#rare spacely content from me

[bandanad33]

What if we cuddled (and were robots) (and were gay) (and were in a qpr) (and happened to be trapped in space together for a few years) (and-

[the-monkey-ruler]

I was reading The Monkey King's Daughter (you can read the whole book for an hour) and apparently the protagonist is also Guanyin's grandchild? Can Guanyin be shipped?

I mean I can’t say like what are like the moral implications of shipping GuanYin itself cause that is so not my place but I’m still going to answer this cause it kinda of interesting when it comes to modern media. First off saying that like I have never really seen romance done with GuanYin. At least in a serious way. But if I had to take a guess it can be seen as 'possible' as much as like shipping anyone in Chinese mythos, in that isn't really taken seriously at all. In a lot of modern fan spaces there are a variety of crack ships for more humorous or hypothetical situations like I have seen literally the Star of Venus shipped with Jade Emperor just cause. But I don't see much with buddhas or bodhisattvas in either post-modern media nor in fan spaces. At least that isn't Wukong or Sanzang since they are both Buddhas. And I have done a whole thing about how Wukong for decades wasn’t seen as a romantic figure until like there was a huge character reconstruction, but that isn’t usually the case for most characters.

I would say that the most mainstream instance I can think off the top of my head is The Lost Empire (2001) where it had the main character has a romantic plot with Gaunyin herself. Of course, that wasn't really a masterpiece within itself but this was considered like a 'bad choice' more so that it was just a very strange and awkward romance at that.

Funny enough I think I see more romantic for humor's sake on Guanyin in comic books or games as likes gags at most. Like in Westward comics (later a tv series) Guanyin has a celestial-turned-demon trying to pursue him that he always rejects. Another is more play for laughs but Guanyin in the Fei Ren Zai where people just don't know it's Guanyin and think she is so attractive.

I've seen some games that have Guanyin as like a pretty boy/girl but otherwise nothing even close to a romance plot. Those are more just for like aesthetics of making every character look overly attractive to sell it.

The best I can say is that is just kinda strange and a little strange personally but I can't say that it can be taken seriously. I mean Wukong is supposed to be a Buddha by the end of the novel, so if The Monkey King's Daughter has it that a buddha can have a daughter then there wouldn't be anything stopping the author from having a bodhisattva having kids.

[crowswarm]

😤

[jinwoosungs]

04/21/25; 07:30pm

{ 18+ drabbles / headcanons }

[ they catch you while you’re ovulating ]

featuring: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel, caleb

notes: don’t mind me, i just got a short burst of inspiration with all these ovulation memes 🙂‍↕️

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

sylus was the first to awaken when he felt you straddling at his waist. he doesn’t open his eyes, but chooses instead to lay in wait for you. his breathing was slow and even, further accentuating his act of remaining asleep.

the silky material of your nightgown was felt sliding down his chest, his breathing hitching in response to such a seductive sensation. it takes a herculean effort for his eyes to remain closed when he feels your hot breath against his skin.

yet his façade quickly vanishes the moment your lips latch on to his chest, feeling the way your tongue curls around his nipple while letting out a low hiss in response. when he fully wakes up did you move away from him, onyx eyes meeting with your innocent gaze as your fingertips trace at his hard wall of muscle.

“what’s gotten you so riled up, kitten?” sylus asks you, delving his fingers into your hair. you don’t answer him for a few beats, licking at your bottom lip as the onychinus leader follows each movement of your tongue. “i’m not sure, sy, i just woke up feeling so needy for you.”

you end up laying back against him, placing your panties stained with the evidence of your arousal on his hard abdomen. all too eager to see what you had to offer, sylus places an arm behind his head while watching your every move. you place one more kiss against his chest before planting your hands against it, steadying yourself while moving your aching sex back and forth on his abdomen.

your breathing quickly turns into whiny moans of his name, “ngh, sy, this feels so good…!” your movements become more rapid then, your hips losing its steady pace as it became sloppier with each second that passes. sylus could sense that your release was quickly approaching when his hands go up to grip at your waist, moving you toward his muscled thigh while clenching his muscles to help.

the friction was enough to make you climax, with you completely ruining your panties as your juices soaked through the flimsy fabric. your scent permeating at the air forces a low growl out of sylus as he removes you from his thigh.

settling you back against the bed, sylus rips apart your sheer nightgown, admiring the sight of your naked breasts and soaked panties for a brief moment before cupping at his erection. “you’re driving me crazy, sweetie. so i hope you’re prepared for what’s to come.”

it was often a rare occurrence for zayne to have a day off and actually enjoy it. and despite how you wanted to keep your distance to give him some space-

something about him had set you in a bit of a frenzy.

from his tousled hair to the faint scent of his aftershave-

you couldn’t seem to get enough of him.

each time he would look up from his novel and meet your gaze, his smile would be potent enough to make your heart lurch within your chest and the ache between your legs feel even more prominent. as if running on autopilot, you step closer to his side of the bed, putting down his novel before settling yourself on top of him.

he meets your gaze with furrowed eyebrows, “what is it?”

you shake your head, remaining silent as you trail your hands down his chest. his breathing hitches in response to your sudden touch, and you slowly began to unbutton his shirt before sliding it off of him. the fabric falls to the ground, leaving his upper body bare for you. he attempts to cover his hands, but you stop him, seeing the faint scars that decorate his skin while kissing at them.

“don’t hide yourself away from me. not when you’re the one i love the most.”

basking in his warmth, you press a few kisses down his abdomen, seeing the faint trail of hair that leads further down his sweatpants. “sorry zayne, something about you has become so captivating to me.”

you slowly slide down his pants and boxers, revealing his half-erect cock to you. sliding out of your own shorts and panties, you slowly began stroking him with the underside of your cunt, effectively causing the doctor to toss his head back.

“ngh… honey, are you ovulating right now?”

you bite down on your bottom lip, “i don’t give a fuck what it’s called, all i know is that i need you right now.”

when zayne’s cock was hard enough for your liking did you finally impaled yourself on him, making him cry out your name as you began setting a rapid pace. as you bounced up and down his cock, zayne was felt gripping at the sheets below him, falling even more in love with you each time you sank down on him.

xavier needed no further urging when you begged him to let you ride his face. in fact, the philos prince was already laid back on the bed (naked and ready for you) when you re-entered your shared bedroom.

your knees were clashing together, trying to provide some much needed friction as you became desperate for his mouth on you. he meets your gaze, seeing the sheer neediness in your eyes when he demands that you take a seat.

“you already know that i’m willing to do everything to make you happy.”

“but what if i suffocate you?” you take a step closer to the bed, letting out a gasp when xavier wraps an arm around your naked body. using one hand, he places you on his chest, true blue eyes now hidden by an endless void, “you won’t. go on and sit on it.”

the hoarse quality of his voice sends shivers down your spine, and you had to mentally prepare yourself for what was to come. when the ache between your legs became too much to bear did you finally make a move.

moving closer to him, you lift yourself above his face, feeling your arousal dripping from its center. before you could even change your mind, it was xavier who brings you down on him using his strength alone. the pleasure was immediate, with you feeling his tongue traveling deep within your slick walls. he began greedily devouring you, soaking up all you had to offer as his tongue kept pounding itself in and out of you.

and when he gently sucks on your swollen bundle of nerves was when you felt your climax quickly approaching. a broken cry of his name was all you could manage when you allowed your release to rush out of you and into his awaiting mouth.

you were in a daze at the end of your release, allowing the pinpricks of pleasure to course through you when xavier lifts your body off of him-

only to sit up before pressing your body down on his cock. with a startling accuracy, xavier manages to pierce through you, eyes going wild as he fucks himself into your heat. your soft moans echo throughout the room as you brace yourself onto xavier’s shoulder, losing count of the times he made you cum.

there was a strange heat felt coursing through your veins, filling you to the brim with red hot desire. you had woken up from what you assumed was a nap that lasted far too long for your liking-

leaving you itching with a need to be filled.

getting out of bed, you slowly began peeling off your clothes, your bare feet padding against the flooring of your beloved’s home. you had barely stepped foot into his studio when he opens the door, nostrils flared while raking his eyes down your form.

“you need me, don’t you?”

so caught off guard by his bold question, you were given little time to react when he pulls you into his studio, setting your naked body on the couch as he settles himself between your thighs.

“i swear i could smell you before you even came to see me.”

heat blossoms across your veins, making you feel shy all of a sudden, since the lemurian just confirmed that he knew when you were the most needy for him. spreading your legs a little wider for him, rafayel introduces a finger within your soaked walls, pumping them in and out of you all while exploring your center with a hedonistic curiosity.

“you feel so soft around my fingertips, princess, yet i just know you’ll feel that much better around my cock.” he continues to play your body like an instrument, drawing out your moans as they echo throughout the studio like a sinful lullaby. your arousal drips down from your center and into his fingertips, earning a groan from the young artist.

