#perks of not being scheduled much this week

[cweampier]

i’m gonna speedrun assisted mode for re4r to get the wolf tail bc i wanna see leon w it so so so so bad he’s so cute 4 hours i got this

[melissa-titanium]

GOD therseomuch shit to do i thought id have time today to DO stuff. its the fucking weekend why do ihave to do 2 classes and go outside and literally do something for school . the weekDAYS are always busy i havent had a free moment since i fucking joined

[sincerelyneo]

golden hour | l.mk

“i’ve got a really big problem…”

💿now playing: golden hour by mark

❯ summary: Mark’s got a really big problem; you. The pretty neighbour that shares a bedroom wall with him. You’re a night owl and you’re so loud and are you…listening to his music whilst masturbating…? Fuck now he’s hard. Guess he’s got two really big problems.

❯ pairings: mark x fem!reader

❯ genre: neighbours, smut

❯ words: 2.3k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, masturbation, mark’s a loser for the plot, very explicit details of sexual fantasies, reader uses she/her pronouns and female gendered terms, literally just mark being horny whilst reader gets off to his song.

Mark needs to move out. He doesn’t know how much longer he can take the old run-down building his apartment is located in having no working elevator. If you’d have told him two years ago when he signed his dream music contract with a real record label that he’d be climbing six flights of stairs after a long week of work he’d have called you a liar. But that’s what happens when people aren’t listening to your music. 

Maybe he's overreacting; the building isn’t that terrible. It has its perks—like the pretty view. And it’s usually quiet—well, it was until his lively new neighbor moved in. Mark might have thought of you as a perk when he first saw you, considering you’re exactly his type, so fucking beautiful. But you’re also so fucking loud.

You always seem to have something going on—plans, hobbies, parties, meetings, friends. Mark knows because the walls between you and him are thin, and you’re never quiet, never still. At first, he thought it was kind of cute, but the more he thinks about it, the more he realises he’s been so distracted by how attracted he is to you, he’s been letting your noisy lifestyle slide.

It’s not like he wants to knock on your door and ask you to keep it down; he’s too worried you’d think he’s some kind of loser. Even at twenty-five, he still craves female validation like he’s a high schooler—so he’s been putting up with the sleepless nights. Another reason why he needs to move asap. 

The lack of sleep, combined with the endless stairs, has left Mark drained this past month. He can practically hear his sofa calling his name, can taste the cold bottles of beer that sit in his fridge as he reaches the top step. He may be a tad out of breath and a little sweaty but he’s got the weekend off and that’s all he can think about. But unlike you, Mark’s life is boring. The most exciting thing about his weekend is the idea of not having to climb his complex’s stairs until Monday. 

Meh. He could dwell on the mundane schedule of his life for hours but he gets distracted. Distracted by his pretty little nightmare neighbour. 

You're all dressed up in a tight gold dress that clings to every inch of your body. Your hair falls down your back as you lock your door, tucking the keys into the tiny clutch hanging from your shoulder.

That’s when you notice him too.

“Oh, hey,” you greet him softly, offering a bright and friendly smile. 

Mark returns it, his chest swelling. There's no denying you’re a beautiful girl. And although he’s overheard your phone calls about parties through the thin walls, and the hum of your hair dryer as you get ready for nights out, he’s never actually seen you in anything other than jeans and a t-shirt. He’s never been given the opportunity to see you so dolled up, to notice the little love handles he can all of a sudden imagine himself gripping. He clears his throat and smiles wider.

“Hi Y/N…you look nice!” He compliments kindly, fingers fiddling with his own keys. 

Nice? 

The word replays in his mind. He’s spent endless nights thinking about how beautiful you are and now he’s finally got to feed his craving of seeing you in tight clothes but the only word he can muster up is nice? Oh he hates himself. 

But then he sees you blush at the comment, and he loves the way you purse your lips, trying to hide a shy smile. A part of him is annoyed that you’re blushing over something so simple—he thinks every man should be showering you with compliments, and you should expect more than nice. Still, there’s something about the way you squirm from his words that has his cock throbbing.

He wonders if it’s because you’re attracted to him too. It’s not completely out of the question. You know who he is, of course you do. You see each other in passing a lot but you’ve also spoken on the day you moved in. Mark remembers it like it was yesterday. 

He could hear you panting and cursing in the hall, hauling boxes up and down the stairs before he came out to help. You didn’t recognise him at first, not until he was in your apartment setting boxes down.

That’s when you turned to him with wide eyes and a breathy, “oh wow, aren’t you the dude that sang ‘Golden Hour’?”

Mark started blinking at you like a deer in the headlights. He’d never encountered a fan in person before, he had a small community online, but his music hadn’t exactly been taking off like he planned. So you can imagine his surprise when his new (extremely attractive) neighbour knew one of his songs. 

“Thank you,” your soft voice breaks him from his memory, and moves his focus. “Just a night out with the girls, been a long week,” you sigh. 

He wants to hear all about your long week, wants to be the one to make it better—maybe convince you to skip the girls’ night and spend it with him instead. But he doesn’t. He doesn't even let the thought linger for more than a moment before he’s nervously tapping his key against his thumb.

“Well have fun, and be safe,” he settles on tenderly. 

You nod with a small smile, giving a gentle wave before turning to leave. He watches you until you’ve rounded the corner, only then unlocking his door and kicking off his shoes with a sigh.

Mark grabs a bottle of beer from the kitchen, kicking the fridge door closed behind him. His entire apartment is dark and it reminds him of the loneliness he’s been feeling for the last six months. Mark never really thought about love and relationships before he met you. Sure, he likes to fool around as much as the next person, but he’s always been fine with being on his own. But you remind him of the lonely. 

He’s never longed for love and friendships but a secret part of him craves a woman by his side… craves the woman next door.

He wonders what it’d be like for you to be cuddled into his side as you watch a movie. Wonders if you’d laugh at certain parts and crane your neck up to pepper tender kisses to his soft lips. Mark squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head, tries to rid the thoughts of you from his mind.

But it’s proven a little more difficult when he moves from the couch to take a shower and the water is running down his tense and naked body. He struggles to not think about you on your knees, touching his thick cock and kissing up his thighs.

He has to swallow back the lump in his throat and blinks away the urge to touch himself to the thought of you. He refuses to be that kind of guy. He’s not that kind of guy. So he gets out the shower and does the only thing he likes doing — music. 

Mark tries out new melodies on his guitar, humming broken lyrics and soft tunes he’ll be sure to show his producer on Monday. After a while he catches sight of the clock on the wall and it’s already a little past midnight. After locking his doors he’s crawling into bed and ready to sleep; but then he hears something. 

A soft giggle muffled from the wall behind his head. 

Mark’s fully aware the two of you share the same wall for your beds, rooms mirroring each other, but he’s never heard this kind of sweet giggle fall from your lips so late at night. He tries not to let the sound affect him, but there’s only one reason why a girl like you could be giggling at this hour after a night out. 

You’ve brought someone home? But Mark can’t hear a man’s voice, not even the slightest grunt or groan of male muttering. He can only hear soft giggling slipping from his favourite pair of lips.

And then he hears a robotic voice announcing that the Bluetooth is successfully connected and he knows he’s about to hear your fuck playlist. The thought sends a thrill through his body and he knows he’s unlikely going to get any sleep tonight.

He’s about to get up, to move to the sofa in the living room, to not be disrespectful and a perv by listening to you getting off, but he hears a familiar hammering of drums and a guitar muffled through the paper-thin walls and his eyes are bulging.

“Give me my A course, ice is so big like a glacier” 

You’re giggling again and he can hear your body fall against the sheets of the bed – the bed that’s very clearly pushed up against the same wall his is. It creaks under your weight, and Mark feels the wall tremble slightly as your bed frame knocks against his wall.

He’s tried so hard not to be that guy, but his hand finds its way in his boxers before he can fully comprehend what he’s doing. He’s rock fucking hard, red and veiny and he takes off his boxers, leaving him sprawled on his back, completely bare.

He hears your soft whimpers, can hear you hum in appreciation even over the buzzing of your vibrator and the thumping of his song. He doesn’t know what’s turning him on more; the fact that he can hear you getting off and moaning out, or that you’re listening to him while trying to cum. 

Either way, his hand is wrapped tight around his thick length, thumbing over his oozing tip. He thinks of how you must be, how you’d look completely whilst naked and sprawled out on the bed for him. Mark imagines himself on top of you, kissing your perky tits he loves to think about and wrapping his lips around your swollen nipples. His mind feels like it can taste you on his tongue, can feel your dainty fingers tugging at his hair as he laps you.

“Oh, shit,” you gasp loud enough for him to hear.  

It makes him imagine your eyes rolling back when he finally fucks himself inside your tight little cunt, he visions the look of ecstasy on your face when your jaw would become completely slack and your body quivers for him. He knows you’d feel him deep in your stomach. He knows he’d be so big for you. 

“Fuck,” he slips out in a desperate pant.

He’s completely breathless, tugging at his dick, spitting down on it to get it all wet for you. He knows you’re so much wetter on the other side of the damn wall, and that he’d rather be sinking into your wet pussy but his spit would have to do. 

He throws his head back in his pillow, eyes shut tight, allowing his mind to work over time. 

“Fuck, Mark… I need it.”

Everything feels surreal, like he’s in his own personal heaven with a touch of hell. You’re crying out for more, for him, begging for it deeper, harder, and he finds himself fucking into his fist just as desperately. Like his soft palm is your silky pussy.

Mark can’t focus on anything other than your sweet fucking cries that sound otherwordly against his song. It makes him think about how much he’d love to record your moans, use them in his next song. But then he’d never be able to release it — because they’re his to hear. 

It’s when the bridge starts that you really let yourself go, filthy fucking moans, the speed of the vibrator increasing, and God he wishes he could watch you right now. See you trembling and begging as the instrumental plays out loud and hard. 

He can’t handle it.

Gruff moans are slipping past his lips and he does nothing to try and conceal them. The muscles in his arm are burning but he fucks his cock harder, imaging what it’d be like to feel his balls slap against your ass as he pounds into you.

He can feel the coil tightening in his stomach, the way his cock starts to twitch. His imagination grows wild and filthy, every single fantasy he’s tried locking away to not be that guy now flooding his mind because you’re that girl. 

That girl that’s using his music to cum. That girl that wants to hear his voice as she gets off. That girl who’s doing it with no shame, no guilt. That girl that’s using him. 

The thought takes Mark’s mind to sinful places. “Take it,” he can hear himself seeth through gritted teeth. He imagines you begging for his cum, taking it like the good fucking girl you are.

“Ugh, fuuckk I’m cumming!” Mark cries out gruffly through strangled moans and he hears your screams follow.

Your bed is creaking louder than before and he knows your thighs have got to be trembling as you cum around your vibrator. Mark’s hand and thighs are covered in thick ribbons of white arousal and when his eyes flutter open, through his blotched vision, he imagines seeing you kneeling between his thighs and licking it up.

He’s completely fucked as he hears his song mellow out and you aren’t moaning anymore. Instead, he can hear  breathless little pants. He stays where he is for a second, eager to see what else he can hear. But there’s nothing — only complete and utter silence.

Mark doesn’t sleep the entire night. He can’t. He’s kept awake with the guilt of listening to his pretty neighbour. Or is it with the thrill of knowing it was his voice that got you off that's making him so restless? 

[yesihaveaobsession]

A Well- Tailored Affair

Alastor x female! reader

Summary: Being The Radio Demon's one and only personal tailor has it own perks.

A/N- Sorry I have been gone for quite some time!! But I'm back, I had NOOOOOO idea what to write and this thought came to me mid sleep at like 12am So anyways I hope you enjoy!

ALSO this was gonna proofread because I didn't have time and I missed yall so sorry if it sucks 💀

Being a tailor in Hell was no small feat, especially when your main client was none other than the Radio Demon himself, Alastor. When you first took the job, you didn’t expect it to be much of a challenge working with his specific tastes. But over time, you came to know him like the back of your hand.

Today, he was scheduled for a fitting. He had dropped off a newer jacket last week but he said he had business to attend to and he'd come back next week and that was today. As always, the atmosphere of your small shop—which wasn’t far from the hotel—was calm and cozy. You were currently cross-stitching a dress for Rosie for some type of event in Cannibal Town when, suddenly, the bell above the door jingled. There he was. Alastor stepped inside with his signature grin, accompanied by the hum of radio static. The aura he carried was palpable. The moment he entered, you could feel the air shift.

"Ah, my favorite tailor!" he exclaimed, spreading his arms wide before resting his hands on the microphone in front of him. With a slight tilt of his head, he asked, "Have you missed me?"

You chuckled softly, stepping away from your work and already reaching for the measuring tape. "You were here last week, Alastor. Hardly enough time to miss anyone." You smiled. His grin didn’t falter, though you didn’t notice how his crimson eyes lingered on you longer than usual. Truth be told, Alastor liked you. More than he should, and more than he realized. Part of it was the trust he placed in you to handle his precious suits, which were such a vital part of who he was. But it was also because you treated them with such grace. You knew what you were doing and were exceptional at it. Not to mention, you were one of the rare souls in Hell who wasn’t afraid of him. And lastly, you were undeniably pretty—he thought that too.

"Ah, but a week without your company is an eternity, my dear," Alastor replied. You brushed off his words with a smile. He often gave small, sweet compliments about your work and how he missed you, so this wasn’t anything new. Yet today, his words seemed to carry a different meaning.

You rolled your eyes playfully, motioning for him to step onto the fitting platform. In front of him was a large mirror—he loved checking his reflection to ensure he always looked impeccable. "Alright, charmer, let’s see what we’re working with today. Did you tear another sleeve during one of your dramatics?" you teased, looking from the sleeve up into his eyes.

He let out a melodic laugh. "Guilty as charged! I simply cannot help myself. Life—or afterlife, rather—demands a flair for the theatrical!"

As you worked, your hands expertly adjusted the fabric of his jacket. You noticed his gaze drifting to you frequently. At first, you thought he might be scrutinizing your technique, but no��this was different. His grin softened ever so slightly whenever he thought you weren’t looking. Watching your focused expression gave him an odd fluttering sensation, almost like butterflies in his stomach.

"You’re very precise," he remarked, his voice quieter than usual.

"Kind of comes with the job," you replied with a smile, pinning a sleeve in place. "Can’t have the Radio Demon walking around in anything less than perfection, right?"

"Indeed. And you, my dear, are perfection. I must confess, I’ve never trusted anyone else with my suits. You have an extraordinary talent."

You paused, caught off guard by the bold confession—especially coming from him. "Thank you, Alastor. That means a lot," you said, grabbing the needle and thread.

"And," he added, tilting his head as though studying a particularly fascinating piece of art, "it doesn’t hurt that you’re quite easy on the eyes." Was he kidding? He had to be, right? Your cheeks flushed instantly, and you nearly dropped the pin you were holding. "Oh! Uh, thanks."

He noticed your reaction and chuckled, clearly amused. "Did I fluster you? My, my, how delightful!" Alastor grinned, watching you through the mirror. You cleared your throat, trying to regain your composure. "Stop moving," you muttered, focusing on adjusting the flaps on his suit. You finished stitching up the rip on his sleeve with a clean, neat stitch—it was a relatively easy fix.

The silence grew heavy until he broke it. "You’re one of the only few who doesn’t fear me, you know… It’s refreshing."

"Well, I figured if you were going to do something to me, you would’ve done it already," you replied with a smirk, stepping back to admire your work. Alastor’s grin widened. "Perhaps. Or perhaps I find your company far too enjoyable to spoil."

You shook your head, laughing softly. "Alright, smooth talker, you’re good to go. You can come and pick it up in 24 hours." You watched as he stepped down from the platform, adjusted his jacket, the one he came in with and turned to face you. "Splendid! I’ll be counting the seconds until I see your lovely presence again!" He started toward the door but paused, looking back over his shoulder with that ever-present grin. "Oh, and my dear, do save a moment for tea when I return. I’d like to enjoy more of your delightful company." You smiled, shaking your head. "You better not rip your coat on purpose in the next 24 hours!" you shouted after him.

You heard his laugh echo as he left, leaving you standing in the middle of your shop, flustered and smiling despite yourself. Maybe being Alastor’s tailor wasn’t so bad after all.

[wingedjellyfishflight]

Harem in Reverse

"You're soon to be 26, Your Royal Highness. You must put together your harem soon or risk being married off to whomever the regent chooses for you." You sigh, nodding in agreement. Choosing a direct husband would be against the rules, and frankly, you weren't interested in interviewing for the perfect man. Choosing many for their adherence to various qualities, though. That would be a good choice. "Shall I put forth a call for certain attributes? Strong arms? Large chest? Impressive intellect?"

"No, I want to review the troops this week. I will find my consorts among the best our nation has to offer." The advisor looks stunned.

"Your Royal Highness, those are rough men. They do not have the breeding or training to handle you gently as a consort should. They are-."

"Advisor Williams, I know what attributes I am looking for. Schedule me to review the best of the troops, then. If none catch my eye, then I will consider others." The advisor nods, frustrated at not being heeded, but knowing they must follow a direct order.

The following week, you are almost nervous while getting ready, the beginning of butterflies in your stomach. If you weren't so tired, you're sure it would be worse, but the night before was yet another attempt on your life. They are becoming more frequent and more violent now.

Sighing, you hurry to the courtyard where your mount, Rosebud, is waiting. A gift that you feel had been meant to be another threat on your life. The mount was no ordinary horse or pony. Instead, it was the largest draft mule you had ever seen. If you had treated him like a horse, you're sure the thing would have stomped within minutes. He was a vain creature who had to be sweet-talked and treated with utmost respect before he would agree to do much of anything. He was covered in whip and spur scars, telling anyone that he was difficult to force submission from, despite their best efforts. Not that you thought anyone could force an animal born of a mammoth jack donkey and a Shire horse to submit physically. You loved each and every scar, the signs of his stubborn nature on display for all to see.

"Hello, sweet boy." You greet him and let him snuffle you over, waving off the over eager stable hand. "May I ride you today? I am to inspect the troops." He blows a huff of air and turns his head away. You slide your hand along his proud neck and across his withers to the saddle. Checking it over, you deem it done well enough and climb on his back. Your legs spread wide across his broad barrel. Your advisors turn away, knowing that you will refuse their most strident pleas to ride sidesaddle.

"Let us inspect the troops." With that, the company is off at a quick walk to the parade grounds. Your group of advisors and the personal guard that you only marginally trust join the General and his entourage at the front of the formation. You strongly dislike the General. He is somehow the worst mix of ass kissing and condescending.

"The army is excited to be inspected this morning, Your Royal Highness." You barely manage to cover your snort. There is no way they are happy to be here standing in the sun to be inspected on your whim. You move from company to company, looking over the men and pointing out individuals to be inspected, but seeing none you would consider as consort. Reaching the special forces, the rabid dogs as your advisors refer to them, the General is incensed to see that the leader of one is missing.

"Where is the Captain? This is not an optional inspection!"

A man steps forward, "He was injured in a skirmish this week and is still confined to the hospital, General Argus." Looking over the group, you see several still sport bandages and healing abrasions. You nudge your mount closer, his ears perked forward in a match to your curiosity. The General apologizes to you for the disrespect of the men for not appearing but is cut off.

"Your Royal Highness. Escaping the hospital took longer than predicted. For that, I sincerely apologize." You turn, seeing a man limping toward the formation at a quick pace. This must be the Captain. As he falls in, you dismount your mule, resting your hand on his broad neck. Your personal guard hurriedly surrounds you, standing much too close. Rosebud takes exception to being crowded, ears flattening against his head. He strikes out like a snake. His teeth click just shy of the nearest man, who stumbles back yelling and unsheathes a sword. Without a thought, you draw your own ceremonial dagger.

"Touch one hair on Rosebud, and I will gut you." Everyone around you freezes before slowly backing away. "I will not be crowded by your incompetent forms when I am here to inspect the troops." They retreat from your anger, not wanting to risk you calling for their death. Rosebud drops his head, relaxing, and you absentmindedly rub his long ear the way he loves. His lip twitches and his eyes half close for a moment before he pulls away. You step forward, and Rosebud matches your pace, keeping his shoulder just behind yours. It took months to build up a relationship with him, and now he is putty in your hands most days.

An advisor tries to signal you to stay back, but you ignore them, your eyes on the men, looking for the best of them. You memorize the name of the Captain and another likely candidate, signaling Advisor Williams to your side. He groans but carefully walks to you, eyes locked on the increased alertness of Rosebud.

"I will have an audience with this Captain Price and Colonel König. As soon as the men are dismissed. In private." You walk forward and give a cursory inspection to the man who had spoken on the Captain's behalf. His uniform is impeccable, you are happy to see. You don't want them punished on your behalf. The smirk on his face beneath his mask sends a thrill through you. Another man who is not cowed by your station. That is important in advisors. Lieutenant Riley, his uniform says. You nod and mount Rosebud again, rejoining the pack of advisors to inspect the remaining troops. No others catch your eye.

Walking into your State room, you signal for everyone except the two soldiers to leave. While unusual, they are compelled to do so by your haughty glares and Advisor Williams guiding them away, barring the doors behind him and standing guard. Sitting in your throne, you drag your eyes over the men. Colonel König is wearing his customary face covering, and Captain Price has the cover he is well-known for in his hands.

"I have a proposal for you both that I want you to carefully consider. This proposal will not be spoken of again if you decline and it will not leave this room." The men perk up, and you see heat in their eyes as they consider one of the possibilities of your words. "I need advisors who are not advisors." That throws them off, and you see the Colonel shift uneasily. "These advisors would be the closest of any man or woman to me. They would teach and protect me with their very lives. My life is under threat and has been since the King and Queen died, my uncle taking over as Regent. I need advisors who will help me oust him and take my rightful place on the throne without contest and without raising his suspicions. Thus, I need men who will join my harem." You pause, savoring the way their faces change as they process this.

"Your Royal Highness, are you asking us to find you men to join your harem? That is most unusual, but we will do our best." You shake your head at Captain Price.

"Yes, but not in the way you are thinking. I am asking the two of you to join my harem and to advise me on the best men to round out such a harem. To be advisors and leaders in removing the despot from his fake throne. To be my lovers, spoiled in every way and to guard me from all attempts on my life. I want you both, and I trust you to choose others and to bring them to me for approval. If you decline this position, we shall never speak on it again."

"Yes, I would be honored to be chosen for your harem, Your Royal Highness." Colonel König does not hesitate to agree. He feels he has loved you from afar for years, and this is an opportunity he will not squander.

"I would be as well, Your Royal Highness." Captain Price is confident that declining now would be a mistake, and he is not a man prone to mistakes. "I have a few men in mind that would be good additions. They are a bit of a package deal." You nod, expecting as much.

"Their names?"

"John MacTavish, Simon Riley and Kyle Garrick, Your Royal Highness."

"I have two in mind that would be good choices as well. Hiro Watanabe and Kim Hong-jin. They are foreign, but good, loyal and strong men, Your Royal Highness."

The smile you bestow them with is almost a surprise to the men. "Then, I wish for you to gather your men and their belongings. You will join me tonight, my consorts."

"Yes, Your Royal Highness." The men bow and leave, stunned at the way this meeting has gone. You order Advisor Williams to prepare the harem quarters and pack your own belongings secretly. It would be folly to live apart from the men who will be your new private guard and you would be lying if you weren't excited to see under those perfectly done uniforms.

[missaengg]

Missing You

Day 3 of Kinktober: Visions of Temptation hosted by @xxsycamore Featuring: Love and Deepspace | Rafayel x f!reader Tags: mdni, established relationship, phone sex, dildo, sex toys, masturbation, pwp Prompts: Phone Sex | "See this? It's going to go inside you." ao3 link here.

