hands, his thumbs brushing your cheeks. “But never like this,” he murmured, his voice filled with an unexpected tenderness. “Tonight, you’re not just my lover. You’re my wife. And that changes everything.”

Your breath hitched at his words, the depth of his emotions catching you off guard. Before you could reply, his lips captured yours in a kiss that was as passionate as it was possessive, his hands sliding down to your waist to pull you closer. His kiss deepened, his mouth claiming yours with a hunger that left you breathless.

Lionel’s fingers found the hidden buttons on the back of your dress, his touch deft and practiced. “As exquisite as this dress is,” he murmured against your lips, his baritone voice thick with desire, “it’s nothing compared to what’s underneath.”

You shivered as the fabric slipped from your shoulders, pooling at your feet. Lionel stepped back slightly, his gaze raking over you with unabashed admiration. “God, look at you,” he said, his voice reverent. “You’re a bloody masterpiece.”

You felt heat flood your cheeks, but before you could respond, he was on you again, his hands exploring every inch of your bare skin as his mouth moved to your neck. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he growled, his breath hot against your ear. “The way you drive me absolutely mad?”

His hands slid lower, gripping your hips as he lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bed. The silk sheets were cool against your skin as he laid you down, his dark eyes burning with intensity. “Tonight,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble, “I plan to make you scream my name so loud, the entire city will know who you belong to.”

You laughed breathlessly, your hands reaching for him as he climbed onto the bed, his body pressing against yours. “You’re insufferable,” you teased, your voice trembling with anticipation.

“And you love me for it,” he shot back, his smirk returning as his lips trailed down your body, leaving a path of fire in their wake.

The bed dipped slightly under Lionel’s weight as he hovered over you, his sharp, dark eyes drinking you in like the finest vintage wine. His hooked nose flared slightly with every breath he took, as though inhaling your very essence. There was a pause—a quiet moment where the world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the two of you, bathed in the golden glow of the city lights streaming through the penthouse windows.

“Do you know,” Lionel murmured, his baritone voice low and thick with emotion, “how maddeningly beautiful you are? How utterly intoxicating you’ve made this night?”

His hands moved slowly, reverently, sliding up your sides as though he were memorizing every curve, every inch of you. His fingers found the clasp of your bra, and with a deft flick, it fell away, leaving you bare beneath his heated gaze. He didn’t rush; no, Lionel Shahbandar was a man who savored his pleasures.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your collarbone before trailing a path to your neck. “You drive me mad, love,” he whispered, the vibration of his voice sending shivers down your spine. “Completely, utterly mad.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but words failed you as his lips found the sensitive spot just below your ear. His tongue flicked out, tasting you, and he groaned softly, the sound reverberating deep in his chest.

“Mine,” he murmured, the single word filled with possessive intensity. “All mine.”

His kisses grew deeper, more fervent, as his hands roamed lower, hooking into the delicate fabric of your lingerie. Slowly, torturously, he peeled it away, his dark eyes never leaving yours. “I’ve been waiting for this moment all day,” he said, his voice a husky growl. “To strip you bare, to claim you as my wife in every possible way.”

You shivered under his touch, your legs instinctively parting to invite him closer. He smirked, the corner of his mouth curling upward in that familiar, arrogant way that both infuriated and thrilled you.

But he didn’t rush. Instead, Lionel slid down your body, his hands gripping your thighs as he settled between them. He pressed a kiss to the inside of your knee, then another, and another, his path deliberate and excruciatingly slow. By the time his lips reached the apex of your thighs, your breath was coming in short, shallow gasps.

“Patience, darling,” he murmured, his voice muffled against your skin. “I’m going to enjoy every second of this.”

And he did. His tongue teased, flicked, and licked with precision, drawing out soft moans and sharp gasps that only seemed to fuel his fervor. His hands gripped your thighs, pulling you closer, and when you instinctively tried to close your legs, overwhelmed by the intensity of his ministrations, he growled low in his throat.

“Oh, no, love,” he said, his voice thick with wicked amusement. “You don’t get to hide from me. I want to feel you, taste you, hear every sound I wring out of you.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging slightly as he worked you with his lips and tongue. His groan vibrated against you, and he glanced up, his dark eyes blazing with lust and mischief. “You know,” he said, pausing to kiss the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, “I rather enjoy it when you pull my hair. Makes me feel… appreciated.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, though the sound was broken by a moan as he returned his attention to you. His tongue circled, pressed, and flicked in ways that had your back arching off the bed. Your legs tightened around his head, and instead of pulling away, Lionel groaned, his hands gripping your hips as though anchoring himself to you.

“God, I love this,” he murmured, his voice muffled but no less commanding. “The way you react to me, the way you try to suffocate me with those gorgeous thighs of yours.” He pressed a kiss to the sensitive bundle of nerves before him, his smirk audible in his voice as he added, “Don’t stop. I quite enjoy being devoured while I devour you.”

You gasped, your fingers digging into his hair as his tongue found that perfect rhythm, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. He didn’t let up, didn’t falter, his focus entirely on you as he drove you higher and higher until—

“Lionel,” you cried out, your voice breaking as the pleasure crashed over you in waves, leaving you trembling and breathless.

He didn’t stop immediately, his tongue and lips coaxing every last tremor from your body before finally lifting his head. His face was flushed, his dark hair disheveled, and his lips glistened with evidence of his work. He looked utterly debauched, and yet, his smirk was firmly in place.

“You taste like heaven, love,” he said, his voice a deep, satisfied rumble. “If I could, I’d stay down there all night.”

You laughed softly, pulling him up to you, your hands framing his face as you kissed him deeply. “You’re insufferable,” you murmured against his lips, though the affection in your voice was undeniable.

“And you love me for it,” he replied, his baritone voice tinged with a smugness that only made you love him more.

Lionel straightened, his breath still heavy from the kiss he’d left burning on your lips. His dark eyes swept over you, drinking in the sight of your flushed skin, your chest heaving as you lay sprawled on the silk sheets. A slow, wicked smile curved his lips as he reached up, loosening his tie and pulling it free in one fluid motion.

He paused, letting the silk dangle between his fingers for a moment before tossing it aside. “You’re watching me,” he murmured, his baritone voice low and teasing, tinged with a knowing amusement. “Enjoying the show, are we?”

You propped yourself up on your elbows, your gaze deliberately trailing downward. “Shouldn’t I be? You seem to love the attention, my lion.”

Lionel’s hooked nose twitched as his smile deepened, and he began to unbutton his shirt, each movement slow and deliberate. “Oh, darling,” he drawled, slipping the last button free and shrugging out of the tailored fabric to reveal the lean, sinewy strength beneath, “if I wanted attention, I’d be parading around the reception hall.” He let the shirt fall to the floor, his smirk turning predatory. “But right now, I only want yours.”

Your eyes dropped lower, drawn to the noticeable bulge straining against the fine fabric of his trousers. His arousal was impossible to ignore, pressing insistently against the expensive material. He followed your gaze, one brow arching in smug satisfaction.

“See something you like?” he asked, his voice a playful purr. He reached for his belt, unbuckling it with an agonizing slowness that made your breath catch. “Or should I… unwrap it for you?”

You didn’t answer, your lips parting slightly as he slid the belt free and let it drop. His fingers toyed with the button of his trousers, his movements deliberate, teasing. When he finally slid the fabric down his hips, revealing himself fully, you couldn’t suppress the soft gasp that escaped you.

Lionel stood tall and unabashed, his body illuminated by the soft glow of the city lights streaming through the windows. His cock jutted proudly from his lean frame, long and thick, the tip flushed a deep pink. He smirked at your reaction, his dark eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Cat got your tongue?” he teased, stepping closer. “Or are you simply at a loss for words, my love?”

You swallowed hard, your cheeks warming as you looked up at him. “You’re insufferable,” you murmured, though the heat in your voice betrayed your arousal.

“And you adore me for it,” he countered, his voice dropping to a husky growl as he climbed onto the bed. His hands found your ankles, spreading your legs as he settled between them. “Now, darling, let me show you just how insufferable I can be.”

Lionel leaned down, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that was surprisingly tender, a stark contrast to the playful arrogance that so often defined him. His hands slid up your thighs, his touch reverent as he positioned himself at your entrance. He paused, his dark eyes searching yours as if asking for permission.

When you nodded, he pressed forward, his cock stretching you slowly, carefully. He groaned low in his throat, his voice thick with pleasure as he sank into you inch by inch. “God, you feel… incredible,” he murmured, his hands gripping your hips to steady himself. “So warm… so tight.”

You gasped, your back arching as he filled you completely, the stretch both overwhelming and exquisite. “Lionel,” you breathed, your voice trembling. “You’re… so gentle.”

His smirk softened into something more genuine, his thumb brushing over your hip in a soothing gesture. “Tonight, you’re my wife,” he said, his voice low and reverent. “And I intend to make love to you as such.”

He began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate, each one hitting deeper than the last. His hands roamed your body, caressing every curve, every inch of skin, as though committing it to memory. “You’re perfect,” he murmured, his baritone voice thick with emotion. “Every inch of you… made for me.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as his hips rocked against yours. The intimacy of the moment—the way he held you, the way he whispered your name like a prayer—sent shivers down your spine. “Lionel,” you moaned, your voice soft but pleading. “Please… more.”

He complied, his thrusts growing deeper, more insistent, but never losing their tenderness. His lips found your neck, trailing kisses down to your collarbone as he murmured against your skin. “Tell me, love,” he whispered, his voice dark and sultry. “Tell me how I make you feel.”

“You’re… incredible,” you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure built steadily within you. “So good, Lionel. So perfect.”

He groaned, his pace quickening slightly as your words spurred him on. “That’s right,” he growled, his voice tinged with pride. “You’re mine, darling. Completely, utterly mine.”

Your magic seemed to pulse between you, crackling faintly in the air as your pleasure mounted. His movements became more desperate, his control slipping as he neared his own release. “Come for me, love,” he urged, his voice a low, desperate plea. “Let go for me.”

His words, his touch, the way he moved within you—it was all too much. Your body tensed, your back arching as your climax crashed over you, leaving you trembling beneath him. Lionel followed moments later, his thrusts growing erratic before he stilled, his release spilling into you as he groaned your name.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the only sounds in the room your labored breaths and the faint hum of the city outside. Then Lionel collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Mrs. Shahbandar,” he murmured, his voice soft but filled with affection. “I do believe I’ve outdone myself.”

You laughed breathlessly, nuzzling into his chest. “You always do, my lion.”

After some time basking in the warmth of Lionel's embrace, you slipped out of bed, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek as you murmured, “I need to freshen up, my lion.”

He grumbled something unintelligible, his baritone voice thick with the remnants of his satisfaction, and watched as you padded toward the luxurious bathroom. The faint glow of the city lights streaming through the penthouse windows illuminated your form, every curve accentuated by the soft light. Lionel’s sharp, dark eyes tracked your every step, his hooked nose twitching slightly as his gaze lingered on the sway of your hips.

You flicked on the bathroom light, the warm glow spilling across the marble countertops. Standing in front of the ornate mirror, you began to undo your intricate hairdo, the pins clinking softly as you placed them on the counter. As your hair fell loose, cascading around your shoulders, you caught sight of your reflection—your lipstick smudged from Lionel’s possessive kisses, your cheeks flushed, your neck peppered with faint marks of his affection. You chuckled softly, reaching for a makeup wipe to clean your face.

Meanwhile, Lionel remained sprawled in bed, his lean, sinewy frame still bare and unapologetic. He propped himself up on one elbow, his dark eyes glinting with mischief as he watched you through the open door. The sight of you—still glowing from the aftermath of their passion, your body wrapped in nothing but the thin hotel robe that barely clung to your curves—stirred something deep within him.