“you are going to be the absolute death of me, princess.”

removing his hand from your aching sex, rafayel meets your hazy eyes while licking away the evidence of your arousal. letting out a hum of approval, he spreads your legs once more, inhaling your scent before placing his mouth on you. your center was now completely engulfed by his hot mouth, with your hands delving themselves into his hair as you immersed yourself in the pleasure he had given you.

when you admit to caleb about having a wet dream about him, he was relentless with his questioning, wanting to know every last detail of your dream. through embarrassing stutters, you manage to tell caleb as much as you could remember-

which was how you found yourself in this current position, your cunt aching for him with your front pressed against the bed as caleb remains settled behind you. you couldn’t see him, yet you could feel the way he lifts you up by the hips, forcing your bottom half into an upright position with your heated face pressed against the pillows.

feeling the colonel’s hands tracing at your ass, you gasp when he gives it a hard smack!, chuckling darkly before spreading your legs even wider for him, “why so embarrassed, pips? isn’t this just me makin’ your dreams come true?”

he angles your hips slightly, revealing your center to him as he brushes the tip of his cock against your outer lips. trembling at the sensation, you let out a moan the moment he slides into you, making you feel every inch of his pulsating cock.

completely behind you now, caleb braces himself on the bed before pistoning his hips in and out of you, the sound of his cock rapidly moving echoing throughout the room. the sensation of it all was enough to leave you a drooling mess, with your back arched as you take in his cock over and over again in this new position.

“heh, you’re so cute…” caleb leans down to playfully whisper within your ear while thrusting into you, “now tell me, isn’t the real deal more satisfying than a mere dream?”

end notes: unedited, but i kept seeing these ovulation memes with all the women getting needy for their men on my page and had to write something as inspiration 🤤 maybe ill change my status to semi-hiatus thanks to these short bursts of inspiration ♡

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[catchastarorten]

—Sleep well.

Pairing: Kang Dae-ho x fem!reader

Summary: Gi-hun suggested that the group took turns staying on watch in case the other players attacked, him and Jung-bae stayed up while you and the others napped, Dae-ho took his place beside you to rest with you.

Content: fluff, cuddling(?), you head-butting him in your sleep lol, English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, not really proofread, sorry!

Word count: 808

You were tucked into the corner with your group—Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Young-il, Dae-ho, and Jun-hee. Trust was a rare thing in the games, but the six of you managed to stick together, watching each other’s backs through the brutal rounds.

The weight of exhaustion clung to you, but Gi-hun’s paranoia kept your eyes open longer than you would have liked. He wasn’t wrong, though. The fear was palpable.

Your group pulled a couple of mattresses off of the bunks, arranging them as best as possible. One was dragged and laid flat against the wall, the others shoved under bunk frames for some semblance of protection.

“Is this really necessary? I don’t like sleeping under there.” Jung-bae asked, sliding a mattress to Gi-hun, who shoved it under a bunk frame.

“Once the lights go out, somebody might attack us.” Gi-hun said, his eyes focused and his voice steady. “The prize money still goes up if we kill each other. It’s a part of the game they designed.”

You exchanged a look with Dae-ho, who sat cross-legged beside you, holding onto some blankets and pillows. He had been your shadow ever since Red light, Green light. Always sticking close, insisting on protecting you in this place after seeing the way you froze during the first game—when he told you to stay behind him closely so you could use him as a human shield.

“We need to take turns keeping watch after the lights go out.” Gi-hun muttered, sitting down at the foot of the bunk beds, his sharp eyes scanning the room. “I’ll take the first watch.”

The lights flickered out not long after, leaving the only source being the giant piggy-bank hung on the ceiling that was glowing dimly.

It was after a while when Jung-bae rolled out lazily from under a bunk and plopped down beside Gi-hun, the two of them speaking in hushed voices.

You laid down on one of the mattresses, wrapping the thin blanket around yourself. Dae-ho settled beside you not long after, and though you weren’t expecting it, his hand brushed against yours as he shifted to get comfortable, and you were sure you saw his face flush before he hid it, which barely worked, to be honest.

“Don’t worry,” he mumbled, his voice low and soothing. “I’ll keep you safe. I’ll fight them off if they try to come over here.”

The sincerity in his words made your heart ache in the best way. Dae-ho had a knack for looking out for you since you met him in the games, even in the little ways—giving you his portion of food, stepping in when someone got too close. You hadn’t known him long, but there was this easy warmth between the two of you.

Within minutes, you were sound asleep.

Dae-ho’s soft snores filled the small space you both shared. Exhaustion had gotten the better of him, just like it did to you. His arm had draped protectively over your side in his sleep, his presence a cocoon of safety.

Gi-hun and Jung-bae sat near the bunks, their attention now drawn to the sound of soft snoring. Both sets of eyes landed on you and Dae-ho, curled up together on the mattress.

“They’re out like a light,” Jung-bae remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice. “You know, seeing them like that... it reminds me of when we went on strike. We were occupying the factory, and management told us to come out. They said anyone who came out voluntarily would be let off the hook and receive more severance pay.”

Gi-hun stared into the distance, as if recalling what happened.

“You were sleeping beside me and you were talking in your sleep. ‘Mom, I’m hungry, give me some food.’” Jung-bae made an exaggerated crying face, and Gi-hun gave him a glare as Jung-bae nudged him with his elbow, smirking.

Their voices echoed, and soon enough, soft laughs filled the quietness.

Jung-bae chuckled again, louder this time. He clapped a hand over his mouth, but it was too late. The noise had reached you, and you stirred slightly. Dae-ho, still asleep, curled closer to you instinctively, his arm tightening around your side. His movement caused your head to shift slightly, and without warning, you head-butted him in your half-asleep state of grogginess.

Dae-ho furrowed his brows, a soft noise escaping his lips as he shifted again, burying his face into the crook of his arm. You tugged the blanket over your shoulders, muttering something incoherent before nestling deeper into the mattress, falling right back asleep.

Jung-bae stifled another laugh, his shoulders shaking with the effort. Gi-hun gave him a glare, but a faint smile was already tugging at the corners of his mouth too.

“They’re like kids,” Jung-bae whispered, his tone fond.

“Let them sleep. They’ll need it.” Gi-hun shook his head and sighed softly.

[illyrianbitch]

Are We Still Friends?

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: Worried about how his new relationship seems to be changing him, you talk to Azriel about your concerns. Things take a turn when he refuses to listen.

Warnings: some wine sipping, gossiping, angst, miscommunication, friend fighting, jealousy (but no one realizes), az being defensive and blind

Word Count: 5k

(Completed) Series Masterlist | Part Two

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

“It’s not that I don’t like her.”

The words tasted as false as they were, and you grimaced the moment they slipped out, already bracing for the look Mor would throw your way. True to form, she didn’t disappoint, her expression halfway between amusement and exasperation.

A defeated sigh escaped as you accepted the glass of wine she offered, watching as she filled her own nearly to the brim.

“You’re better than me, then,” she hummed, settling back onto the couch across from you. “Because I don’t like her.”

You raised a brow. “You don’t like many people nowadays.”

She shrugged, casual as ever, though a smirk tugged at her lips. “True. I’m not exactly lining up for any peace medals, am I?”

You chuckled softly, leaning back in your chair. “I just… have this odd feeling about her, you know?”

Mor tilted her head, letting out a noncommittal hum. “Oh, I know. She drags Az around on a leash.”

You were tempted to say something about the irony in her words—remind her, in a loving manner, that she might've been guilty of that once upon a time, too. But you decided against it. She wasn't wrong.

You swirled the wine in your glass, watching the dark liquid move in slow, mesmerizing circles. The feeling wasn’t new; it had been there since the first time you’d met her. Azriel’s new girlfriend Selene was perfectly fine—charming, even. But there was something else, something you couldn’t quite name. Like a faint hum in the background of a quiet room, just irritating enough to notice but not enough to prove anything was wrong.

“Why don’t you talk to him?”

You glanced up, finding Mor’s bright brown eyes sharp and focused on you, the lazy humor of a moment ago gone.

“I doubt he’ll listen,” you admitted, resting the bottom of your glass on your thigh. “He didn’t listen to you.”

“That’s different.”

“It’s really not.”

Mor raised a brow like she wanted to argue, but she only sighed in response. “He’s been so weird about his love life. Gwyn didn’t work out. Elain’s probably the happiest out of all of us. Maybe he’s treading lightly.”

“Maybe,” you murmured, though you weren’t convinced.

Azriel had changed in small, almost imperceptible ways since everything had settled—since everyone had paired off and fallen in love. Everyone except you. And him.

You were fine with your situation, content in the quiet steadiness of your life. Azriel wasn’t. You knew it. He knew it, though he’d never admit it. So much of his self-worth was tangled up in whether he believed himself worthy of love. And the absence of it—of a solid, undeniable love in his life, of a partner, of a potential bond—seemed to weigh on him. To him, it wasn’t just an empty space; it was a failure.

You’d almost go as far as to say he’d become desperate, living in the shadows and watching his brothers experience loves so profound they might as well have been plucked from stories meant to inspire poets and dreamers.

Mating bonds were rare. You reminded yourself of that often. Your family was just an anomaly, their luck skewed impossibly high. But logic wasn’t enough to soothe Azriel, and it certainly wouldn’t stop him from chasing it. He was obsessive. Stubborn.

Nothing you said or did could change his perspective.

Mor’s voice pulled you out of your head again. “Speak of the devil,” she sang out. “Hi, Elain.”

Your gaze snapped up to the doorway, finding Elain standing just beyond the archway. She looked like a spooked deer, frozen in place with that polite smile you’d come to recognize as her default around company she hadn’t fully warmed up to yet.