You stare morosely at your phone. Rafayel had left for an art exhibition in another city a week ago, and despite knowing that he has an insanely jam-packed schedule, you feel miffed he hasn’t had a chance to call even once during that time. 

Your face lights up when your phone starts ringing, the face of your boyfriend lighting up the screen. “Hello?”

“Hi, cutie. Miss me?”

You sigh, leaning back against the sofa. “Tons. When are you getting back?”

“Next week. Thomas has me touring the west side. I think I’ve got an exhibition almost every other day, interviews lined up in between, and gallery parties in the evenings.”

“I love and hate that you’re so busy.”

Rafayel chuckles, the sound tinny and flat through the phone speaker. “I hate being away from you for even a day.” 

“Me too…”

“I have a surprise for you to make up for how long I’ll be gone.”

Your ears perk at the word ‘surprise’, bolting up in eager anticipation.

“It should arrive right abooooooout… now.”

The doorbell rings as soon as Rafayel finishes speaking. Curious, you make your way to the door, opening it to a medium sized box on your welcome mat.

“Open it.”

You bring the box inside back to where you were sitting on the couch, ripping open the tape and pulling out the crumpled paper inside to… what appeared to be a dildo? “Um, Rafayel, what is this?”

"See this? It’s a mold of my dick. It's going to go inside you."

You gulp. For some reason, this replica seems much bigger than he is in real life. “Are you sure you didn’t make the dildo bigger? I could’ve sworn you’re not this big.”

“I–” Rafayel pauses, and in the most indignant tone he can muster, utters, “Of course I’m that big. How the hell are you remembering me?” An irritated sigh floats through the speaker. “I’m going to have to remind you just how big I am when I get home… but in the meantime, that’s going to go inside of you.”

“You want me to have sex with a dildo?”

“My dick shaped dildo. And we’re going to have sex using the dildo as a temporary placeholder until I get back.”

You squint your eyes, staring at the smooth, silicone dildo before you, tilting your head at how we would be having sex. “How?”

“Like this.” You can hear the mischievous twinkle in his voice even over the phone. “I kiss you lightly. My hands are on your cheeks, and they make their way down to your neck, over your shoulders, down to your chest, grazing your breasts. Touch yourself lightly there like I’m touching you. What are your nipples doing? Are they hard?”

You blink. Oh. You follow Rafayel’s instructions, lightly grazing your hands across the front of your breasts. Your nipples pucker under your clothing into firm nubs poking through the thin cardigan you’re wearing. “They’re hard. They’re… poking through my sweater.”

“Good, good. Now I’m placing my thumbs on them, applying pressure, rolling them underneath.”

You roll your thumbs over yourself, feeling tingles within your core from the stimulation. “That feels good, Raf.”

“Now give them a pinch for me.”

You squeeze with your pointer and your thumb, an involuntary gasp leaving your lips. 

Rafayel groans in response to your gasp. “Are you turned on yet? Getting nice and wet for me?”

“I’m not wet enough.”

“Hm… we’re going to have to fix that then, aren’t we?” You hear him shift on his hotel bed, the covers rustling from his movement. “I slide my hands down your torso – are you wearing a skirt or pants?”

You still when your hands reach the waistband of your bottoms. “I’m wearing a skirt.”

You swear you can hear Rafayel smirk over the phone. “Even better. I slide my hands down over your hips to your thighs until I reach the hem, and then I push the fabric up exposing you to your panties. My fingers–”

“– I’m not wearing any.”  

“...What?”

“I said I’m not wearing any underwear.”

Rafayel’s breath catches in his throat at your admission, and knowing your lovely boyfriend, you imagine his face is turning beet red. When he begins breathing again, his breaths are shallow and rapid, and his voice is strained. “Why aren’t you wearing any panties?”

“...iwasthinkingaboutyou…” you mumble into the phone, your own face now a brilliant shade of red mirroring the blush that has likely formed on your boyfriend’s face.

“What?”

“I–” you groan at having to voice this thought out loud, the flush on your face growing even darker, “I was thinking about you!”

A long guttural groan comes through over the speaker. “Naughty cutie,” Rafayel practically hisses. “You’re making this so hard for me.”

“Are you hard right now?” 

“Yeah, so hard for you.”

“Are you… touching yourself?” You ask Rafayel tentatively, feeling shy at being this vocally intimate for the first time.

“Of course I am.” 

Rafayel’s groans flood your core, tingles radiating throughout your lower belly, leaving you squirming in your seat. You don’t care that you might stain your couch with your arousal. All you care about at the moment is Rafayel’s desire for you.

“Fuck, play with yourself for me.”

“You mean my clit?” “Yeah. Imagine I’m touching you, and touch yourself for me.”

You press a trembling finger to your clit, rubbing it in a circle, feeling your nerves burn. You close your eyes, imagining it’s Rafayel stroking you. You moan with each pass, the fire in your core growing hotter.

“God, I wish I could see you touching yourself.” Rafayel’s grunting quietly. 

You can barely hear his grunts over the phone under your own moaning, but the sound is only adding to the throbbing growing between your thighs. “I wish you were here.”

“Me too, baby. Me too,” Rafayel croons. “Are you dripping yet?”

You slide your finger through your slick folds, toying with your opening. “Tons. I’m so ready for you.”

“Grab my dick.”

You grasp his dick-shaped dildo in your hand.

“I enter you slowly, sinking in all the way until I’m filling you entirely. Can you feel me?”

“Ngh.” The sensation of his dick filling you leaves you gasping, your walls sucking his replica in. “You’re so big.” You’re panting already, delighted at how much he’s stretching you out.

“God, I can almost feel you.”

“Are you sure you’re really this big normally?”

“Seriously? I’ll remind you just how big I am when I get home, multiple times. Now focus.” Rafayel sulks, his pout reaching you though you’re unable to see the expression on his face. 

You grin wickedly hearing your boyfriend flounder. “Multiple times. You promised.”

“Honestly,” he huffs, his voice strangled on the other end of the line. “I should cancel the rest of this trip and come home right now.”

“But you can’t,” you hum in faux sympathy.

Rafayel growls impatiently. “I thrust into you. Follow me, baby. Fuck yourself with my cock. Pretend I’m there fucking you.”

You pump the dildo furiously, the silicone dragging on your walls. Your body remembers your boyfriend’s shape, your walls greedily dragging him in deep. 

“Put the phone by your pussy. I want to hear it.”

You place the phone on the couch by your gyrating hips hoping the sounds of his replica entering and exiting you carry through. “Can you hear it?”

Rafayel sharply inhales, which he then exhales in a low, guttural groan. “Fuck. Oh, fuck, that’s good.” 

Desperate for more, you reach your other hand down to probe your engorged clit. Your eyes roll back in your head, ecstatic moans ripping from your throat, his name falling off your tongue.

“Say my name, cutie.”

“Rafayel,” you moan, drawing out the syllables of his name.

Hearing his name on your lips excites Rafayel, and you hear the slapping of his fist against his pelvis accompanied by the sound of skin against skin. He’s groaning, the pace of his pumping growing into a feral frenzy. “Are you… are you close?”

“Mmhmm…” Your butt lifts off the couch, all the muscles in your legs tensing from the electricity building in your core. “Close, so close.”

“Cum for me,” Rafayel commands.

You let go, the shockwaves of your ecstasy washing over you in waves, a passionate cry bursting from your chest. “Rafayel.” Feeling your walls convulse around Rafayel’s replica, you repeatedly cry out his name.

Rafayel follows soon after, his utterances of ‘fuck’ making you smile in your blissed out state. You sink to the soft cushions below you without pulling out the toy Rafayel sent you.

“Did you make a mess?” Rafayel’s voice floats to you, twinkles of laughter evident in the satisfied exhaustion.

“When have I ever not with you?” You sweetly chuckle, curling up next to the phone now by your head.

“Heh… we’ll have to make a mess together then when I’m back.”

You hum, smiling as you close your eyes. “I need to inspect how big you are compared to your dildo. I seriously still think you may have augmented yourself a bit.”

“This again? Cutie, I promise you I really am that–”

You shake with laughter at Rafayel’s indignant protests, interrupting him to say “I prefer the real you. I miss you.”

“Me too. One more week, and I’ll be home.”

“I may need to sleep with Little Rafayel until you get back.”

“Don’t replace me with him!” Rafayel falls silent, and in a little voice adds, “Please.” 

You shake your head. “Never. Only when you’re not here.”

“Good.” Rafayel clicks his tongue. “I have to go, I’m supposed to attend some dinner soon, but I gotta clean up first.”

You whine feeling empty at the prospect of having to hang up the phone. You hear Rafayel sigh from the other side.

“I’ll try to call you soon,” he murmurs, feeling forlorn himself. “Keep Little Rafayel on hand for when I do. I’ll make it up to you.”

“You better,” you tease, covering up how much you loathe to let him go.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Rafayel hangs up the phone. You stare morosely at your phone again, but this time, you feel a little less lonely knowing that you have a little piece of him – as reminded by the feeling of him inside you – to keep you company until he returns.

[wandasaura]

EVEN STATUES CRUMBLE

summary — when exhaustion creeps up on you after a long week, you find yourself coming undone quickly. luckily, maria’s there to hold you close and put all of your broken pieces back together

warning(s) — hurt/comfort, elements of fluff, domestic maria hill, platonic blackhill, brief mentions of battle, civilian casualties, and death, sleepy natasha being a softie, maria fixing all of your problems because that’s just what she does

The keycard attached to the waistband of your pants got you into pretty much anywhere aboard the helicarrier; one of the very few perks that came with being a Level Ten agent alongside Nicholas J. Fury. You adored your livelihood, that wasn’t even a question you graveled over on your busiest days – you wouldn’t sacrifice so many nights if you didn’t – however, with being so high on the ladder of ranks came the inevitable burnout when paperwork and mission reports piled up; which they inevitably always did despite your meticulous schedule and borderline obsessive work ethic. You delegated the workload of ten other agents on the daily, usually without so much as breaking a sweat, but a particular mission report from a Level Six had gotten to you in a moment of exhaustion. 

Your boots were the same Shield issued footwear that everyone else wore around the helicarrier, clunky and steel toed with near indestructible black laces, but your footsteps were light as you padded down the dimly lit hallway toward an office you’d practically adopted as your own since the director had found himself another right-hand woman. There was no point in knocking when you reached it after what felt like hours of slowly trudging down void hallways, you were the only one with clearance to enter without being physically let in, other than Fury himself, but he’d never turn up to her office, especially not so late into the night. The soft glow of a desk lamp creeping beneath the crack in the door alerted you of life inside the spacious room, and a faint smile pulled at your lips despite your exhaustion and wary emotions. 

A small light on the side of the metal door flashed green for only a millisecond before it faded and the latch clicked tellingly. You bristled at the assault of frigid air that swept past you when you pushed inside tiredly, but steeled your expressions quickly when your eyes trailed over the room and noted not one, but two bodies. A displeased huff fell off of your lips when you noticed Maria behind her desk, a mountain of paperwork practically hiding her from view entirely, and Natasha sprawled out on her couch with a solemn glaze over her green eyes. 

“She’s in my spot.” You sighed, no real malice behind your words, but exhaustion put a damper on your typically lightspoken banter with the redhead. It seems both you and Natasha, a woman that had somehow wormed her way into the heart of the Deputy Director despite her bloodied past, had sought refuge in Maria’s quiet presence tonight, and you weren’t quite sure how to feel about it. You held nothing against the reformed assassin, she’d seen you at some of your worst moments, but you’d been holding out hope that a few stolen minutes with Maria alone would heal the ache you carried deep. 

Natasha, who was always quick with her wit, didn’t seem to have it in her either, and softly she allowed her voice to break the silence that had been light over the office prior to your entrance. “I can leave.” You shook your head dismissively, kicking the door closed behind you in favor of stalking over to Maria’s desk. 

Out of habit, the Commander tilted her screen away from your gaze, her dark yet meticulously kept eyebrows furrowing as you came behind her desk without hesitation. “I’m higher clearance than you, and Natasha’s been able to see everything you're doing from the couch, Ria.” You rolled your eyes fondly, hands bracing themselves on the back of her chair that you pulled away from the desk without taking her responsibilities into account. She had the same deadlines as you, only hers weren’t so structured and rigorous. You knew that anything she was doing could wait until morning, even if she liked to be overly prepared and considered anything but early a direct hit to her reputation. “Just hold me.” 

You fell into her lap without another word, curling up against her battered and stiff uniform that had definitely seen better days. Your head tucked itself into the pocket of darkness and warmth between her chin and shoulder, your fingers already working at the hair tie around her thin chestnut strands, wanting them free from the confines of her tightly secured bun. With the black elastic around your wrist, you sighed contently, absentmindedly pulling your fingers through the loose knots that had formed from your ungraceful removal of her hair tie. It was an apologetic gesture, the tips of your fingers soothing the skin of her scalp that had definitely been snagged with your quick movements, but Maria had become accustomed to your endearing quirks that almost always followed a vicious panic attack. 

“Romanoff, if you move from that couch, I will have you on Clint clean-up duty for the rest of the month.” Even if you couldn’t see the Russian from behind your eyelids, even if you were pressed so tightly against Maria’s neck that even with open eyes all you’d see was darkness, your body could practically feel her silent movements. It was a valid response, however you held her to a higher standard than you did other agents. Your girlfriend trusted her with her life, you’d made something of a friend out of her since her first year at Shield, it was slightly insulting that she thought she had to flee at the first sight of vulnerability from you. “I just… I just need a minute.” 

Even as you tried to pull rank, tried to command her obedience, Natasha could tell that your heart wasn’t in it. Whether to humor you, or simply because she didn’t really want to retreat to her own quarters, she sank into the couch once more, throwing her arm over her eyes as she succumbed to the same darkness that you sought out. A shaky breath fell off your lips when Maria’s thumbs dug into your shoulder blades, applying pressure to all of the knots and tension that had accumulated over the grueling week. You’d been unintentionally ghosting her, although neither of you really counted missed lunch dates and empty beds to mean anything significant, but the premise was all the same, even if she held no resentment toward your work ethic that was too similar to her own. 

“Diaz?” Maria’s voice was soft, understanding even, as she asked. Even the name of the agent had you going rigid in her clutches, a choked whimper falling off of your lips as you tightened your grip on her hair and worked feverishly to weave little braids into the silky chestnut strands that could do for a wash and deep condition. You’d have to remember to remind her next time she had a slow morning, but that wasn’t coming anytime soon for either of you. 

You nodded wordlessly against her neck, pinching your eyes shut even tighter if that was at all possible. You loved your job, adored the livelihood that you’d found a family in, but no amount of experience made reading civilian death counts easier. No amount of experience made loss any lighter. “Seventeen, Ria. Seventeen people died. It just– I haven’t seen a civilian death count that high since Sokovia.” 

In retrospect, seventeen people wasn’t a lot, not when you put it up against the battle of Sokovia that had earned Shield another foreign agent and an inconsolable migraine for months to follow, but when you analyzed the mission objective, when you stripped back everything that it was up against, it was still seventeen innocent people that had been caught in the crossfire. “We can’t save them all, mi alma.” It was a weak condolence, Maria knew that, but it was what you needed to hear, even if you detested it. Shield had saved twenty from a Hydra base in Madripoor, all of them no older than nineteen years old, but still seventeen people that were in the wrong place at the wrong time had died. Shield had saved twenty children, but still parents, and siblings, and people had lost their lives to do so. Was any good really done if the children who got to go home didn’t have a mother to help them through the trauma? Had any good really been done if a daughter didn’t have a father to come home to? 

“Eleven.” To Natasha, the number that fell off your lips was entirely random, but for Maria, who knew everything about you, down to the way you liked to tie your shoes, always starting with the left one first, it meant something more. Eleven people had died in an ambush the night that Nicholas J. Fury had swept you away from the rubble and into the empire that hadn’t been so publicly known at the time. Eleven people that you’d known, some loosely and some deeply intimately. Your single mother that had worked four jobs just to keep the electric on in the biting cold of winter had died, and you’d held her hand as she took her final breath, entirely helpless and terrified. Seventeen people had died in Madripoor, and depressingly, you could only picture yourself in the aftermath of such a tragedy. 

How many kids were going to come home from school without a parent? How many parents were going to come home from work without a child? The guilt of surviving weighed heavily on your heart, but it was exhaustion that pushed you past the point of thinking rationally. Madripoor had sung its praises to Shield after the initial battle just under a month ago. You’d seen the headlines, manned the press conferences, talked with the families that had wanted to reach out, but seeing that number in pristine black ink had rattled you fiercely. 

“When’s the last time you slept, bebé?” The softly spoken pet name was usually enough to bring a smile to your face no matter the conditions you faced, but it only had you sinking deeper into Maria now. Your heart felt so heavy in your chest, your bones felt so dense in your body, everything that you’d been managing had finally crushed you; just like the rubble had crushed your mother’s unsuspecting body on a side street in Manhattan when all she’d wanted to do was show you her new favorite coffee shop. 

“Don’t know… the last time I came home?” Your voice was meek, distant as you trailed through your memory trying to locate the date in your mind. You’d been home that Wednesday night, sank into bed beside Maria and held her close until she’d gotten up for her own shift, and had continued to sleep for another two hours before sunlight brought on more assignments and deadlines, but that was so fuzzy now, so long ago. You barely knew the date, but Maria did, and she sighed softly in confirmation. 

“It’s Friday, sweetheart.” She informed, her thumbs still digging into the spots of tension in your back, working out the knots and kinks that had you stiff beneath her touch. “You’re exhausted.” 

“And you’re not? I check the entry logs, Ria.” Your defiance was softly muttered, and Maria sighed her resignation. She hadn’t been home either, not since Thursday morning when she’d slipped out of your arms and left you to rest a while longer in a stiff bed dressed in scratchy sheets, but she’d taken the breaks she knew her body needed, even if it had been begrudgingly. The couch that Natasha was draped across had seen a similar form from her multiple times since then, even if the longest consecutive rest she’d gotten was merely half an hour. That was the difference between you both. Maria knew when she had to come first, even if she often waited until the very last second to actually step away from her tasks. You, on the other hand, saw everything else as a priority. That was what got you so high on the ranking ladder. That characteristic was one of many reasons why you alone shared the same ranking level as Fury. When shit needed to be done, he knew that you’d do it, no questions asked. But that blindsided work-ethic was going to kill you eventually. 

“You’ve slept once in the last week, mi amor.” Maria sighed, knowing that she was arguing with a wall at this point, but willing to put the effort in anyways. She was always willing to put the effort in for you, even if you couldn’t do it for yourself. Her hands caressed your back affectionately, slipping away from your shoulder blades only to put pressure on your spine, cracking the bones and notches in your back soothingly without spoken word. You sighed, deflating in her lap once again, craning your neck only to release some of the ache and tension in your jaw before you burrowed into her neck once more, still keeping fistfulls of her soft hair between your fingers that had been stained black from smudged ink. 

At some point, you must’ve fallen asleep against her, never slackening your grip on her chestnut tresses but grabbing onto the neckline of her uniform at an undisclosed moment. She hadn’t tried to move you, hadn’t tried to wake you, hadn’t tried to move at all. She’d simply sat in the silence of her office with Natasha’s easy company, shuffling through paperwork and mission reports, but getting no real work done, distracted by your warmth against her chest and the weight of you draped across her lap for the first time in days. When you woke a handful of hours later, the warmth of the sun and the light of a new day rousing you from an uneventful sleep – the level of exhaustion you faced preventing dreams from even playing out – you didn’t stiffen in alarmed surprise when you realized that strong arms were looped around your waist and keeping you steadily upright. Maria was a distinguishable presence even when you were half delirious, and a warm smile pulled at the corners of your lips as you laid a gentle kiss to the neglected patch of skin behind her earring-less earlobe. She really needed to start wearing her cartilage cuffs again, but the last one you’d gotten for her had been lost to a bloodied battle in Argentina. You made the mental note to get her another one sometime soon, but for now, you simply basked in the presence of her company that was so painfully warm and inviting. 

“You had Romanoff on edge last night.” Maria mused, her fingers tightening around your waist in a sweet wordless greeting, prematurely ending the reign of silence that you’d been enjoying, but you didn’t complain. The sound of her voice was just as inviting, if not more intoxicating than silence ever could be. 

“Even statues crumble every now and again.” You huffed against her neck, tightening your grip on her uniform if that was at all possible, allowing your gentle fingers to tickle the skin hidden from view that still carried the lingering scent of your body wash. “She’ll get over it.” 

“You really have to stop referring to yourself as a statue. The rookies are going to start thinking an alien attack sucked the emotions out of your body..” She chortled, breathy laughter twinged with traces of mental exhaustion jostling both of your bodies, and you couldn’t help the smile that twisted your dehydrated lips upward involuntarily in response. How you could spend so many days away from her never made sense when you were wrapped up in her presence, but it was reassuring to know that no matter the length of time that separated your passionate love, she would always be there to crawl home to. 

“As soon as you stop feeding into being called Hard-Ass Hill, I’ll stop fucking with the rookies.” Another chaste kiss was laid onto her skin, the second in too many days to count, but you’d make up for your absence before you inevitably returned to your own office to continue drowning in paperwork that never ended. “Te amo tanto.” You signed your unarguable admiration, but she wouldn’t be Maria Hill if she didn’t have a sharp comeback to silence your efforts. 

“Te amo mucho mas, mi alma.”

[moonchildstyles]

First time sex with rosemary 🌿

wordcount: 9k

—————

Wiping her floured hands on her apron, (Y/N) brushed her hair out of her face with her wrist before reaching towards her back pocket for her vibrating phone. Her lips curled into a soft smile seeing Harry's name on her screen, his contact featuring a photo of him sleepy-eyed next to his kitten in her bed had her smile stretching wider. Taking a quick glance at the time, she was sure he'd just made it back to his apartment after finishing up at the grocery store. 

Quickly, she peeled her gloves from her hands and peeked out into the storefront of the bakery. Just as she had left it a handful of minutes before, there weren't any patrons now that the morning rush had passed, leaving Sabrina tucked behind the desk with her book folded open. 

"Hey, I'm going to take my fifteen really quick. Is that okay?" As soon as Sabrina gave her the go ahead with a wave of her hand with her eyes still stuck to her book, (Y/N) was answering the call with a tap of her thumb. "Harry?" she greeted, stepping out back of the bakery for a bit of privacy in the mid-morning air. 

"Hi, peach," he murmured through the receiver, voice drooping and soft, "Is it alright that I called you? I know you're still working, so." 

"Your timing was perfect, actually," she told him, knowing he was probably more worried than he was letting on for fear of having ruined her day, "Everything just cleared out from this morning, and I needed a break." 

"Yeah? Long shift already?" he pressed, the sound of sheets shuffling on the other side with a petite meow chirping through. 

"A little bit, yeah," she sighed, wishing she was wrapped up in warm sheets with Harry and Rosemary, "Just one of those Sunday morning shifts, you know. How was your night, though? Work was okay?" 

"Yeah," he said, the syllable floating out on a long suffering sigh, "Theo and Brett were still annoying, but I think Fawn is going to cover one of my shifts this week." 

(Y/N) immediately perked up at the new information. She'd been urging him to take some time off this past month; he didn't have to work himself to the bone anymore, not now that his issues from back home had been resolved. It was unhealthy, she'd told him more than once—he would make himself sick with more than just exhaustion if he wasn't careful. 

"Really? What day?" she bubbled off, ready and willing to shift her own schedule around if he wanted. 

"Thursday." 

She could hear the smile in his voice as he uttered the words. He knew what reaction he was going to get. 