“You know,” he drawled, his voice low and teasing, “watching you remove all that makeup feels a bit like unwrapping a second present.”

You glanced at him in the mirror, rolling your eyes but unable to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “Behave, Lionel,” you chided lightly, though the warmth in your voice betrayed your amusement.

“Behave?” Lionel repeated, his lips curving into a wicked grin. “Darling, I’ve been remarkably well-behaved all day. Don’t you think it’s time I misbehave a little?”

You shook your head, turning back to your reflection as you wiped away the last traces of mascara. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, but your cheeks flushed under the intensity of his gaze.

“And you adore me for it,” he countered smoothly, his voice dipping into that familiar, dangerous growl that sent shivers down your spine. He pushed the silk sheets aside, his long legs swinging over the edge of the bed as he stood. The cool air of the room did little to temper the heat radiating from him as he strode toward the bathroom, his confidence as unshakable as ever.

You barely had time to react before Lionel was behind you, his large hands settling on your hips as he pulled you back against him. The warmth of his bare skin pressed against your back, and you could feel the unmistakable evidence of his arousal pressing against you. His lips found your neck, trailing soft, teasing kisses along your skin as his hands roamed lower, slipping beneath the hem of your robe.

“Lionel,” you breathed, your voice trembling slightly as his fingers traced the curve of your thigh. “I just cleaned up.”

“And I intend to dirty you up again,” he murmured against your ear, his baritone voice a low, sultry rumble. His teeth grazed your earlobe, eliciting a soft gasp from you. “Do you have any idea how irresistible you look right now? Standing here, wiping off the remnants of my kisses, as if I didn’t leave them there on purpose?”

His hands slid higher, pushing the robe open to expose your bare skin to the cool air. He let out a low growl of approval, his dark eyes meeting yours in the mirror. “Look at you,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “My masterpiece. My wife. So utterly breathtaking.”

Your breath hitched as his hands cupped your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples. “Lionel,” you whispered, your resolve weakening under his touch. “We’ve already—”

“Once wasn’t enough,” he interrupted, his tone firm but laced with mischief. “Not for a lion like me.” His gaze burned into yours through the mirror as he pressed his hips against you, his arousal unmistakable. “And certainly not for you, my love. I can feel how much you want me.”

Your cheeks flushed, but you couldn’t deny the way your body responded to him, your pulse quickening under his touch. His hands moved lower, sliding down your stomach before slipping between your thighs. His fingers found your heat, teasing you with slow, deliberate strokes that left you trembling.

“Let me show you,” he whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “Let me remind you why you married me. Why you’ll never need anyone else.”

Before you could protest—or agree—Lionel turned you to face him, his hands gripping your waist as he lifted you effortlessly onto the countertop. He spread your legs, stepping between them as he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both possessive and tender.

His fingers delved deeper, his touch skilled and confident as he brought you to the brink of ecstasy. “That’s it,” he murmured against your lips, his voice a husky growl. “Let go for me, love. Let me hear you.”

You clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as he pushed you over the edge, your cries of pleasure echoing in the small bathroom. Lionel smirked, his pride evident as he kissed you deeply, his hands gripping your hips to steady you.

Lionel’s smirk deepened as you leaned forward, your teeth sinking into the sensitive skin of his neck. The sharp sensation sent a shiver through his body, and his hand tightened instinctively on your hip. “Marking your territory already, my lioness?” he murmured, his baritone voice thick with amusement and desire. “Careful, darling, or I might start marking you back.”

You didn’t respond with words, letting your actions speak instead. As you pulled back, you admired the faint red mark blooming on his pale skin—a mark that screamed possession, a mark that declared him as yours. Your fingers slid up his broad shoulders, tracing the line of his hooked nose as you gazed into his dark, mischievous eyes. “You’re mine now, Lionel,” you whispered, your voice low and sultry. “Completely, utterly mine.”

His smirk softened into something more primal, his gaze darkening as he thrust into you again, slow and deliberate. The bathroom counter was cool beneath your skin, a stark contrast to the fire blazing between you. His hands gripped your waist firmly, pulling you closer to him with each thrust, the thin hotel robe doing little to shield you from the raw intensity of his movements.

“Yours?” he growled, his voice dipping even lower as his lips brushed against your ear. “Oh, love, you’ve always had me. From the moment you first walked into my life, I’ve been yours. But now…” He paused, his hands sliding up to cup your bouncing breasts, his thumbs teasing your hardened nipples. “Now you’re mine. Every inch of you, every breath, every moan—it’s all mine.”

You gasped as his pace quickened, your body responding to his every movement. His eyes never left yours, the intensity of his gaze leaving you breathless. “That’s right,” he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “You’re my lioness now. Lady Shahbandar. And every damn thing about you belongs to me.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you clung to him, your nails digging into his back as he drove you higher. Your moans echoed in the marble-lined bathroom, a symphony of pleasure that only spurred him on. His movements became more forceful, more deliberate, his hips snapping against yours with an urgency that left you trembling.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” he groaned, his hooked nose flaring as he took in the sight of you. Your robe hung loosely off your shoulders, your breasts bouncing with each thrust, your hair wild and free. “Look at you… utterly perfect. Made for me.”

As if to emphasize his point, Lionel lifted one of your legs, draping it over his shoulder. The new angle allowed him to sink even deeper, and you cried out, your head falling back against the mirror. The movement sent a wave of pleasure coursing through you, and Lionel growled low in his throat, his hands gripping your hips tighter.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice a dark, sultry purr. “Take me, love. Take all of me.”

Your body arched beneath him, your nails raking down his back as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. The intimacy, the intensity, the sheer possession in his touch—it was overwhelming, intoxicating. And as your magic seemed to hum faintly in the air, you couldn’t help but feel that this wasn’t just passion. This was something deeper, something raw and primal.

“Mine,” Lionel growled again, his movements growing more erratic, more desperate. “You’re mine, love. My lioness. My everything.”

You could barely respond, your voice lost in the waves of pleasure crashing over you. But Lionel wasn’t done. His lips found yours in a searing kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with the same hunger as his body explored yours. And when he pulled back, his dark eyes locking onto yours, his next words sent a thrill straight through you.

“Perhaps,” he murmured, his voice low and thoughtful, “it’s time to think about cubs, love. You’d make a stunning mother. And our little lions? They’d rule the bloody world.”

The idea sent a shockwave through you, but before you could respond, Lionel smirked, shaking his head slightly. “Not now,” he added, his voice softening. “We’ve got time. A lifetime, even. Tonight, I’ll settle for having all of you to myself.”

With that, he surged forward again, his movements rougher, more urgent as he chased both his release and yours. Your name fell from his lips like a prayer, and when you finally tipped over the edge, the pleasure was all-encompassing, your cries mixing with his as you both came undone.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, the only sounds in the room your labored breaths and the faint hum of the city outside. Then Lionel leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. “You’re everything to me, love,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “My lioness. My forever.”

[aethers-bananaa]

prompt: "you make me feel alive. for the first time ever, i can breathe"

pairing: xmen'97 scott summers x afab!reader

genre: fluff, fluff, fluff, slight angst, and fluff

summary: you and scott have started dating recently and everything feels right, like you were meant for each other. scott prepares a surprise date for you and opens up about his feelings - it's the sweetest thing ever

notes: where's jean? nonexistent here... sorry for all her fans ˙◠˙. wc is 802 words and the story's set after the events of xmen 97!

✰ ✰ ✰

The halls of the X-Mansion flooded with children and teenagers, laughter and chatter floating through the air. The weather of spring did not disappoint, the windows of the hall magnifying the rays of the morning sun, the blossoms outside blooming in magnificent pinks and purples.

A hand rested on your shoulder from behind and you whipped around in surprise. With everything that had been going on under Magneto's unfortunate reign, you expected to see something terrible standing there. To your luck, it was someone much more welcome and familiar.

"Scott!" You exclaimed with relief.

"Hey, love," he replied, his baritone voice matching the warmth of the sun.

He pulls you aside, away from the bustling students and into a smaller, empty office. The oaken furniture glowed a golden maple colour under the morning light, a stained glass window casting warm glows of reds and yellows. In front of the head desk, the chairs had been pushed aside, a red and white checkered picnic blanket in their place. A wicker basket sat in the center, overflowing with all sorts of good food and drinks.

"We never get the time to do anything. I thought I'd do something for the both of us together, you know, seeing as we have a break from all the missions," he gestures over to the little setup. "I mean, it's not much but I-"

You almost throw yourself into his arms. Falling into an embrace, you bury your face into his broad chest.

"Oh, Scott. This is sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me," you smile. "Sit with me!"

You both take a seat opposite each other, cross-legged like school children. Cracking open a can of soda from the basket, you're unable to suppress your happiness.

"When'd you plan this, may I ask?" You giggle.

"A week ago, I'd say. Running this whole place is my job, and what I should be doing. Buuut... I suppose it was a bit much. I needed to spend time with you, to be with you alone," he half smiles. "Needed to escape for a bit to be honest."

"I'm so very honoured, my captain. I'm glad you're able to do this for us, to take a break. I couldn't be more grateful for you."

Scott rested a large hand on your thigh. "And I you." He moves his hand up and brushes his thumb against your cheek. "God, you're beautiful, you know?"

Your heart grew hot and you blushed, so much so that you thought he'd think you were on fire. "So are you," you laughed.

Your comment elicited an affable chuckle from him.

"Y/N, do you know who I'd be without you?"

"Let me guess, Scott Summers but attractively single?"

"Haha very funny. But seriously, I'd just be Cyclops who worked all day, all night, someone who could never fill Xavier's shoes and was never satisfied. Y/N, you made me realise that there's more than that."

You felt his gaze fall on your face, studying your expression. You looked on helplessly, unable to tear your own line of vision from his own perfectly sculpted face. His amber locks and broad shoulders seemingly screamed for attention.

"Don't say that. You know you are more than that already."

Scott leaned in, closer to you. "No but I mean, I'm nothing without you really. I'm just a mutant without a soul. But you...You make me feel alive, and for the first time ever, I can breathe. With you, I'm an actual person." His voice dropped, almost in a whisper, as if telling you a secret.

His words struck your heart.

"Oh Scott... You're never nothing and never have been nothing. You'll always be a person with a caring soul and a massive heart, with or without me. Please remember that. But, I'll always, always, always be here to tell you. Know that I love you and always will," you reply, reflecting his tone of voice in your own.

Almost nose to nose now, you lean in and kiss him. His long fingers run down your cheeks and reach into your hair, gently tugging at your locks as he kisses you back tentatively. His lips are sweet and familiar, tasting of sunshine. You inhale his woody scent and bask in the warmth of his presence. Your own hands travel to rest on the vast expanse of his muscular chest, feeling his heart beat rhythmically.

After several minutes of burning yet natural passion, you both pull apart, breathing heavily. His crimson lensed glasses sat slightly crooked upon his tall nose bridge. You move your hands to adjust them for him. "Careful there," you chuckled lightly. He smiled.

"Gosh, how lucky am I to have you?" He said, his fingers dancing along your jaw.

"Could say the exact same thing back," you replied.

[thezeninclan]

“d-don’t stop.” you moaned. “please I c-can’t take it.” 

he chuckled lowly. “yeah?”

from the moment you had answered the phone the sounds from the other end of the line had been obvious— the soft, slick noises, the breathy sounds, the barely suppressed moans. he was asking you to talk for him, nothing overtly sexual at first, just asking about your day, did you have dinner plans, how did your new shoes feel, how did you sleep last night . he just wanted, needed, to hear your voice. 