“We were just talking about Azriel’s unfortunate romantic history,” Mor said smoothly. You glanced at Elain for her reaction.

It had taken time for that particular history to fade. Maybe it was appropriate to joke about now, but you personally would’ve waited a few more years before bringing it up so flippantly. Mor, however, had little patience for such niceties.

Elain’s expression didn’t shift beyond a faint flicker in her eyes, and you realized how much her composure had improved over the years. Then again, it had been a while since she and Lucien had found each other for good—long enough for their bond to solidify and for them to leave for the Day Court after their mating ceremony.

A twinge of jealousy sparked in you before you brushed it aside.

“We’re just gossiping in general. Want to join us?” you asked, gesturing to the chair beside you. Plush and inviting, it mirrored the one you sat on. “Unless Lucien is waiting for you upstairs?”

Elain’s cheeks flushed crimson. 

“Lucien’s still with Feyre, catching up,” she said, stepping further into the room. “What are you drinking?”

Mor reached for the bottle on the table, plucking it up and turning it in her hand to read the label.

“Something good and expensive,” she replied, with a half-hearted air of indulgence, before tilting her head at Elain with a faint grin.

“It’s from Rhys’s rather gluttonous collection,” you said, sensing Elain’s hesitation. “It won’t be missed at all.”

She smiled at that. “I’d love some.”

“There are a lot of glasses in that cabinet,” you said, pointing to the wood door with ornate carvings. “Grab whichever one you’d like.”

Mor sat up straighter, scooting herself back into the pillows behind her. You hummed, impressed, at her ability to hold both her full wine glass and the bottle without so much as a wobble.

You hadn’t spent much time with Elain one-on-one. Emissary duties had kept you busy during the years the Archeron sisters had adjusted to their new lives. But you liked Elain, from what you’d seen. She had a kind heart. She also had a sharp humor that surfaced at the oddest moments, usually when she and Lucien were whispering in corners, conspiratorial before seamlessly rejoining whatever social event they were at like they’d never left.

Elain returned and sat down with her chosen glass—a delicate crystal piece that gleamed in the soft light. Mor went to fill it instantly. 

“Can I ask why you were discussing Azriel’s romantic life?” Elain asked. Her voice was smooth, certain. No hesitation.

It didn’t faze her anymore, you realized—being such a strange, pivotal turning point in Azriel’s past experiences. She’d made peace with it, the way immortality seemed to demand. Time softened the edges of even the messiest situations, turning them into stories you could recount with startling detachment. Almost humorous, really.

Because how else could you explain being casual about the fact that your best friend had almost allowed his pride—and arrogance—and, somehow simultaneously, his insecurity—to lead him into a blood duel over Elain’s affections? A blood duel.

But now, it was just… something to write off. A distant memory, softened by the years and Lucien’s easy confidence. Lucien was better than you. You would’ve held that grudge against Azriel for many more years—long enough to make it a point of pride. But then again, Lucien had won everything he wanted in the end. He had the girl, the bond, the certainty that whatever lingering rivalry Azriel might feel was entirely one-sided.

It wasn’t important enough for Lucien to waste any more energy on.

You exchanged a glance with Mor, who arched a brow, clearly just as amused by Elain’s openness.

“Y/n doesn’t like his new girlfriend,” Mor said.

Your mouth fell open. “You don’t either.”

“True,” Mor agreed easily. She looked to Elain. “We don’t like her.”

“For clarification,” you said firmly, “I never said I didn’t like her.”

Mor laughed, sipping her wine with an amused grin.

Your face fell flat. “What?”

“Nothing,” she replied breezily. “But if you get a bad feeling about someone, that’s usually dislike.”

You resisted the urge to scowl, already turning over the guilt in your mind. You didn’t want to be that person—the kind who dismissed another female off the bat. Maybe your gut was wrong this time. Maybe her smile had reached her eyes, and you’d been too preoccupied to notice. Maybe her tone hadn’t been as assessing as you remembered, and you were projecting. You wanted to like her. You wanted to be happy for Azriel.

But he didn’t seem happy. He seemed distracted. Busy. Not himself.

And not the kind of busy you’d seen before—the methodical, obsessive focus he funneled into work or training. This was different, scattered in a way you couldn’t quite pin down. It had made sense in the beginning, when things were new and exciting, but now it was starting to feel uncomfortable. He’d started missing things—small things at first, like sparring sessions or those late-night conversations you, Mor, and him would have when you couldn’t sleep. Then came the bigger things. He’d stopped being able to review external court updates with you, even when those meetings were critical for your diplomatic roles.

Azriel had always been the one you could count on. Out of everyone, you considered him your closest friend—even more than Mor, though you’d never admit it out loud. But now it seemed like every time you made plans, Selene needed him more.

And then there was how fast it was all moving. Too fast. At a recent family dinner, she’d casually mentioned that she and Azriel could move in together—offhand, like it was the most obvious next step. Something about leaving the townhouse behind, creating a space with décor that matched her aesthetic. Azriel had just stayed quiet, looked at her like she’d just proposed the most brilliant idea in existence.

You noticed he did that. The way he looked at her. The way he’d looked at Elain and Gwyn back when they were seeing each other. It weirded you out—that tendency to put the people he saw as romantic interests on a pedestal, as though they were flawless. As though they were something he didn’t deserve.

You knew where it came from. That deep-rooted insecurity that even centuries hadn’t managed to erase. He didn’t see it, the way he wore himself down trying to prove his worth to people who, for the most part, had already accepted him. But you saw it. You always had.

And it made it harder to like Selene. To trust her intentions. Maybe that was unfair, but you couldn’t help but feel like she was just taking—taking all the parts of Azriel that used to be all of yours to share, and twisting them into something else. Something that didn’t include his family.

Still, you wanted to try. To let go of the gnawing irritation in your chest and convince yourself it didn’t matter. If she made him happy—truly happy—then none of it should matter. You were adamant on ensuring that you didn’t turn into the stereotypical overbearing female best friend.

Elain tapped her glass lightly. “Lucien doesn’t like her.”

You blinked back into reality. “Really?”

She nodded, a beat passing before she added, “To be honest, I’m not sure I do either.”

Mor leaned forward, grinning like she’d been handed a stack of gold. You almost wished Amren was here to bask in the moment. Amren didn’t like Azriel’s girlfriend, either. Maybe your family really was as unwelcoming as people claimed. Or maybe Selene simply brought out another level of scrutiny. The thought of either option made you feel bad— gross. 

“Why?” Mor asked.

“She was dismissive toward Lucien. And,” Elain hesitated, her brow furrowing slightly, “She seemed… entitled, I suppose. Especially with Azriel. Like she expected him to accommodate her every whim.”

You frowned, turning over her words. “I’m sure she was just nervous. We can be an intimidating group. Maybe she just needs time to settle in. We just want Az to be happy, right? So, if she makes him happy, then I’m absolutely fine with her.”

The silence that followed was thick. For a moment, you wondered if you’d said something wrong. Something weird.

“Are you?” Elain asked, her tone sincere.

“Are you?” Mor echoed at the same time, voice dripping with sarcasm.

You shot Mor a glare, but she only raised her brows and sipped her wine again, infuriatingly unbothered. Exhaling, you willed yourself to meet Elain’s gaze.

“I am,” you said, trying for conviction. “Really.”

Elain pursed her lips. Her gaze shifted to Mor, lingering longer than you liked, and then back to you.

“Alright,” she hummed. “I guess I was wrong.”

You stilled. Elain reclined deeper into her seat, accepting a refill from Mor. Her wine glass remained only half-full compared to yours and Mor’s.

Curiosity burned. You leaned forward. “What do you mean?”

Elain furrowed her brows. “What do I mean about what?”

“You said you guess you were wrong. What does that mean?”

Mor’s gaze bored into the side of your face. Any second now, you were sure she’d make some quip about how bothered you were. But you weren’t bothered. Just curious.

Elain swirled her wine, watching the light catch the liquid. “I’m not sure. Things feel off. Like something’s coming. Az needs help with it, I think.”

You froze. “Off? Like—how?”

She hesitated, thoughtful. “It’s hard to explain,” she murmured, her voice quieter now. “But I feel it. In my chest. My visions sometimes do that. That’s why I asked.”

Well, that unsettled you. You glanced at Mor, whose amused grin had fallen into something more contemplative.

It seemed you might need to have a conversation with Azriel after all.

“I don’t like that,” you admitted, your nose crinkling. 

“I think I heard him get back earlier. Go talk to him,” Mor said, her tone gentler now, though a hint of mischief lingered in her eyes. You didn’t read too much into that. Mor’s eyes tended to be expressive. She also tended to be mischievous when her blood was primarily red wine. 

“Okay,” you said. “Maybe just to check in.”

Elain nodded. “Just to check in,” she echoed, almost reassuring.

“Have fun,” Mor added, her grin returning just enough to be annoying, but not enough to distract you from the unease curling in your chest.

You didn’t respond, instead taking another slow sip of your drink. The glass clinked softly as you set it down on the table before you made your way upstairs.

After a moment of comfortable silence, Mor turned to Elain. “Did you really feel something that unsettling?”