"Are you serious?" she beamed, bouncing on the soles of her feet, "You have the whole weekend off then?" 

"I do, yeah. So do you." 

"Harry," she bleated, "I'm so excited! We haven't had any time together I feel like, and now we get a whole weekend! Thank you!" 

"That's what I was thinking when I made my request; barely seen you this past week. 'S not fair." 

"It's not," she affirmed, "You haven't even been able to sleep over since Friday. I'm not used to that." 

"Me neither, peach," he murmured, his tone decidedly more somber than just a moment before though she understood where he was coming from. 

Ever since their impromptu road trip, they tended to have as many sleepovers as their schedules would allow. Besides the comfort that came along with being at each other's side—especially in the case of Harry's frequent nightmares—, it was hard to forget how much they liked sharing a bed and sitting down for meals together. 

"Did you want to do anything special?" she prompted, already racking her brain for anything that Harry would enjoy leaving the house for. 

"I've got to go to the library at some point," he mused, another chirping meow sounding from the background prompting a huff of laughter to leave his lips, "But, other than that, I was hoping I could catch up on m'sleep." 

"We can do that," (Y/N) decided, shifting her view of the days off to turn into cozy sheets and breakfasts in bed, "A weekend long sleepover. We'll make a thing of it." 

"Yeah?" Harry asked, a smile audible in his tone—a vision that had (Y/N)'s chest warming. "How are we gonna do that?" 

She hummed, sifting through her ideas before landing on a few to share, "Probably movies if we have the attention span for it—if not, we can read together or something. We can do face masks too—Ooh, or I'll get another of that hair mask you like. Let me think, but I have some ideas." 

"'M sure y'do, peach," he murmured, his voice decidedly lower and slower than before, sleep vining around the edges of his words, "Whatever y'want, we'll do. I trust you." 

"I'll make sure we make a thing of it, H," she told him, reluctant to say her next words but knowing he needed to get as much sleep as he could manage, "I've got to get back to the ovens, but I'll text you when I'm off." 

"Yeah?" he mumbled, "Tell me when y'get home?" 

"You've got it," she smiled, feeling the winter sun warm on her cheeks, "Goodnight, H."

"Goodnight, peach." 

With that, (Y/N) ended the call. Hopefully, he would be able to sleep through the rest of her shift at least. He just needed to get through the next few days, then he'd have some time off to spend at her gingerbread house. 

The thought had that soft curl on her lips feeling permanent. She would have to remind him how proud she was that he was taking a couple of days off, the time well-deserved. 

Just like she said, she would make a thing of it, she only had to figure out what a thing for Harry looked like. 

—————

With Rosemary wriggling in his arms, Harry nearly fumbled his keys to the ground while on (Y/N)'s stoop. She was a calm little thing nearly any other time of the day, but as soon as they were at (Y/N)'s door, Rosie couldn't settle. 

Keeping his hold on her tight, he was able to finally stumble through the door before letting her spill out of his arms. Her feet pattered over the hardwood, beelining for the kitchen just as he knew she would. Harry could only shake his head as he kicked off his shoes by the door, setting them next to (Y/N)'s under the foyer table. He couldn't stay mad, though, especially not when he heard the familiar cooing of his peach filtering down the hall. 

"Where's your daddy, Rosie?" (Y/N) crooned, voice a soft murmur through the house, "We've got to talk to him about how hungry you are when you come over. Is he not giving you enough treats?"

Following the sound of her voice, Harry's lips curled instinctively into a soft smile when he spotted (Y/N) crouched next to his kitten, fingers massaging through her fur. There was a part of him that wanted to peer out the small window above her sink, ensuring no one was watching in—a part of him that he forcefully tamped down in favor of reveling in the sight of his stitched family. 

"You know I feed her," he drawled, leaning against the threshold of the entrance, "I don't know why she acts like this when we come over." 

It was the way (Y/N)'s features seemingly bloomed when she looked up at him. Her hand absently continued petting Rosemary, but it was clear all of her attention was splashed upon him. It was when her eyes were on him with nothing but adoration that had Harry happily anchored to the moment, warm and comfortable in his skin. He hoped he was able to make her feel that way when he looked at her. 

"Hey, H," she smiled, giving one last stroke to Rosie before she was standing to her feet and crossing the kitchen towards him, "I was going to ask you how work was, but you're on vacation." 

"I am, aren't I?" he mused, collecting her into his arms.

(Y/N) looped her arms around his neck while he hugged her around her middle, face cradled into the crook of her neck. His eyes fell closed reflexively, his chest expanding as he pulled in a deep breath. The sugary scent of her skin filled his lungs, her hair tickling his nose. 

"Are you excited?" she asked, trailing her fingers up and into his hair as she drew away. 

Matching her eyes, her question drifted away in favor of tipping forward and pressing a kiss to her lips. A giggled out his name against his mouth, muttering something about answering her, though Harry didn't pay it any mind. He focused on the give of her lips under his, the seam parting when she eventually melted into him. Her hands in his hair was a warming tether, keeping him from drifting out of her pastel kitchen. 

It was her that pulled away first, cutting off his indulgences earlier than he liked. He attempted to chase after her, craning his neck with puckered lips, though that only granted him a peal of her laughter fluttering between them. 

"Not in front of Rosie, H," she teased, unwrapping from his arms to move towards the stove where a warm oven and bubbling pan had gone unnoticed before. 

Harry stood back, watching as she stirred and tasted and adjusted, clicking on the light in her oven to take a peek inside. No matter how many times he'd offered to make dinner, take care of her meals—told her that he liked cooking, even—she had insisted that she wanted to take care of him, take one worry off of his plate. When she put it that way, he didn't feel like fighting with her. 

"She's seen worse, peach," he countered, leaning over the peninsula counter with his forearms flat on the surface. He had a perfect view into the domestic dream that was his (Y/N), complete with a bow in her hair despite the mess of a bun on the top of her head. 

A small laugh fell from her lips as she looked over her shoulder at him, "Maybe, but we shouldn't encourage it. Dinner's almost ready anyway, so we don't need to be distracted." 

"Yeah? What'd y'make?" He could see just the edges of something creamy in the pot she was stirring.

"Sabrina's family is visiting, and her dad gave me this recipe for stuffed shells with all this cheese and, like, spinach and stuff. I thought we'd try it out." She gave him a beaming smile when she finished whatever she was stirring, taking it off of the burner with the timer on the oven ticking down to less than two minutes. 

"That sounds really nice, love. Thank you. I've got dishes tonight." 

"Harry." A small scold—as expected.

"(Y/N)," he responded in the same arguing tone as she, "You're letting me—and my cat—stay here all weekend, 'm not letting us leave a mess here for you too. 'S alright." 

This was one of those things he didn't allow much room for argument on. It was one of those things—fear of feeling like a burden—that had come with the years on the run while attempting to ensure his impact was never felt. He was working on it, sure, but the least he could do for all of (Y/N)'s kindness was taking care of the dishes. 

"Okay," she relented, eyes rounding out as she looked up at him, "Just not tonight, though. I have something special for you after dinner." 

He did recall her saying something about making this weekend a thing for him, he just didn't really know what exactly that meant. "And, what's that?" 

A sheepish look crossed her face, softening her features and lining her eyes. "It's kind of silly, but I got some fun bath things and, like, candles and stuff. I wanted to make everything a little special tonight since it's your first extra, real day off in a long time." 

The longer she went on explaining herself, Harry could feel his own lips curling into a small smile. "Really?" he asked when she finally took a breath. 

"Yeah," she started, dropping her eyes from his, "But, you don't have to use them or anything if you don't want to. I know it might not really be your thing, and all." 

"Love," he crooned, the petname falling from his lips just for her to hear, "Thank you. That sounds really nice actually—don't remember the last time I took a bath like that. 'M always too worried about the water running cold." 

(Y/N)'s expression brightened at his words. "I'm excited for you to see all the stuff I got for you, then. But only after dinner—and dessert."

"Dessert?" 

"Of course dessert," (Y/N) smiled, moving back to the oven on the brink of beeping, "But that's a surprise." 

It was the way she looked at him before she gave her attention to the oven and baking pasta, how bubbly she seemed over something as simple as a surprise sweet for him to have at the end of the meal. That was what had him all but melting into the countertop. She could have fed him garbage and left him to soak in an ice bath and he'd be just as happy—all he needed was for her to keep looking at him like that. 

—————

"Are y'sure y'don't want me to do the dishes tonight?" 

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, pulling out of Harry's embrace to head towards the kitchen and the plates waiting by the sink. "Yes, I'm sure, H. I want you to relax this weekend, I don't mind doing a couple of plates." 

"But—" 

"No," (Y/N) cut him off, plugging the sink before beginning to fill the basin with soapy water, "As soon as I get this ready, we're going to my bathroom and I'm showing you all the stuff I got for you, and then you're going to not think about the kitchen again for the rest of the night." 

"I'm not?" he asked, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips at her insistence. Sometimes it was fun to argue with her for no other reason than he liked to see her put her foot down with a smoke to her gaze. 

He thought it was cute.

"Nope. Not even for a second." Amusement covered her own features by the time she cut the tap and turned to face him. "C'mon." 

With that, she flitted out of the kitchen with socked feet padding over the flooring. She didn't have to look back to know Harry was following. 

Tailing her through the house with his gaze carefully landing on the round of her hips as they swayed with her steps, she took him to her bathroom. There, on the counter, was a brown paper bag with a white painted logo on the front. A gifting ribbon had the handles tied together on top,  a tag with his name dangling from the tendril. 

In presentation, (Y/N) stood off to the side of the counter, a beaming smile on her face as she flourished her hands out. "Happy free weekend." 

"What's this, hm?" he hummed, stepping over the tile with his gaze narrowed teasingly in her direction. 

"Your bath stuff," she said, practically bouncing in her spot as he began reluctantly untying the bow. He wanted to keep it perfect—he couldn't remember the last time he received a gift, especially one like this. 

Harry could feel his eyes on her as he began digging through the bag. Floating on top were two powdery spheres, striped in alternating colors with dried flowers stamped inside. He settled them gently on the counter, his hands coming away with remnants of the sweet smelling dust. 

"They're bath bombs," (Y/N) piped up, "They're those things that dissolve in the water and make it colorful with all these nice skin things in them. The purple one is lavender and sage, and the blue one is lotus and jasmine."

Smiling at her explanation, he reached back inside the bag. A glass bottle filled with sweet smelling oil was his next find, the wax seal corking it closed having dripped its way down to the label. He could smell the warm, floral notes from here, even with the contents sealed away. Looking at the simple label wrapped around the thick of the bottle, he looked up at her with raised brows. 

"Massage oil?" 

It was the way she hesitated that had his lips stretching into a smile. "Its—I—It doesn't have to be used for that. It can just be a nice body oil if you want, but I... I mean if you want a massage, I could use that, so." 

So far, this was his favorite gift from her reaction alone. He settled it with a clink next to the bath bombs. "I'll keep that in mind." 

Next in line was a candle, standing tall in a cold glass voice in the bag. Pulling it out, the four wicks were sealed away with the help of the suctioned lid, showing off the marbling of the wax tucked inside. It was a swirling jade color, complete with lapping white streaks to emulate the gemstone. Under the just right light, he could see bursts of glitter suspended inside. The label boasted a vanilla sage scent, surely meant to match the sage bath bomb he'd picked up earlier. 

"Peach," he smiled, looking at his gifts spread out on the counter for him, "These are so nice, than—" 

"There's more," she bubbled, unable to contain herself this time, "At the bottom." 

He raised a brow but dug inside like she suggested. At the bottom, his fingertips brushed something smooth and flat. Getting his fingers around it, Harry already had a good idea of what he was pulling out, a smile spreading over his features and denting his cheeks with dimples. 

It was a book—one of his favorites from the library. One he had loved enough that he wished he had his own copy to keep him company—something he had told (Y/N). The cover was the black and white with splashes of red, the artwork glossier than what he had borrowed from the library. The spine was uncracked, kept in pristine condition—just the way he liked it.

"I know you've already read it, but I thought you might want to read a little again while you take your bath," (Y/N) mused at his side, her hands in a fumbling bundle before her. 

"(Y/N)," Harry sighed, looking up from his new, personal edition, "This is all wonderful, really. Thank you, so much." 

With his book still in hand, he collected her in his arms, tucking her against his chest. While he wasn't one hundred percent sure what all of the things he had received were, it was more than warming to think about her perusing a shop with him in mind, plucking things up with the intention of sharing them only with him. 

"I know it's all kind of silly, but I'm happy you like it," she murmured into his shoulder, the curl of her smile felt against the cuff. 

"'S not silly," he told her, drawing back just enough to get a look in her eyes, "I can't remember the last time anyone has done anything like this for me. I really like all of it, (Y/N). Thank you." 

Tipping his chin, he pressed his lips to hers, hoping she felt his words as much as she heard them. He felt eased when her lips molded into a soft smile. 

"I'm happy I could change that," she cemented, beginning to untangle himself from his hold, "I'll leave you to it, then. Take as long as you want, I'm just going to clean up and we'll go to bed—" 

"You're not staying with me?" 

How was he supposed to enjoy all of these trinkets and things without her there? What was the point of a sage candle and glittery bath bomb if she wasn't going to be indulging with him? 

(Y/N) stopped in her tracks, one foot out of the bathroom. "Oh—um, no? I was going to go clean the kitchen and things, remember?" 

"Yeah, but," he started, watching to reach out and keep her on the tiled floor with him, "can y'do that later?" 

"Do you want me to?" was her simple response. 

Harry nodded. "Yeah." 

Her features were warm, taking a step back into the bathroom with him. "Then, I'll do it later." 

It didn't take long for their clothing to be shed, lying in a lumpy file on the floor with the tub filled to the brim with steaming water. Harry had chosen the lavender bomb to be placed in the water, (Y/N) all too excited to show him the magic of the fizzy powder. She had urged him to sink in first, her gaze following the lines of his body before she had gone after him. 

Harry wrapped his arms around her as she sunk into him, his chest to her back. The steaming water rippled around them, scenting the air with crisp lavender and warming sage. Every deep breath he took had the bunching in his muscles lessening and lessening until he was lax with (Y/N) in his hold. He could feel her every breath, the expanding of her chest that pressed back into him, the brush of her hair drifting through the surface of the water and tickling his skin, the careful way she had her hands laying atop his own where they were threaded over the soft of her stomach. It was easy for his eyes to shutter closed with his head tipping back against the rim of the tub. 

It was almost enough to keep him from acknowledging the curve of her body pressed against his cock.

Now wasn't the time though, he starkly reminded himself, taking in a deep breath of the calming lavender. She had wanted to relax with him, not get felt up with a dick pressing against her ass. 

"Do you like it?" 

The sound of (Y/N)'s crooned words had him blinking his eyes open. He wasn't even hard yet, how could she know that he was already talking himself down? 

"What?"

"The bath bomb," she laughed, oblivious, "You said you've never used one before, right?" 

"Oh," he sounded, exhaling finally, "Yeah. 'S nice—it smells really nice. I could fall asleep in here.”

Twisting in his arms, (Y/N) shot him a beaming smile over her shoulder. "I have before—I don't recommend." 

"Yeah?" he smiled, much more willing to focus on this anecdote than on the way the shifting of her body hit points on him he would have rather ignored for the time being. 

"Oh yeah," she cemented, shaking her head, "I only woke up when I felt water going up my nose 'cause I started slipping." 

Though she laughed off the remark, a frown settled on Harry's lips. "Y'almost drowned? (Y/N)..."

Her name came out as a scold, one that had her letting out another peal of laughter. "No, I didn't drown, H—" 

"You almost did," he pointed out. 

There were parts of him, traits that he gained during his years protecting his mother and sister, that were now woven into the fabric of his personality. Hearing (Y/N)'s story had that protective gene flaring up in him, urging him to hold her tighter, keep her at his side. He wouldn't let his mind wander to another version of events where she hadn't spasmed awake when the warm water touched her nose. 

His limbs became a warming cradle around her form, caging her to him lest the bathtub somehow raise tsunami waves and try to pull them apart. He pressed his lips to the back of her shoulder, speaking against the skin, "I don't like that." 

(Y/N) wiggled her hands underneath his, turning her palms up to match his own with her fingers threading between. "It's just a funny story, H. I'm fine—you know I don't take baths, like, ever, anyway." 

His brows pinched into a furrow. Sure, maybe he did know that. "Still," he grumbled.

Harry's petulance only served to draw another breath of laughter from her chest. 

She wriggled in his hold some, melting into him as she slid deeper into the water. The milky shaded water ripped around her, Harry keeping her close as she settled with her head resting against his shoulder. 

"I'm fine, Harry," she cemented, peeking up at him with an adoring smile on her features, "But, you're cute for worrying." 

Taking in a deep breath, he did nothing more than dropping another kiss to the cuff of her shoulder. He wasn't trying to be cute—he was protective. It was a part of his nature. 

Shuttering his eyes, Harry indulged himself and allowed his kissing to continue down her shoulder, only stopping when the lapping line of the water halted him. With his fingers laced between hers, he pulled her arm out of the pastel bath. He dotted his lips down the line of her limb, nose skimming her skin in his wake and raising goosebumps. A plume of laughter left his peach, the sound enough to have his own smile taking place as he fought to smear his lips over her skin. 

It wasn't until he was headed towards her wrist, landing on the soft underside of her arm that he slowed when he, through cracked eyes, spotted a slash that had made a home in her skin. It was small, though it looked only partially healed—still a warm red and slightly raised.

"What happened here?" he murmured, a pinch furrowing his brow. 

"Hm?" (Y/N) hummed dazedly, shuffling in his hold before spotting what had made him stop in the first place, "Oh, Rosie scratched me by accident." 

It was something so minor, completely mundane and curable. The scratch wouldn't even scar, and yet Harry still felt his shoulders deflate. He would have to remind Rosemary to be gentle with her mother—she was entirely too special, no need to have claws out when being held by her. 

He apologized for his cat with a small press of his lips to the cut. 

Under the cover of the pastel water, (Y/N) untangled her hand from his that was still laid against her stomach. He was left to feel the give of her plush skin under the pads of his fingertips while she carded her own through his hair. Though he attempted to continue the dotted affection of his kiss over her skin, he didn't stand much of a chance as he reveled under her touch. 

Maybe it was the brush of her nails against his scalp, or the slight give of her body under his hand, or just the fact that he could feel every line of her body against his own, but Harry felt his stomach tense then. It was minute and fleeting, but something he felt under the blocking muscles of his abdomen. 

He attempted to keep a lid on whatever that feeling could lead to by taking a deep breath, but that only reminded him of (Y/N)'s skin right under his nose and the fact that she had been the one to run him this bath and that was why she was naked, and warm, and wet, and pressed right against him, and that was why his hands were on her and—

"H?" 

Blinking his eyes open and drawing away from her, Harry looked up to match her wide eyes. "Hm?" 

There was something teasing on her expression, lighthearted in her eyes with a small tug edging on the corner of her mouth. "Are you okay? You weren't breathing for a second." 

"Oh," he sounded, mouth dry, "Sorry." 

She shook her head, murmuring something about him being funny or cute or something, but, admittedly, Harry didn't have an ear to lend at that moment as (Y/N) started moving around him. Wriggling out of his hold, Harry stayed still in the water as she maneuvered around until she deposited herself in his lap. Her thighs were spread to cushion his hips, her bottom settled on the thick of his thighs while her chest was flush against his. Only trickles of the lavender water were able to make their way between her breasts and the curves of her body, leaving her shimmering with the scented oil on her skin and suddenly warmer than the steaming water. 

Looking up at her, Harry took his time tracing the lines of her piled hair with the wet ends sticking to her skin, warm cheeks glowy and dewy, the soft light reflecting in her eyes from the candle she had lit and stationed behind their cuddled bodies. He felt breathless—reverent. 

It was never far from his mind just how deeply (Y/N) had impacted him. Without her, he never would have been knocked out of the daze that was his life—the cycle of never-ending loneliness and purposeless decisions. She had changed him in ways he was scared of, the ways that he had avoided for years because it was easier to stay the same. He didn't enjoy thinking of who he would be without her, where he would be. 

It was with that knowledge and the sight before him, that Harry wanted nothing more than to worship her and show her the purple that he had been given now that she was in his life. Religion wasn't anything that ever consoled him during his years on the run, but if the temples and altars had looked like her, the gods held her kind eyes and warming touch, he may have reconsidered. 

"You can touch me, you know." 

Dropping back to earth with a flutter of his eyes, he realized his hands were lax at his sides, careful to keep a distance from her skin. She had been the one to tie her arms around his neck, to keep their bodies close, while he had basked in the sight of her alone. 

"Sorry," he murmured, placing his palms on the full curve of her thighs. 

He skated them over her form, taking in the rounded edges of her body and warm skin. He'd touched her before, enough times to have mapped out every crook and groove, and yet, it still felt like the first time when he allowed him to feel. It would never get old knowing that he had someone like her that loved him enough to allow his hands to land on her. 

"Don't be sorry," she murmured, ducking her head until she planted a gentle kiss on his cheek. "I just don't want you to feel like you can't touch me—I'm yours, H, remember?" 

There was that stirring again in his stomach, that tensing in his muscles that felt much deeper and lower than he would have liked during a relaxing cuddle with his girlfriend. It was just the reminder, that declaration that got to him just like it always did. 

(It was a bit embarrassing, in Harry's opinion. Would it always be this easy to work him up? Would (Y/N) always be able to say a handful of words, let his hands wander to her hips, and then he would be done for?) 

"You're mine," he sighed, sinking deeper into the water. 

It was (Y/N)'s turn then to trail her lips over his skin, the pillows of her lips never fully lifting from his skin before she was planting another kiss. She went on with the tip of her nose smushing against the line of his jaw as she worked down to the column of his throat. He could feel himself growing harder and harder with every kiss, every brush of his hands over her body, until he was sure (Y/N) was well aware as well. Though she made it abundantly clear she didn't mind when she rocked her hips against his, his cock pressed against his stomach and the soft core between her thighs. 

A shuddering exhale caved his chest. 

"I'm yours," she crooned, the heat of her words fanning over his heated skin.

Her own arms wrapped around his neck began to drift, leaving only one tangled in the waves of his hair with the blunt of her nails tracing his scalp. Her touch skated down the length of his chest, her eyes settling into a daze as they followed the journey of her hand until it disappeared under the water. His abdomen jumped under her hand the lower she went until the heel of her palm grazed the plumped head of his cock.

He couldn't help the way he tossed his head back, leaning into the palm of her hand. His voice came out in a breath, "I want you so bad, peach, I'm so sorry." 

(Y/N) drew away just enough to match his eyes, her wandering hand settling against the middle of his chest. "Why are you sorry?" she asked with amusement in her eyes, a soft smile on her lips as she shook her head, "You don't have to be sorry." 

"Jus'" he started, focusing on the sight of her as opposed to the weight of her form and warmth of her skin against him, "I don't... Don't want to ruin tonight since you're already doing so much, and you're only trying to relax and 'm reacting like this and—" 

She cut him off with her lips pressing against his, the edges of her mouth unable to fall in line with her kiss as she fought back a smile. "Do you think I don't want you, too, right now? If I didn't, I wouldn't be climbing all over you, H—or trying to get you to take me back to my room." 

Shifting on his lap once more, (Y/N) emphasized her point with a small roll of her hips against him, her warmth grazing over his length. 

His hands on her waist tensed, denting into her flesh with stern fingertips. Was she asking for what he hoped—what he'd been wanting but was too fearful to ask for in worry of pushing her?