“you’ve been working too much.” you scolded. he laughed, the soft sound you had so long ago fallen in love with, and you knew he was rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, a telltale sign of weariness. you wanted to be where he was, brush back his hair for him, kiss his tired eyes, undo his tight tie. 

“I always work too much.” he returned. 

“you don’t have to tell me that. my poor vibrator has run out of batteries faster these last few months than all its years combined.” 

“oh yeah?” he questioned. you could hear the grin in his voice. you smiled to yourself, mentally kicking your feet and giggling at the way his breathy voice came over the line. “poor baby. must be so hard when I’m not there to take care of you.”

“I think it’s the lack of hardness that has me reaching for your nightstand.” you returned. the slick sounds continued, obvious in the silence of conversation. 

“miss me that much, huh?”

“I can barely remember what you look like anymore. for all I know you’re just a robot talking to me over a computer speaker.” 

“I don’t think a robot could make you cum as hard as I do.” higuruma said. his breath was heavy, his voice as gruff and hollow as when he first woke up in the morning. “as often as I do.”

you reached for the blue vibrator you’d tossed aside earlier and pressed the power button, lifting it to the phone’s speaker so he could hear. “I dunno about that.” 

“don’t tease.” he said sternly, but you could hear the smile in his voice. 

now it was your turn to smile to yourself, putting your phone on speaker as you tapped into your photo gallery and scrolled through your hidden photos. you had ordered a few new pairs of lingerie and nightgowns, on higuruma’s card, as both a punishment and a reward for his many, many, many nights of hard work. “oh?” you said. “then I guess i’ll put away this new gift i got...”

“well now.” he said. you could hear the sound of fabric adjusting, the sound of metal jingling. “is that what those charges were? I was sure I didn’t buy anything at Le Petit Trou.”

you giggled. you knew he would like what you bought, the thigh high stockings he liked you to wear, liked to kiss your thighs wearing, liked you to leave on even after he had pulled off the rest of your clothes. the garters bit into your soft skin, leaving divots in the meat of your thighs, where he often laved his tongue across after. the panties themselves were pale white and creamy, near see through as they pulled taut across your hips and ass, the position you had taken the photo in just accentuating the tightness of the fit. “you look...incredible...” he breathed. “beautiful. I can’t believe you showed me.” every word was punctuated by a rough slapping sound, a rough groan. 

“I can’t wait to show you in person.” you said, feeling bold. “can’t wait for you to ruin them.” 

“oh I will.” he said. “that lace won’t survive the night. the hour. I’ll tear them off with my teeth.” you nodded, feeling the hazy pleasure in your belly swirl. at first you hadn’t expected to be so turned on by this, by just a simple vibrator and the baritone of his voice, but god you were. you felt like you could come soon, even though it had been barely a minute. 

“what would you do first?” you asked. “m-my bra or my panties?” 

“how could I choose?” he replied. the sounds on the other end of the phone were hot, wet, almost palpable despite the distance between you. “I love your tits and your pussy equally.” 

“oh, yeah?” you asked, circling your clit with the end of he vibrator, pressing and releasing the pressure every other moment. “aren’t you forgetting someone?” 

“how could I forget that juicy fuckin’ peach you have back there?” he laughed. “I can practically taste it now. first thing I’d do is sink my teeth into it and mark my territory.” 

“oh yeah?” you breathed, you could barely respond, barely think, of anything but pleasure. you moaned for him, breathy and sweet, and he groaned out in response, fist dragging up and down his cock. 

“maybe I won’t waste time with my teeth. maybe I’ll just give you my cock-” 

“please.” you sighed. “I w-want it so bad.” 

“fuck, you’re killing me here. I miss you so much.” he said. “I’d fuck you as hard as I did last new year’s, when we stayed at that hotel in the city. fuck, you were so hot with your tits pressed up against the glass, gagging on my cock where everyone in the city could see you. we should do that again, maybe go down to the restaurant this time. I’ll fuck you right on the dinner table so everyone can see how you take my cock.” 

he chuckled again, breath fanning out into the mic of the phone. you wanted to feel it against your skin as he kissed you, as he fucked you, your fingers automatically pressing down on your aching clit and feeling a jolt of overstimulation as a result.

“g-god hiromi-” you breathed, pleasure exploding behind your eyes like a cresting wave as you came. you moaned loud and unabashed, not caring if your neighbors heard you, not caring if anyone heard you. everyone knew your moans were his and his alone. 

“I love you, baby.” he breathed. “I’ll talk to you later-”  

everything came to a halt. “why didn’t you-” you began, confused. hadn’t he started all this? hadn’t he been the one to call you first? 

“isn’t it obvious?” hiromi asked. you tilted your head to the side, confused. had you cum so hard that you’d actually scrambled your brain this time?

“wha-”

the door creaked as it was pushed open and you gasped, jolted out of your post-orgasm bliss by a pang of fear. who could it be at this hour of night? was someone trying to break in? where was the switchblade you kept in your nightstand drawer?

“you didn’t think that was enough for me, did you?” higuruma asked, and you blinked, having forgotten for a moment that you had been speaking to him, had been so thoroughly seduced by him. the call dropped as fast as your stomach did, and the door flew open to reveal a familiar outline. 

“oh my god.” you breathed.

hiromi was already pulling off his tie, shoes and socks left at the door. his pants were undone and tight at the front, hanging off his slim hips as he walked closer. you practically melted into his touch as he caressed the side of your face with a big, warm palm, sinking your weight against him and knowing he’d be there to support it. 

he smiled at you, kissing you deeply and tossing away the phone that had still been hanging in your hand. “when I make you cry on my cock, I need to hear all those pretty little noises right from your mouth.”

also posted on ao3 

[favouriteconstellation]

sinful I

18+ readers only please lovelies!! (this is for a reason please listen<3)

little synopsis: the reader is tonys daughter (he had her young, canon doesnt exist) theres tension between you and stephen, an obvious age gap keeping you from eachother (26, 40). theyre 'trapped' in an elevator together and the tension crumbles.

pronouns: female pronouns are used

relationship: fem reader x stephen strange not established relationship

note: i do not know what possessed me to write this shit, i will not apologise. i love you <333

warnings: defined age gap, stephen being possessive, controlling smut, dd/lg kind offf, petnames

you could always tell when stephen strange was in a room you were in without even looking. he was the type of man who had one of those commanding prescenses, maybe it was his ego you thought to yourself. either way, for weeks you had continuously been trying to block him out of the forefront of your mind. but no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn't shake his presence. it was like he was a part of your subconscious, a part of you that you never wanted to acknowledge.

you knew that you had to find a way to cope with his presence or it was going to drive you crazy. you had to find a way to remove him from your thoughts. you had to find a way to make him go away. you could swear he knew how infatuated you were with him, how you’d drift off in meetings with thoughts of him racing through your mind. you wanted to wipe that god awful smirk off his face, and the way he looked at you like a starving wolf. that look terrified you, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make your stomach flip. fucking Christ.

he was 40 years old. the thick grey streaks that run through his tousled hair becoming prominent. he carried himself with authority, his body language conveying strength and confidence. his eyes were sharp and focused, his expression serious and determined. you shook him out of your thoughts, standing in the empty elevator, holding a binder you were supposed to speak about at an avengers meeting. something important about presenting to the government. it was an important event, not the type of meeting you’d show up to in your training gear. your eyes met his shiny leather dress shoes. shit.

“stark.” he confidently spoke in his baritone voice nodding at you, his scarred hand extending to hold the elevator open before he stepped in silently, standing tantilizingly close to you. closer than any other coworker would.

“oh. good morning, stephen.” you spoke back softly, anxiously tapping your foot. it wasn’t the meeting you were anticipating. you were met with silence as he pushed the button to go to the floor of the meeting you were both attending. the elevator slowly went up. 

“you seem nervous, stark.” he looked straight ahead, not making eye contact with you. 

“just not a public speaker, that's all.” you managed to squeak out. you could tell he was smirking, that sick bastard knew what he was doing. you couldnt. you were only 26, and here you stood head over heels for some magical doctor who’s ego towers over him. suddenly the sound of clanging pipes could be heard followed by a deafening screeching. the elevator came to a halt, but the doors stayed closed. stephen scoffed and hit the ‘open door’ button. nothing. he chuckled under his breath. 

“we can miss this meeting. oh please no.” you started pressing the button as you panicked.

“oh come on darling, it’s not as if this is the worst situation in the world, is it?” he stood facing you. darling. get fucked. 

“i don’t know what game you’re playing, strange. now could you just portal us out of here?” you checked your watch. “we’re 7 minutes late.”

“i don’t have my sling ring on me, not exactly something you bring to an all-important government meeting, now is it?” you sighed, that sarcastic attitude would be the death of you. 

“why don’t we just sit tight, mm? nobody is going to come save you, they’re all busily writing notes on something some superfical united nations member has to say.” he stared into your eyes, clearly unbothered. you nodded, what else could you do? you were stuck. slowly backing against the metal back panel of the elevator, you slowly slid down in defeat, sitting on the cold metal with your legs stretched out. he did the same. 

“wouldn’t want to dirty that suit.” you mumbled, annoyed that you were here, stuck with the last person you’d want to be in a confined space with. 

“wouldn’t want to dirty that pretty little dress. oh. that’s right, daddy will just buy you a new one, won't he?” te bit back. being tony’s daughter had its perks, but many people mistook you for a spoiled brat. 

“what, you tight on money or something, strange? need me to spot you? buy you lunch?” you scoffed. he laughed, loosening his tie and sighing from relief. you crossed your legs in response, he's almost your fathers age, why are you pressing your thighs together? jesus - you thought to yourself. 

she looked over at him, his collar was turned up on one side after he loosened his tie. you leaned over the cold metal floors and reached him. 

“oh here. let me fix this for you.” you whispered, stumbling as you ended up straddling him as you fixed his collar, his hot breath fanning your face as you were inches away from eachother. 

“hi darling..” he whispered seductively. you were burning red, your mouth slightly parted as you sat there flushed and frozen. 

“dont get all shy on me now, hm?” he laughed, his scarred fingers reaching to trace the side of your jaw. 

“stephen.. we can’t. it would be wrong. this is sinful” you whispered against his lips. 

“then why does it feel so right? i see the way you look at me. the way your breath hitches in your throat when i walk in front of you. the way you stumble over your words when you speak to me. tell me this is wrong one more time, and I’ll leave. we'll stop.” he stated, looking at your lips and then gazing back into your eyes. you kept your eyes on him and your heart raced. you knew that what you were doing was wrong, but you couldn't help it.

you wanted to stay. he was hypnotizing, it was cruel. you launched closer into his embrace, kissing him passionately as if he was the last man you’d ever kiss. he groaned softly into your mouth in shock but quickly moved one hand up the side of your hips and the other was holding the side of your cheek. you felt a warmth spread through your body as his lips moved against yours, and you felt yourself getting lost in the moment. you pulled away reluctantly, your heart still pounding as your eyes met his. 

he lingered there for a moment, and then his lips curved into a knowing smile as he slowly pulled away. he was aware of your attraction and you were both enjoying it. he rested both of his hands on your lower back, holding your hips as you were sitting in the same position. he slowly moved you forward, rocking you, the friction was you were grinding on him creating warmth and longing to be touched. you were inexperienced, shy. no man had ever made you feel like this and you couldnt help but softly moan into his ear and he moved you. he did all the work, picking up the pace and praising you. 

“that feels good, huh baby? oh fuck. keep making those pretty noises for me. anyone ever made you feel like this?” he groaned, watching you sinfully as you rocked your lips back and forth against his lap. you closed you eyes in embarrassment. the answer was no. you shook your head gently, rocking against him, mewling.