Elain let out a laugh. “No,” she said lightly. “I completely made that up. But she doesn’t need to know that.”

Mor’s lips curled into a slow, wicked smile. Seconds later, her head tilted back in a laugh just as vibrant as it was unapologetic.

“Genius,” she declared, raising her glass in mock salute.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

The walk upstairs was quiet.

The townhome, in general, was quieter nowadays. Aside from the times others came to visit—like Lucien and Elain—only you and Azriel lived here full time.

When you reached Azriel’s bedroom door, your steps faltered for a moment. There was a hesitation in you that hadn't existed before. You raised your hand to knock, but the action felt more awkward than usual. It made you sad, momentarily, that you hesitated. You never second-guessed yourself with Azriel. You wanted to tread carefully in this new era of his life, though. You didn’t want to overstep, to become a nuisance. But whatever this was—whatever had unsettled Elain enough to mention it—you needed to know. Azriel had always been a constant for you, and if something felt “off,” you wanted to understand why.

Your knuckles rapped lightly on the door. “Az?” 

Inside, you heard the shuffle of movement, followed by his low, familiar voice. “Come in.”

You didn’t see Azriel immediately, but the smell of soap and the damp air told you that he recently showered. Shadows slithered across the floor, comfortable and excited, exploring the familiar confines of his room.

You greeted the tendrils as you usually did, letting them brush against your legs as you flopped onto his bed. The bed, like everything else in his room, was simple: plain black sheets, no extravagant pillows, just the bare necessities. It used to drive you mad, the emptiness of it all.  But what was in his room spoke volumes—— bare walls except for a dagger mount on one side, a small uncluttered desk with a well-worn sharpening stone. 

Azriel exiting the bathroom pulled your attention, your eyes settling on him as he rubbed his wet hair thoroughly with a towel. He shook his head slightly, wet curls bouncing onto his forehead, and met your gaze. His eyes flicked to where you lay, scanning your body. He nodded toward your feet.

“C’mon,” he almost whined. “No shoes on the bed.”

You looked down at yourself, grimacing as you realized that your shoes were, indeed, on his clean comforter. A simple set of house slippers, so nothing entirely too dirty, but it had completely slipped your mind. Very comfortable shoes, you noted, maybe you’d get Feyre a pair as a solstice gift.

“Oh whoops,” you said with an apologetic smile. “My bad, clean freak.”

He rolled his eyes, but you caught the quirk of his lips anyways.

For a moment, the old sense of comfort settled over you. But then, a thought crept in—the thought that maybe you shouldn’t lie on his bed like this anymore. It had been fine before, but now… now it felt different. He had someone else in his life. It wasn’t weird, exactly, but it was a little inappropriate.

You sat up straighter.

“Did you and Mor grow tired of rehashing the same centuries old gossip?” He teased.

You snorted, watching as his shadows flitted above his shoulders. They were amused, laughing in their own way. “Never,” you responded, pushing yourself off his bed. You were drawn to the otherside of his room, to the simple dresser against the wall. “Elain joined us this time.”

Your back was to him, but you had a feeling that the momentary silence, the stillness that you felt, was a knee-jerk reaction from Azriel—something reminiscent of embarrassment, shame, or guilt at her name. But all he responded was, “Oh?”

“I like her,” you said, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I kinda wish I spent more time with her…”

You paused, your words trailing off quietly as you took in the small details before you. 

Azriel’s dresser had always been the one surface he decorated, not because he cared for decoration, but because it was the only surface large enough to hold anything. Over the years, it had become a quiet testament to the things that mattered to him: a mix of Solstice and birthday gifts, trinkets you’d both collected on missions and trips. You liked seeing what had changed, what had been added. It gave you a glimpse into where Azriel had been, who had been with him. 

Lately, there had been more—more trinkets, more oddities that stood in stark contrast to the weapons displayed elsewhere, the ones mostly hidden away in his closet. A macaroni necklace from Nyx. A horribly made clay version of him you’d created during a drunken pottery night with Feyre, Mor, and Amren.

But now, the dresser was foreign. The once familiar surface had been wiped clean, replaced by delicate perfume bottles, jewelry that looked too fine to be his, and a candle that smelled—oddly—like the puke of a flower faerie. Some of it was new. Most of it was hers.

Azriel’s presence had vanished from his own furniture entirely.

“Huh.”

“What?” Azriel asked.

You glanced over your shoulder. “I see you’ve decorated more.”

Azriel tilted his head, and a few of his shadows slithered down his body, crossing the room to pool around your ankles. “I guess,” he said. “Selene said my room needed more life.”

You leaned forward, brushing your fingers along the ceramic jewelry dish, the cool surface sending a strange chill through your skin. The shadows flickered over your hand, almost as if they were inspecting it too. They moved with purpose, then slowly obscured it, hiding it from view.

You frowned, confused.

Azriel, still silent, was rifling through his closet. You could feel the weight of his eyes on you as he moved, but he said nothing. The shadows returned to his side as you turned to look at him.

"Are you going somewhere?" you asked, trying to break the silence.

Now, Azriel barely spared you a glance.

“Yeah. Meeting Selene,” he replied simply.

After a few seconds of silence, Azriel turned his head and properly held your gaze. “Why? Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you responded with a casual wave of your hand, but Elain’s words echoed in your mind. You cleared your throat. “Well, actually, no. I was hoping I could talk to you.”

He frowned, standing up straighter, his wings flexing with the motion. “Is it something serious?”

You paused, carefully filtering through your words. “No, just something that’s been on my mind.”

Azriel studied you, doubt flickering in his hazel eyes. It was the kind of look that always made you feel like he was reading you too easily. He probably didn’t believe you, not entirely—but he nodded anyway. His lips curved into a small, apologetic smile. “Raincheck then?”

You mirrored his smile, though it felt thin. “Yeah, sure. We can talk tomorrow, once we’re back from the Hewn City.”

Azriel stilled. The way his gaze dropped to the floor and lingered felt like a guilty dog, an animal caught in an act forbidden. “Shit,” he said, his tone cautious. “I can’t go.”

You blinked, the words taking a moment to settle. “Seriously? Az, Rhys is expecting an update.”

“I’m sorry.” He sounded sincere enough. It didn’t matter. “But you can handle it on your own, you know this.” 

“Are you serious?” you said, the hurt slipping out before you could stop it. “I don’t want to deal with Keir alone.”

Azriel sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll talk to Rhys, but Selene’s been wanting to—”

“Never mind,” you cut him off, shaking your head. You forced a smile. “Have fun tonight. And tomorrow.”

Azriel scanned your face. After another moment of silence, he sighed.

“Okay, what is it?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “You clearly have something on your mind. Tell me.”

You hesitated, holding his gaze. “I actually wanted to talk to you about Selene.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened instantly. He looked away, his tongue running across his teeth as he shook his head. “Not you too. Don’t be like this.”

Your frown deepened, offended by the immediate shift in tone. “Be like what? I haven’t even said anything yet.”

He met your eyes again, his stare almost challenging. “We both know what you’re going to say.”

“Do we?”

“First Mor, then Nesta, and now you.” His voice was sharp, but not loud. “Should I be concerned that the females in my life are so quick to rally against my girlfriend?”

You scoffed, crossing your arms to mirror his pose. “Well, yeah, Az. Maybe you should be.”

He rolled his eyes, the shadows at his feet flickering with the motion. “Fine. What do you want to tell me, then?”

For a moment, you hesitated, the words lingering on the edge of your tongue. Azriel had always been good at looking through you, unraveling thoughts you hadn’t fully formed yet. And now, under the weight of his sharp gaze, you felt exposed.

“I just want to make sure you’re happy.”

Something flickered in his expression, quick and fleeting—too fast for you to decipher. For the first time in a long while, Azriel felt unreadable, like he’d drawn a curtain between himself and you. “Really?” he asked, his tone tight, almost incredulous.

You faltered, a small thread of doubt weaving its way through your resolve. Was he happy? Would he even tell you if he wasn’t?

“Yes, really,” you replied, a defensive edge creeping into your voice. “You’ve been distant lately. Running around at her beck and call. None of us know her. I want to understand what’s going on with you. I want to understand her.”

Azriel’s wings shifted again, his gaze hardening.

“I want to make sure this is the kind of relationship you want,” you finished, quieter now.

The room fell into silence, heavy and still. Azriel watched you as if he was turning your words over and over in his mind. You waited, unsure of what to expect—if anything at all.

“I wouldn’t be in a relationship I didn’t want. Can we drop it, please.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. What a strange, dismissive answer. It bothered you— bothered you more than anything he’d ever told you before. 

“Az, I just don’t want you to change who you are for someone. You don’t need to cater to her every whim.”

His expression darkened, shadows curling tighter around his boots. “I’m her boyfriend. I do what she asks.”

You raised an eyebrow, unable to stop the scoff that slipped out. Azriel had never been so clipped with you. “That’s not the definition of a boyfriend. That’s the definition of a bitch.”

Azriel’s jaw clenched, his wings flaring in irritation. “Excuse me?”  His voice cut through the room. “Do you really think I’m some incompetent love-sick loser?”

“I think you stop seeing flaws in the people you love.”