His mouth felt dry as he took in her features, watching as something heated lingered in her irises. "A-Are y'sure?" he mumbled, unwilling to misread the conversation. (Y/N) loved taking care of him, he never wanted her to think he was intending to take advantage of that. 

Carding her fingers through his hair, the tip of her tongue peeked out from between her lips to run along the seam. "I've really missed you, H. It's not always enough just to call you before I fall asleep, you know. It's not the same as actually having you." 

A spark pinged in his chest at her words, the memories they dredged up. A couple of times over the last week with his busy schedule, they'd spent some extra time on the phone before (Y/N) fell asleep for the night and Harry worked through an especially long shift. He knew exactly what she meant: now that he knew what it was like to be touched by her, his own hand, his own fantasies paled so starkly in comparison it was almost embarrassing. 

"I can take care of you, peach. 'M sorry I haven't been doing m'job, but I'll make it up to you," he crooned, tipping his head in hopes of pulling her in for a kiss, "Y'want m'mouth or m'fingers, love?" 

It was only when she shook her head that he paused. That hand trapped between their bodies made a deliberate graze down his body until she skated her fingertips over his length, the ruddy head twitching over her touch. "I want you," she corrected, "Don't you want to fuck me?" 

Maybe it was the fact she rarely cursed, or just how intensely she was meeting his eyes, or the feel of her grabbing his cock, but Harry could have blown it all right then. His throat felt thick as he attempted to swallow down the moan building in his chest. His eyes were hooded, a vignette forming around his view of her. 

It would be so easy to sink inside her, split open her walls and make a home between them. All he needed was to shift his hips just right, and then he would be taking advantage of her spread legs and the slick around them. But, his worry of disappointing her—leaving her unsatisfied—held him back. 

His mouth felt dry by the time he found his voice. "I—um—(Y/N)," he started, unsure of how exactly to divulge the information in him, "'S been a while since I've—..." 

He wasn't sure what he was expecting her reaction to be, but he gladly took the small kiss she offered him, sealing his lips to hers. "How long?" 

"Since before everything," he sighed, allowing himself to sink into her kiss and the brush of her mouth against his, "I don't want to... leave y'unsatisfied if 'm not... good." 

That had her lips curling against his, a cluster of small kisses being pressed to the full of his lips before she pulled away. "It's going to be good before it's you, H. I'm not worried—I love you, remember?" 

Was it normal for him to feel his cock pulse at her declaration? Or was he really that easy? 

"I love you, too," he slurred before taking her mouth against his once more. It was messy and heavy, clumsy and unsure, but he didn't care. "I want to fuck you so bad, peach. Can I?" 

All it took was a soft nod of her head before he had his arms lacing underneath the thick of her thighs with the water splashing around the tub. He held her tight, grip stern as he stood tall in the pastel water. (Y/N) let out a bubbling laugh, clinging to him with a gasp as if he would ever drop her. 

With her pressed tightly to his chest, his cock was now fit snugly between the planes of his abdomen and the soft folds between her legs. Water sluiced down his form, a chill befalling his skin now that they'd left the steaming pool behind, though that had no effect on just how hard he was for his peach. 

"We didn't have to right away," (Y/N) laughed, fingers denting the broad of his shoulders, "If you weren't done—" 

"'M done," he cemented, dropping her onto the bounce of her mattress with only a small amount of guilt at getting so much water on her sheets. He'd change them for her later. "You're m'favorite way to relax, peach—don't need all the rest." 

Laid on the center of her bed with her skin gleaming and warm, scented so sweetly from their bath, Harry had a new level of respect for his self-control. But, that was in the past now, left in the bathroom along with the droplets of water on the floor and the candle he would have to remember to blow out before they fell asleep. 

Crawling on the mattress with his cock heavy between his legs, he fit his body between her spread legs, reveling in the plush of her thighs on either side of his hips. (Y/N) reached for him on instinct, looping her arms around his neck with the curls on the back of his neck dampening against her skin. 

"Hi, you," she murmured, a bubbly smile on her lips as if she hadn't just asked him to fuck her a moment ago. 

He could only shake his head, dropping a kiss to the bridge of her nose as he situated himself above him with his forearms stationed on either side of her head. "Hi, peach. What are you up to, hm?" 

"Nothing much," she laughed, hitching a thigh over his lip in a languid move to thrust him forwards. "You?" 

Harry's voice was stilted in his throat, feeling her slick folds give around his cock when his length split through. He could feel the minute pulsing of her clit against his base. "Jus' worried 'm not gonna last very long at all, nothing important," he attempted to joke, if only to feel of plume of her laughter fill the air. 

Instead, he garnered a smearing of (Y/N)'s lips against his own, her affection tender and lingering. "Don't worry about that," she urged him, "I don't care—I just want you to feel good." 

A furrow pinched his brow, his heart rattling when she rocked her hips underneath him as if it wasn't already hard enough to concentrate. "But, I want y'to feel good too, and—" 

"I will as long as you do," she reiterated, amusement sparking in her blown pupils, "I don't care if you finish early, just finish in me, that's all I ask." 

Harry couldn't contain the moan in his throat, the rumbling falling from his throat as he rested his forehead against hers with shuttered eyes. He could feel a bead of warm precum blurting from his tip, dripping to land on the soft of (Y/N)'s stomach with a pulse. 

"You're going to kill me," he murmured, not sure if he was speaking for her to hear, "D-Do y'need me to do anything f—" 

Cutting him off with a kiss, (Y/N) slipped her tongue between his lips only to offer a quick taste before she was pulling away once more. "You can feel how wet I am, right?" 

As if he could forget with the way she was pressed against the underside of his cock, the ridge of his head tight between their stomachs. He answered with a small nod. 

"Y-You're sure, then?" he murmured, attempting to tap into that self control he had back in the tub. 

"I want you, H," she assured, nothing teasing or urgent in her voice, only sincerity, "As long as you're ready, I am, too. It's just me—you don't have to worry." 

His only response came in the form of a small kiss and a declaration: "I love you, (Y/N)." 

"I love you too," she smiled into his kiss, a small roll of her hips turning his brain to mush. 

His breathing was strained as he reached between their bodies, his fist wrapping around his shaft. Looking down, he watched as she spread her thighs that much wider as he swiped his cock between her folds. She was sticky and wet, clinging to the width of him as he split her open enough for his head to kiss her clit. He could see the jump of her muscles, the small whine that chirped from her lips, but he couldn't seem to stop himself—especially when a thread of her slick stuck to him, only bowing and breaking when he reached his cock towards his stomach, too far for the string to extend. 

"Harry, please," she quietly pleaded with him.

The sound of her voice was just enough to knock him back into the universe. It was enough to remind him that this wasn't the main event, there was even more warmth and wetness to be explored. 

Pressing the tip of his cock to her opening, he held himself steady as he pressed his hips forward. It was a tight squeeze, a feeling that took his breath away. As much as he wanted to catch (Y/N)'s expressions, see exactly what she looked like as he sunk inside her for the first time, he couldn't seem to peel his eyes away from the sight of his cock fitting inside her core. With every stretch of his length pushing through, less and less coherent thought filtered through his head. 

Instead, all he could think about was the snug fit of her walls around him, the pulsing with every heartbeat, just how wet she was, the warmth that enveloped him and welcomed him deeper and deeper. By the time he bottomed out, his mouth had fallen into a gape and his arm propping him up was now shaky. His only anchor was the grip he moved to have on her hip, his palm slick and sticky from fisting his cock though he didn't have it in him to care. 

He really, really hoped (Y/N) meant it when she said she wouldn't mind if he blew it fast; he doubted he had much longer left, and he'd only just sunk inside. 

"Y'alright, peach?" he breathed, his words fanning across her skin when he finally looked up to reach her eyes. 

Looking at him with hooded eyes, the pupils wide, (Y/N) gave him her confirmation in the form of a jerky nod. "I'm okay," she mumbled, "Are you?" 

"'M good," he said, feeling drunk despite not a single drop of alcohol even being present in (Y/N)'s home, "'M so good, peach. 'M scared 'm too good." 

"It's okay," she smiled at him, if only a bit dazed when she threaded her fingers through his damp curls, "Just do whatever makes you feel good—that's enough for me." 

He wished he could have told her how much her affection meant to him, how he couldn't believe she loved him the way she did, how there was no one who had such an effect on him, but there was no way his tongue was going to follow any kind of command let alone any train of thought to actually form. Instead, he settled for a searing kiss against her already swollen lips. 

Though he doubted he would have any chance at composure, he still attempted to catch his breath and his brain before he reared his hips back for the first time. Pulling out of her warm channel was enough to add some form of clarity to his mind, though it didn't last long before he pushed forward in a shallow thrust. Her walls welcomed him in once more, warm and snug with every ridge forming around him in a pulse. (Y/N)'s thighs tensed around his hips, a slight tremor to her muscles though she managed to let out a sigh of pleasure against his kiss. 

"Fuck, peach," he murmured when he bottomed out once more, the crown of his length tapping her furthest walls. 

A furrow had his brows pinched though his eyes remained closed, even when he couldn't manage to kiss her anymore, his lips simply resting against her own parted ones. He shared panted breaths with her, his forehead resting on her own with (Y/N)'s fingers curling in his hair. 

Though the pace was slow, he was able to curate a rhythm that kept him from finishing right away. He didn't feel too far from the edge, but this was as good of a chance as he was going to get when she felt as good as she did. 

"H-Harry," she whined, her voice breathy and airy, "You're so big." 

His hips stuttered at her words, the previously shallow thrust he was working on turning into a harsh grind against her core. The jolt had another moan rumbling her chest with a curse falling from Harry's lips. 

"Y'can't say that, peach," he murmured, unable to keep his pacing, "You're gonna make me cum and we've barely started." 

Every stroke was indulgent, lingering when he wanted, harsh and deep when he changed his mind, anything and everything to his taste. His only chance was in moving his hand from her hip and shaky positioning it between his punishing hips and her forgiving core. At the apex of her folds, her clit pearled. Though his hand was shaky, he still managed to smear the pad of his thumb against the bud, feeling the budding pulse that matched the hammering of her heart. 

Suddenly coming to light, (Y/N) managed to bring him in for a kiss. It was sloppy and clumsy, leaving their lips swollen and teeth glancing off one another, but there wasn't any room for perfection. 

Harry needed her, that was all he knew. His stomach tightened with every thrust, his balls shining with her slick with every slap against her ass. (Y/N)'s thighs were warm and tight on either side of his pelvis, unwilling to let him venture too far before accepting him back inside. 

"(Y/N)," he panted, shaking his head, "P-Peach, 'm so sorry." 

"Don't be sorry, do—shit—don't be sorry, H. I want you to cum, okay? Cum in me, please." 

How was he supposed to deny her? What kind of boyfriend would he be if he said no to such pretty words?

Keeping his thumb running circles around her swollen clit, Harry couldn't stop himself before harshly thrusting inside her and pausing when he felt the first spasm wrack through his abdomen. There was a bunch to his muscles he hadn't even realized until the thread keeping them together snapped. 

Ropes of his cum spurted out, decorating and flooding her walls with every pulse. She grew impossibly wet around him, his thumb barely keeping track as he tried to tend to her clit even through the tremors. He ground his hips against hers, unwilling to draw away even an inch out of her warmth as he came.

The world slowly came back into focus as he pulled in puffs of air, (Y/N) delicately kissing his bottom lip. He felt so hot, sticky despite the bath he'd just soaked in. 

Was sex always like this? He couldn't recall ever coming this hard, but had it been too long for him to remember? Or was this another (Y/N)-only thing? He could readily believe that highs like this only came from being in her arms. 

"Still with me?" his peach murmured, a wanton edge to her voice that reminded him that there were much more important things than his own pleasure. 

He nodded, finally reciprocating her kiss. "'M here, peach. I've got you."

Despite the oversensitivity beginning to leak into his system, he managed to grind into her just enough to match the swirling of his thumb against her clit. She gasped into his mouth, allowing him to slip his tongue past her lips and sweep over her own. He got a taste of her pleasured moans, reveling in the feel until it seemingly became too much for her. 

In a way he was now familiar with, (Y/N) let out a chirping moan, delicate and shaky into his mouth. That was the first sign before her fingers in his hair began to tug at the roots in a stinging pull, and toes curled. Her pussy clung to the shape of his cock, his cum overflowing around himself and dripping down to the bed under her ass as she gushed around him. His oversensitivity had him crying out a call of her name, her pulsing walls almost too hot to handle as she came around him. 

He could have done this all night, Harry decided. He could have pet his fingers over her clit and pressed into her walls for hours if not for the fact that they were both beginning to see the less than favorable side of sensitivity. 

"'M gonna pull out, okay?" he panted, blinking his eyes open to find his (Y/N)'s still shuttered. She answered in a quiet nod, her lips parted as she breathed. 

Though it was a bit reluctant, he drew his hips back in a slow glide. His softening cock slipped out with a wet sound as (Y/N) unfurled her legs from around him. A small whine left her lips, but she didn't stop him, only clinging to him.

Settling in bed beside her, reaching for one of the pillows stationed at the head of the bed, Harry fixed it under their heads. (Y/N) instinctively rolled to face him, sharing the cushion with him. He gave her time as she came down, brushing his fingers through her hair and over the planes of her features until she managed to crack her eyes open. 

"Hi, you," he smiled, repeating her small tease from earlier. 

A plume of laughter fell from her lips, a slight smile forming on her kiss-swollen lips. "Hi. What are you up to?" 

"Nothing. Jus' looking at you." 

"Nothing important then, I see," she laughed, snuggling closer to him until Harry was collecting her into his arms with her head tucked into his neck.

"Very important, actually," he corrected, amusement draining from his tone, "Thank you, peach. Really." 

"You don't have to thank me, H," she countered, "I obviously got my own benefits out of this, so don't think I just did this for you." 

He knew she was trying to play with him, get him to loosen up, but he wasn't in the mood for that just yet. He was a touch too sentimental at the moment. 

"You know what I mean," he murmured, planting a kiss to the top of her head, "I jus' love you, and... always means a lot when y'trust me, and let me be with you. Thank you." 

"I love you, too, Harry," she reciprocated, her own arms giving him a pulsing hug, "It's easy to trust you, really. I wouldn't want to have these kinds of moments with anyone else—you're the best thing that ever happened to me, honey." 

Though he knew they needed to change her bedding, and blow out the candle in the bathroom, get (Y/N) cleaned up, and mop up the bathroom, Harry couldn't find any good reason to extract himself from her arms. 

There would never be a good enough reason that came above being with her like this. 

—————

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[daycourtofficial]

One single thread of gold tied me to you

Pairing: Eris x Rhysand's sister!reader | WC: 6.2k | Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, piv, foodplay (chocolate), oral (f and m receiving)

Summary: After a century of waiting, Eris and his mate finally have a few days to themselves to accept the mating bond.

Author's note: this is technically part of my gingerfucker series but it can be read as a standalone. Big thanks to @basketoffish for help with plotting the idea for it and for helping me edit ❤️ The people have been frothing and yearning for this and who am I deny such want any longer?

Eris never had good timing. Born too soon, bearing the brunt of his father’s cruelties. Born into a war he was too young to fight in, but too old to stay at home. 

All of his poor timing was worth it for this perfect opportunity. Beron would be away for three days and three nights to improve relations with Tarquin, the newest High Lord of the Summer Court. Beron went alone - he perceived it as much more intimidating to go alone (perhaps inspired by Tamlin’s appearance in the High Lord’s meeting a few years ago, winnowing in completely unaccompanied). Beron failed to recognize Tamlin’s appearance was much bolder - he knew he would face scrutiny, but still made an appearance without anyone at his side. Beron merely did it because he wanted to look more intimidating.

Nonetheless, Eris was able to send word to you with enough time for you to rearrange your royal appearances to carve out this time with him - an entire three day span, just the two of you. Three days felt like a lifetime when the two of you were only able to schedule hour-long secret meetings.

Once, in a desperate bid just to have your scent on him, you two had met for a total of twenty minutes.

Your rendezvous were often short, full of imminent risk and danger of being caught. Today felt like a blessing from the Mother, as if she were granting her star crossed lovers a vacation, a peek into what life could be like - what life will be like one day.

You two just had to be patient.

Even an entire court away, Beron would know someone from the Night Court was on his land. Perhaps not immediately, but he would know before your three days were over. So the two of you met in the Winter Court, in a cabin you were gifted a long, long time ago. A cabin you’ve gone to on occasion over the years, whenever you needed to get away and be alone. You had set the trap perfectly for your family - you were getting into petty squabbles the entire week, picking fights with Cassian and Mor left and right that left the two of them reeling with annoyance.

Your brother tired of it quite quickly, clocking it for what he thought it was. 

“Perhaps you should spend a weekend away, star.”

His tone was full of concern, for this was how you always were before retreating to your hidden cabin. Irritable, crabby, unable to have decent conversation with anyone without leading them into a spiral of anger.

“I’m fine,” you reply, intentionally clipping the words to make yourself seem in a much worse state than you were. “Besides, I have some scheduled meetings this weekend.”

Rhys nods, “Feyre has agreed to take over any duties you have that can’t be rescheduled.”

You perked up at that, feeling a little bad at the generosity of his mate. You hadn’t felt easy about this plan - preying upon your family to get what you wanted wasn’t a regular occurrence for you. 

But you refused to let any negative feelings about what you were doing get in the way of seeing your mate.

“Are you sure, Rhys?”

He waves a hand, “Go, please only return once you feel rested and headache-free. Cassian is quite adept at giving migraines.”

You smile, “so no one will bother me?”

He sighs at your continued questioning, “no, star. I think we’d be too afraid to bother you, except for Amren. And she’s in Summer for who knows how long.”

He stands up, crossing the room to you, his long legs practically gliding across the floor. He wraps you in his arms, squeezing you tightly before kissing you on the top of your head. He gently sways the two of you as you wrap your arms around him.

“Thanks, Rhys.”

He lays his head on top of your own, “just send word if you’ll be gone longer than a week. I just want to know you’re alive out there.”

This cabin was a frequent rendezvous point for the two of you, much cozier than the large clearings and forests you two otherwise frequent. The cabin was more ideal, however Eris couldn’t deny how incredible it felt to be inside of you as he leaned you up against various trees in the forest, the leaves crunching beneath his boots as he thrusted over and over into you.

His cock twitched at the thought as he walked towards the front door of the cabin. The door groaned slightly as he entered, marking his entrance. He felt the slight magical barrier ripple as he passed the threshold. He shut the door behind him, taking in the small, two bedroom cabin before him. 

The place was quaint and cozy, an insult he would use to describe Rhysand’s absurdly large and ornate homes, but for you it was a testament to how infectious the comfort you radiated was.

It permeated every surface - the walls, covered in various portraits and landscape paintings, along with shelves of books and trinkets.

His scent was stale from the last time he was here, but yours was fresh, as was the smell of some delicious meats and fresh breads. He closed his eyes and leaned his back against the door, catching a glimpse of you as you pittered about the kitchen. He crossed his arms over his chest, allowing himself a moment to think of what his life could be like if the two of you were ordinary fae. 

He would come home from whatever job he had, perhaps a scholar of some kind, leaving at the same time every day to come home to his mate. 

You two would clean your house together, bickering over your inability in any universe to put dirty socks in the hamper, and how in every universe feet would continue to make Eris shudder in disgust. In any other life, he would be thrilled to experience monotony with you.

But he’s not in another life, one of openness and free-flowing adoration, one free of constant plotting and scheming, earning favors wherever he can. He’s in this one - the reality where no one knows about the two of you, because once they do it will become an inter-court political nightmare. It is a life of stolen glances, hidden messages, and secret meetings under the moonlight, but it is a life that belongs to him, when for so long his life was not his own.

Eris would love you in all lives, your soul reaching to him in every iteration and reincarnation of the two of you. If the two of you were nothing but bacteria living on the same organism’s skin, he would find you. He would know it was you, no matter what shade of organism you wore.

The bond hums in your chest, tugging you to look towards the door where you know Eris is standing and watching. You continue the task at hand, not wanting anything to miss your notice. The bond deep inside of you grows more and more insistent, screaming at you to smell him, taste him, feel him, here, here, here. He’s here, in your house, and you need to look, look, look. 

You let Eris come to you, just as you always had, just as you always will. You’re slicing bread, placing the pieces in the bottom of the bowls when the smell of petrichor and caramel hits your nose, a warm presence at your back. 

“Good evening, my fox.” 

His face burrows into your neck at the nickname, melting into everything that was you. His arms wrapped around you, hands meeting yours. His fingers pull the knife from your grip, gently placing it down on the cutting board.

“What are you doing, my evening star?” His voice is purposefully low in your ear, causing goosebumps to trail down your neck, his hands warming your fingers. 

“I’ll give you three guesses.”

His soft chuckle warms your chest, the bond constricting around your heart at his amusement.

“Are you cooking?”

“Yes, Er.”

“I’m surprised your wraiths didn’t prepare anything for you.”

“They did,” you hum, turning in his arms, his amber eyes meeting yours, not quite certain of what they’re seeing.

His hands meet your hips, his touch warm on your skin, and you circle your arms around his neck, fingers raking through his hair at the root.

He hums at your touch, his face swooping down to kiss your forehead. 

You look up at him under your eyelashes, his nose and cheeks littered with freckles, mapping out where home was. You point your head in the direction of two large picnic baskets, one of which was opened for Eris to see various jars of jams and breads.

“Why would you-” his words fall short, his thoughts racing through his mind. They stream by in words and bits of phrases, but no completed thoughts make their way through the whirl and swirl of mate, food, and bond.

He short circuits, not quite grasping what you’re getting at.

“I have never gotten to cook for you,” you shrug nonchalantly.

His eye twitches, still not understanding.

“You’re cooking… for me?” His words come out slow and uncertain, as if the mere concept of someone choosing to do something like this was absolutely foreign to him. You nod slowly, not used to seeing Eris so incapable of understanding. 

“But if you-“

“Yes.”

“Then we’ll-“ 

“Yes.”

“Are you-“

“Yes.”

He stills, his thumb lightly brushing against your hip. Your eyes are open and bright, wanting to convey to him the certainty you felt. You lightly tug on the bond connecting the two of you and he rubs his chest at the feeling.

It’s quiet as the snow falls outside, unaware of the monumental decision you had decided on once Eris’s letter had arrived earlier in the week. You had spent the past few months researching traditional autumn foods, preparing for this day. You had known for quite a while you were going to accept the bond, you just didn’t know when the two of you would have the chance to spend more than a few fleeting hours together. You had sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Mother when you received Eris’s letter, soft prayers echoing through your mind each night ensuring this would all work. 

“Is everything ready?”

His eyes peer into yours, a vulnerability he rarely lets anyone see, even you. His words come out soft and slightly timid, as if he’s worried he’ll scare you off.

“Yes, we just have to bring the food to the table.”

“May I help?” He doesn’t move towards the food, but one of his hands twitches, moving imperceptibly closer to you.

“I would appreciate that.”

It’s quiet as you two move to the food, grabbing platters and bowls to bring to the table. Once the table is full, a three course meal laid out in front of the two of you, the reality set in a bit. It wasn’t that you didn’t love Eris, but you were slightly concerned you were forcing his hand with this. 

This was always ‘someday’, but now it was here and you didn’t know how he truly felt about it. That was until he grabbed your plate, placing the still warm pita in front of you. You placed a piece of pita on his own plate, and he looked at the baba ganoush before him, its texture so unlike anything he had seen in Autumn. “What do I do?”

You ripped a piece of your pita off, dipping it into the bowl, grabbing some of the baba ganoush on it before offering it to him. He inspects the piece, before doing the same with his own piece of pita, bringing the piece to your mouth. 