"atta girl" he groaned in your ear.

“oh stephen..shit.” you moaned, louder than before. he grabbed your waist, stopping you. 

“keep moving, and i won't be able to stop. at least let me be a gentlemen” he scooped you up and slid his sling ring out of his coat pocket. 

“you dirty liar!” you scoffed in his arms as he opened a portal.

“oh come on sweetheart, you know i always have it on me.” he chuckled, walking through the portal. you were in his bedroom. the dark oak panelled walls of the sanctum were glossy and rich. the 4 post bed was the star of the room, overshadowing everything else. he laid you down on the bed. part of you expected him to be sweet and gentle with you, caring almost. tt was almost as if he could read your mind. 

“i’m bad for you baby. i want to be selfish with you, i’ve wanted this for so long.” he said as he threw his suit jacket to the floor and the clinging of his unbuckling belt made you whine.

"be a good girl for me, yeah baby?" you were about to lie on your stomach so he could unzip your dress, but without hesitation he knelt straddling you. He placed his scarred hands on the neckline of your dress and ripped it down the middle as if it was paper.

[readychilledwine]

Pleasure

Warnings - period sex, praise kink, smut, NSFW

A/n - I accidentally deleted this request because I accidentally posted a just titled version of this instead of the whole thing, so @avidromancereader this is for you!

“Relax,” Cassian murmured into your skin as his fingers rubbed your clit in gentle circles below the water. Your back arched against his chest, a small whimper falling from your throat. “It's okay, babygirl. Let me take care of you.”

You knew this cycle was going to be hell the second she had knocked on your doorstep last week. Cramping, crying, refusing to allow Cassian to so much as look at you. No amount of prep had prepared you two of this, though. Between the stress of Rhysand coming home, the war, everything, you had thrown your already irregular cycle off, so this was your first in a long time.

Cassian had scented it the second he came into the room. He was kneeled at your side instantly as you curled up in child's pose hoping to stop the cramping in at least your back. He had gently picked you up, carrying you into the bathroom as the house filled the tub with warm water. He added your favorite jasmine and lilac oils onto the tub, hoping to relax you. 

And now you were here, his fingers circling that swollen and extra sensitive bundle of nerves, a deep baritone whispering praise in your ear. 

“Such a good girl,” he kissed above your ear. “Doing so good for me.” His fingers moved lower. “Want me to make you feel better, baby?” You nodded eagerly, arching against him again as a single finger pushed in. A wave of relief came down the bond instantly from you, striking him deep in his chest as Cassian worked you open with one finger, curling it every so often to just tickle that special spot that made you see you stars. He felt your body relax against him, muscles almost unlocking as you allowed your head to fall to the side. 

He slipped in a second finger, nerves shooting through your body as if he had just lit your soul on fire. 

“Cassian,” you panted out as he scissored, thrusted, and curled those thick rough digits in your soft smooth walls. “Oh Gods, Cass.” 

“Doing so good, baby. Taking my fingers so well. Can't wait to sit you on my cock and watch you ride me. You wanna do that princess? Ride your pain away?” He smirked into your shoulder as your moaning grew and your hips moved, riding his hand like it was a godsend. The end all be all to the discomfort and pressure you were feeling. “That's my good girl, taking what's hers.”

That coil in your stomach tightened more and more with each word from his mouth, with each curl of his fingers, with each soft kiss placed on your neck. You were on fire. Truly and fully on fire. Engulfed by the pleasure your your mate's calloused fingers and palm rubbing each nerve. 

“Cum for me, y/n," Cassian murmured gently into your skin. That was all it took, you came whimpering his name. “Such a good girl, y/n. There you go, baby.” He kept whispering to you, allowing you to ride out the High until you relaxed every more in his arms, and he removed his fingers.

The sharp pain in your lower stomach was now a dull ache as you turned into his lap, silently thanking Rhys for agreeing they all needed tubs big enough for themselves and their mates for this exact purpose. 

You pulled Cassian's face to yours, placing a heavy deep kiss on his lips while adjusting to straddle him. You felt him lining himself up, and then his freed second hand come to the curve of your hip to push you down. 

You threw your head back, moaning as each delicious inch stretched and stretched more, rubbing and hitting every sensitive spot inside of you. Cassian groaned loudly once he was fully seated inside of you, enjoying the extra warmth and tightness your cycle brought. He pulled your mouth back to his before both of his hands began  resting on your hips as he helped you start to bounce on his length. 

Cassian was always a vocal lover, groaning praise, moaning so you knew how good he felt, whimpering when he needed release. This time was no different. “Fuck baby,” his head fell back, exposing his throat and allowing you to suck soft bruises into his tanned skin. “Feel so good, so fucking tight. This pretty pussy was made for me. You feel that? Do you feel how perfectly we fit?”

You began bouncing faster, nails digging into his shoulder as your chased your highs. That spring had started to wind back up, heightened by your sensitivity and previous orgasm. “Cassian,” you chanted softly. “Fuck! Cassian! Please?”

He was moaning below you, mouth slightly opened in bliss, eyes squeezed shut as those large fingers began to dig so hard you knew bruises were forming. You felt your walls twitch at the sight. One of your hands snaking down to play with your clit as you rode him. 

He smirked at the sight of it, looking down to watch your cunt swallow every inch of him and your fingers play with his favorite bundle. “Look at you, baby. So fucking beautiful like this, all blissed out for me, whimpering like a pretty little mess. That cock feel good, baby?”

You nodded eagerly a breathy, “yes,” leaving your lips as his name became a mantra. Repeated over and over as that edge came right into sight. “Gonna cum for me again, princess? I'll right fucking there, baby.”  Cassian grabbed your hips harder, slamming you down on him and growling loudly as your moans became screams of pleasure.

Each thrust was aimed at your gspot, rocking it over and over until your blood felt like lava in your veins. 

Then that pressure popped. 

It was almost a second of silence between you two before you let out another loud scream of his name and he growled yours, biting down onto your neck, arms locking you in place as he sloppy thrust into you with each twitch of his release. 

You fell limp into his arms, the dull ache now temporarily gone as he stroked your hair, praising you for taking it so well, for riding him so well. 

“I love you,” you whispered into his neck. “Thank you for helping me.”

Cassian hummed, kissing your shoulder softly. “I love you too, y/n. Let's get you dried off and laying with a warm bottle, baby.”

[bloodibambiidoll]

Sugar and Spice: Part 2

(E.M. x Fem!Reader x S.H.) Part 1 Series Masterlist.

Summary: You come to terms with your feelings for both boys, movie night with the gang brings out some jealousy, and Steve finally gets the courage to ask you out. 18+MNDI

Warnings: Eventual smut, Angst(Minor..For now.), Reader Steve and Eddie all having thoughts of self doubt, hurt/comfort, No upside down, mutual pining, eventual Steddie x Reader, No use of Y/N so a ton of pet names (Eddie calls reader “Bunny” and she calls him “Teddy” there’s a cute little backstory behind this that I’ll explain in a later part). I will update each chapter but I think that’s it for this one, lmk if I missed any! WK: 6.3k

A/N: thank you for all the love on part 1 of this fic!! I know it took me a lil longer than I intended to get this part out, I had it all mapped out in my head but I was having a hard time actually writing it down. It definitely took a different direction than I intended but they should be coming out faster now! At least once a week. Next part will have some ✨spice✨ divider by: @firefly-graphics

“You like Steve, right?” Robin reiterated

“W-why would you say that? Like what brought that on? I thought we were talking about Eddie.” You tried to keep your voice even but they could hear just the tiniest shake in it when you spoke.

“Well… you know how I asked what you would do if you met someone you really liked? It’s kinda because I figured you liked Steve. There’s just a vibe there.” She shrugged.

“What do you mean ‘there’s just a vibe there’ I feel like he and I are pretty neutral with each other. I don’t know where you got this idea in your head that I LIKE him, I can barely tolerate the guy.”

“Suuuure, is that why you’re always making goo goo eyes at each other? Or what about when you sit on his lap? Or when he’s all ‘I got you honey’” she said that last part in an attempt to sound like Steve which made you snort. “And you’re all ‘oh Stevieeee thank you soooo much’ kinda seems like a little more than neutral if you ask me.”

“Okay so say I did like Steve? Which I fucking don’t, but if I did it wouldn’t matter anyways. He would never go for a girl like me.” You made sure to let out a laugh that you hoped was convincing enough to hide your slight disappointment at your own words.

“Pft! That’s a joke right?” Nancy said.

“No? Why would I be joking? He literally thought my entire friend group were a bunch of satanist freaks in highschool and I’ve seen the kinds of girls he dates. I mean, look at YOU, I’m nothing like you. But it doesn’t matter either way because I. Don’t. Like him.” You were trying your best to keep up your facade but they could tell you were cracking.

“Well, then you’re just blind. Steve ALWAYS liked you. Even when we were together I’d catch him gazing at you sometimes, and when all of his friends would shit talk you? He would stand up for you. JUST you. ‘She’s really not that bad guys seriously, she just doesn’t surround herself with the right people’” she did the same terrible baritone impression of Steve that Robin did, making you laugh this time.

“Whatever, there’s no fucking way. I don’t understand why we are even still talking about thi-”

“STEVE LIKES YOU! HE TOLD ME!” Robin blurted out before covering her mouth with her hand, her eyes wide. She was fully in meddling territory now and there’s no going back.

You looked back at her with a similar expression, your jaw dropping. “What…?”

“Oh my god ROBIN! Why would you SAY that!?” Nancy snapped at her and you know Robin was responding to her but all you could hear was the blood rushing through your ears. There was no way you heard her right. Steve couldn’t like you?… could he?

A hand waving in front of your face snapped you from your thoughts “HELLLOOOO? Anybody in there? I know I definitely shouldn’t have said that… but you were so sure Steve could never like you that you weren’t even entertaining the idea and you said your thing with Eddie wasn’t official and isn’t going to be so even though I definitely told Steve I wouldn’t meddle I wanted you to know that he does like you because you were so insistent that he didn’t and it just kind of came out and-“

“ROBIN!” You grabbed her shoulders and shook her slightly to get her to look at you. “Can we just calm down for a second? I can’t even compute what’s happening right now. Just take a deep breath.” You started taking a breath in and she took the hint and inhaled along with you. Once you had both taken a few deep breaths you dropped your hands from her shoulders and looked at her.

“You good?”

She nodded in response.

“Okay, so, Steve likes me?..”

“Yes! He does! And Nancy was right, he has always liked you. He’s got this like total schoolgirl crush on you dude. It’s honestly pretty cute how he talks about you.”

Steve talks about you? Steve actually likes you? That can’t be true. But why would Robin lie? She’s his best friend she would know more than anybody..

“Hey! I can see you spiraling, don’t. I’m not lying or whatever reason you’re trying to come up with to convince yourself it’s not true, he actually likes you.”

“That’s… fucking horrible news, FUCK!” You dropped your face into your hands and groaned.

“What!? From how you were talking I thought you were finally going to admit you liked him too!!”

“Robin…” Nancy said before turning to you with a sympathetic look on her face. “I think I get it. You like Steve right? But you never thought he would like you back so you figured it didn’t really matter, you could push it to the back of your mind. But now that you know he does like you, you can’t do that. Which in a normal situation would be a good thing. But this isn’t normal, is it? Because you love Eddie?”

“What, are you a mind reader or something? UGH! This is so fucking stupid. This is exactly why I didn’t entertain this! THIS right here! I don’t want to think about this, I don’t want to think about if Steve likes me or not because then I have to think about what would happen with me and Eddie and that’s the last thing I want to think about EVER! So can we just please watch the fucking movie now!?”