The words hung between you, heavier than you’d anticipated. A small part of you wondered if “love” was the word Azriel would use to describe his feelings for her. Another part worried that he didn’t correct you.

“That’s not true.”

“It’s not?”

“No,” he snapped. “I can clearly see that you’re being unfair. Quick to judge, much like Mor. That’s a flaw.”

“Oh, please,” you shot back, “You know what I meant. The people you’re infatuated with—”

“Where is this sudden concern coming from?” he interrupted, his shadows now beginning to curl between you like restless mediators, unsure where to settle. “Are you trying to cause issues?”

Something ran hot through your body.

“Seriously? I’m talking to you about this because I care. Because Elain had some cryptic feeling about you—”

“Elain is involved in this conversation, too?” His voice dripped with frustration now. “Gods, Y/n, should I send word for Gwyn while we’re at it? Get her opinion?”

“What the hell has gotten into you?” You took an authoritative step forward.  “I’ve never judged you. I’ve always tried to support you and your messy love life, no matter how complicated. Don’t you trust me, Azriel? As a friend?”

Azriel didn’t respond immediately, his shadows flickering uncertainly, still deciding whether to retreat or rise.

You gestured around the room. “Look at this place. You’ve erased all traces of your family—of you, of us. Where did you even put—”

“Oh, gods.” Azriel’s voice broke through, and for a moment, you thought he might crumble. His wings folded, and his hand dragged across his face, the weight of his exhaustion sinking in. “She was right.”

You froze. “What?”

Azriel met your gaze, his eyes hesitant for a heartbeat before turning sharp. “About you. Selene said you were jealous. That you had feelings for me.”

The words hit like a slap, and your world tilted on its axis. “What?” you asked again, your voice breaking on the word. Maybe you had misheard him. Maybe he had misspoken.

“I told her she was wrong. But now…” He let the sentence hang in the air, searching your face for something that maybe wasn’t even there.

“Now, what?” Your voice rose, tinged with anger. “You think I’m here because I’m jealous? Because I have some… crush on you?”

His wings flared slightly at your tone, but he didn’t back down. “I don’t know. It’s just—why else would you care so much about this?”

Your stomach twisted, a deep, cold ache settling there. “Why else?” you repeated, the words bitter on your tongue. “Because I care about you, Azriel. Because you’ve been my friend for centuries. Are you seriously confused about this?” 

For a moment, Azriel’s expression faltered, but he didn’t apologize. Instead, he said, “I didn’t ask you to care about my love life.”

“You didn’t have to,” you snapped, stepping closer. “That’s what friends do. But you’re standing there, letting her perception of me—someone who doesn’t even know me—warp your judgment. You’ve known me longer than that. Or at least, I thought you did. And the fact that you’d entertain this—” You stopped, shaking your head. “It’s insulting.”

Azriel said nothing. He just stood there, shadows now curling tighter around him. 

You had no idea how this conversation had gotten away from you, no idea how it turned into this—where this defensiveness, this anger, had come from. This wasn’t Azriel. Loyal, overly so. Impulsive. Protective. 

Or maybe it was. Maybe that loyalty was directed at someone else now—someone who clearly saw you as something threatening. You’d never been on the other side of Azriel before. Never thought you’d see the day. The realization hit like a slap to the face, leaving you shocked, stunned, a pit opening in your stomach that felt too deep to climb out of.

“You know what? Forget it.” You stepped back, the fight draining out of you all at once.

Azriel’s brows furrowed. “Really? That’s it?”

You glanced at him over your shoulder, your lips curving into something that might have been a smile if it weren’t so bitter. “Yeah,” you said, your voice flat. “That’s it.”

You turned for the door, hand on the handle, but paused. The words were out of your mouth before you could stop them, sharp and pointed, a petty jab that felt equal parts satisfying and hollow. “Make sure to lock this door when you leave—I’d hate to accidentally stumble back in and throw myself at you.”

Azriel stiffened, his wings snapping taut behind him. For a brief second, you thought he might say something, anything. But he didn’t.

You closed the door behind you with a heavy thud.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

authors note: no one tell them they probs have feelings for each other bc they’ll probably fight you (also elains moment is so self indulgent bc i would totally be making shit up based off my powers. like yeah actually you can’t be mean to be :/ powers are saying you’ll die if you are)

Part Two

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: 

@rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon 

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen @azrielsbbg

@evergreenlark @marina468 @azriels-human @book-obsessed124 @bubybubsters 

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @feyretopia  @ninthcircleofprythian @velariscalling @azrielrot

@justyouraveragekleemain @marigold-morelli @mrsjna @anarchiii @alittlelostalittlefound

@melissat1254

@secretsicanthideanymore

@m4tthewmurd0ck @beardburnsupersoldiers @isnotwhatyourethinking @tothestarsandwhateverend @raginghellfire

@angel-graces-world-of-chaos @acoazlove @paradisebabey @inkedinshadows

azriel tag list 🫶🏻:@thisiskaylin @serrendiipty @acourtofsteelandthunder  @mortqlprojections @ushijima-stits @honethatty12

[zeltqz]

PICS & VIDEOS — caleb

✈︎ content warning | references hidden waves memory (sick caleb), phone sex, i made tara a freak cuz why not, simone hates caleb lol, suggestive texts, lingerie photos, caleb sends a dp, reader sends her wet fingers lol, no actual sex yet, just phone sex, sexually frustrated reader, caleb whimpers cuz i want him to, colonel caleb era, caleb abuses emoticons lol i love him ✈︎ synopsis | you are getting sick and tired of caleb always pulling away from potential kisses. frustrated, you take it up with your friends who give you advice on how to get him to fold. send him pics.

“I’m telling you Tara, he literally won’t make the first move. I don’t know what’s wrong with him.”

Tara rubbed her chin. “Hm. And you’re sure he likes you?”

Beside you, Simone scoffed. “Unfortunately yes. It’s obvious.”

You rolled your eyes, not wanting to address her one-sided beef with Caleb. “Yes, Tara.”

“How is it obvious? I only met him once.”

“And you couldn’t see how obvious it was?” Simone added, genuinely surprised Tara missed the obvious clues. “He wouldn’t stop staring at her like all day. The whole time we ate, he was just staring at her. Not even subtle too. I would’ve thought you two kissed by now, or at the very least fucked.” Simone looked at you now. “Seriously, why don’t you just make the first move?”

“I dunno?! It’s weird…and as much as I dream about just grabbing his face and kissing him, in the moment I just chicken out…”

Tara hummed, stroking her chin again. “I see. I see. And you know for certain he likes you? Besides the staring, and all.”

You nodded. “Yeah.” You looked down at the table, at the fries sitting on your tray, reminiscing about the last time you were in Skyhaven. 

Caleb had caught a cold from standing in the rain for too long, and the two of you were on awkward terms after an argument. He didn’t want you to see him while sick but eventually relented and let you inside his room. You checked his temperature and he was burning up, so you didn’t want to take your hands off his face, caressing his red cheeks, embracing his warmth. You sang for him, and he leaned in, and you just knew it’d finally be the moment you kissed. You even closed your eyes shut, waiting to feel his lips against yours, but he pulled himself away and turned to the side. Obviously you were frustrated, no denying that, and you were about to just leave his room before he pulled you in for a hug. Though you didn’t kiss, the hug was more intimate than you’d imagined. Every time Caleb was sick, even in the past, he rarely let you see him in that state. To see him so weak and vulnerable, unable to stop coughing, his red cheeks and ears. In that moment you wanted nothing more than to just be with him.

You were unaware of how long you were just staring off into space as you recalled the memory from a few weeks ago. Tara and Simone share a look with each other. 

“Um, hello?” Simone waved in front of your face. You blinked yourself back to reality and looked between the both of them. Simone got a good look at your face and clicked her tongue. “You’re so whipped.”

“I’m not!”

Tara cheered. “Wait, were you thinking about him?!” She questioned, and your face flushed even harder. You looked away, and she cheered even louder. “Tell me what you were thinking about!”

Simone, who’d rather die than admit she was curious, rested her elbow on the table, cheek in palm as she turned to look at you, waiting for the explanation.

You sighed and told them the story in extreme detail about your last encounter with Caleb in Skyhaven. Though it started on bad terms, the two of you had been even closer than before. You text every single day whenever he can respond, and when he’s unable to come to the phone, you always spam him with funny videos, and emojis. And he responds to every single one of them. You two fall asleep on the phone almost every night, if he doesn’t come home too late from work, and wake up to see either him still dead asleep, or the call being cut, but he always follows it up with:

Sorry for hanging up, i had to head to work ;-; ill text you as soon as i come back :D 

You hadn’t spoken to him in the last few days though, as he was leading a team to explore the Deepspace Tunnel and would be out of service for at least 5 days. It’s only day 3 and you’ve been missing him so much, it’s crazy. He’s what you think of when you fall asleep, and wake up. You’re not even safe from him in your dreams.

“I’ve got a question,” Tara says, raising her hand up.

“Proceed.” You gesture for her to continue.

She leaned in across the table, cupping her hand around her mouth. “Can I be the maid of honour at your wedding?”

“TARA!” you exclaim. Simone nearly snorts her milkshake up her nose at your reaction. The two of them start laughing and you chuckle a bit yourself. They continue talking and you whip out your phone to open your messages with Caleb, eying the message you sent him this morning.