“Eat. This might be the last time we’re rational enough for food.”

The two of you bite down on the pita, the warmth of the bread with the chill of the baba ganoush, the smoky, rich flavor exploding in your mouths. The room immediately shifted with the scent of your mixed arousals, but the two of you ignored it. His fingers lingered on your mouth, swiping at your lips before ripping off another piece of pita.

Heat was coursing through your veins, Eris’s emotions thrumming through you at a higher intensity. He felt electric in your veins.

You continue feeding each other until the pita’s gone and your attention shifts to the bouillabaisse. In similar fashion, the two of you poured the soup into the bowls with the bread before setting them down. You were thrumming, every part of you screamed to be closer to him, your thoughts having a background loop of mate, mate, mate.

“How did you know about bouillabaisse?”

Eris’s words send heat through you - his voice, soft and low, the actual words not registering with your insatiable need for him.

“Beg your pardon?”

His smirk is feline as he knows exactly why you didn’t hear him, but he repeats his question with no teasing.

“I um, found it a few months ago - I was in Dawn and a little restaurant served it.”

You could feel the sweat on your brow as you watched Eris’s fingers bring another spoonful to his mouth. You thought about all the things he could do with those fingers, that mouth, that tongue-

“Nobody in Dawn serves this. It is a regional dish, more specifically it is only found on the seaside of Autumn.”

Busted. 

You take another bite of the soup, the flavors so different from Night Court cuisine, but you weren’t complaining. Several of the fish in the soup were only found along the coast of Autumn and Winter, some making it as far north as Dawn.

“I may have perused some Autumn Court restaurants when I was visiting once.”

Eris stretches out the fingers of his hand, moving his long fingers in torturous preparation before placing his hand on your thigh. His touch was so warm, you began pulling at the collar of your dress to let the heat escape, biting your lip to keep the moan from escaping.

“When were you allowed in Autumn?”

“Fine,” your voice came out sharp, the room much too hot for an interrogation, “I snuck into Autumn a few months ago trying to find something to make you for this. I tried a bouillabaisse at this incredible little restaurant and I paid them an exorbitant amount of gold to teach me how to make it and to not tell anyone I was there. I slipped back in yesterday to pick up the fish in this soup.”

His fingers dance about on your thigh, and you take a quick glance down at his pants, your body growing warmer at his cock pressing across his pants, desperate to be released. You can’t move your eyes away from it - knowing how it looked, how it felt in your mouth, how it tasted - you were about to start drooling before Eris’s hand came up and closed your jaw.

“Strip.”

Eris’s words were a demand, full of power and need.

“But we still have dess-“

Your words died on your tongue as Eris began unbuttoning his shirt, your eyes caught on his lean chest, littered with freckles. You were in need, too, practically salivating at your mate’s display of his body, and you can’t quite remember why you wanted him to finish the whole meal.

He huffs over to you, his hands grabbing the fabric of your dress, ripping it in half down the middle. You gasp as the cold air meets your skin, somehow making your nipples even harder.

You stare at him wide eyed, even more aroused than before. At this point, you knew your panties were doing very little to keep your arousal from coating your thighs.

“You took too long,” he snarls, undoing the ties of his pants.

You had begun pulling the remnants of your dress off your shoulder, but stopped to watch your mate hook his thumbs into his trousers and pull them down, letting his cock free. 

You move forward, ready to jump on Eris, but his hand on your chest stops you, eliciting a whine from you. His other hand grabs the molten chocolate cake you had made, slowly lifting it out of the ramekin. He holds it delicately in his hand, the other hand on your chest moving up to your hair, tugging gently on the strands to pull you towards him.

Your chests were touching, the warmth of his body seeping into yours. He blazed with heat, his cock hard with need pressed into your stomach. His cheeks are dusted with pink and his blood was boiling inside of him, but he moved ever so slowly, his fingers meeting your chin. He looked into your eyes, the two of you the only beings in the world right now.

“My mate.”

Anything could be happening outside of the walls of this cabin. The snow could have all melted, a heat wave sending the Winter Court into chaos, and you wouldn’t know. All you would know was Eris’s gaze on you, mapping out every inch of your body so he can remember every detail correctly when he thinks about this once you two are apart. His thumb applied pressure on your chin, opening your mouth. He placed the cake in your mouth, whispering, “don’t bite, not yet.”

You moved your hands to his hips, holding onto him. One of his hands moves to help hold the cake up, his other holding onto your neck. He puts the other end of the small cake into his mouth and lightly tugs on the bond. You both bite into it, the liquid chocolate center immediately cascading down and coating both of your chests. You both make quick work of finishing the remainder of the cake, tearing and gnawing at the soft dessert until you finish it off. He catches your lips in a kiss, the taste of the chocolate a luxury on his tongue.

You jump, feet slipping slightly on the bits of chocolate that made it to the floor. Eris’s arms catch underneath your thighs, wrapping your legs around his hips. He lays you down on the table, moving his lips from your mouth, down the column of your throat, down your chest. You’re pulsing with need, desperate to feel any friction from him. You thrust your hips up, desperate to meet any feeling of him against you. His arm moves across your hips, pushing you down against the table. He shakes his head as he keeps kissing down your stomach, lifting his arm for a ring of fire to take its place around your waist.

He skips over where you want him, instead moving his head down to your thigh, licking up towards your hips. His tongue was hot as it slid up your inner thigh, lapping up the chocolate that had dripped down it. Your breathing was ragged as you felt his hot tongue growing closer and closer to you, and it felt like it was getting warmer the further it moved up your thigh. 

You looked down at him, his amber eyes that were full of heat all you can see of his face as his tongue finally slips between your folds. You moan at the contact, throwing your head back and hitting it harshly against the table. The pain didn’t register, not as Eris - your mate - was moving his tongue as if he knew every part of you, as if he knew exactly how you felt as he would warm and cool his tongue at his leisure. He lifted his mouth just an inch, his words slightly muffled by your body.

“You taste of desperation. It’s delicious.”

You moan at his words, and he flicks your clit with his tongue. His hands warm on your thighs, pressing them further apart. He slips his tongue back through your folds, your hands gripping onto his hair to keep his mouth on you. He grabs your legs, hoisting them over his shoulders before one of his hands disappears. You are writhing on the table, his grip on you lighting your skin on fire. The room grows heavier with the scent of his arousal, and you twitch your ears at the new sound in the room.

He was moaning into your pussy, the vibrations coursing through your body as you realized the hand that left you was wrapped around his cock, pumping furiously. The thought of him being so aroused at eating you out that he has to touch himself sends you over the edge, your thighs clenching over his ears as you finish on his tongue. Your breathing was heavy, and Eris’s tongue did not let up, lapping like a starved male. You pulled him up by his hair, bringing your face to his. Your tongue swipes into his mouth, tasting a combination of yourself and chocolate on his mouth. You grab his shoulders, deepening the kiss as you flip him onto his back, pressing him onto the table. His hands grip onto your hips, trying to push you onto him, desperate for any touch from you. He whimpers as you tug his hair, pulling him into you.

You place teasing bites as you move down his torso, leaving mark after mark in a line towards his happy trail. You purposefully rub your breasts against his cock, smiling up at him as he groans, your breath hot on his crotch.

You lick from underneath his shaft, your tongue slowly moving from the base to the tip before putting his cock completely in your mouth. He tasted like cinnamon with a little salt, the chocolate flavor on your tongue making him taste incredible. His hands move, gripping onto your hair as he chants your name - a prayer, a plea, you weren’t sure. Your hands wrapped around the base of his cock and his hips thrusted trying to push himself deeper into your mouth. 

You wanted to tease him about needing to touch himself while his mouth was on you, but you felt the same compulsions as you bobbed your head up and down on his cock. You resist the urge to move your fingers to yourself by digging your nails into Eris’s thighs, leaving half moon indents. His grip grew tighter on your hair, pushing your head down harder as he got closer to finishing, his moans filling the cabin as he finished, the hot taste of cinnamon filling your mouth and coating your throat as you swallow it. You pull your mouth off of him, his cock twitching again at the look you give him as you lick your lips.

He growled and you swiped your tongue up his still hard cock. He lunged for you, jumping off the table before his teeth sink onto your nipple, pulling the skin with his teeth. You gasp, pinching his nipple back in response. 

“Do you think there’s something there about eating to accept the bond and what we just did?”

You waggle your brows at him, but his eyes are a bottomless pit of black. Gone are the amber hues of fallen leaves, replaced by an endless void of hunger. You lean up to kiss him, the taste of both of you swirling between your tongues. You start walking backward, knocking into one of the chairs. He catches you, one arm hooking around your waist. 

His pointer finger moves up from your belly button to your neck, swiping up the chocolate left behind. He puts his finger in your mouth, having you suck the chocolate off. 

“Maybe we should get cleaned up.”

You smiled around his finger, swirling your tongue around it as you looked up at him from under your lashes. You nodded, taking his whole finger into your mouth. He breathes in deeply through his nose, his eyes swirling with desire before you. His other arm loops around your waist, carrying you through the cabin. Your giggles echoed down the hallway as Eris moved the two of you into the bathroom. He doesn’t set you down, shifting instead to hold you up against the wall with one arm while he turns the shower on. 

The water started cascading down the both of you, sweeping the remnants of the chocolate down the drain. Your feet hit the floor as Eris pushes the two of you forward, your back hitting the wall. The water fell over your face, making it hard to see him, but you could feel everything about him. You felt his skin on yours, your chests pushed together. You felt his emotions thrumming inside of you, bouncing everywhere, filling every available space. You had heard of the bond being accepted as an all-consuming thing, but you found any previous descriptions to be wholly inadequate. Every inch of you burned for him, thrumming with need to be near, to have him with you, to have him inside of you. 

He grabs the bar of soap from the shower, lathering it onto a wet washcloth before rubbing it against your body, rubbing the chocolate from both yours and his skin. 

“I never thought accepting the bond would be so messy.”

Eris’s hand guided the wash cloth across your shoulders, your sternum, before taking his time as he rubbed it against your breasts. His thigh slid between your legs, separating them. Lean muscle pressed against your cunt as you sank onto his thigh. His lips were on your mouth as you ground onto his thigh. He tossed aside the washcloth, his hands gripped your hips, harshly moving you against his thigh. 

“My beautiful, beautiful mate.” 

His voice was husky, echoing through the shower, further cementing that feeling he was everywhere.

“Gonna fall apart on my thigh?”

His lips move down your neck, teeth sinking into skin.

“We have all weekend for me to put every part of me to good use.”

You threw your head back, hitting the wall softly. One of Eris’s hands moves behind your head, cushioning the blow. His grip is unforgiving as he continues moving you, his thigh rubbing your clit so perfectly. Eris looked so beautiful before you, his pale skin a soft shade of pink from the heat radiating off of him. 

His irises have shrunk enough for you to see a slither of the amber you love so much. You could feel him thrumming in your chest and you swore if you looked down, the room would be alight with the gold tie between you two. You gripped his shoulders as he pressed his thigh into harder, sending you over the edge. 

You’re reeling from the orgasm, but Eris’s grip doesn’t let up. He uses his other leg to spread your legs again, and his hands move down to your ass, picking you up before sliding his cock into you. It feels right when he’s inside of you, the pounding in your head subsiding, the heat dissipating for just a moment before it was replaced with the need for more, more, more.

Your head moves across the tiled wall as Eris thrusts into you. You grip his hair, pulling his face to you again before kissing his mouth, needing to feel him everywhere. You’re all teeth as you nip and bite across his neck, up his jaw, on his earlobes. The shower does little to hide the whimper he lets out. 

His fingers grab your face, pulling you from his ear to his mouth. He kisses you hard and passionately before pulling out of you and turning you around. Your hands press into the wall as his hands roam down the sides of your body, sending chills throughout you.

One of his hands ran through your hair, wrapping it around his hand, the other wrapping around your waist, holding your back to his chest. The water streamed down the two of you, but you hardly noticed as he kissed your neck, pushing you against the wall.

You moan, pushing your ass against his cock. He growls as one of his hands traces from your hip down to your upper inner thigh, gripping tightly.

He bit your shoulder blade, pushing deeper inside of you. The pressure inside of you kept building, the water streaming across your skin growing hotter. Your blood was boiling, you weren’t sure where you stopped and Eris began. His thrusts became harder and more erratic, his fingers gripping so tightly you were sure they’d bruise. 

Eirs held you in an iron grip as he came inside of you, his release causing you to finish again. Arms braced against the wall as you panted heavily, Eris softly pulled himself out of you. His hands rubbed down your arms, and you stood up straighter, albeit on shaky legs. His eyes were roaming your body, looking over all the marks leftover from your tryst. The two of you were no strangers to rougher sex - most of the time you two were only able to satiate each other against a tree for mother’s sake. The tiles were no concern to you, but you knew Eris felt something deeper within him, guilt perhaps at how little control he had and the marks a reminder of that. Having a bond was new, but accepting the bond was utter chaos. A thousand emotions rattled through you, unsure of who they truly belonged to the most dominant ones were to protect and to fuck.

Eris slipped his arm out of the shower, his head going with it. You took the moment to gaze down at his ass, the little freckles scattered across it gave you the urge to bite the plump flesh. He came back in fully with a washcloth, and your gaze softened. You reach out, grabbing his wrist to stop him.

“Er, I don’t care, we’ll probably be going at it again in twenty minutes.”

Despite your protests, he broke free of the loose grip you had on him. He brought the cloth up under the water, letting it get properly drenched. 

“I know.” 

He moved the washcloth down between your legs, his touch impossibly gentle compared with the male who was gripping your hips hard enough to bruise moments ago.

“We’ve just never gotten to have this part before.”

You think back to all the times you two have met - in the woods, in secure cabins, in closets to find that he was right. Every moment alone the two of you had counted, and neither of you were ever able to linger for long after sex. 

Another thing the secrecy cost the both of you.

He looked to you, asking silent permission, and you nod. He moved the washcloth, cleaning the remnants of himself off of you. He rinsed the washcloth again before moving it across your skin - your stomach, your shoulders, your arms. He lingered, taking the time to clean every inch of you. He laughed, pointing out you still had some chocolate behind your ear. Once he finished, he reached to turn off the shower, but your hand stopped his. 

His eyes are assessing as you slowly grab the washcloth from him, your own eyes reflecting his previous question. He nods, and you start your own work of cleaning him. Your eyes trail his body, taking in how vulnerable he is in this moment. You hummed softly, the tune of some song you can’t recall the name of. The sound makes some of the emotions inside of you die down a bit, replaced by a calmer feeling. Eris tips his head down as you wipe at his back, the scars there almost mirrors of your own.

The cloth moves down him, but you stop to kiss a few of the scars on his upper back. Once you’re done, you drop the washcloth on the floor, wrapping your arms around his torso. Eris’s hand reaches out, shutting off the shower, but not making any indication he wants to move. 

Eris’s love sitting inside of you felt different to the love you felt for him - synonyms, perhaps. But not quite the same.

After several minutes, you grabbed some towels from the cabinets, offering one to Eris. He slings it around his hips lazily, lifting you into his arms. You had barely wrapped yourself in the towel before he scooped you up.

The two of you land on the bed, decadent in shades of blue across the massive sea of blankets and pillows. The only reminder that neither of you were in your home courts. Eris taps your chest, the reminder you felt about having to leave him leaking over to his side of the bond.

You two settle on the pillows, discarding your towels to lay beneath the large duvet. You climbed on top of him, settling on his chest. His cock grew hard again, and you moved so you could settle with him inside of you. 

You traced your fingers over his freckles, connecting them with your finger. “I can make constellations out of them,” you tell him. 

The roar has subsided enough for you to feel like a person again rather than a beast. You know it’ll come back, in minutes or seconds you weren’t sure, but you wanted to spend whatever time with him like this that you could.

Eris thrusts softly inside of you, watching your eyes look for patterns in the freckles across his cheeks.

“Perhaps you can make me a constellation that will always lead me to you.”

You chuckle, leaning forward to kiss him softly. Your mate. You feel the pit inside of you start to roar, but you swallow it down, opting instead to search inside of yourself, finding that golden thread tethering you to him, and pulling.

“It appears I already have.”

He flips the two of you, laying you on your back as he slowly puts himself inside of you again. He fills you up completely, reaching the base of his cock before stopping and just staying there. 

“Mm, Eris.”

He smiles, his arms landing on each side of your face, caging you in. He moves a few strands of hair out of your face, his thumb stroking your cheek.

He smiles down at you, his freckles dancing across his face, the sunlight illuminating his hair to look as if it were made of flame.

His fingers tangle in your hair, lightly holding on. 

“You are everything to me.” 

His voice comes out soft and slightly shaky, as if the admission were almost painful. He began thrusting slowly, but this felt different. Anyone who had ever thought Eris Vanserra incapable of being soft should see him now.

“I will do everything in my power to keep you safe.”

His thrusts became faster with each word, but not harsher. 

“I will always take care of you.”

Your fingers grip his shoulders, your thumb softly rubbing the skin.

“And I you.”

You were reaching that peak again, but this time it felt different. It wasn’t feral, the need to satiate the physicality of the bond, but rather to remind yourself that you two were bound together, forever.

“I love you, mate.”

His words have you seeing stars, and you practically feel yourself leave your body, but you hear yourself say, “and I love you,” as Eris finishes inside of you.

He collapses on you, his cock still inside of you. You both are breathing heavily, unable to get enough air into your lungs. He collapses on top of you, his arms digging beneath you to wrap you in an embrace. 

No touch was enough, even as you wrapped your own arms around him, peppering kisses into the side of his head. The two of you lay there, eventually Eris peaks his head out from your neck to watch the snow fall outside the window. You think about the many lives you could lead with Eris Vanserra - how much simpler your lives could be if you were born of different circumstances. 

But those Erises wouldn’t be the one laying on top of you now. They wouldn’t have as sharp of a tongue as he does, or perhaps their noses wouldn’t slant the same way his does. You could lead a thousand lifetimes with a thousand Erises, each one different from the next. Your thumb grazes his cheek, deciding that easy was never meant for you. It was never meant for Eris, either.

In those thousand lifetimes, the only edge they have on this one is the ability for you two to be more free about your love. 

You wouldn’t have to return to your respective homes, glamouring the scent of your mating bond from those around you in a bid to mitigate the unwanted comments from those around either of you. Beron would be excited, an intercourt mating would come with tremendous benefits for him. Rhysand would be pissed, your entire family shocked at the secret, unable to bite their tongues from disrespecting your mate with the twisted truths.

Secrets can only last for so long. They all get spoken at some point, and one day everyone will know how you have been carrying Eris’s love for years, how it has carried you for much longer than you thought, and how it will still carry you wherever you need to go.

Even when it’s in the opposite direction of him.

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx

Eris taglist: @secret-third-thing

Thanks for reading 💕

[01zfan]

bad friend: AITA | s. es

boyfriends besfriend!eunseok x reader | 5.8k words

uhm…a little something i’m working on. i don’t condone cheating in any circumstance UNLESS you’re getting your lick back but most of the times I DON’T CONDONE IT. Also, nothing in this fic reflects either eunseok or sungchan's personalities. all fiction and all fun heh.

contains: cheating on your boyfriend with his bestfriend, sungchan and eunseok are bestfriends they swear, sungchan is a bad boyfriend and arguably a worse friend, eunseok is no better.

Eunseok knew you first. He made sure to stress that. He specified that he knew you long before Sungchan entered the picture. 

You were the barista who worked every weekday, standing behind the espresso machine that made Eunseok cortado and rung up the bottled of pressed orange juice that he nursed every morning.

With his computer in the corner closest to the outlets Eunseok knew you first. He talked to you first, he built a rapport with you and got close to you first. He knew about how being a barista was your part time job until you found a something related to what you studied in college, that you lived in the apartment complex ridiculously close to where he lived. 

Eunseok blamed the closeness of the cafe to his apartment for the reason you and Sungchan met. He didn’t say it was fate that you were at the cafe on a Saturday, but instead that it was by terrible design of your work schedule and coincidence that Sungchan wanted to tag along so badly. Eunseok said his roommate was awful for wanting to know how he spent his early mornings. Eunseok described it as keeping his lives separate, his safe haven away from his regular life. The balance was disrupted when he came in with Sungchan in tow and saw you perk up behind the counter to greet him. The slowness of the cafe early in the morning allowed you to ask about Sungchan, and his tendency to swoop in and steal things he knew Eunseok wanted made him talk your ear off for hours. 

Eunseok didn’t blame you nearly as much as he blamed himself. He didn’t expect you to know that he mostly started coming to the cafe to see you and steal bits of conversation throughout the morning. He didn’t expect you to pay attention to the way he paid attention to you. But that was his method of courting. Months of hopeless pining, and then one day when he could finally get the courage, he’d ask for your number. He swore he was going to do it soon, written on the back of a receipt he’d give to you before leaving the cafe swiftly. Then he would wait for a text back, or find a different cafe entirely if you messaged him that you weren't interested. Eunseok had a plan, an inkling of one, but a plan nonetheless. 

The plan was ruined when Sungchan leaned in close to him and asked your name. A simple question, but he knew the infliction of his bestfriend’s voice all the same. He had an interest in you, and Sungchan had a different way of courting. One that didn’t include months of reconnaissance but instead one that manifested to him getting your number before they even left the cafe. Eunseok watched it with his own two eyes. He was looking past his laptop screen in the corner of the cafe locked in on you and Sungchan. Leaning across the bar towards you and telling you his latte was well made. 

(Even though he told Eunseok that there was too much milk and the shots were burned. He also said that the pastry was dry, and that the music from the playlist you made was too boring. He also said that there was a better cafe ten minutes away, and Eunseok was wasting his time and money coming to this one.)

Sungchan smiled at you and you ducked your head as you smiled back. Eunseok watched with his own two eyes how you fell head over heels infatuation with Sungchan just from a single compliment. Something Eunseok had been working at for weeks, Sungchan did it in a span of ten minutes right before the morning rush started. He timed it perfectly. Right as customers started coming in he put his phone on the counter, asking you something Eunseok couldn’t hear. Then he saw you steal the fastest glance towards him before you wiped your hands off on your apron and reached for Sungchan’s phone. 

Eunseok also made sure to mention that you two had more in common than you and Sungchan ever did. You were both quiet, something Sungchan bothered Eunseok about but loved on you. He would always brag to Eunseok about how quiet you were, how you were so shy anything he did made you look down and smile sweetly. You both had nonconventional interests, ones that Sungchan mocked Eunseok for, so much to the point that you silently let your interests go. The first time you ever came over you looked at Eunseok’s manga collection. Eunseok didn’t miss the way your eyes lit up in familiarity before Sungchan remarked that his roommate was a weeb. Eunseok watched you let go of the manga before you nodded your head and smiled at your boyfriend’s joke. He even brought up the time that Sungchan said jokingly you two would make a good couple. Eunseok counted his lucky stars that his skin was already red from the liquor, and not from the shame of knowing you two would be a better couple.

Sungchan knew it too, Eunseok knew he had to. Sungchan unfortunately knew what Eunseok liked after years of knowing him and living in close quarters practically their entire adult lives. He saw the meek girls his roommate would bring around on the rare occasion. Shy just like him, they gushed over his manga collection and had quiet conversations about their interests. A majority of them were a spitting image of you. 

Sungchan had to have known that he was trying to do things right with you, and that’s why Eunseok tried to keep you two far apart. Long before their stark personality difference became a point of contention, Sungchan always had the habit of taking things Eunseok wanted. The toys in the sandbox. The valedictorian spot. The last pan fried dumpling. The bigger room in their shared apartment. 