You threw your head back against the couch cushion and sighed. “Fuck, I’m sorry for snapping. I just… can we not talk about this anymore right now or preferably ever please?”

Robin came and sat right next to you, resting her head on your shoulder. “Don’t be sorry babes, I’m sorry for pushing. We don’t have to talk about it anymore, but just know if you do want to, I’m here okay?”

Nancy patted your leg on the opposite side of you “Exactly, you can talk to us any time. We aren’t just Eddie’s friends, we are yours too. Maybe even more so now. We love you. Now let’s look at Patrick Swazye’s ass in those tight jeans…”

You haven’t seen Steve or Eddie since your conversation with the girls but tonight was movie night at Steve’s house so it was pretty much inevitable unless you decided to veto going all together. Which you knew wouldn’t go over well because if you faked being sick Eddie would come check on you and see that you were in fact, not sick. Then he would ask you a million questions about what’s wrong and know if you were lying, you wanted to avoid that. If Eddie noticed you were acting weird he would get it out of you one way or another and you absolutely did not want him to find out about your feelings for Steve.

So as you got ready, you mentally prepared to be around them both at the same time. It was already almost unbearable before but now that you have spoken your feelings out loud you had no idea how to act. Eddie was picking you up and would be at your apartment any minute so you checked your outfit in the mirror a final time before taking a deep breath and going to the porch to wait for him.

You only sat there for a few minutes before you heard him speeding down the street, metal music blasting through his old vans speakers. He pulled into your driveway with a screech before hopping out to greet you.

“Hey Bunny!” He said as he bounded over to you, extending his hand to help you up off the porch steps and pulling you into his arms. “I missed you.” He mumbled into the hair at the crown of your head, placing a small kiss there.

“Hi Teddy, I missed you too. Even though I saw you two days ago.” You chuckled, nuzzling your face into the soft material of his worn out Black Sabbath tee. A wave of calm washed over you as his familiar scent filled your nostrils. You could do this, it was just like any other movie night you’ve had with the gang since you’ve been home.

“Two days too long!! I always miss you the second I’m away from you.” He looked down at you smiling, placing his hands on either side of your face before nuzzling his nose against your own.

“Can I take you home tonight?” Fuck. Maybe this wasn’t going to be as easy as you thought.

“Y-yeah of course, I always want to go home with you.” You smiled sweetly at him, it was the truth after all.

The drive to Steve’s was like every other time in the car with Eddie. Both of you singing along to and yelling over his music to talk, giggling at each other's dumb jokes. When you pulled into the driveway you didn’t bother getting out, letting Eddie come around to open your door. “Princesses don’t open their own doors.” He would always say.

“After you, your highness” he bowed dramatically as you exited the car, making you laugh.

“Why thank you, muh lord!” You both giggled at each other as you walked up to Steve’s door.

Eddie made sure to grab your hand and place a kiss on it, he wasn’t planning on letting you out of his grasp or sight tonight. Not after that conversation he had with Steve. It’s been eating away at him for days. Was he seriously going to ask you out? Would you say yes? He doesn’t think he could handle it if you said yes. You don’t know it but Eddie has been trying to think of a way to bring up being official to you for weeks now. What Steve said only lit a fire under his ass. Why the fuck did he tell Steve he was scared to be with you? He should’ve just been honest, he probably would’ve backed off. It’s not too late to tell him he was full of shit. Maybe he would let you out of his sight tonight just once, so he could talk with Steve.

The door opened before you could knock, revealing Steve, looking as fine as fucking ever with his hair perfect as always, his stupid fucking red crew neck and jeans fit him perfectly and you wanted to scream. Why did he have to be so goddamn pretty all the time? If he could just be ugly, or even maybe if he would be an asshole like he used to be you wouldn’t have to feel so torn looking at him. You wouldn’t feel like Eddie’s hand suddenly felt heavy in yours.

“Hey guys! You’re the first ones here, I saw you drive up.” He smiled at you as he walked over and when you reached him he grabbed your hand and pulled you by it causing your opposite hand to fall from Eddie’s, wrapping his arms around you in a welcoming embrace.

“Hi Stevie, it’s nice to see you.” You wrapped your arms around him and squeezed, his scent invading your nostrils. It was comforting, not in the same familiar way as the smell of Eddie, but still comforting nonetheless. Eddie noticed the way you leaned into Steve, how the hug lingered just a little too long and he felt like someone poured acid on his insides.

“It’s nice to see you too honey. You look really pretty today.” He smiled down at you, still holding you in his embrace.

“Oh, thank you Steve.” You felt your face warm at his compliment, ducking your head into his chest in embarrassment.

“Hi Harrington.” Eddie sounded anything but pleased and your stomach whirled with a combination of anxiety and excitement. Was he jealous?

“You gonna stand there and flirt with my girl all night or are you gonna let us in?” His girl, it wasn’t the first time you heard him say that, and you knew it wouldn’t be the last, but god did it make your heart skip a beat. This time for more reason than one, you felt Steve tense at Eddie’s words and something in you wanted to comfort him, tell him you weren’t Eddie’s girl. But at the same time, you couldn’t, because it was kind of true, wasn’t it? You were his girl, in a sense.

“Your girl huh?” Steve snorted, but didn’t elaborate. Instead he released you from his hold and stepped to the side to make room for you to come in. The minute Steve let you go Eddie grabbed onto your hand again, dragging you inside behind him.

Steve was nervous to see you, he'd been rehearsing how he was going to ask you out for days. Robin told him a little bit about her conversation with you (yeah, she totally abandoned the prospect of not meddling in this situation at this point) at first he wanted to freak the fuck out on her for telling you that he liked you but when she further explained he was almost thankful. She didn’t tell him everything, but she told him enough. Enough to give him hope he had some semblance of a chance with you. When she told him that you thought he would never like a girl like you he felt like shit, because who wouldn’t love you? But of course you felt that way based on his track record. He wanted nothing more than to prove you wrong. He wanted to show you how amazing he thought you were, how amazing he always thought you were.

When he heard Eddie’s van drive up he peaked out the window and instantly almost wished he didn’t. Eddie was opening the door for you, bowing dramatically and making you giggle in that cute way that Steve had committed to memory at this point. He grabbed your hand and kissed it, you smiled up at him with a look of love in your eyes. God he wanted you to look at him like that. He decided not to waste anymore time stewing and walked over to the door to open it before you could knock. When he did, he suddenly forgot who Eddie Munson even was. You looked beautiful, you always did, but he had never seen that skirt before. It was the cutest baby pink mini skirt that had little bows on the sides. You were wearing a little white tank top that had a pink bow that matched the color of your skirt, the cutest white and pink thigh high socks, and of course your big chunky boots and studded choker that made the whole look uniquely you.

He couldn’t help but pull you away from Eddie and into his arms. He couldn’t help but tell you how pretty you looked. He had to at least say that instead of dropping down to his knees and worshiping you like he really wanted to. He also wanted to tell you how fucking good you smelled but he stopped himself, not wanting sound like a creep. He probably hugged you for a little too long, but you didn’t seem to mind. He was so lost in you he totally forgot Eddie was even there for a second before he shattered his illusion with those two simple words “my girl”.

“You got any beer Harrington?” Eddie held your hand tight as you trailed behind him towards Steve’s kitchen.

“Yeah dude, in the fridge.”

You went to release his hand so he could get his drink but he held on tighter as he used one hand to open the fridge, grab a beer, and open it. When he was done he released your hand and you started to walk towards the living area to set your bag down and check out what movies Steve got for tonight but he laced his arm around your shoulder before you could even move and tucked you into his side.

“Eddie, I’m trying to go put my stuff down, why are you being weird?” You laughed and tried to walk off again but he didn’t answer, just held you tighter. “Oh my god Eddie, seriously what’s going on??”

You looked up at him and his jaw was clenched, brows furrowed, eyes set into sluts, glaring. You followed his gaze and saw Steve looking back at him with a very similar expression.

“You guys? What the hell is going on-“ you were cut off by the sound of the doorbell and a chorus of knocks. Steve didn’t say anything, just turned around to open the door.

“UGH! What took you so long!?” Robin groaned when Steve swung the door open, she walked in followed by Nancy, Jonathon, and the kids.

“You were knocking for like two seconds and you rang the doorbell once.” Steve rolled his eyes at his ever dramatic friend before turning to greet everyone else.

Snacks were handed out, drinks poured, and pizza ordered. Everyone was cozied up around Steve’s living room on various couches and bean bangs. You of course ended up on the three person couch between Steve and Eddie and you couldn’t decide if it was a blessing or a curse to have them both this close. All that was left to do was decide on what movie to watch, which was always a battle on nights like this.

“DUDE! You made us watch freakin Pretty In Pink last week and we’ve all seen it a million times, I’m NOT watching Ghost.” Eddie rolled his eyes at Nancy and shot daggers at Steve. He was not going to sit in a room with you and him and watch another fucking romance movie. Pretty in Pink was bad enough, he’s always hated that movie because he disagreed with the ending but now that he felt like he could end up just like Ducky he despised it even more.

“Okay well it’s not up to you MUNSON. If everyone else wants to watch it then you don’t get to bitch about it.” Steve scoffed. “You literally only ever pick horror movies and don’t give any of the other ones a chance because of your pretentious bullshit.”

“Okay well if you didn’t want to watch a horror movie why the hell did you even rent any!?” His voice raised a bit at the end, a little more than it would with their usual banter and everyone felt the tension immediately.

“Umm because she likes them, dumb ass.” Dustin butted in, pointing at you. Steve’s face went red and Eddie’s jaw clenched, the veins on his neck protruding. You felt an outburst coming on and you were not about to let him ruin movie night with his dramatics and what has become apparent to you now, jealousy.

“Okay okay how about this…Steve, you want to watch Ghost, right? And Eddie, you want to watch Child’s Play 2 since it just came out and you’re excited?” They both just nodded, like puppies listening to their owner tell them what to do. “So how about we compromise, since Steve wants romance and Eddie wants horror… How about we watch Edward Scissorhands? It’s got a little of both and I missed it in the theater so maybe we could watch that one?” You and everyone else in the room looked between them expectantly, just wanting to choose a movie at this point.

“Fuckin fine.” Eddie grumbled, crossing his arms and borrowing deeper into the leather of the couch cushions.

“Okay honey, if that’s what you want to watch I’m sure we will all enjoy it.” Steve smiled over at you, placing a hand on your knee before getting up to put the movie in.

“‘Okay honey if that’s what you want’ mehmemehe shut the fuck up.” Eddie mumbles loud enough for only you to hear.

“Oh my god, are you seriously mad right now because he agreed to stop arguing with you? I was literally about to tell you we should ask him if we can take child’s play and watch it back at your place later but if you’re gonna be a dramaaaa queeeen about it then I don’t knowwww” you said playfully rolling your eyes, trying to lighten his mood.

“Okay, fine, but only because I’m the one that gets to take you home and devour you later…” he said the last part in a hushed voice, breath tickling your ear causing a shiver to run down your spine and straight between your legs. Fuck.

Steve came and sat back down and you swear they were both sitting as close to you as possible. Steve’s Jean clad thigh is pressed up against one of your bare ones, Eddie’s on the other. Eddie has his arm around your shoulder and he’s absentmindedly playing with hair at the nape of your neck and the tips of the fingers of the hand on Steve’s thigh keep grazing along your skin. You felt dizzy, and maybe a little sweaty. You couldn’t even focus on the movie you’ve been dying to see, hyper aware of every move they made. Eddie’s hand trailed down your shoulder to caress your collarbone and he accidentally bumped Steve’s arm, noticing his hand touching your thigh. His nostrils flared and he held back the possessive growl that was building in this throat. He brought his hand under your butt and scooped you into his lap between his thighs causing you to let out a little yelp in surprise and look at him wide eyed.