08:44 I just woke upppp. I’m heading to lunch with some friends today!!! I’ll send you some photos you can salvate over once u get back

You swipe to the camera and snap a photo of your half eaten burger with fries, sending it in chat with a yummy emoji.

13:33 Bet u wish this was u huhhhhhhhhhhh

You throw the fact he has to be on a strict diet in his face, adding a few random emojis before turning off your phone. 

“She was texting him just now,” Simone’s voice startled you. 

“No I wasn’t.”

“Look at that grin on your face.”

You quickly drop the smile you didn’t know existed off your face. “I’m not grinning!”

“You so are!” Simone cackled, leaning into your personal space, eyeing your phone. “Show me what you said.”

“It’s not much,” you say, turning your phone back on. “Just send him a picture of my food.”

Simone looked at the one sided replies, how you’ve been spamming him with messages for the last three days and he hasn’t been online since. She raised an eyebrow.

“Uh, is he ghosting you?”

“What? No.” You take your phone back and hand it to Tara who was struggling to see from the other side of the table. “He’s just on a mission right now. Five days long. I always spam him with he’s unavailable. He says I can tell him whatever is on my mind.”

“Mm-hm,” Simone hummed.

“You know what would be so crazy?” Tara said, scrolling through your messages. 

“What?” you and Simone say in unison.

“If you sent him nudes.”

You nearly choked on air, Simone’s eyes widening at the words coming out of Tara’s mouth. 

“It’s always the innocent looking ones, huh.”

Tara giggled. Meanwhile you were still in a state of shock. 

“Um??? Isn’t that a bit far?”

“Well, no,” Tara defended. “Think about it. You two are basically dating already, just haven’t made it official. And you said you want him to make the first move right? How will he know if its okay to do or not if he doesn’t know you are just as into him as he’s into you? And since you don’t wanna kiss him first, show him you’re into him at least with a few picturesssssss.”

On the surface she wasn’t wrong, you couldn’t deny that. Growing up, Caleb had seen your body before, it wasn’t unusual. Beach days where you were mainly in bikinis, heatwaves where you were wearing mainly shorts and crop tops. He’d even walked in on you changing a few times, and vice versa. It wouldn’t be anything he hadn’t vaguely seen before. But the thought of actually doing it make a knot form in your stomach. But it also made arousal pool between your legs at the thought of him seeing you in a different light.

Maybe this would be the transition you both needed to take your relationship to a different level.

You finally spoke after a while of contemplation. “I mean, sure. But I’ve never taken any before. I don’t even own sexy clothes.”

Simone waved you off. “It’s not that hard. Men are so easy to please. I got you.” She finished her milkshake in a few sucks and set the empty cup down on the table. “Come on, let’s go shopping.”

“Shopping?” you questioned.

Tara squealed. “Shopping, yes!” She quickly got up from her seat and dragged you out of yours. 

Tara and Simone led you out of the food court  and into Victoria’s Secret a few floors down. The three of you spent the next two hours picking different outfits, ranging from two piece sets, to one pieces, bralettes and panties. You ended up spending more than you thought you would’ve but it was all worth it. 

You took them back to your house and the photoshoot began. Was it awkward at first? Yes. You barely wore tight fitted, revealing outfits, especially ones as sexual as this. But after a few test photos, your body loosened up and you gradually became more confident. 

“Press your boobs together,” Tara shouted from behind the camera. You were laying flat on your back, your head hanging off the bed as you stared into the camera. 

“This position looks silly,” you comment. 

“You look smoking hot though!!”

Simone moves behind Tara and bends down to peek at the camera. She wrinkled her nose. “I agree. It looks a bit silly.”

You sat up, sighing. “Thank you.”

“Okay wait, what about sucking a finger into your mouth? Would Caleb be into that? Ooh! Or arching your back on the bed?” The longer you spent with Tara today, you realised she’s not as innocent as she looks. She really is the mastermind behind the operation. From picking out each lingerie set, to looking up seductive posts on Pinterest to make you copy. 

“Are the ones we took now not enough?” you asked, muscles and back aching from bending over and twisting your body in such unnecessary positions. 

“If you’re this tired after some nudes, how are you gonna get the stamina to get fucked hard by Caleb?” Tara retorted. 

“I—”

Simone grabbed the phone and began scrolling through the photos. She picked out one she really liked and turned the phone to you. “This is the one you should send.”

It wasn’t any of the over the top poses Tara suggested. It was plain and simple but it got the job done. You were laying flat on the bed, holding the camera up in the form of a selfie, and biting your fingernail. The camera covered everything from your lips, down to your mid thigh, covered in fishnets from the lingerie.  

“This one? Really?” you asked as you examined the photo. You weren’t denying you looked hot in it, but doubts were starting to fill your mind. What if he thinks you’re being desperate? Or if he thinks it’s distasteful to expose yourself like this for no reason. Though you know Caleb would never think of you that way, your brain can’t help but convince you otherwise. 

“Or or maybe I should just delete them,” you request in a panic as Tara and Simone go through all the photos to see if there’s any better ones. 

Upon hearing your request, Tara nearly breaks her neck with how quickly she looked up. “ExCUZE ME?! Delete them?! For what???! Why!”

“Because! What if he doesn’t like them? Or thinks I’m…desperate?” You scratch your arm, looking down at your thighs. 

Simone’s nose twitched. “Then I’ll beat his ass.”

Tara added. “Well, it’ll suck if he does. But with how you described him, I don’t think he’d look at you that way. And if he does, you can always just say “oops meant to send to someone else” to save face. OH! We can even do the prank where we dress up as a boy and take photos to make him jealous!”

Hearing that, Simone smirked. “I’ll happily do that for you.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No you’re right. Caleb wouldn’t do that. He’s never as much belittled me or even insulted me before in my life. I genuinely cant think of a negative think he’s said to me.”

“Soooooooo what’s the holdup?” Tara commented. 

You shrugged. “I’ll send it. I just need time to process before I do it.” They both deadpanned you and you continued, feeling the urge to defend yourself. “You guys won’t understand! I’ve known him for over a decade! Almost 14 years! This kinda stuff you don’t send to someone like that without at least thinking it through.”

“You’re right,” they both hesitantly agreed. 

You don’t end up sending Caleb the picture that night. Or the night after that. The day he’s supposed to return from his mission, you’re in bed, scrolling back through your messages. With no fault of yours, you had gone months without contact with him, assuming he was dead and all, but now you can barely even handle a few days. 

His profile displayed a green dot beside his name and you sat up quickly, eyes darting all over your messages and seeing the “Read” Message pop up on each one. 

He responds to each of them one by one, and your smile can’t stop growing as you see him reach the final message, the one about the burger. 

Now you’re just showing off >:( 

Anyway I’m back safe and sound from my mission did ya miss me ;)

yes so much

You responded without missing more than a second. 

Oh didn’t expect you respond that quickly you MUSTVE missed me that bad huh

How much did u miss me? 

You could tell him straight up. Tell him about how you read his messages everyday, thought about him almost every second for the last five days. Or you could just show him. 

You opened your camera roll and picked out the photo. Your thumb trembled over the send button before finally pressing down on it. Your stomach dropped as you saw it send in chat officially. It was too late now. 

Caleb read it and stayed quiet. Thirty seconds passed and he didn’t respond and you felt like you wanted to throw up. Your thumbs were already typing out Tara’s excuse: oh sorry! I meant to send that to someone else 

And before you could press send, Caleb responded. 

Is that for me?

You swallowed. If you said yes, and he hated it, then your excuse wouldn’t work anymore. You decided to risk it all and simply respond truthfully. 

Yes. Is it…bad?

Caleb takes longer to respond than usual and less than thirty seconds later a picture sends in chat. His cock stands tall in frame, precum leaking out from the tip. His hand has a firm grin around the base off it, the tip a reddish hue in comparison to its natural pink colour.

Your breathing stopped as you stared at it. This was Caleb’s dick. You were fucking staring at his dick. 

You swiped out of the picture and sent a 😧😯😮😲 combination. The two of you often communicated through emojis and you weren’t sure how to respond with words. 

Caleb sent crying emojis. 

Did you like it?

Yes? You’ve been hiding that the whole time? 

Says you. I knew your body was gorgeous but fuck. 

You fought the urge to kick your feet together, curling into a ball on your side as you tried to not let his words get to you. Clearing your throat, you refocus yourself and send another message. 

Sooooo what now 🧍‍♀️

I dunno 🧍

You get ready to type a response before he double texts. 

Do you wanna call?

You never thought you’d see the day you’d actually be nervous answering a call from Caleb before. 

Yes

You barely had time to let the message marinate before Caleb started calling. Readying yourself, you pressed the phone up to your ear and swiped. 

“Hello?”

“Hey,” he responded, taking a deep breath. “Is it just me or is this sorta awkward now.”

“No it’s definitely awkward,” you joked, laughing under your breath. 

“I mean, I can always blame you for it.”

“What?” You almost shrieked and broke your back with how quick you sat up from your bed. “How is this my fault?!”

“Nobody asked you to send me that sexy photo out of nowhere,” he joked, tone light despite his words. You didn’t take anything to heart however. 