Eunseok had his fair share of taking the things Sungchan wanted, but he made sure to omit that. He also made sure to omit the fact that he never explicitly said he wanted the aforementioned things. Sungchan often cautioned his friend on being so easygoing, that it opened the opportunity for people to take advantage of him. Sungchan prided himself on being attentive, but he could only do so much. How was he supposed to know not to take if Eunseok said nothing about it? Of course he noticed the touching and the stolen glances and Eunseok’s kicked puppy expression, but he is only human. You didn’t stop him from getting your number and Eunseok didn’t do anything about it either.

Sungchan knew that Eunseok was meek. He knew his bestfriend had the tendency to let Sungchan walk over him in the name of diplomacy. But Sungchan would’ve never thought it’d all culminate into what happened apparently a week ago from last night.

You and Sungchan were really happy together at first. Everyone knew it. Opposites attract, he got you out of your shell and you showed him new things. In the beginning, when you two were finding out about eachother, each day was something new. Your giggles filtered through the walls and boomed in the quietest of places. You two went outside dressed the same, hand in hand trying new places together. Eunseok even mentioned in the beginning that you two seemed to make a good couple. He was looking at his game when he said it and it was a quick comment thrown over his shoulder, but it was validation nonetheless.

You two were good for eachother. 

Were.

Towards the three month mark there was a bump in the road. Sungchan told Eunseok in confidence that there was hesitancy in your side. The cocked eyebrow in Eunseok’s expression should’ve told Sungchan to stop talking. But he kept going, laying into his grievances of you and your relationship. You were too quiet, too shy. You didn’t like going out, but you were always breathing down Sungchan’s neck when he would enjoy his nights. Sungchan could admit he was being a little dramatic, but when you are drunk two texts seems like your phone is being blown up. 

He chalked it up to you two not being matched well. Eunseok chalked it up to that too then. His friend asked him carefully after a beat of silence if Sungchan was going to break up with you. He couldn’t describe the emotion then, but now Sungchan would define it as indignation that bubbled in his chest when he shook his head quickly and said no. 

Towards the four month mark, you and Eunseok started to get close. Sungchan believed then that it was another one of your small acts of defiance. When you really broke out of your shell and started bringing up your grievances, he was quick to find an excuse. Those girls that hung around Sungchan were just a part of his much larger friend group, and it wasn’t fair to take Sungchan away from his friends. Even if they had the habit of hanging off of him and calling him their boyfriend when drunk, they were just friends. You were reading too much into it, and you decided to test if you were overthinking things when you got a friend of your own. But it wasn’t your coworkers, wasn’t the strangers you met throughout your day. You didn’t look far to find Eunseok, and it wasn’t long before you were leaving to hang off of his arm when Sungchan was busy.

In the beginning, it was innocent. Atleast Sungchan can have peace of mind that in the beginning when you would take Eunseok to things he didn’t want to go to it was for companionship. Even though you had girl friends that were interested in those things, but Sungchan digressed. He didn’t want to have another fight and be forced to confront the fact that the girls he hung around wanted more than to just be his friend, and that he shamelessly entertained it when he was feeling like it. In the beginning, Eunseok was just your friend and a pawn in your game of chicken. Who would be the first to set the boundary, who would be the first to admit they were in the wrong? Sungchan knew then it wasn’t him, and he still had trouble admitting it now. Even if he was allegedly the one who pushed you right into Eunseok’s arms.

Eunseok didn’t spare the details after the warning. Sungchan couldn’t help but lean in even closer. He ignored the pain in his back as he focused.

The first instance of there being something more was when Sungchan chose his friends over you. The situation was so minor, something as simple as getting lunch with them over going to the store with you. Eunseok was with you during your errands, insisting on paying for your food and meandering through the aisles of a store with you. When you guys were in the game section you grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the games you wanted to look at. Something that was so simple turned into something that had you two ducking your heads and never bringing it up again.

Until it happened again. The guilt was something you only seemed to bare until Sungchan chose someone over you again. This time it was at one of the few parties Sungchan was able to bring you to. He noticed that you were more than willing to go after Eunseok asked if he could tag along. Sungchan should’ve picked up on the signs, how you two had stopped talking for a few days after the lunch he didn’t ask you about. But you visibly perked up, asking Sungchan which outfit you should wear while Eunseok bit his tongue to hold back a suggestion.

Sungchan didn’t even know about the second time. He was admittedly too involved in a game of beer pong and brushing you off the whole night to know what you were doing. He was certain you had found a lawn chair in the backyard and stayed there, looking at your phone and sipping on a beer. He knew now that you were sitting there, waiting for your boyfriend to be done before the knight in shining armor came in. He crouched beside you in the lawn, the same beer in his hand as he offered you the bottled water that was in the other. You looked to Sungchan one last time before you took the water, and thanked Eunseok so sincerely but he only shook his head and said don’t mention it. He was entirely too cool as of late, and now Sungchan knew why. He bet Eunseok didn’t even ask you if you wanted to go somewhere else, he only flicked his head back towards the party that was continuing on inside before you got up from your chair and dusted yourself off. 

Sungchan could admit now he remembers you telling him where you were going. He wasn’t paying much attention to your quiet voice as he tried perfecting the bend in his arm to throw the ball into the cup across the table. But he did know he acknowledged you leaving because he thought you’d be right back. He didn’t know you were leaving to sneak upstairs through throngs of people.

The dimly lit bathroom let Eunseok see all of you. The way you pulled him closer, the way you locked the door before looking up to him entirely.

Eunseok described your lips as shiny. The were covered in a thin layer of the gloss that he bought for you on another run to the shop. The cashier told you that you had a good boyfriend and you didn’t deny it, even if the man swiping his card was very much not your boyfriend. Your lips were soft and slow pressing against his, and hesitant until Eunseok looked you deep in your eyes and asked you if this was alright. He could swim in his reflection in your wide eyes as you slowly nodded your head up and down. When he said you could stop him at any time and moved his hand to cradle the back of your neck you went in more sure of yourself. The light pecks Sungchan complained about turned into something more hungry quickly. The hunger made Eunseok’s other hand wander your body quickly, feeling the parts of you only Sungchan had touched. Your mutual hunger made Eunseok lift you up to place you on the edge of the sink, it made you stick your tongue into his mouth as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

“He doesn’t deserve you.” 

That was the first time Eunseok ever let the confession slip out. He meant it with everything in him, and it showed that he didn’t regret what he was doing. He would never leave you alone the way Sungchan left you alone, he would never leave you to think that anyone in his life held a candle to you. You didn’t refute his claims either. You only pulled away and nodded again with tears beginning to dot your waterline before you went back in again. 

Eunseok only took his hands off of you to take his jacket off. The top layer was entirely too hot as you pushed it off his shoulders. He didn’t care if his jacket fell to the floor of the bathroom, black hides stains and he didn’t want to take his lips off of yours. You two breathed into eachothers mouths to avoid breaking apart entirely, and when his jacket was off you pulled him so close and so fast by his white shirt he had to brace himself by holding the edges of the ceramic sink. He gave you his tongue quickly, laving the top row of your teeth as his hands found your thighs again. 

Eunseok had to take a detour just to say how everything about you was just so soft. He couldn’t believe it. A tiny part reserved only for himself he talked about your soft hands, soft lips, soft legs, and soft heart. It wasn’t fair someone as kind as you was pushed to do such terrible things. He lamented that you were so loyal, and Sungchan often said one of the best things about you was that you were too shy to cheat.

But as the tight skirt Sungchan suggested rode up your legs, you weren’t that person anymore. When you nodded as Eunseok wedged his hands between your thighs you weren’t meek. He was enamored by the soft feeling of your thighs closed around his hand, bringing him closer to the fabric of your panties. Eunseok was completely surrounded by you as he dragged his hand against you, the heavy pressure against your cunt made you whine into his mouth. Sungchan and Eunseok could both agree on your sounds being beautiful. Your reactions made him want to continue. He would’ve done it, if your phone didn’t start vibrating from a call on top of the toilet seat. The sound of the vibrations pulled you from Eunseok entirely. Sungchan’s picture taking up your entire screen made you realize the situation you were in. 

He had to go through another week of radio silence from you after the party. Eunseok described it as guilt. Even when Eunseok found out Sungchan never found out, you two refused to go back to normal. Even when he continued to choose his friends over you, you were still quiet. The third time Eunseok had to go to you.

Sungchan should’ve seen the signs. He knows that now. He came into their shared living room entirely too heated. Eunseok was already there, his interest piqued as he paused his show. He asked Sungchan what was wrong, and he could only pretend nothing happened for a second before he spilled everything.

“She broke up with me.” Sungchan said.

He opened the fridge just to close it. Leftovers from your takeout sat right next to his, and your tiny reminder of him not to eat it was the first thing he say. 

“Did she say why?” Eunseok asked.

Sungchan had to furrow his eyebrows at the sudden tension that was in the room. Why did it feel like Eunseok was asking that question for all the wrong reasons? When Sungchan had been broken up with in the past, the only thing Eunseok offered was a drink and well wishes. Now he had the show completely paused, leaning forward like he was trying to pick up on every word. He should’ve listened to the hairs that raised on the back of his neck, but instead he shook it off. Maybe his friend was trying to be more involved, that had to be it. Eunseok was his friend before he was yours, and he didn’t have it in him to have ulterior motives. 

“She said we weren’t a good match.” Sungchan answered.

He was too distracted to see that Eunseok’s expression shifted. The tension dissolved and Eunseok let out the smallest sigh of relief before his sights cut back to the television. Sungchan was too focused on the comfort his friend was giving him. A pat on his back and an it’s okay was enough to convince Sungchan everything really was okay. He wasn’t a bad boyfriend, he just didn’t meet his match. Sungchan went to bed telling Eunseok he was such a great friend.

He had no idea that once he went to bed, Eunseok was on his phone in an instant. Opening up your message history to tell you that Sungchan told him what happened. You told the truth and said you didn’t tell him about what happened at the party, but you lied by saying Eunseok wasn’t one of the reasons. If he truly wasn’t it wouldn’t have been so easy to open your door to him. All Eunseok had to tell you was that your leftovers were still in the fridge, and he could bring it to you and you two could talk. Just talk, both of you specified that.

Sungchan would’ve loved to not know how long you lasted before you folded. But unfortunately, he knew it all. You invited Eunseok into your apartment visibly cleaned up from the crying you did all day, and you took the leftovers before throwing it in your fridge with the rest of your takeout. You didn’t even like the food from the restaurant. You put it in the fridge just to see if Sungchan would be a bother and eat it just like all the other times you left food in his fridge. Sungchan knew that you two started by talking on Eunseok’s couch, mentioning everything but the reason he was there and why you had used tissues balled up on your coffee table. It wasn’t until the movies credits started to roll that you two looked at eachother knowingly.

“He broke my heart.” You said truthfully.

The tears were so obvious. Eunseok was a mediator. He was a thinker down to the bone, always trying to get people to look at the situation objectively. But you crawled closer to him, your head resting over his heart as he put his arm over you. Eunseok gave in immediately, rubbing your shoulder before kissing the crown of your head.

“You deserve better.” Eunseok said.

Sungchan imagined that when the situation sunk in and you realized Eunseok was his friend everything fell into place. His comforting words served their purpose, but you wanted more. He even described the sad look in your eye shifting to lust with a hint of contempt as you looked up to him. Eunseok brought his other arm to your waist. That was soft too.

“I do.” You said quietly, looking to his lips.

The only part Eunseok spared was you leading him to the bed. Sungchan imagined that part vividly though, after a continuation of the makeout session Sungchan rudely interrupted by calling his girlfriend you jumped off the couch to grab Eunseok by the hand. He only wondered if Eunseok got undressed there, if you gave him a show taking off your clothes the same way you’d always do with him. He imagined his friend sitting there dumbfounded as you took off your shirt and bra. He imagined him drooling as your fingers messed with the band of your sleeping shorts. 

Eunseok didn’t know what to do with all of you, Sungchan refused to believe that. He was just a good storyteller, crafting a lie filled with the tiny habits Sungchan noticed very early on. The tiny squeaks you make, your affinity to being manhandled into place. Your tiny talk to me’s, because you need someone to talk you through everything. There’s no way Eunseok had it in him to flip you from your back to your stomach, to lift your bottom half and spread your legs apart with his hands as he slotted his body between them. There’s no way he could muster the audacity to lean in close until his front was pressing to your back to whisper he was so mean to you baby right in your ear. His meek friend didn’t have it in him. There was no way.

Sungchan looked on in disbelief at the thought of you whining and nodding hopelessly. You liked being crushed, to feel someone’s frame over yours. Eunseok would’ve superimposed your body as he separated from you, looking down at where he was about to be inside of you. If he fucked you in the dark he would be able to see you glisten, if he was able to get the bedside lamp on he’d see the way you preened and wiggled your ass towards his cock. You’d preemptively grab a pillow to muffle your moans as Eunseok pressed a hand to your lower back. He had to have everything perfect, he had thought about this for too long. Fucking you in missionary would’ve been ideal—he was a romantic after all—but he didn’t think you were ready. So he settled for fucking you in one of Sungchan’s favorite positions, one he raved about when it came to you. 

Eunseok slid in slowly. He said it himself, hand on the bible like he was testifying in court. Your hand quickly reached underneath you to feel the rest of his length as he slid in. When his hips kissed yours, and your hand was looking for somewhere else to go, he held it so tight and pressed it to your lower back. You started babbling about wanting him when he slid all the way out to his tip just to go right back in. When he started picking up the pace and clasped a hand around both of your wrists you started talking about love. 

Apparently your walls were soft to. Wet and warm and soft, clasping around his cock like you two were made for eachother. He made it his mission to make you forget about anyone else you had in that moment. Eunseok picked up the speed and let go of your wrists just to watch them fall heavy to the mattress. His hands grabbed at your waist to help guide you back. Eunseok put his hands behind his head and watched you do your own thing for a short period of time. He disappeared inside of you, the lewd sounds combining with the muffled whimpers behind the blankets. 

When you ran out of energy, like you always did, Eunseok moved his body forward. His front was against your back again, but the layer of sweat kept you glued together. Eunseok applied more and more weight on your body until you collapsed all together, your stomach flat against the mattress while Eunseok somehow wedged deeper inside of you. He was able to take away the covers entirely at this point, and your unbridled moans filled the room. They were pathetic whimpers at this point, cut off words, and the beginning of Eunseok’s name all rolled into one. He nodded and cooed to each one, kissing the side of your face to show he was with you.

“I got you.” Your pussy clenched around his cock again at the rough edge in his voice. “I’m here.”

He eventually had to start swiping your tears away with his thumb. He stayed still inside of you for a long time as you regained yourself. He selfishly wanted to draw out whatever this was, because after tonight you two would actually have to talk about what this was before going any further. So while you helplessly clenched around Eunseok in preparation for your orgasm he kissed you gently, trying to back you away from the edge.

“Seokie.” You babbled.

“Hmm.” His heart jumped at the nickname and how sweet it sounded coming out of your mouth in such a whiny tone.

“Feels good.” You uselessly tried lowering and lifting your hips in an effort to fuck yourself on his cock again. “Please keep going.” You begged.

You begged for more as if the line of drool and your body twitches weren’t enough of an indication. Eunseok still nodded and kissed your cheekbone again as he pulled back his hips to slam into you roughly. That’s what you always liked in the end. Rough and slow, Eunseok’s heavy pants on the sweaty base of your neck as he pressed he head against yours. He was feeling the edge himself as he started rambling off at the mouth.

“You’re so perfect.”

“He doesn’t deserve you.”

“I’d treat you so well.”

“All mine.”

These were all things you agreed with. Nodding against your blanket in between your loud moans and declarations of your own. You told Eunseok he was so much better right before you told him you were about to cum. You told him that your cunt liked him better, that it hit a spot deep inside of you. Sungchan didn’t know you had it in you to say such crude things in bed. He didn’t know you were capable of such intimate pillow talk afterwards. Asking him to stay the night, kissing and cuddling until the two of you fell asleep.

Sungchan knew that there were other times he had seen you. His friend that continued to come home at odd hours in the morning and midday with half-assed explanations was seeing you instead. Fucking you, holding you, talking about Sungchan with you. Even though that night was the only encounter Eunseok talked about explicitly, he knew there was more. 

When Sungchan saw that there were other dates marked underneath the conclusion paragraph that’s when he finally pulled away. He looked at the top of the Word document again, blinking hard as he tried to make sense of what he read. But it was right there for him, in big black bold letters, less than an admittance of betrayal but moreso the beginning of a thesis paper.

AITA: ME AND MY BESTFRIEND’S EX-GIRLFRIEND HAD SEX WHEN I WENT TO COMFORT HER ABOUT THEIR BREAKUP.

With his fingers on the trackpad, Sungchan scrolled to the bottom of the document back up to the top. The TL;DR summed up the situation Sungchan read with his own two eyes. 

He was still hanging off every word, from the beginning where Eunseok defined the codewords fro your two names down to the scroll blinking on the very last period, silently asking if the writer wanted to continue. The music playing throughout the lobby of this new cafe was more Sungchan’s taste, but he couldn’t hear anything over the blood rushing in his ears. 

He felt sick looking at the last edit made timestamp at the top. Less than ten minutes ago, while Sungchan sat right in front of Eunseok talking about his recent breakup. His friends reaction made sense now. The tiny nods to the details Sungchan didn’t remember mentioning before. How involved he was in the conversation, when just a week ago Eunseok seemed like he wanted nothing less than to talk about the relationship. Eunseok’s habit of asking about you first, his eyebrows knit in worry as he asked how you were handling all this. Eunseok taking your side instead of his. Everything made too much sense. The timelines coincided too. Sungchan remembers that stormy night when your location was off and he caught a whiff of you on his bestfriend the next morning. He thought it was the remnants of you taking up his mind, but now he knew it was really you.

Sungchan felt anger replace the bile when he remembered all the times Eunseok lied to him too easily. He was seeing you when Sungchan told him he was at the store, he was sneaking off to see you at parties in secluded rooms when he said he was getting drinks. When Eunseok looked his bestfriend dead in the eyes and said he hadn’t even thought about you, he had seen you the previous night. 

Sungchan was played a fool by the one person he believed to be dumber than him. He found solace in the fact that he could walk over his complacent friend, take what Eunseok wanted so desperately to be his. From the time they were kids up until a week ago, it was too easy. Eunseok’s submission was what made their relationship work. Now that Eunseok has turned their dynamic into a pissing contest—one that Sungchan didn’t know he was horrifically losing—he didn’t know what to do. 

His first instinct was to smash Eunseok’s laptop on the ground. The cement floor would’ve turned his laptop to smithereens. He could grab his coffee and poor it right over the keyboard. Maybe if he was lucky the thing would produce smoke, maybe even catch fire right before his eyes. Sungchan could also wait until Eunseok emerged from the bathroom, wait until he was unaware of everything and sucker punch him. They could start a brawl between these two tables, absolutely make a mess of this fine establishment. 

But then Sungchan thought about how Eunseok would have that smug look on his face. As of a week ago, Eunseok got increasingly better at pushing Sungchan’s buttons, saying comments so slick that it left him confused on how to react. He imagined it now, Eunseok’s calm demeanor before telling him Channie, why are you so quick to anger? Like he already knew how his friend would react if he knew what he was writing for the past hour. 

Being predictable is what made Sungchan take a deep breath. He  couldn’t behave the way he wanted to, the way Eunseok would expect him to. Also, there was that one time the two of them fought in grade school and Eunseok beat his ass. He’s sure he could take him now, he’s absolutely positive of it. But Sungchan tells himself he goes back to calmly sitting across from Eunseok because he has a plan. He smiles instead of letting his emotions show on his face when Eunseok comes out of the bathroom because he knows what he’s going to do. Sungchan doesn’t know what he’s going to do just yet, but it’s going to wipe the worried look off Eunseok’s face when he leans in close to Sungchan’s scowl.

“Is everything alright, Sungchan?” Eunseok points to Sungchan’s drink. “Is it the coffee?” He asks.

Sungchan shakes his head and takes a sip to prove it’s alright. Eunseok nods his head and goes back to typing. Sungchan nearly chokes on his drink.

“Better than the other cafe, right?” Eunseok asks, looking at his screen.

Sungchan watched his friend look from the document back up to him. He calms the fire in the pit of his stomach as he nods to his friend. Eunseok goes back to the document and Sungchan can see him switch to a different window. He grips the armrest of his sofa, something Eunseok doesn’t notice as he goes back to typing.

“Way better.” Sungchan says.

He messes with the rim of his cup. Another breath in.

“Eunseok.” He says.

Eunseok stops typing to look at Sungchan. The genuine concern on his face makes Sungchan want to lunge over the table.

“What did you ever do with that food left in the fridge.” When Eunseok looks confused Sungchan clears his throat. “From a week ago.” He specifies.

Sungchan watches him register what happened a weak ago. He has the nerve to hesitate and look up to think like he doesn’t already know. Sungchan’s tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he looks down at his coffee.

“I threw it out. So you wouldn’t have to deal with it.” Eunseok answers after a beat of silence.

Sungchan takes another deep breath in. He looks up to Eunseok with a smile on his face.

“You’re a good friend.” Sungchan says.

He can see the hesitancy in Eunseok’s head nod. Eunseok knows he can see it too.

[dilatorywriting]

“I will love you forever and when ‘forever’ ends, I’ll love you some more.”

For the event, can I request Malleus for this? I need to send ALL my love to him ASAP. Although for this, feel free to have him being the one saying it to reader.

Gender Neutral Reader x Malleus Draconia Word Count: 1.2k

Prompt 51: "I will love you forever and when ‘forever’ ends, I’ll love you some more."

[EVENT MASTERLIST]

There was something about being in love with a fae that would always be at least a little intimidating.

No, it wasn’t the unearthly powers that could literally rip through the fabric of time and space with a snap of his fingers. No, it wasn’t the cold, serpentine stare or the sharp fangs in his mouth that shined like well-polished knives under the right light. It wasn’t even the horns. Even though they added an extra foot onto the dragon’s already stupidly impressive height.

But there were other things, sometimes. Less tangiblethings.

You tried not to think about it too much, because you loved Tsunotarou. Really, you did. And you didn’t want some… some creeping thing at the fringes of your consciousness to ruin that.

It was cold tonight, and you puffed warm breath onto your fingers. Normally Malleus was the one waiting for you to arrive at your usual Gargoyle Filled haunts, but he’d had a meeting with his retainers today. And you weren’t surprised he was running a bit late in the aftermath.

‘Man, I’m surprised Draconia is ever on time for anything,’ Ace had complained, during some mandatory assembly or other. Watching as Malleus floated into the room a solid two hours after scheduled.

‘He’s usually very punctual,’ you’d answered, confused.

‘Sure, sure. But don’t fae have, like, super fucked up senses of time?’ the redhead mused. ‘Like I bet you could tell him to meet you in an hour and he’d show up a week later or something.’

“Child of man,” a familiar timbre called out over the snow, and you perked up immediately, hopping from foot to foot to get your circulation going again before trotting out to meet him halfway.

“Tsunotarou!” you chirped. “How was your day?”

“Dreadful,” he answered, deadpan, and bent his arm neatly so that you could tuck your fingers into the crook of his elbow and snuggle yourself into his side. He was like a walking furnace, what with the roaring, emerald fires in his belly. And the snowflakes seemed to melt before they’d even touched his skin. “Nothing but paperwork. Perhaps I should turn them all into enchanted quills, and then they might finally be fit for their positions.”

You snorted into your glove. “You’d need to turn some of them into ink then, too.”