“Mmm much better, just where you belong my lil bunny.” He wrapped an arm around you and possessively gripped onto the thigh Steve had been touching. You look up at Steve and he looks pissed. His breath is ragged as his eyes stare daggers into Eddie’s. Eddie just looked back at him smugly, like he was daring him to say something.

Okay something is definitely up with them and you didn’t know how to feel. Your fight or flight activated and in that moment you chose flight.

“I need to go to the bathroom, don’t worry about pausing it, I can just watch it again later.” You said abruptly getting off Eddie’s lap and dashing out of the room.

“Nice job, idiots” Nancy rolled her eyes at them.

“Yeeeahhh dude… kinda not cool.” Jonathan agreed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Pause the fuckin movie Steve.” Max scoffed.

“WHOAAAA LANGUAGE!!” Steve shouted.

“Well? You guys are idiots, she really wanted to watch this movie and you’re both silently fighting over her like we don’t all see exactly what’s going on!!” Max was not only the most upfront of the kids (aside from Dustin), but she was your kid. You and her had bounded instantly and felt very protective of one another.

“Fighting over her? What do you mean? She’s mine, there’s nothing to fight about.” Eddie said matter of factly.

“Dude!! No she fucking isn’t!! You don’t get to just-“

“Annnd there you guys go AGAIN, Max is right, we all see it and it’s getting in the way of movie night now so you guys need to figure it the fuck out! And stop fucking messing with her!!” Dustin snapped at his two older friends. The ones he’s supposed to be taking girl advice from, and here he is, giving it to them instead.

“Steve, you should go talk to her.” Robin hinted, wiggling her brows at him.

“No the fuck he should not! I’M going to talk to her because she’s MY bestfriend!!” Eddie started to get up but Steve was faster, pushing him back down by his shoulders and running down the hall after you.

“Eddie… you are always always there for her, and you introduced us to her so she would have some other people in her life that would be there for her too. Maybe just let Steve take this one, yeah?” Nancy tried to reason with him as he stood up to follow after Steve.

“That’s not what he’s doing though! He isn’t there for her as a friend, he wants more than that! She needs me right now. Her best friend, I always make her feel better.” The way he said it was like a child who got their favorite toy taken during recess.

“Now maybe it’s time to share that burden, don’t you think? Steve’s got this, just let them talk.” Robin smiled at him with what he thought was supposed to be reassurance but he felt anything but. This is exactly what he was trying to avoid all night, Steve getting you alone. Would he be better at making you feel better than he is? Was he going to ask you out? Were you going to say yes? If you did, what did that mean for you and him? He was spiraling fast.

“Whatever. I’m going to smoke.” He snapped before going out the front door and slamming it behind him.

Steve knew you didn’t really need to go to the bathroom, he’s spent enough time observing you at this point that he knows you were just overwhelmed and needed to get away. He walked past the downstairs bathroom just to be sure, but just as he thought the door was cracked and the lights were off. This had happened once before when everyone was over, it was a bit bigger of a get together, some coworkers and friends of friends so you didn’t know everyone. He could tell you were nervous from the beginning of the night so he kept an eye on you and at one point it had been a while since he’d seen you so he went looking.

He found you that night just like you are right now, sitting on the back deck on the ground, back leaning against one of his moms over expensive lounge chairs. Your legs tucked up under your arms, chin resting on your hands. You were staring off in the direction of the pool but he could tell your mind was elsewhere. He stood there for a moment, allowing himself to just admire you.

“I can feel you staring at me Steve.” You chuckled but didn’t look over at him.

“I- how did you know it was me?” He asked as he walked towards you, sitting down next to you with his legs crossed.

“I could just sense you with my super secret Steve detector, obviously.” You snorted out a laugh.

“Really? I thought I was the one who had a device to detect you, didn’t know the feeling was mutual, babe.” “Oh my GOD Steve, that was so fucking cheesy shut up.” You playfully smacked his arm. “I saw your reflection in the pool, nerd.” You pointed toward the pool, the glare of the back door shining on top of it.

“Oh, well I meant it. I feel like I can just feel your presence. Even if that’s cheesy.” He shrugged and gave you a nervous smile. “But I came out here to see if you were okay?”

It took you a second to process what he just said, did he really feel that way? You’re starting to notice how perceptive he is of you, maybe Robin and Nancy were right. “Oh uh- yeah… I’m all good. I was just getting kind of warm and overwhelmed, needed a second to myself.” You smile at him, but it doesn’t reach your eyes and of course he notices.

“If there’s something else bothering you, you can tell me, you know that right? I know we weren’t always… friends. But I’d like to think we are now, and I like to be there for my… friends.” You don’t miss the way he chokes on that last word.

“I guess I’m just… confused? You and Eddie are being really weird, that’s not just me right?”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “I guess we kind of are being weird. I’m sorry.”

“What’s going on? Did something happen with you guys? Did I do something?” The look on your face broke him, you looked so confused and honestly a little bit hurt by their actions.

“No honey, you didn’t do anything. Maybe I did? I think maybe it’s my fault. I… I told Eddie I liked you, and I don’t think he’s very happy about it.” He didn’t look you in the eyes when he said it, he couldn’t, he didn’t want to see your face when you inevitably rejected him.

“I kind of figured it was something like that. Fuck.” You put your face in your hands and sighed.

“Hey, it’s okay if you don’t like me back, I totally don’t blame you if you don’t. Plus Eddie told me you guys kind of have a thing going on and I’m not going to get in the way of that. But I do like you. A lot actually.”

“God fucking damn it Steve, you just had to say it didn’t you?” At first he thought you were about to go off on him but before he could apologize you continued talking “Of course I fucking like you! It’s just- it’s complicated, okay? I’m so afraid to like you, first of all. I know you aren’t who you used to be, I know that person was never even the real you and I know you’re a good kind hearted man. But I’m still scared, I still have the memories of the things you said to my friends, and I’m just like them. How could I not think you think that way of me? Even still? It terrifies me. And then there’s Eddie… I don’t think I even know where to begin with that.”

“You like me?” He was smiling like a kid on Christmas, did he not hear anything you just said?

“Is that all you got from that? Because I said several other things after that.” You huffed.

“No I heard you, but I don’t care about any of the other stuff. All I care about is that you like me back, that means I have a chance.” He smiled at you sweetly, eyes full of hope.

“Why are you making this so much harder? With your stupid pretty face and your dumb sweet words, always checking on me and shit. UGH!” You threw your head back against the lounge chair with closed eyes.

Steve honestly loved it when you got irritated like this, even at him, he wanted to kiss your grouchy lips until you smiled.

“Listen… I know this is a complicated situation. I know Eddie like loves you or whatever and I know he’s going to get pissed off at me for telling you I like you but I don’t really care. If he isn’t going to make you his girlfriend I’ll do everything in my power to make you mine.”

Your eyes widened at his statement. I’ll do everything in my power to make you mine. And Eddie loves you? You know he does, but does he mean that he loves you for real? Did he tell him that? Fuck.

Steve noticed the way you were picking at your already chipped sparkly black nail polish, while you chewed your lip so hard it looked like you were going to break the skin, the moon reflecting off the pretty little rings that adorned your fingers. Some silver, some starting to bronze from how long you’ve been wearing them without taking them off.

“I can see you thinking from here.” He grabbed both your hands in one of his, stopping your movements and running his thumb over the back of your hand, soothing you. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to go to the bookstore at the mall with me this weekend? I know that new Anne Rice book you wanted to read just came out and we could get some trashy food in the food court. Maybe even catch a movie if there’s anything good. Whatever you want.” He continued rubbing your hand, grounding you.

“Like a… date?” You looked at him with raised eyebrows, was he seriously asking you out after all of that? And he remembers the book you mentioned weeks ago in passing? Fuck. You were so fucked.

“Yeah honey, like a date.” You opened your mouth to respond but he brought his finger to your lips gently silencing you. “Let me finish before you answer, please?”

You just nodded at him.

“It doesn’t have to be anything serious if you don’t want, it doesn’t even have to be a date, would I like it if it was? Yes. But ultimately I’d like to get to know you, for you to get to know me, just us. We can figure out all of the other stuff later. Just give me a chance to show you how much you mean to me. Please?”

Well how were you supposed to say no to that?

“Okay.” You grabbed his hand and smiled at him, this one reaching your eyes. “Let’s give it a try, one date, and we go from there.”

“Okay sweetie, whatever makes you comfortable, I’ll do it.” He smiled back at you, his eyes flashing down to your lips for a moment and you were sure he was going to kiss you. You wanted him to, so you started to lean in and just as you felt his breath against your lips you heard it. Eddie’s voice.

“Are you guys going to come watch the movie or what!? We paused it for you!!!!” He did not sound very happy. Steve stood and offered you help up, walking towards the house with you following behind him. Eddie stopped you before you could walk into the living room, grabbing you by the hips.

“You okay bunny? What was that about? I was worried.”

“Yeah Teddy, I’m okay, just got a bit overwhelmed.” You decided to wait to tell him about your date with Steve until after you left, the night was already drama filled enough. He studied your face like he didn’t believe you, but he didn’t say anything. For now at least.

“Let’s go finish this movie so I can take you home and we can ‘watch child’s play 2.’”He rolled his eyes. “Yeah riiiight, you know the only thing you’re going to be watching is my head between your thighs.”

Your breath hitched as he placed a gentle kiss on your jaw, cheek, and then finally your lips. He deepened it and you immediately fell into him, letting out a little moan. You let yourself get lost in it for a second, not wanting to think about anything other than kissing Eddie. But he broke away before you felt ready, and your face fell.

“Don’t worry bun bun, there’s plenty more where that came from when we get back to my place later.” He winked at you and placed a final kiss on your lips before gesturing you back toward the living room. Now all you had to do was sit between him and Steve for the next hour without acting like you were about to spontaneously combust and then go home with Eddie and tell him about your date with Steve.

When you walked back into the living room Steve patted the middle seat on the couch and smiled up at you, his caramel eyes twinkling like you hung the moon.

“All good honey bee?” He set his hand on your thigh and ran his thumb over the skin there and smiled at you sweetly. Honey bee? Jesus Christ, that was new.. he was officially trying to kill you.

“All good.” You smiled back and patted his hand before letting it drop at your side. But his hand didn’t budge, resting right on your thigh like it belonged there. It kind of felt like it did, if you were being honest.

Eddie walked in the room seconds behind you and sat down next to you, putting his arm around your shoulders with a huff. His eyes shot daggers at Steve’s hand on your thigh before he brought his that wasn’t around you to your opposite thigh, but much higher up. His pinky played with the hem of your skirt while he squeezed the meat of your thigh. You looked down at your lap with wide eyes and your mouth agape. Two large veiny hands rested on each of your legs, one adorned with the rings you loved so much, the other decorated with an over expensive wrist watch and the weird thing was that it felt so right. You felt like your whole body was on fire, subconsciously clenching your thighs together while you let out a shaky breath. Praying neither of them noticed.

But they definitely did, you felt both their hands tense in that exact moment. Steve let out a shaky breath through his nostrils and Eddie groaned slightly in the back of his throat. You refused to make eye contact with either of them, eyes glued to their hands on your thighs, entranced. Eddie ducked his head into your neck so he could whisper in your ear.

“You like this don’t you princess? Both of us touching you like this? I can tell. You’re clenching your thighs and breathing in that way you do when you’re turned on.” Oh fuck. You don’t know what you were expecting him to say but it most certainly was not that.