“Yeah, well be grateful. Otherwise you would’ve died without seeing a girl in lingerie before.”

“How do you know I haven’t seen that before?”

“Because I know you, Caleb.” You said each word slowly. “Or at least I hope you haven’t.” You paused, voice softening ever so slightly. “Have you?”

“I was joking around. Of course I hadn’t. I am assuming though you’d never seen another guys dick before?”

“Well obviously I have. Like in movies and stuff. But not in person.”

“What kind of movies were you watching?” he questioned, suspiciously. 

“You know! Just movies! Shut up,” you whined, ignoring his obnoxious laughter. “Anyway, dudes sent me unsolicited pics in college all the time. I’ve seen dicks before. They weren’t like yours though.” The words spilled from your mouth without even realising you said it. 

“Oh? What’s the difference between mine and theirs?”

You didn’t realise the interest in his tone with how distracted you were, eyes closed and picturing the sight of Caleb’s dick in the black fog of your mind. You could always go back and look at the photo, but you wanted to burn the sight in your memory first. 

“Yours was bigger. And for once, looking at a dick didn’t make me wanna throw up. Theirs were so…ew. Like it was never hard, which is so fucking offensive. If you’re gonna send me that shit unsolicited by the way, at least sprout a hard on or something. Fucking hell.”

Caleb laughed. “You should’ve seen how quick your picture got me hard. It’s not normal.” His voice dropped a little and you inhaled sharply. 

“R—really?”

“Yeah,” he said slowly, sounding slightly out of breath, his breathing ragged. 

“What did you like about it?” you questioned, shifting down onto your back on the bed. 

“Everything. Fuck. You—why are you so hot?” His voice betrayed him at that moment. He let out a soft moan and you could hear wet sounds in the background if you listened close enough. 

Your hand trailed down your stomach, entering your panties and softly rubbing your clit. “W—what else?” 

“Your skin. Looks so soft—mm—and your lips around your finger? Holy fuck.” His filter was long gone now, freely speaking his mind about your body. Your thighs clenched together. 

“Do you wish they were wrapped around something else?”

“God yes,” he sounded so whiny, his hand moving faster up and down his aching cock. “You don’t know how much I love your lips.” He says your name and for a moment you freeze up. 

It’s not often he says your name, and you’ve been so used to just hearing him address you as Pipsqueak. Hearing your name roll off his tongue so easily, and with how whiny he sounds right now, you couldn’t help but insert a finger into yourself. 

Your legs twitched as you began pumping your finger in and out, back arching off the bed and an involuntary moan left your throat. “Caleb—”

“Yes, princess? What is it?”

“I wanna see you so bad right now—mm—fuck.” You gasped as you curled your fingers inside you, shoving them as deep as you could. “I need you.”

“I need you more. Shit. I’m gonna cum soon,” he announced, squeezing the tip of his cock whenever his hand reached it. 

“It’s hard to make myself come,”  you whined. You were never able to successfully have an orgasm on your own and it was frustrating. You wanted nothing more than to experience it first hand right now with Caleb. 

“I’ll help you. Shit. I can teach you. I’ll do whatever you want me to do. Next time I see you, I promise.”

“Please,” your voice barely reached the mic. 

“Fuck!” he let out a loud moan as he came, heavy pants slowly turning to whimpers as his cock milked him dry. He couldn’t control his breathing for at least thirty seconds and you just listened to him pant until he caught himself. 

Letting out one more shaky exhale, he tried to swallow but his throat was dry. “Fuck my throat hurts.”

You laughed and pulled your fingers out. Unable to reach an orgasm, you frowned. But the promise he left earlier gave you hope. 

“Go drink some water dummy.” You looked down at your fingers, glistening with your slick and contemplated. “Wait Caleb.”

“Hm?”

“Check chat.”

You put the phone on speaker and opened the chat camera, taking a photo of your wet index and middle finger, a string of slick connecting them both. You captioned it:

Drink me instead

Feeling more bold, you sent it without even batting an eye. You could hear the exact moment Caleb processed your message with his sharp inhale.  You heard the sound of screenshots being taken, once, twice, then three times. 

“Okay okay damn chill out,” you said while laughing, Caleb joining in. 

“What does it taste like?” he asked, utterly curious. 

“Come find out,” you responded, voice just as sultry as your words. 

“Don’t tempt me. I’ll come over right now.”

“Wait now?” You glanced at the clock, the time reading almost 2 am. “You have work in the morning don’t you?”

“So what? I have bigger priorities right now.”

On one hand it would be so wrong for the Farspace Fleet’s Colonel to miss work over some pussy, but on the other hand, you hated the goddamn fleet. 

“Well what are you waiting for?”

authors note: can i just say i literally love this man with everything in me like WTF???? HES SO CUTE AND HOT AND I JUST WANNA SQQUEEZE HIS FACE

he brought me out of my writers slump😩🙇🏽‍♀️

[tteotlma]

Mine to Keep

--- A quiet moment turns heated as Joel reminds you why some things are better kept just between the two of you.

Jackson!Joel Miller x Reader (4kwc)

tw: 18+ MDNI; explicit sexual content, heavy sexual tension, age gap, possessiveness, jealousy, hiding a relationship, emotional vulnerability, mild anxiety, groping (over/under clothes), neck kissing, hair pulling, power imbalance (protective/possessive), soft dominance, slow-burn to heat, lingering touches, close proximity, unspoken intentions, introspection, private/domestic intimacy, mild language.

a/n: BC IM GONNA ACT LIKE NOTHING BAD HAS EVER HAPPENED EVER; have just for some reason been thinking a lot abt pedro lately it’s absolutely insane, also now that lent is over i’ve taken up gardening again and i’m just yearning so inspired again. 

--

The wooden screen door swung open effortlessly, to your surprise, to a clean and empty kitchen save for the half drunk mug of coffee on the kitchen island. The jagged edges of the chipped paint on the door caused your skin to rise as you cushioned the door on your bare shoulder to not let the door slam shut. 

You let in a breath about to call out, but the faint sound of music could be heard playing in the other room. Stepping lightly around the corner, and peeking behind the wall you saw your current beau— well, the back of his head but him nonetheless. He was sitting on the sofa, gazing down at something on his lap as the late afternoon sun showered him in rays of light. You watched as small dust particles floated around his frame, and it was then you realized you were holding your breath. 

Letting out a small huff of air you hoped the floor wouldn’t creak beneath your shoes as you took slow steps towards the open room. You were in a quiet awe watching a moment of rare vulnerability, the man you figured was just permanently stiff now had his back hunched, causing his shoulders to slouch. Despite his slacked frame he was still broad, taking up a large amount of quiet space. Eyeing the outline of his body, you watched how the muscles of his traps dipped below the neckline of his shirt, only a sliver of sun kissed skin visible between the curls at the base of his head, and the fabric of his ratty t shirt and you could practically feel the heat radiating off of the exposed skin, you found yourself reactively sticking your hand out to grasp that warmth—and grab you did. 

You let your fingers graze the side of his neck, finally giving away that you were here. The flesh beneath your fingers went rigid, and a small chuckle hid behind a puff of air left your body. Leaning your body over the back of the sofa your hands again finding the base of his neck fingers entangling in the strands of his outgrown curls tugging ever so slightly. 

“Hi.” You whispered, pressing your lips to his temple. 

“Almos’ scared me half to death,” He said, trying to play it off by flipping a page of the town newspaper. Your fingers left his hair and slid down his neck, and chest to clasp your fingers together, arms hung around the man. 

“Sorry, I just couldn’t resist,” you snickered lightly, resting your chin in the crook of his neck staring at his fingers. “It’s not every day you see Joel Miller relaxing.” Your fingers started roaming his chest again, coming to toy lightly with the stubble on his jawline. His skin was warm from the summer sun, and the Wyoming heat. Joel cleared his throat, rustling the papers in his fingers shifting beneath your weight.

 “I wasn’t relaxing, I was jus’ readin’ up.” He shook his shoulders lightly to try and shoo you off, and you did just briefly enough to realize he was wearing his reading glasses, yet another rare sight. 

“Right, because Jackson Hole is so big.” You teased, resting your cheek on his shoulder. 

He cleared his throat again, beginning to fold the pamphlet between his hands eyeing you from the side.

“Ellie?” He asks tossing the papers to the side, he then moves his fingers to take his glasses off, but you stop him, enveloping his fingers with yours. 

“Out with Dina,” you say, a hand finding its way back to his salt and pepper curls tucking loose strands behind his ear. 

“Are you—”

“Saw them with my own two eyes at that food hall.” You reassured him, already knowing if he was going to ask for reassurance. 

“Next to your very much in love Brother and his wife.” You mumbled, and you felt a deep sigh leave his body and only the sound of music played softly in the background as a pause of silence passed between the two of you. Joel held your fingers, resting his prickled cheek against your forearm as you rested on his shoulders.

“Joel,” you whispered, you took his silence as a sign to continue. “Why don’t you want anyone to know about us?” you said softly, hoping your question didn’t just break this glass bubble you were both floating in. 

But it was eating away at you, especially when you saw what seemed like everyone and their brothers' mothers in a tooth-rotting, core cringing relationship. 

Joel cleared his throat and shifted in his cushiony seat.