“Ah, of course,” he intoned. And then shot you a smirk that was just on the right side of besotted. “Whatever would I do without your wise guidance?”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” you teased, and then smiled right back in that stupidly, soppy way. “But you seemed more than smart enough to manage on your own before I came along. And I’m sure you’ll go back to being brilliant when I’m gone,” you added on a laugh.

But Malleus didn’t join in your giggling.

The fae stopped in place, and you were dragged to a halt with him. You blinked up at him, confused. His expression was… complicated.

“You are leaving?” he asked, each word sounding like it had to be pried out of his mouth with a crowbar.

“What?” you blinked. “Of course not.” Crowley never having bothered to lift a feathery finger to find you a way home aside, you had more than enough reasons to stay here for as long as your meager, mortal life would allow. Going home… it soured something in your stomach that you didn’t even want to consider. So you just tightened your fingers around his arm and shot him as reassuring of a smile as you could muster. “Even if I had the choice, I’d be staying right here.”

But that just made Malleus’s brow pinch up tighter.

“Then what did you mean?” he questioned, perplexed. “When you said ‘when I’m gone.’”

Ah.

You fought a guilty wince. You hadn’t wanted to drag your own little terrors into his worries as well. You really needed to get a better leash on the poor quips that managed to tumble out of your mouth.

“Well, just that, uhm…” You waved your free hand awkwardly. “You know.”

More furrowing.

“I do not,” he said, sounding grumpy. It was a bit adorable, seeing an almighty prince and near God pout at you. But you fought off the urge to coo over his pursed lips and scrunched nose. Time and place, self. Time and place.

“I’m mortal,” you said finally, hoping that would cover it.

“And?”

Ugh. Come on, dude. Give me something here.

You shrugged, tight and awkward. “Just that, well, you know. Your lifespan is near infinite right? And mine is sort of set to be…” You held up your fingers and pinched them close together. “Uhm. Not that.”

“And you think that such an inconsequential factor means that you will be leaving me?” he asked, and you blinked at him in outright confusion.

“It’s pretty consequential,” you squeaked out, and averted your gaze. “And.. and besides. I knew that from the beginning. And I just want to be able to make the best out of the time with you that I have,” you said, hoping it sounded properly reassuring and not like the start of a particularly peppy obituary.

“…I see,” the Prince said, low. “But that doesn’t mean you’ll be gone, I’m sure.”

You blinked again, owlish and slow.

“Pardon?”

“What is the human expression…?” he hummed, tucking your arm back tightly against his side and starting up your leisurely stroll once more. “Distance makes the heart grow fonder? Almost so much as time itself.”

Yeah, you wanted to amend. But not from beyond the grave.

“I guess so,” you shrugged.  

“Can you imagine then,” he hummed. “How much I’ll love you in a thousand years?”

“I—” you swallowed, feeling tears prick at the back of your eyes.

But rather than give your poor, fluttering soul a chance to recover, he just pushed onwards.

“I will love you forever, and when ‘forever’ ends, I suppose that I’ll just love you even more,” he said, perfectly level and serious, like he hadn’t just absolutely pulled your heart out of your chest and set the whole of you on fire.

You stared up at his regal, handsome face from beneath a soft veil of falling snow. With those cold, emerald eyes, the pointed fangs, the horns. You felt like your stomach had fallen out at your toes, like the whole of you was bound to float away like a balloon lost in the breeze. Because he’d said—he’d really—

“And of course,” the dragon shrugged. “I’ve always intended to extend your lifespan to begin with.”

You gaped at him wordlessly for a moment, before letting out a hideously embarrassed squawk and pounding at his chest with your gloved hands.

“You could’ve told me that!” you shrieked, practically steaming in the cold with the heat pulsing off your cheeks.

“I suppose,” he smirked, catching your flailing fists easily in one of his own large hands. “But then I wouldn’t have been able to see your reaction to my declarations, would I?” he cooed, all smooth, dark chocolate and smoky embers. “And I had to work so hard to memorize those lines. Fitting as they are, I was told that the moment to use them would have to be perfect, and—"

“Did Lilia set you up for this?” you choked.

Malleus snorted and turned to tug you further down the path. “Only a little.”

.

.

[merrybloomwrites]

In Front of Me

Summary: Louis being away for festivals means more time spent apart than either of you are happy with. Louis surprises you with a visit, helping you both reconnect.

AN: Title from "Habit" by Louis Tomlinson

CW: smut, p-in-v sex, oral (f receiving)

Word Count: 1.6K

Requested by: @lillisummers

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

Dating a global superstar comes with a fair amount of perks. But one major downside is the amount of time that needs to be spent apart. 

You and Louis had a plan for his tour. Your schedule was flexible, and that allowed you to visit him for a number of stops. Never did you go more than two weeks apart. It wasn’t perfect, you still missed each other on occasion, but it worked. And the two of you were happy. 

And then Louis lined up a summer full of festivals. When he approached you about doing these types of shows you were elated for him. He loves performing, and truthfully it makes you happy to see him up there thriving. Every time you see a show in person or watch a video from his performances, you’re filled with pride. Seeing the crowd there for him, singing his songs, cheering him on, it warms your heart. 

But that doesn’t mean you don’t miss him. 

What started as just a couple shows has turned into him being away for almost the entire summer. 

This is the busiest season for your work so it’s not as easy for you to adjust your schedule to get time off. For the first time in recent history, you haven’t seen Louis in more than three weeks.  

And you miss him. Miss him so much that your heart hurts. And it’s not just a physical separation. It’s emotional as well. Due to time zones and rehearsals, you find that there’s barely any time to speak on the phone either. 

The two of you scheduled a time to speak today. And then something came up and that call was canceled. It left you feeling despondent, so alone in the home you’re meant to be sharing with your boyfriend. Your home that he hasn’t slept at in weeks. 

Later, while Louis is on stage, you lay in bed and send him a simple text: “I miss you.”

You don’t expect to hear back for a while, so you roll over and go to sleep. 

The next morning you jolt awake to the sound of the front door opening. You’re on high alert, not knowing why someone would be entering your home. Your mind runs through the list of people with keys, but really, who would come without a heads up?

And then you hear a familiar voice, and begin to wonder if you’re still dreaming. Because there’s no way that voice should be in this house. The person it belongs to isn’t meant to be home for at least ten more days. 

“There you are, love,” Louis says when he enters your bedroom. 

“Louis!” You exclaim. “What are you doing here?”

“I got your text,” he says. 

“You didn’t answer me.”

“I wanted to answer in person. I miss you too baby. So much. I actually got this ticket to fly back a couple days ago. I couldn’t go any longer without seeing you.”

You smile at his words, moved by the fact that he was missing you just as much. 

And then you realize something else. 

“What happened to your face?” You ask bluntly. Obviously you don’t have a filter this quickly after waking up. 

“What happened to my face? What does that mean?” Louis says, his voice offended, but in a joking manner. He knows you’re referring to the fact that he’s clean shaven, something you haven’t seen in quite a long time. 

“I had a bit of a mishap with a razor,” he explains. 

“Seriously?”

“Yea, went a little too short in one spot and there was no saving it. So baby face it is.”

“I like it,” you say, bringing your hand up to slide against the smooth skin. He leans into your touch, and you can tell he’s been craving this reunion as much as you have, maybe more. 

“Lou?”

“Yea?”

“Kiss me?”

“Always, love.”

He quickly makes good on his word, leaning on the edge of the bed to kiss you. It starts so gentle, so sweet that it almost brings tears to your eyes. The love you have for this man can’t be described in words, but you try anyway. “I love you, Lou. So much. I missed you so much, but I am so, so proud of all you’ve accomplished,” you say, making sure he knows just how you feel about him. 

“I love you too. And I love doing these shows, but it hurts being away from you.”

“Well you’re here now. That’s what matters. Let’s make the most of it, okay?”

“That, I can definitely do,” he replied before leaning in again to kiss you. This one is more intense, more passionate, his tongue immediately sliding between your lips to explore your mouth. 

He pulls back to undress, kicking off his shoes before removing his clothes until he’s left only in his boxers. He lifts the duvet and is pleased to see that your sleep attire consists of a pair of his boxers and one of his shirts. 

Louis settles his body on top of yours. He kisses up your neck, to your chin, then back to your mouth. You make out lazily, tongues languidly caressing. Neither of you knows how much time passes, too lost in one another to worry about something so menial. None of that matters. The only thing that matters is that you’re together. 

Your hands move along his bare torso, pausing only when Louis starts lifting the bottom of your shirt. Once that’s removed, you both begin to explore each other's bodies, as though relearning every detail of each other. 

Louis starts to press kisses down your torso, until he gets to the boxers you’re wearing. He looks up, silently asking permission, which you quickly grant him. He slowly takes off the boxers, leaving you naked beneath him. 

His kisses continue, trailing lower until suddenly, his tongue darts out to lick through your folds. You gasp at the sudden wave of pleasure that rolls through you. Louis begins eating you out in earnest. It’s different than usual, no scruff burning your thighs, and part of you misses that, just a little. And then he flicks his tongue just right and all thoughts leave your mind. 

Your orgasm hits suddenly, and you cry out as he works you through it, elongating the pleasure until you’re pushing him away. 

He gives you a few minutes to catch his breath before he slips his boxers off, adding them to the clothing scattered in the room. You reach out, pumping his hard length for a moment before he gently moves your hand away. 

“Need to be inside you,” he says, voice verging on desperation. You love when he gets so worked up, so needy for you. 

You shuffle slightly before your hand goes back to him, guiding his hard cock to your dripping entrance. He slides in easily until he’s completely nestled inside of you, causing both of you to moan in pleasure. 

He breathes deeply for a moment, and you know him well enough that this is more for him than you. While he always gives you a second to adjust, he also sometimes needs time as well to ensure he doesn’t finish too quickly, especially when you’ve been apart for a while. 

Once he has himself under control he pulls out before quickly pushing back in. He starts off hard and fast, before slowing down, pounding in and letting you feel every inch of him. He alternates between these two speeds, his fingers eventually moving to rub circles on your clit. 

You can’t help the noises you make, the moans and whimpers that he pushes out of you with each thrust. And when you do come, you’re grateful not to have neighbors, since there’s no way you can stay quiet. Not when you’re overwhelmed by one of the most intense orgasms of your life. 

“Fucking hell!” Louis shouts, his hips becoming more erratic as he chases his own high. It hits a moment later, and you sigh in bliss as his warm cum fills you. 

“Holy shit,” he says. “That was the hottest thing ever, babe. I can’t believe you did that?”

“Did what?” You ask, confused about what happened. 

“You squirted. Never seen you do that before.”

“I did? No way! No wonder that felt so intense.”

“Can’t wait to make you do that again,” he says, a cheeky smile on his face. “Though maybe we should change these sheets.”

“Why change them if we’re just going to get them messy again?” You ask suggestively. 

“You do have a point there.” He replies.  

An hour later the two of you finally leave the bed, only to have one more round in the shower. Finally, you head down to the kitchen for breakfast. The first thing you notice is a vase full of your favorite flowers on the table. Your heart swells again at the gesture, and you’re reminded that even though it may be hard dating someone who travels so much, you wouldn’t trade Louis for the world. 

You spend a couple days with Louis before he needs to leave again. 

“I hate saying goodbye,” you say. 

“I know, baby. I do too. But only two more weeks of festivals and then I’m home for good,” he says. 

You try not to smile too big, not wanting to give away that you have a secret. He’s not the only one capable of planning a surprise. And his look of pure joy and excitement when you arrive at his show just five days later is definitely worth it.

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

AN: Thanks for reading! I have another Larry x reader coming up soon, and I'm working on a Harry x reader series as well!

[yxngbxkkie]

long-distance (b.c)

i saw an edit of chan from channie's room, and i had come up with this idea for him. i want and need this man so much, he's so fucking PRECIOUS 🥹 anyway, i hope you guys like it 🩷🩷

feedback is greatly appreciated 🥰

Two minutes after you open your laptop, a video call from Chan appears. A smile graces your lips as you answer it with no hesitation. It gets bigger when his face appears on screen.

“Hi, baby,” he smiles at the camera, his dark eyes checking every inch of your face.

It's been almost a month since the two of you have video chatted. Especially with Chan being busy with schedules.

“Hi, my baby,” you greet him, leaning your chin on the palms of your hand. “How are you?”

Chan leans back in his chair, releasing a hefty sigh. “It was okay. It was kinda busy, but it wasn't unbearable,” he mentions to you.

You pout, wishing you could give him a tight hug. “I'm sorry, baby. The good news is that you have your vacation coming up!” You attempt to cheer him up, wanting to relieve his stress a little.

“I do, yes! I'm super excited about it,” he tells you, clasping his hands together. “Speaking of vacations, I have a surprise.”

“What is it?” You ask him with wide eyes, watching him get up from his desk. Chan walks off the screen, and you're curious as to what his surprise is.

You tap your fingers on your cheek, hearing your phone vibrate against the desk. Before you have the chance to look at it, your boyfriend comes back on screen.

“Okay! So, I just sent you something,” he giggles, shaking the phone in his hand.

“I'm nervous,” you chuckle while grabbing your phone. You open Chan's text to see a link. You furrow your brows, quickly glancing at him before clicking the link.

Your jaw drops when you see a boarding pass in your name. A boarding pass that leads to South Korea. Your heart beats wildly against your chest as the surprise sets in.

“Chan…” you trail off, tears coming to your eyes. “Are you serious?”

He nods his head, a fond smile on his plump lips. “Of course, baby. It's been two years since I've had you in my arms. I have a week of vacation coming up, and now so do you. Come spend it with me,” Chan explains, his thumbs stroking the back of his hands.

You cover your mouth, holding in your sobs. “Of course I'll come spend it with you,” you tell him, tears slipping down your cheeks. “Oh my god. I can't believe this.”

“I can't wait to see you,” he smiles, running a hand through his hair. “I can't wait to kiss you.”

You playfully roll your eyes, recalling all the times he's told you how much he's missed kissing you. “Are you buying me a plane ticket just so you can kiss me?” You ask jokingly.

“You know it's not like that!” Chan groans, tilting his head back. “That's just a perk to being your boyfriend.”

“To kiss my lips?” You ask, poking your lips with your finger.

He winks, nodding his head. “You have really pretty lips, baby,” Chan smugly says, biting his lip.

“You know who also has pretty lips,” you mention, smirking at your computer screen. Chan hums in response, tilting his head. “You, baby.”

“Me!? No way,” he scoffs, bringing a hand to his lips to feel him.

You swear the first thing that you do when you see him is slap him. “Yes, you! Your lips are thick, baby. Nice and plump for me to kiss,” you smooch the air, chuckling afterward.

“You're crazy,” he huffs, shaking his head with a smile.

You rest against your hands again, feeling your heart flutter at the sight of him. “Crazy for you,” you smoothly compliment him.

“God, I should've made your flight date earlier,” he mumbles, his hand rubbing his chin. His eyes meet yours, and both of you stare quietly for a few moments. “I need you with me right now.”

You pout again. “I wish I could be there now, but soon enough, I'll be there,” You do your best to reassure him, making a heart with my hands.

He returns the heart, pouting also. “I'm counting down the days,” Chan whispers loud enough for you to hear.

~

Your heart is racing in your chest as you step out of the terminal. Your eyes are quickly looking around to find Chan. You stand on your toes, releasing a quiet gasp when you spot him.

“Baby!” You call out, not wanting to gain attention for shouting his name.

Chan hears your voice, quickly turning his head in your direction. The two of you run to each other, avoiding the other travelers around you.

You crash into him, wrapping your arms around his neck. Chan slides his hands across your lower back, pressing you against him. You hide your face in his neck, trying your best not to cry.

“My baby,” he whispers into your ear, rubbing your back gently.

Your fingers run through his hair, pressing light kisses on his neck. “I've missed you so much,” you cry out, gripping onto the hoodie he's wearing.

He pulls back so he can look at you, placing both hands on your cheeks. A few tears run down your cheeks, feeling Chan's thumb wipe them away.

“I've missed you too, baby,” he kisses your forehead.

You leaned on your toes, smashing your lips with his. “I love you,” you mumble into the kiss, petting his fluffy hair.

“I love you,” Chan says, stroking your cheeks.

You hug him tightly again, and the two of you start to sway back and forth. It felt really good to be in his arms again, especially after not seeing each other for two years.

“C'mon, there's a car waiting for us,” he mentions while rubbing your back.

You pull away from each other, and he instantly grabs your hand before leading you towards baggage claim to receive your luggage.

There's a comfortable silence between you both as you walk through the airport. You look at everything around you, trying to spot if you see any words you might recognize from your Korean lessons.

You bite your lip in disappointment, not being able to recognize anything. You rest your head against Chan's arm, squeezing his hand as you take the escalator down to the first floor.

“My Korean lessons aren't helping me,” you pout at him, tilting your head back to look at him.

He giggles while stroking the back of your hand, meeting your gaze. “No? Why do you say that?” He asks, both of you stepping off the escalator. “Whenever we try to converse in Korean, it sounds good!”

“Yeah, but I can't read anything,” you huff out, releasing your own giggle.

Chan leans forward and presses a gentle kiss on the top of your head. “Don't worry, baby, I'll read it for you. You just stand here and look pretty,” he taps your nose before going to grab your suitcase.

“When did you get so smooth?” You ask him, biting your lip again as you go to follow him.

He comes back with your suitcase, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Ever since I laid my eyes on you. I'm just really excited that you're here,” Chan mentions, grabbing a hold of your hand again. “Now, let's go get you something to eat.”

~

tagging: @strawboorybunny @reddesert-healourblues @spacegirlstuff @moon0fthenight @foxinnie8 @like-a-diamondinthesky @prettymiye0n

[agendabymooner]

SOMETHING MISSED !!! ALEX A. X FEM!READER (18+)

summary: she missed him, that was why they got into an argument that led him to make it up after walking out on her.

content warning: smut under the cut (minors dni!), hurt/comfort-ish, argument + alex walking out, use of explicit language, p in v penetration, unprotected sex (a big no no to me but i can’t help it), cockwarming, mentions of aftercare, not proofread

song rec: 13 by lany

note: i said i was going to nap before pulling an all nighter. i’m also a bitchass liar and wrote this in the span of 40 minutes looooool! i pitched this idea to @daaiissyyyyy few days ago sooooo uh enjoy xx

something sinful (smut) masterlist

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if you’d like to get on one of my taglists, check this post out!

they’ve never fought like that before and they couldn’t lie to themselves about that. 

they were so used to being around each other for so long that “being busy for the other” was just a foreign concept for the two. and having an argument until one of them would walk out? 

yeah. they hadn’t expected that either. she certainly hadn’t expected alex to walk out, of all people. he was usually calm and collected as much as she was, but everyone knew that he wouldn’t be the first to head straight to his friends so he wouldn’t lose it on her. 

she blamed herself for how things had turned out. she knew all too well that he was busy, yet she continued to pester him and had given up and voiced her frustration. she hadn’t seen him for weeks— thanks to his triple header and her busy schedule at the university.

and when she finally expressed her concern, he didn’t hesitate to say how upset he was for the fact that she wasn't able to be there for his races— how going back to university had affected their relationship.

“you’re a dickhead for that,” george told alex after the thai driver arrived in front of his front porch and they spoke over a bottle of wine. george only scoffed at him, “she loves you despite your constant travelling for your career— and you’re unhappy for her decision to pursue hers? absolute rubbish, alex.”

and to be fair, george was right; alex shouldn’t be acting like she hadn’t been there for him since they were young. it was her time to choose her own path to success— and he shouldn’t be acting like a right asshole because she had a dream too. instead, he should be there to love her. 

and that was how he found himself shutting the door of their flat quietly, trying not to wake her up despite being a heavy sleeper. he hoped to hop out of his clothes and into his pajama so he could get up tomorrow and speak to her. 

but it seemed liked their conversation would have to happen now as a head popped up from the couch, frazzled hair and puzzled look on the woman’s face as she squinted lightly and called, “alex?” 

“he- hi,” alex said softly, his brow raising as he wondered what she was doing on the couch. 

now reading the expression on his face, she sat up and smiled sadly, “i- uh, i didn’t know if you were coming back tonight or staying at george’s so… i waited.”

alex nodded in understanding before he made his way around the couch. his eyes immediately trailed down the blue lace nightgown that she wore, her legs propped to the side as he realized that she’d been sleeping on the couch. 

she immediately scooted and allowed him to sit next to her. alex pulled her legs and rested them on his lap. 

he sighed, “i’m really sorry for walking out like that.” 

“no, if anything i should say sorry,” she smiled apologetically, “i- i know the season’s been rough. the points are weighing down on you and i shouldn’t have been complaining.”

“you’re entitled to voice out your worries, baby,” alex’s fingers innocently traced over her legs as he murmured, “i was just being a dickhead about it.”

“i just— i missed you so much,” she said quietly, alex’s ears perking up in curiosity and worries as she continued to speak, “school work is draining and- i don’t know. i just miss you— i miss your cuddles and just… your touch.”

“i’m here now, my love,” alex pulled her on his lap as his fingers lightly gripped on her hips. 

out of desperation, she immediately grounded herself against his lap as alex moaned lightly as the friction in his jeans. “fuck…” alex said almost breathlessly, “i’ve got to make it up to you, baby.”

“o— hah~ fuck alex~ ‘m so full,” she cried quietly, her legs growing tired as she continued to bounce up and down his cock. the sensitive spot inside of her overstimulated as alex groaned in pleasure, his hands were sure to leave a mark as he continued to grip on her hips. 

“did you miss that, baby?” he said breathlessly, his hands now guiding her as his hips began to thrust up and his cock began pistoning inside her cunt. she only let out a whine as alex chuckled, “you miss my cock inside of your cunt, sweetheart?”

“fuck, baby, yes,” she nodded eagerly, her tits bouncing in front of him as she babbled, “missed your cock— miss your cock inside my pussy- i missed this— fuck! please~”

“what do you want, baby?” alex let out a low moan, “tell me what you want. god, princess, you feel so good around me.” he growled quietly as he felt her clenching around his girth. 

he really had missed this. 

“i’m gonna- ah! fuck, baby,” she sobbed, tears of pleasure falling down her cheeks as she babbled, “‘m gonna cum. want you so bad- please, please, fuck me harder alex i- hah! fuck!” 

alex didn’t spend that much time considering her request, his hips were now off the mattress as he began to thrust rapidly and roughly. the tone of their moans and rhythms of skin slapping were making music, producing a sound of love to make up for. 

she let out a high pitched chant of, ‘yes’ and ‘fuck’ as her walls clenched around his cock. alex’s groans tuned down to a lower octave as they both chased their highs. 

“fuck, baby,” alex groaned as he finally slowed down, filling her cunt full with his cum as she let out a strangled whine. her cunt throbbed around him as they slumped down on the bed. 

or rather, alex slumped down on the mattress while her body limped on top of him. she sighed, exhausted like he was. 

he tried to pull her away from his cock as he whispered, “baby, we gotta clean you up—“

“no,” she murmured and pleaded, “just… just hold me.”

“are you sure? baby, ‘m still inside of you,” it wasn’t anything that alex would be against, but he was more worried for her at the moment.

“‘s okay, i- uh,” she looked up at him with a flushed face and a tired smile, “it’s warm— keeps me warm… i like it.”

“are you sure?” with another nod from her, alex finally accepted his newfound love for this closeness as he sighed and kissed her head. “okay. let’s… stay like this then.”

yeah… he could get used to holding her like this. 

♡   moony’s reminder 🅶 (general): @hiraethrhapsody @avaleineandafryingpan

♡   moony’s reminder 🅴 (explicit edition): @glitterf1

[hwaslayer]

wildfire (cs) | intro.