“I think you do, you like the thought of us both touching you, huh?” Steve must’ve heard him because he’s whispering in your other ear and you can’t even comprehend what’s happening right now.

They’ve been at each other's throats all night and now they’re ganging up on you? You honestly don't know which is worse. Now all you can think about is both of them all over you, not that you haven’t thought about it before but in this moment you had never wanted anything more than for them to just take you. A few minutes ago your head was swimming with thoughts of anxiety and now the only two thoughts you can form in your head are their names. Eddie and Steve.

[aether-starlight]

Lovely - Xavier

Pairing: Xavier x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of grief and kitchen fires.

Summary:  After you begin spending more time with Xavier, you strike a deal.

Word Count: 1.6 K

Note: This is my first time writing Xavier, I'm still getting a hold on his personality and voice tbh. Hope this is not too oc.

You liked your job. Loved it, even. 

It was also the main reason why you had very little life outside of hunting. 

When Grandma and Caleb had passed, you had felt incredibly bitter about it. Extra hours, missions outside of the city, late nights studying, the list went on.

It all seemed so insignificant compared to the time you could have spent with them, rather than being a hunter.

Now they were gone, and people seemed to avoid you on principle. Whispers about the connection between your profession and the unfortunate fate of your family followed you, so they preferred to stay away. 

Even fellow hunters remained away, with Tara being a blissful exception.

But there were only so many days off you could hang around with Tara without feeling like an imposition, which led you to hang out with the next person who didn’t seem to be phased by your reputation of a bad luck charm: Xavier.

Your hunter partner.

You really couldn’t escape your job even if you tried.

“Maybe I’m not likable,” you had mumbled to yourself, sitting on Xavier’s snug, worn-out couch. 

It was beige, spotless despite its age, only noticeable in the softened texture and armrests colored in a lighter shade from years of limbs brushing against them.

Xavier laughed, and on anyone else, it might have sounded cruel, but in the gentle baritone of his voice, it felt warm, intimate even.

“Who wouldn’t like you? You’re lovely.”

He said it as if commenting on the weather, something obvious and not embarrassing at all to mention. If you were him, your cheeks would have been aflame before even opening your mouth.

Because you had thought about it. 

He was lovely too. 

His tousled hair and bleary eyes so late in the morning made your heartbeat quicken, something fluttering in your stomach, similar to the feeling when an energy fluctuation surged.

Xavier laughed again, this time coming closer to you, dish in hand as he bent down to look into your eyes.

“Oh my, you’re redder than the tomato sauce I made for you.”

“How do you expect me to react when you say such things so easily?” You complained, unable not to smile back as soon as his lips curled, a flash of perfect teeth.

He had a great smile, you thought, contagious.

“It’s the truth. Now, eat up before it gets cold.”

“Bossy,” you teased, already digging into the tousled eggs with spinach and a delicious homemade sauce on top.

“I wouldn’t say that,” he chided gently, setting his plate at a low table in front of the sofa, sitting by your side. “I’m just looking out for your health.”

“And the integrity of your apartment?” You joked.

It wasn’t the first time you ate together. 

After visiting to find out more about your Aether Core, and then running into each other at The Nest, you had started hanging out outside of work. 

It started with borrowed books, truth or dare, a night watching the stars, then occasional movie nights.

Then your relationship experienced a drastic evolution when you accidentally activated the fire alarm of your whole floor because of a bowl of fried rice gone wrong—on fire—, and he offered for you to cook together. 

At first, you were not sure why he had even proposed it in the first place, but then you realized he was another God of destruction in the kitchen. Turned out that two wrongs could make one right, as incidents decreased considerably once it was both of you cooking.

Now it was a sort of ritual for you, to have breakfast together on your days off. 

“What are you thinking about?” Xavier asked, propping his elbow on the table and resting his cheek against his hand. 

Sunlight burst from his window, half hidden by an ocre curtain, just enough to highlight his eyes and the bridge of his nose. Reflections from the relic he used as a teapot littered the walls, yellow against copper.

Everything about his home felt cozy, warm…safe. 

Meanwhile, there were piles of boxes still unopened in your apartment. 

You had recently moved in when the explosion turned your world upside down. You had been supposed to open them with Caleb that weekend.

Now it didn’t seem of much importance. Not if you couldn’t do it with him.

“How do you make your apartment look so…homely?” 

The question was blurted out of you, and you instantly felt stupid for needing to formulate it in the first place.

Xavier’s eyebrows raised, chopsticks halfway to his mouth, caught off guard. 

“Make it look homely?” He pondered, food lowering back onto his plate.

Another thing you liked about Xavier? 

He was deliberate about things, every detail mattered, and he knew there were answers not worth rushing on. 

“I just…buy things I enjoy. Something that makes me feel happy to look at. That reminds me of…” he trailed off, a crease surging between his eyebrows.

You didn’t push. You had known him long enough to realize that once he shut down it was final, and even if he did answer, it was always elusive and hard to believe.

Instead, your focus drifted back to his initial statements.

You supposed it made sense. His apartment felt like sunlight. All warm and light tones, plush surfaces, and rows of books carefully organized upon oak bookshelves. 

Vintage furniture and artifacts were littered in a way that was both organized and stylish. A forest green vinyl player at the corner of the room, a mysterious wooden chest beside it. 

It was lived in.

The curtains of your apartment were always closed, plunging it into darkness, and the only picture you had kept close to your bed, on your nightstand. It was a photograph of you, Grandma, and Caleb smiling by the beach. 

It had been your first family trip, and even now you could remember it vividly, the rough sand beneath your feet and humid air closing around you, even through your shorts and a t-shirt.

You had an expensive holo-projector that you never used and sofas that you had sat in enough times to be able to count with one hand. 

You had considered getting a cat but then had been deterred by the thought that it would probably feel pretty lonely, considering your frequent missions and late-night arrivals.

When you focused back on Xavier, he was already studying you. 

You imagined your face must have been quite the picture. It was something incredibly frustrating about you: everything showed on your face, from happiness to sadness, to anger. It couldn’t be helped.

“I could help you decorate. If you’d like,” he suggested suddenly, looking as if the proposal had been stuck in his throat for a while now. 

You smiled to yourself, hiding your hands between your thighs, feeling terribly seen.

“Really?”

He nodded, lips curled in that gentle smile of his. 

“Yes. It’ll be fun. Just promise me we’ll host more reunions in your apartment once it’s done.”

A surprised laugh rose from your chest.

“At my place? Why?”

He looked to the side, almost bashful.

“I would like to use your holo-projector.”

It took a second for you to correct your sudden staring. He had never struck you as someone who watched holodramas.  

“Okay. Under one condition.”

Xavier leaned forward, a silent inquiry.

“You let me train with you.” You paused, deep in thought. “At least once a week.”

Somehow, Xavier always managed to wriggle his way out of it, and you were not sure why.

It was almost ridiculous, that you were hunting partners and hadn’t trained together once. What was more ridiculous was how you were turning the situation in your favor, considering he was the one offering you aid.

“You offer a tough bargain.” He huffed, resting his shoulders back on his seat with a slight pout to his lips.  “But sure, I’ll agree under a condition of my own.”

This time it was your turn to be surprised. You pulled back in suspicion.

“I have a feeling I’m not going to like it.”

Xavier was relentless. It never failed to astound you how he could switch from lazy to laser-focused in a heartbeat.

“Show me more of what you write.” His eyes seemed to darken, eyebrows lowering. You didn’t know when he had turned his chair so he was facing you from a closer distance.

Your head shook in automatic.

“That would imply that you have read any of it already.”

“I heard your slam poetry. I liked it, it was good.”

“You’re just buttering me up,” you whined. “And it was an accident, I definitely didn’t intend for you to hear it.”

He tilted his head, finding your gaze like a lost puppy. It seemed that he was pulling out the big guns once decisiveness hadn’t worked.

“Please?” He had leaned forward so you were watching him from above, an aggravating strand of blond hair out of place, the tips of his bangs too close to his lashes.

Before you could think any better of it, you brushed them back, fingers grazing his ear as you set it in place. 

The strands were soft and reminded you of a nighttime story someone used to read to you, about a prince and a fox.

He leaned into your touch, lips parted. 

Your fingers dug into the silky strands, easing out a knot.

He didn’t relent, celestine irises trailing after your movement, and your fingers trembled. It may not have seemed like it, but you were the prey in this scenario.

“Fine,” you breathed out, feeling lightheaded. “It’s a deal.”

He smiled, something playful flickering in his gaze. At that moment he was too pretty for his own good.

“Now, it’s your turn to do the dishes.”

You groaned, your daze broken in favor of dread.

[yoditopascal]

Béet

Attuma x black chubby reader smut

summary: With the alliance between Talokan and Wakanda in full swing, training and tactical drills have become a common occurrence. You were one of Shuri’s best and brightest scientists, so why were you stuck on med bay duty and why was the Talokanil Shark General coming in so often? content warnings: canon-typical violence, smut, p in v, attuma himself is a warning, cussing, begging, no real plot just literal attuma brainrot, you need a big boy, thigh riding, fingering, no use of y/n cuz I hate that shit, reader is afab, attuma being an ass, namora okoye and shuri make a cameo

The first time she saw him she was late.

Having missed her first few alarms she was late to work again for the 5th time in a row. Late nights of researching and assisting Shuri with recreating more of the heart shaped herb had finally caught up to her. The dinging of the elevator signaling that she had reached her floor had snapped her out of her thoughts and just as she stepped out onto the lab floor she had to stop herself from damn near walking straight into a huge blue mass. There on the lab floor stood Attuma, one of the generals from Talokan, the nation they had just formed a new alliance with. She had seen him in passing before, mainly when he and the other general Namor came down to run drills with Ayo and Okoye, but never this up close and personal.

God, he was kinda fine.

“Tu'ux le le general?”

He asked, his baritone voice rumbled from his chest as he gave her a once over. The scientist before him was a little thing coming up just under his shoulders but like him was by no means skinny.

She then remembered they didn’t speak the same language as everyone else did, she couldn’t understand him but the word general made it a little easier to figure out what he was there for, he probably had training again.

“Oh you looking for Ayo?”

“Máax ka'ansaje' táan u cargo bejla'e' mina'an ba'ax in k'áaj” his voice came out a little raspier as he stalked closer if that was even possible, and looked down at her from under his lashes.

“Yeeeeah I don’t- I’ll just get Shuri for you” she started cheeks heating up as she felt boxed in. The man was intimidated and he definitely knew it. “I believe Attuma is asking for the General,” an overhead voice interrupted them, “Namora is already on the 14th-floor training with Ayo and Okoye. I’ve taken the liberty of letting them know he’s here.” The young scientist had never been more thankful for the A.I.’s presence.

“Thanks GRIOT.”

“It is my pleasure” Just as she was about to turn her attention back towards Attuma the dinging of the elevator caught her attention as she watched Okoye and Namora enter the lab, both women nodding to her as they entered.

“Llegas chúunk'iin u Attuma” Namora scolded as she crossed her arms over her chest and frowned at the man under her breathing mask.

Waving her off he walked past her into the elevator she just came from but not without giving the scientist one last once over.

That was the start of her week on med bay duty. Once she had finally gotten all clocked in and settled at her work station Shuri had stopped her before she could get too invested in what she had on her desk.

That was the start of her week on med bay duty. Once she had finally gotten all clocked in and settled at her work station Shuri had stopped her before she could get too invested in what she had on her desk.

“I’m beginning to worry about you sister, it’s not like you to be late”

“I’m fine Princess-“

Shuri called her name giving her a stern look as she closed the scientist’s laptop forcing her to focus on her.

“I’m just tired is all” she said with a sigh rubbing her forehead trying to ease the beginnings of a headache she felt coming on.

“Maybe you should take a break”

“I can’t afford to take a break, besides you need all the help you can get with this Princess we’re so close to bringing it all back for good.” She pleaded and as Shuri shook her head at her.

“And we will bring it back but not with you at half capacity”

“Shuri-“

“I’m putting you on medical duty. The warriors have been getting roughed up more than usual lately because of the Talokanil soldiers and they could use your help.”

“Are you grounding me?”

“If I have to” “You’re taking a break one way or another.” Shuri chuckled as she pat her on her shoulder and sent her on her way right back out the door she came from.

Shuri wasn’t lying when she said the warriors were getting hurt a lot more than normal lately. Normally the Dora Milaje never had a reason to stop by the medical center on the other side of the building, they could take any and everything that was thrown at them but she suspected that ever since the two generals started sparring with them that it was a little bit more than they could handle, especially from Attuma the man was big damn near the size of M’Baku and she liked that about him.

With her back to the door, the young scientist typed away on her laptop, finishing up her notes from the other night, she didn’t hear the door to the office open until it slammed shut behind the intruder. Startled she jumped in her seat and turned to see Attuma standing furiously as blood seeped from his arm.

“Jesus you scared the shit outta me!”

He didn’t say anything as he stalked over towards her, his dark eyes glaring down at her clearly telling her he didn’t want to be there.

“What happened?” She questioned putting in a pair of gloves and getting out the cotton swabs and cleaning solutions, the cut wasn’t too bad, it was superficial at best, but with him coming and going from the ocean she didn’t want to risk it getting any kind of infection.

Not waiting for him to answer not that she thought he would she gathered her supplies and got to work patching him up.

“You don’t talk very much do you?”

Again he said nothing.

With a sigh, she wrapped up his arm in a waterproof bandage and sent him on his way.

That was just the start of their little meet-ups. Every few days for the last few weeks Attumaor some of his men would come in with a new injury on either his face, his arms or his torso, each one just as bad as the last, courtesy of either Namora or Okoye and each time he visited was just as awkward as the last.

“So what’s the weather like in Talokan?”

“Are you guys only blue on the surface or do you stay blue underwater?”

“Yo, you have gils?! How do they work? “Are they sensitive? Is this kinda like a The Deep kinda situation?”

She tried desperately to make conversation each time she saw the man but each time he just glared at her and went on his way.

By the 5th visit she had resorted to just straight up being an ass to him, she could tell it irritated him but that was usually the only way she could get any kind of conversation out of him.

“Bet Okoye did that to you huh?” She questioned pressing an antibiotic-soaked cotton ball to the cut on his cheek

“She told me she kicked your ass the last time.”

Oh fuck he probably doesn’t understand me she thought as she tried to make conversation. Now that she thought about it she doesn’t know why but she never considered whether he could actually understand her or not, that was probably why he never really answered her.

“Leti' desearía yantalto'on in pateado le!” He growled back with a hiss startling her as the cotton ball in her had pressed to his cut a little harder than she meant, GRIOT translated for her.

“Oh, so he speaks!” She chuckled more to herself. “And you can understand me” She stood going to throw away her gloves, judging by how he had come back without so much as a scratch from his last visit she figured he’d heal by the end of the night and wouldn’t need any bandaging “You just like being stubborn.”

Again he said nothing as he stared her down but this time not with a glare but with an emotion she couldn’t quite place.

“We’ll congratulations you’ll live,” she said with a smirk. Once more Attuma looked her up and down, his expression unreadable before he turned on his heel and left.

The third time he came in it was different.

When he stormed into the med bay like he normally did she noticed almost immediately his wound was a lot more serious this time as blood was pouring from the cut on his neck pooling under his bone gorget. The young scientist jumped from her seat rushing to get her equipment stumbling as she moved about.

“What happened?!”

There was no time for their normal banter as she tried to figure out how to get him to remove his collar. Reaching out to touch the shark teeth that adorn it she’s stopped in her tracks as he aggressively grabs her wrist, tightly holding it in place.

“I need to treat your wound Attuma,” she reasoned snatching her arm back “it looks bad.”

“Yéetel utsil” he huffed as GRIOT translated going to push past her to grab the bandages “Chéen envuélvelo yéetel túuxta'al in tin beel, ma' táan u humor teechi'”

“Look I know you’re used to throwin’ your weight around and getting what you want but I’m not about that shit ok?” She snapped back pushing him back so that he was leaning against the exam table. She knew he had let her but she liked to think she pushed him purely with her own strength. “You’re gonna sit here and let me clean you up.”

“Táak a in tin wu'uyaj meentik in” he snapped going to brush past her but as he reached for the door he felt her grab his forearm and stopped, turning to look back at her.

“Béet” she pleaded.

“Ba'ax” What? GRIOT translated

“ B-béet that’s how you say please right? I know you know what I’m saying so please just listen for once.”

“Multa.” he sighs through his nose going back to the examination table but sitting himself in her chair in front of it instead, if he was going to let her do this he definitely was going to give her an easy time.

“Are you going to tell me how this happened?” beginning to clean his wound out with a swab she thought she’d make small talk but Atuuma obviously had no intentions, examining his neck further she realized he was just another scrap like he always had but the blood pooling out of it had scared her, a lot more than she’d like to admit.

“We going back to the silent treatment again?” again he did nothing but stare as she worked on him from between his legs leaning over him continued to clean the now-closing injury.

With a sigh, she began to pull away when a hand on her arm stopped her "Ba'axten jach dispuesto a wáantiken?" GRIOT translated for him. His grip was firm but still somewhat soft. “It's my job to help you,” she said pulling away and looking into his eyes, there was that same unreadable look in them again. With a slight roll of the eyes. He released his grip. "Yaan ba'ax ma' táan a wa'alik ti' teen." His voice lowered with a bit of annoyance as the A>I> continued to translate for the pair. ”Like I said I know you're Mr. Big and Bad down on the battlefield but you don’t gotta be tough shit here, let somebody take care of you for once.” she said putting a hand to his cheek. His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked into her eyes. His annoyance left as his hand moved onto hers.

Attuma’s eyes briefly flickered up to her lips before going back up meeting her dark eyes again pupils blown wide. He reached up to brush her cheeks with his fingers, thumb tracing over her bottom lip before he leans his masked lips down to hers, trying to kiss her through the material heavy and needy, the force almost knocking her onto her back as she began to kiss him back.

Giving her chest a gentle squeeze his hand slid downward palming at her chest through her shirt drawing out a low moan as his other hand gripped at her thighs and hips practically dragging her into his lap as he worked her pants off.

“Beetej.” he breathed her in as he began to rock her clothed cunt against his knee soaking it in the process.

She moves her hips even quicker, rocking on his thigh, the inside of her own thighs soaked. “Fuck.” She moans, wrapping her arms around the back of his neck to hold him impossibly closer. Eyes closed she could practically feel Attuma staring up at her, his hands roaming her back and chest before coming to rest on her stuttering hips.

Gripping her hips hard he takes over, making her ride his thigh, basking in the soft sounds he was pulling from her. He can feel her cunt clenching against him through her underwear, can feel the wetness pooling on his bare thigh, and he fucking loved it.

“Beetej,” he groaned throwing his head back “Je'el u páajtal a take'”

Slowly, he presses his knee up higher as she grinds down on him adding even more friction. Her eyes fall close and her mouth drops open in a breathy moan as she tries to grip his broad shoulders, hands too small to fully encompass them. She’s unable to kiss him on his lips due to his mask but she still leans forward to press her forehead to his as he continued to work her open.

“Attuma.” She hissed, grasping at his hands as he increased his speed.

“B-bèet…”

“A'al ka'a.” he panted not relenting in his pace as he dragged her down even harder.

“Bèet- fuck please just don’t stop!” Hips bucking wildly she came with a hoarse cry, shaking and riding him as he still rocked her over his thigh.

“Please…” she continued to beg, beginning to feel the twinges of overstimulation. “Please…”

With a loud growl, he ripped her from his thigh and turned her around pressing her chest to the cold steel table below them. The temperature a sharp contrast to her hot skin, as she feels him begins to undress them both.

“Táak in wu'uyikech,” his dark gaze trailed down her back as he tugged her underwear down and tossed them to the side along with her top and bra. His fingers grazed over her clit softly before sinking in curling and scissor around in her spongey walls while his thumb worked at her sensitive bundle of nerves.

Having already been on the end it didn’t take long for her to come again around his finger. Looking back at him as she spasmed on the table she saw hi cock looking painfully hard and dark as it strained against his lower abdomen, leaking at the tip, and looking bigger than she’d imagined

“Jach jodidamente mojado,”Attuma’s voice was rough as he watched her come unraveled beneath him, her arms struggling to hold herself up at she twitched around him uncontrollably on the table.

“A'al ti' teen wa Yaaj in” he said slowly easing his cock into her as he pulled her up and turned her to be on top of him as he set himself back down into her desk chair almost not fitting as he spread his legs.

She cursed, burying her face in the crook of his neck again, her hands roaming his chest and shark tooth scarring on his tummy. She mouthed at his neck kissing at his gils under his apparatus as he began to thrust up into her, already setting a rough pace. They both moaned in unison as she started to bounce, her legs trembling as he split her open on his lap.

“Attuma fuck!”

“Teech jach jodidamente ki'ichpam,”he sighed, Attuma’s voice was hushed as he watched her reaching her peak and tried to kiss her softly through his mask.She felt his hips begin to stutter and began to plead once more.

“Please, I need to feel you”

A strangled sound left Attuma’s mouth, as he roughly slammed up into her hard one final time the loud squelching music to his ears as she continued to bounce softly in his lap while the steady rhythm of his thrusts began to dissolve into a desperate frenzy, moaning huskily as he filled her with his thick hot cum.

As they both came down from their highs she stayed in his lap gently rocking until she came to a full stop. Cum immediately started to seep from between them but before she could stand up to clean up, not that she thought she could at that moment, a blue hand came into her line of vision and pulled her face to his as he kissed her lazily for a moment before pulling away.

It’s then that she noticed that in the heat of it all, he ripped his mask away, drenching them both in seawater and sweat.

“Bèet ìfè mi, again,” she said her voice barely above a whisper as he leaned down to kiss her once more lifting her up to set her back on the examination table.

Translations: Tu'ux le le general? -Where is the general? Máax ka'ansaje' táan u cargo bejla'e' mina'an ba'ax in k'áaj -Whoever’s in charge now I don’t care Llegas chúunk'iin u Attuma -You’re late Attuma Leti' desearía yantalto'on in pateado le! -She wishes she kicked my ass! Yéetel utsil -It’ll be fine Chéen envuélvelo yéetel túuxta'al in tin beel, ma' táan u humor teechi' -Just wrap it and send me on my way I’m in no mood for you Táak a in tin wu'uyaj meentik in -you want me to listen than make me Béet -Please Ba'ax -What? Multa -Fine Ba'axten jach dispuesto a wáantiken -Why are you so willing to help me? Yaan ba'ax ma' táan a wa'alik ti' teen -there's something you're not telling me Beetej -Keep going Je'el u páajtal a take' -you can take it A'al ka'a. -Say it again Táak in wu'uyikech -I want to hear you Jach jodidamente mojado -So fucking wet A'al ti' teen wa Yaaj in -Tell me if it hurts Teech jach jodidamente ki'ichpam -You’re so fucking beautiful ìfè mi -my love (in Yoruba)

@lunamoonbby