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, eventual smut

—word count: 2.0k

—warnings: nothing much; cussing, very general description of research topics/neuroscience experiments including mentions of mice research (no details)!, mentions of infidelity (not oc or san)

—a/n: ty for being patient with me <33 here's the lil intro to professor choi 🤪 i think i'll keep the same update schedule i've had (every other weekend) but ofc will let everyone know if i cant update for whatever reason!! enjoyyyy this rideeee 🖤

Clunk.

San throws his glasses onto his desk before leaning back in his chair, hands coming up behind his head for a stretch. He had been working on his progress report for one of his grants since this morning, and he was starting to feel the migraine come on.

"Fuck." He mutters, pinching at the bridge of his nose before he gets up to grab another cup of coffee from his Nespresso machine— popping in a pod with a level 9 intensity into the slot and pressing start. It's around dinner time, but quite frankly, San isn't too hungry. He'll eat something small. He's just tired, especially because of this progress report. But, it's due next week and he needs to finalize his class schedule for the upcoming quarter at the same time. He won't have as much time to get through the technicalities if he waits any longer.

He's pretty immune to the different intensities of coffee at this point; having eaten it for breakfast, lunch and dinner during his postdoc years. It won't do much for long, but it'll at least keep him going for the next couple of hours before he calls it a day and lays in bed. 

When his coffee is done, he pours some creamer into his mug and gives it a good stir before settling back into his office. His house is too big for one person, but he enjoys the stillness. The quiet. He used to hate it. He used to hate when every corner reminded him of his ex-wife. Now, he's gotten used to it. He's learned how to live alone, how to enjoy his peace. He lets out a small sigh, taking a sip of his hot coffee as he resumes to look at the computer screen to his side. Suddenly, his phone goes off and he's quick to shift his attention to it because it's slightly odd for this time of day. People don't normally call him unless he's settled on a phone call meeting ahead of time, and he doesn't remember booking any calls tonight.

"Hey." San picks up when he realizes it's Jongho. Okay, so he maybe he lied. He does take a few calls from close friends, most who are also professors at the same university. "What's up?"

"How's your T15 report going?"

"Long. It's terrible."

"Well." Jongho laughs. "Perks of being you, I guess." San rolls his eyes. 

"Yeah, thanks. Very enlightening."

"Anyways, I wanted to call really quickly. I figured you hadn't seen it yet, but wanted to put it on your radar. I looped you into an email for a possible collaboration. We're trying to meet this week if you're free. Might be good to see what it's worth, could get us more funding. Open more collaboration opportunities in the future." San presses the phone against his ear, holding it with his shoulder as he navigates to his inbox on his computer. He has a bunch of unread emails that he'll eventually respond to, paying a tad more attention to the pressing ones when he has a moment. He's not gonna lie, he does ignore a few if it's not of interest to him, or something he doesn't feel like he can contribute much to. He'll typically respond with a 'so sorry, no can do' if people get pushy and constantly follow up, but for the most part, he does his best to keep up and respond where it's warranted.

San sees the email Jongho is speaking of, but right underneath it, he sees another email from a student inquiring about rotating in his lab for the upcoming quarter. He's always interested when students reach out to rotate in his lab, but he can't accommodate all, especially when he doesn't feel like his research aligns with their goals. He usually takes 1 per quarter if it fits, otherwise, he doesn't have any at all. 

Out of curiosity, he clicks on the email since it has been awhile since anyone rotated in his lab. 

From: yn@atz.edu To: choisan@atz.edu Dear Professor Choi, I hope this email finds you well. My name is Y/N, and I'm currently a bioengineering grad student who is interested in rotating in your lab for the upcoming quarter. I have been thinking about diving deeper into computational analysis, mice behavior, 2-photon excitation and opto-stim work. I've spoken to your postdocs, Sunwoo and Belle, about their current projects and potentially collaborating since they seem to be touching up on all these aspects. I was hoping we can find a time to meet and chat a bit to see if it would be a good fit. The deadline to submit my rotation selections is coming up, so I'd like to make sure we meet beforehand. Let me know, happy to work with your schedule! Best, Y/N Y/L/N

The thing about San is that he's pretty good at picking up on a student's vibe through their emails. It's the tone, the professionalism, the way they write and carry themselves. He can tell when some people are a little more egotistical and ignorant, and he doesn't want people like that in his rather small, but mighty lab. His current grad students and postdocs all get along well, and they're bright people who are very passionate about their work and studies. He doesn't need people thinking they're above the others. In addition to that, he can also tell when students are just trying to get their name on a published paper doing work in his lab, or when they're just trying to wing their way through grad school. It's a shame, but he definitely has come across a few students in his inbox. They do exist.

You, though? He's intrigued. You seem bright. Genuinely passionate about the specific areas you're interested in diving into. Poised. He appreciates that. He quickly scans over your CV and the little blurb at the bottom that highlights the work you've done in your undergrad years and internships. Your work history. He sees that you've already dipped your toes in a few of the different areas you've mentioned. Worked with a few professors he knows. You've volunteered at a couple of places.

An all-rounder.

"Did you see it?" He almost forgets he's on the phone with Jongho.

"Mm, yeah. I'll respond in a bit, I think I can meet on Thursday. Sorry, I just got a little distracted. Saw another email about a potential rotation student."

"Gonna take one on this quarter?"

"Maybe. If it fits. She seems to be interested in a lot of the work we do. She knows Sunwoo and Belle."

"Oh, nice. That'll be cool."

"What about you? Taking on a rotation student?" Jongho is an assistant professor in the electrical engineering department, and he is often bombarded with inquiries himself. He usually always has a rotation student, and they almost always choose his lab to work in after their rotation program is up. San doesn't blame them— Jongho is brilliant, and his work creates a lot of different pathways for students to navigate and try. San's can be a hit or miss; it's quite niched, and students often find that it genuinely is tough to play around in his field.

"Yeah. Think so." 

"Alright. Thanks for giving me a heads up. I'll check my calendar and respond in a bit for sure." San eyes the email. "It does sound like a good collaboration."

"Figured you'd say that. Thanks, my guy! Take it easy and good luck on your progress report."

"Appreciate it." San gives off a toothless smile even though Jongho can't see him. He slides his phone off to the side and checks his calendar, upholding his promise to Jongho about responding to the email ASAP. He keeps his email short, letting the group know he can make the meeting at the desired time on Thursday to talk about the potential collaboration across labs.

Then, he pulls up your email and checks his calendar once more.

From: choisan@atz.edu To: y/n@atz.edu Hi Y/N, Thanks for your email - for sure! I think there's a lot of possibilities we could visit, especially with Belle and/or Sunwoo's projects. Can you pop into my office on Tuesday morning? 10am good? We can chat then. — San

"Oh shit." You slow your chewing when you see the email notification pop up on your screen during dinner.

"What?" Felix asks, turning his attention towards you and causing Jiung and Eunchae to do the same.

"Professor Choi answered my email."

"That was quick." Jiung takes forkful of food into his mouth.

"Professor Choi as in San or Jongho? Cause they're both hotties." Eunchae swoons and twirls her hair, making Felix scrunch his nose.

"San." 

"I'd kill to be a rotation student in their labs." Eunchae giggles. "What'd he say?"

"To meet him at his office on Tuesday to chat more."

"Well, that's good! Which other labs were you looking at?"

"I'm not sure. Song Mingi, Kang Yeosang, Jeong Yunho. Kim Namjoon—"

"Isn't Professor Choi's ex-wife with Professor Jeong now?" Jiung looks up with a squint.

"Yeah, apparently when it all went down, it was a mess." Felix chimes in, and you continue to type away at your phone. "Imagine your wife having an affair with your bestfriend."

"Harsh." Jiung does a head tilt.

"I guess they don't interact much anymore, do they? Seems to be water under the bridge."

"I don't think so, but Professor Lee works in the Chemical Engineering department so they might have to from time to time if students in her lab wanna be co-advised or collaborate with him. Professor Jeong, though."

"Awkward. At least they can keep it civil." Felix shrugs at Eunchae's response.

"They lowkey have no choice." Felix looks up in thought before shrugging. "Still sucks to know your bestfriend was involved."

"Seriously." You add.

"Either way, those are good labs to possibly rotate in. It'd be cool if you could get into Namjoon's lab. Heard he's cool as fuck even though he's the department chair." Felix tosses his napkin into his empty paper bowl.

"Yeah, same. I'll keep you guys updated." You send off your response to Professor Choi with a small sigh. "There. Hopefully my rotation will be settled for the quarter."

From: yn@atz.edu To: choisan@atz.edu Hi Professor Choi, Yes, I can meet you at 10am on Tuesday. Thank you, and see you then! Best, Y/N

"Maybe you'll get more out of the rotation, especially with Professor Choi." Eunchae nudges your side and you let out a small yelp before you playfully pinch her bicep.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jiung snorts.

"I'm just saying, he's successful. A hottie. Young. Single—"

"Here she goes." Felix lets out a breath.

"Bro. Calm down." Jiung laughs. "He's still a professor."

"What if you two get close during rotation and he falls in love with you?" She looks at you ever so seriously. 

"Relax." Felix laughs. "What kinda movie did we fall into?"

"Eunchae, please." You poke her cheek. "You know we rarely ever see the professors in lab. We get like.. five minute meetings with them and that's about as much of a personal interaction we'll get. They're busy people. Sorry to burst your bubble, bae." She shrugs.

"It was fun to think about." She giggles. "But no, that'll be a good experience for you if you get to join his lab for rotation. The others are great, too. Is he your first choice for a dissertation advisor, though?"

"As of now, yeah. But, we'll see how it all goes."

"Keep us updated." Jiung sips some water. "I think I need to reach out to one more professor for this quarter. Needa figure out my shit before classes start."

"Same." 

Meanwhile, San sees the notification from your email pop up in the corner of his screen and he immediately presses on it. He smiles a bit when he realizes how easy scheduling that meeting was— most of the time, people say they'll work with his schedule but end up pushing back. He slots you into his calendar before he can forget and switches his attention back to the progress report he's close to finishing up. 

San thinks it'll be nice to host a rotation student again, as the experience has always been useful, eventful, productive. He thinks it'll be like any other time; the experience being useful, eventful. Productive. He trusts in his group, the students, to come up with great ideas and be able to execute from start to finish.

So, he doesn't think much of it. He thinks he can hand you off and trust you with Belle and Sunwoo.

Little does he know that's where he gets it all wrong.

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @lynnsqueendom

[formulawolff]

xvii. facing reality - t.w.

pairing: female driver!reader x toto wolff

word count: 2.9k

warnings: cursing, age gap relationships, (slight) sexism, unfair treatment of drivers, toto being down bad per usual, mentions of divorce, allegations of infidelity, james being a dick, yadayadayada

a/n: i am aware that it is solely up to the drivers in terms of contract talks, negotiations, etc. however, let's just pretend that we do not see it and that there are some restrictions when it comes to our golden girl. okay? okay cool :p

prev. | next.

the only noise was the dull roar of the engine, and well, the occasional shuffle of papers as he flips through his notebook, careful not to produce much movement in his shoulder.

nestled on his right shoulder was your head, your breathing rhythmic, both arms cuddling his bicep. 

turning his head, his mouth places a kiss on your temple, “i love you, sweet girl.”

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

the ease in which the words flowed from his lips sent a ripple of bliss throughout his chest. the warm, cozy feeling only intensifies tenfold as you wrinkle your nose, nuzzling into the fabric of his button-up. although you’re deep in slumber, you respond, voice thickened with exhaustion.

“i love you, toto.”

“get some rest,” he murmurs, “i’ll wake you when we make it to montreal.”

sometimes the bustling season schedule had its perks. since drivers were not required to fly in with their teams to races, typically everyone flew separately from their respective locations. so, toto had you accompany him on his jet to canada, where the two of you could be alone for just a little while longer.

approximately twelve hours longer, where you would have to go your separate ways once landing. it was arranged that theodore would be driving you to the track, where you would be able to reunite with alex and the rest of the williams crew.

meanwhile, mr. wolff had a few business obligations to attend. one was a meeting with a few potential investors for the 2025 season, while the other obligation was a little more personal.

someone had to recognize your accomplishments over the last few weeks. 

and he was going to be that person.

to add to your bracelet, toto arranged a meeting with a private jeweler where he would pick out four more charms to add to your bracelet. 

one for sazuka. one for miami. one for emilia romagna. and finally, one for monaco. 

the initial plan was to gift you the new charms before qualifying, so that you could have a few more additions to your bracelet. in toto’s mind, he liked to imagine that the bracelet was your good luck charm. 

after all, it seemed to be working. 

with the current driver standings, you were at the top of the board. max was behind you, trailing by a decent amount of points. at his tail was charles leclerc, lando norris in fourth. although your name was a hot topic in the world of formula one, rumors flying that you were the main contender for the title, it was still too early to make any definitive judgments. 

formula one was ever-changing. a single race could shift the leaderboard, as many drivers were close in points. a single weekend could also shift the team standings, as williams was now thrust in the mix for the second or third spot, fighting tooth and nail with red bull, ferrari and mclaren. 

it was all thanks to you. your reflexes, your critical thinking, your ability to remain level-headed under pressure, and your exceptional knowledge of the cars and the sport were the reason why williams was in their position.

it was the sole reason why you were the leader of the pack. sure, the car helped, but a majority of the credit was due to the american driver. 

the first american female driver to ever win points. the first to ever win a grand prix. the first woman to win five consecutive grand prixes.

the only woman to ever win a grand prix. 

you were one of one. 

additionally, you were the second woman in the history of the sport to ever score points, decades after lella lombardi paved the way. 

there was so much at stake, so much weight to be carried on your shoulders. 

yet, here you were, lightly snoring, your lips parted as your brows twitched, lashes fluttering. 

it seemed the closer the two you got, there was always something that tried to pry you further apart. 

hours ago, toto received an email in his inbox from the mercedes public relations team, formally asking the team principal if he could maintain his distance from the williams driver. this was mainly for the sake of the image of the team as a whole. 

to manage this, he needed to refrain from speaking to the driver in either one of the garages, in the paddock, in any area of the track or designated team areas. this was to be during press conferences, and well throughout any public interaction with the driver before, during, or between racing events. 

of course, mercedes supported the decisions he made in his personal life wholeheartedly and wanted nothing but the best for him when it came to his romantic and personal endeavors. however, with the current public perception of his romantic relationship with the williams driver, it was best that he focused solely on the team and their potential accomplishments for the time-being. the team was his top priority for the weekend. 

oh, and the most crucial aspect of the entire email. 

we hope that you abide by our advice and take the necessary precautions. we are hoping for a great weekend in canada!

some fucking email that was.

although there was no formal threat of repercussions, the team principal was not going to take any risks. 

even if it slightly killed him inside to do so.

it appeared that in order to have access to you, toto was going to have to tread carefully. there would have to be thoroughly coordinated meetings, where he would have to sneak away just to even catch a glimpse of your gorgeous face. he would have to slip into your motorhome in the late hours of the night, just as he used to in jeddah, suzuka, and miami. 

however, since that kiss in monaco, things were a little more intense. 

there were eyes now. on both of you. 

eyes that would follow his every move, watching as he departed from the paddock or garage. eyes that were trained by pr teams to ensure that the delicate mercedes reputation remained intact. eyes that were determined to keep the two of you separated, no matter his frustration or protest. 

you were going to be so close, yet so far. 

he would be able to look, but not touch. 

and fuck, was that shit was going to drive him absolutely insane. 

on a similar note, you had gotten the notification from the williams public relation team just as you were boarding the jet. 

although you received the same sort of message within the email, you also happened to get a text from james. 

that one was far more threatening, laced with a sour bitterness that had toto’s blood boiling, his fists tightening on the armrests, knuckles tinged white. 

i do not want to see you look in the direction of the mercedes paddock while we’re in montreal. and if i catch you talking to him between practices or the race…

as much as toto prompted you to get into contact with the human resources department to report the text, you protested. mostly due to the fact that you were already in hot water with williams. despite their reassurances that you were not to face consequences for monaco, there was still that anxiety gnawing away at you, an ever-looming thought in the back of your mind. 

even if you weren’t in trouble for your romantic pursuits, williams had made it very clear that they did not approve of the relationship. 

at least, their public relations department, some members of the board, and james, your team principal, had made it very clear. 

and to you, that was enough to keep you on your best behavior. 

however, there were approximately eleven more hours of the flight before you made it to your destination. 

for the mercedes team principal, that meant he had to savor your presence for eleven more hours before the two of were forced to go your separate ways. 

fuck the mercedes pr team for suggesting those pitiful rules. fuck the williams pr team for reminding you of their disapproval. 

and most importantly, fuck james vowles for speaking to you that way. 

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

“there she is!” 

“hi,” you wave, suppressing a giggle as he waggles his brows, pointing finger guns in your direction.

“how’d it gooo? did you two lay under the starlight and give one another googly eyes until the sun rose over the beautiful mountains of monte carlo?”

alex is peering at you, his gaze honed in as you shrug, “it was fine.” 

he scoffs, rolling his eyes, “you guys spent days together and you can’t tell me a single detail?” 

carefully, you scan the room, taking in your surroundings. currently, you were in the williams paddock, situated next to alex in one of the many debrief rooms. james was going to arrive any minute, ben in tow, along with members of the core crew. 

keeping your voice low, you fidget with the sleeves your hoodie, grateful for the traces of citrus and spice that lingered, “james texted me before i boarded my flight here.” 

alex straightens in his seat, leaning forward so that your voice didn’t have to carry, “no shot. what did he say?” 

“he said that he didn’t want me to even look in the direction of the mercedes paddock,” the words are shaky, brimmed with apprehension, “the text had a really off-putting tone to it. toto wanted me to report it but i’m not sure if i should. i’m already in an awkward position with williams and i don’t want to complicate things further.” 

alex’s tongue runs along his lower lip, the driver’s brows scrunched together. there’s concern glittering in his gaze, his fingers resting on his chin. 

“that’s really shitty of james considering i was there at that meeting following monaco. everyone seemed to be in good standing with one another. i remember patrick reminding you over and over again that you weren’t in any sort of trouble. maybe he said that so you could focus on the race this weekend?” 

“probably,” you mutter, slumping into the chair, “it just fucking sucks, you know? all of this back and forth. it’s like having fucking vertigo. one minute i feel like i’m on cloud nine, and the world loves me. james is over the moon, and the crew is hoisting me up into the air. within seconds, everyone is avoiding me. they’re shooting me dirty looks or spreading shit about me on social media. they’ll murmur under their breath that i’m a homewrecker or a slut.”

before you know it, alex has several tissues is his grasp, gently laying them on your thigh. raising your read, you feel the slickness of tears on your heated cheeks, your palms clammy as you wipe them on your sweats.

“i cannot imagine how fucking hard this must be for you.” 

“it is,” your lower lip trembles as you dab the tissue on your lids, “why do you think i flew out to monte carlo? why do you think i’ve been avoiding wantage? ignoring the emails? i just don’t feel like my relationship with williams is genuine anymore. sometimes i regret that race in monaco–”

“hey,” a thumb massages your shoulder, his voice light, “don’t ever feel guilty about that race.”

you shake your head, the words spilling out of gritted teeth, “if i would have let charles overtale me, he would have won. i would have never left that podium. i would have never kissed–”

“everything okay in here?” 

a voice rings through the room, your head swiveling to the doorway.

james enters the room, the williams crew following in suit. using your sleeve, you brush away the tears, exhaling as alex tosses the tissues in the nearest trash bin. he scrunches his nose, nudging you with his knee.

“you’re welcome for that.”

“what would i do without you?” a laugh bubbles up in your throat as he wraps his arm around your shoulder, bringing you in for an affectionate embrace. 

his mouth hovers by your ear, eyes darting to james before shifting back to you, “we can talk more later. i promise. i want to know how you and your pookie bear are doing!”

“okay you two,” james clicks his tongue, “i hate to interrupt gossip hour, but it’s time to discuss racing strategies for the weekend. unfortunately spilling secrets about a certain team principal does not get us anywhere in terms of winning.”

at his snide remark, you feel a twinge of frustration brew in your stomach, churning it into a knot as james’ attention falls on you, his arms folded across his chest, brow arched ever so slightly. 

“can you promise us that you’ll be one hundred percent focused on the race this weekend? one hundred percent dedicated to williams and only williams?”

your jaw clenches, brows knitting together, “isn’t that what i’ve been – yes. i can promise you that.i’ll be dedicated to the team this weekend, just as i’ve always been.”

“good,” james’ expression is unreadable as he tuts, “okay! let’s get started. ben, would you like to begin with the latest upgrades to the cars?”

mirroring the others, you slide the headphones over your ears, ben’s voice drowning in your ears as dives into the subject at hand. 

as much as your mind wanted you to pay attention, to listen closely, you were not present. 

not one bit.

your thoughts were elsewhere, wandering back to that one individual.

toto. 

fuck, did your heart absolutely ache. 

how were you supposed to maintain your distance for an entire weekend if you could barely keep it together after merely hours apart? 

you could sense your knee bouncing, your teeth gnashing into your cheek, chewing away at the flesh. 

fuck, this was going to suck.  

your thumbs itch, urging you to fish your phone out of your pocket. yet, you know that shouldn’t, as there were numerous eyes right along with you in the room. there were a few times in which you did glance at your phone in the past during debriefings, but that was to simply check notifications, pull up footage, or type a quick response to send back to toto. 

if james happened to catch you peeking at your phone? oh god, he would probably treat you like some sort of child and have you sit right next to him. just so that he could observe your every move and ensure that you were honed in on the tasks at hand. fuck, if he was frustrated enough, he would probably snatch that phone right out of your hand, keeping it until you all were finished. 

the treatment you were receiving since monaco was becoming more and more insulting. almost degrading, really. 

sure, you were at the top of the leaderboard. sure, you were one of the best drivers that the team had signed in a years. sure, you were writing history with every record you shattered. 

but when you were involved with the team principal of mercedes, those things didn’t really matter. you were treated like a petulant child, disciplined for something that was beyond your control. 

there was no reason to punish you over the man you were in love with. 

yet, that was just the reality of the situation. 

as harsh as it was, it was probably wise to keep the two of you separated. although the pr teams were working overtime, busting their asses to squash the rumors, to silence those whispers, there were still the ever-looming truths.

one, you were engaging in a romantic relationship with a man thirty years older than you. 

two, toto was recently divorced. that was not a good look for each party involved. it raised the questions of how long the two of you were really talking, how long you had been tiptoeing around. the heated debates if you actually knew about the divorce or if you were a homewrecker.

and of course, the third and final truth.

the mercedes amg petronas was searching to sign their second driver for the 2025 season. toto especially, as he was their main scout, announcing numerous times that he had spoken with a menagerie of drivers, even beyond formula one. 

the hot gossip was that you were to be that second driver. you were the prized pick, a valuable asset to any team on the grid. the apple of toto’s eye. the object of his every desire. the final piece to his puzzle. 

although the entire world was under the impression that they were just speculations, they were blissfully unaware that it was indeed the truth. 

toto was going to approach james after the canadian grand prix with his proposal. 

all he needed was that blessing, the nod of approval to begin the contract talks.

however, there was that one uncertainty. the one thing that both of you were unsure of, waves of anxiety pumping through your veins each time your mind wandered. 

there was that possibility that james could say no. that there would be no contract talks.

even though it ultimately was up to the driver, the fia had made it very clear there were to be no private meetings, nothing left in the dark. especially if you were to depart ways from williams and sign with mercedes. 

so if james said no, you would be fucked. 

majorly, utterly, completely fucked. 

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as always, thank you guys for the endless support on this series! let me know if you would like to be tagged! we have about three chapters left! i love you all!! <33