“W-well, uh…” He cleared his throat again, clearly uncomfortable. You kept running your fingers through his hair, gentle and steady, trying to ease him. You knew he didn’t mean any harm with how he was fumbling—he was just like an old car that needed a few tries to get going.

“What’s got you thinking like this?” He quickly rushes out, grabbing your hand, you could feel the heat radiating off of him. You debated on telling him the drawn out version of word jumble, and anxious rambling or tell him outright like you’ve been rehearsing. 

“I would just—” You grabbed his hands again, thumbs caressing his calloused fingers noticing the faint tan forming beneath his wrist watch. Suddenly struck with shyness you shrug, toying with his hands. “Sometimes, I’d just… love to hold hands with you.” you said said, voice getting softer with each syllable. 

“Sweetheart,” He whispers, pulling your hands, and bringing you around the arm of the sofa. Your hand trails the length of his right arm, muscles taut beneath the pads of your fingers. You watch the hairs on his arm stand, as your nails lightly scratch the surface of his skin. He makes you stand before him.

“Sweet girl,” he murmurs, placing you in the space between his legs, your knees pressing gently against the edge of the sofa. You feel yourself pouting, lips tugging downward despite your best effort to stay composed. Joel’s large hands wrap around yours, rough palms hot against your skin as he brings them to his lips. The soft brush of his mouth on the back of your hand sends a flush to your cheeks, and you shift your weight from one foot to the other.

“As much as I would love to show everyone what’s mine…” he says, voice low, as he leans forward, guiding your hands to rest on his shoulders. He kisses the inside of your wrist, slow and deliberate, before his hands slide up the length of your forearms, settling at your hips, fingers curling into the small of your back.

“Right now…” he presses a small kiss just above your waistband, his lips lingering against your skin before he looks up at you, gaze steady, almost searching. “I just wanna keep this ours, for a little longer,” he murmurs, arms tightening around you. One hand dips lower, fingers brushing over the sliver of bare skin where your shirt lifts, slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring it.

"It’s good like this. Just you and me."

You feel him breathe you in, feel the way his fingers linger at your waist, grounding himself in the warmth of your body like he needs the contact to stay present.

"I think about it too," he says quietly. "What it’d be like, not keeping it quiet." His hand rests firm, steady against you, thumb brushing lazy circles into your skin. "But... I ain’t had something like this in a long time."

His voice trails off, thick with something unspoken, thumb still moving like he can’t bring himself to stop, can’t let go.

"I just... I wanna hold onto it a little longer, like this."

You cradle his head in your hands, fingers threading through his hair before dragging down the length of his back, nails scratching softly against the fabric of his shirt as you let out a deep, aching sigh. Joel’s thumbs slip beneath the hem of your shirt, his touch firmer now as he pulls back just enough to see you.

You meet his eyes, face to face, trying to ignore the way your stomach flips at how good he looks—his glasses slipping low on his nose, jaw tense, eyes soft. It only makes your chest tighten more.

You huff, frustration bubbling up.

“I don’t care what anyone thinks,” you say, quiet, yet certain.

Joel’s eyes stay on you, hands steady at your waist.

“I know you don’t.”

He swallows hard, more of his fingers slipping beneath your shirt, onto your skin.

“But this—what we’ve got right now—it’s the only thing in a long time that’s felt…” His eyes search yours, waiting for that unspoken understanding, and when he finds it, he leans in, voice low.

“I’m not ready to give that up. Not yet.” 

Your forehead rests against his, as if the closeness alone could quiet the anxiety crawling its way up your throat.

“Can… we really keep going like this?”

Your fingers find their solace in the curls at the nape of his neck, playing with them in slow, nervous motions, your nails lightly tapping against the arms of his glasses with every other pass. You can’t help but watch your hands move, almost detached, like they don’t belong to you anymore.

It’s some quiet reminder—how much you already lean on him, how even now, you’re using the feel of him to steady yourself, to keep your worry at bay. 

Joel lets out a soft chuckle to the side as he straightens up, leaning into the back of the sofa with a sigh, his eyebrows scrunched with disappointment but you knew it wasn’t directed at you. 

His hands pull you easily, guiding you into his lap, like a missing puzzle piece. Straddling him now, your knees press into the cushion, chest light against his, the steady rise and fall of his breath meeting yours. 

His hands move down your sides, and around the curve of your ass to rest against the sides of your thighs, his palm’s warm against the fabric on your legs. “You’re here. I’m here. Is there somethin’ else we need that I’m missin’?”

Your eyes search his, drawn to the fine lines at the corners, the way they crease softly when he looks at you like this. The sun has left its mark on him, scattering faint freckles and warm tones across his skin, like time didn’t just pass—it stayed, settling gently. As if in a trance, your eyes find a way to his lips, holding his face delicately in your hands, you shake your head slowly. 

“Baby girl,” his fingers burn against your skin, his voice low, and rough, “I’m tryin’ to keep you to myself, just a little longer.”

His thumb drags slowly over your skin.

“Ain’t ready to let everyone see what’s mine.” And with one more look, you feel yourself caving. You subconsciously lean in closer, absolutely weak to whatever hold he seems to have on you.

“Damn you, Miller,” you whisper, and he lets out a small snort, breath fanning across your lips. 

His hands slide up from their place on your thighs, slowly, fingers pressing into the soft give of your skin before settling at your hips, pulling you closer. 

You watch his hands, almost dazed, as your jean-covered knees shift, dragging his shirt up ever so slightly along his sides. The fabric rises, revealing the warm skin beneath—soft, familiar, the faint line of his waist exposed in the now dimming light.

You don’t look up. Not yet.

Your hands slide what feels incredibly slow from his jaw down his neck and chest, fingertips tracing the edge where his shirt had risen, drawn to the heat of him. His hands tighten on your hips, holding you steady, waiting.

And then you look at him, really look, taking him in for all he’s worth, and you lean in, tapping your forehead to his, the plastic of his glasses cool against the bridge of your nose. You dip your fingers beneath the neckline of his shirt and pull him closer. Your lips tentatively brush against his, light as breath, your eyes half-lidded, hoping—waiting—for him to meet you there.

When his lips finally touch yours, he kisses you, really kisses you, it’s slow, and deliberate at first, like he’s aware of how delicate this moment is. His breath hitches, just barely, but you feel it in the way his hands dig into your exposed skin, dragging you flush against him, no space, no air, just him.

His kiss stays soft, for a moment. The kind of soft that makes your chest ache, makes you lean in harder, chasing the heat of his mouth, the way his lips part just enough to taste you, to take more. Your hands trail up his neck and down his chest, in slack patterns stopping at times to caress his ears, or toy with his tousled hair. 

His tongue brushes yours, just a flick, just enough to make your stomach twist. and you feel his hands slide, lower now, gripping at the curve of your ass, squeezing like he’s trying to keep himself grounded.

You let out something between a sigh and a whimper, and that’s all Joel Miller needs.

The already searing kiss somehow deepens, rougher now, his teeth catching your bottom lip before he soothes it with his tongue, pulling you impossibly close, taking and giving all at once.

You sigh into him, your breath warm between you, your fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt, tugging at it as you shift in his lap. The cotton stretches under your hands, bunching in your fists as you press closer, the solid weight of him beneath your palms impossible to ignore.

Your hands roam, slow, dragging over his chest, the heat of him bleeding through the fabric, your fingers curling, groping softly here and there—testing, squeezing, not quite gentle, not rough, just needing, just taking your time as you explore the shape of him. The way he breathes beneath you, steady but tight, makes you linger, pressing your palms flat before curling them again, feeling the give of muscle, the warmth that seems to rise with every touch.

Your hands drift lower, fingers dragging across the stretched fabric, and it’s only when you shift again that you feel it—your knuckles brushing against the sliver of skin exposed just above his waistband. You pause there, just for a moment, fingers tentatively skimming the heat of him, tracing the edge where skin meets denim, where the faintest line of hair disappears beneath the waist of his jeans.

He tenses, breath catching against your lips, and you can’t help the small smile that ghosts across yours.

One hand finds its way back to the curve of his neck, slipping beneath the neckline of his shirt, holding him there, grounding him, grounding yourself. You lean in to kiss him again, your hips pressed firm to his, and your other hand slipped beneath the hem of his shirt, fingertips grazing the bare skin of his stomach, light at first, like a question, before smoothing higher, feeling the heat, the tension, the way he shifts beneath you like he’s trying to stay still, but he can’t.

His hand slides up your back, slow, firm, until his fingers are tangled in your hair, tilting your head just enough for him to pull you away.

When you let him pull you back, it’s only enough to breathe, to see him with his lips swollen, eyes heavy, chest rising hard beneath your hands. You stay close, your breath still tangled with his, the warmth between you humming, thick.

A slow smile pulls at your lips, fingers brushing the warm skin on his back, light, deliberate.

“My, my, Mr. Miller...” your voice is low, soft, but there’s no mistaking the edge of it, “I’m seeing all kinds of sides to you today.”

You feel the way he tenses under you, the pause in his breath.

Your thumb drags along the curve of his necklline, slow, tracing.

“Didn’t think you got jealous.” The words are almost a whisper, your eyes focusing on his skin exposed fingers ghosting, not quite touching.

“Didn’t know you could be so...” you pause, fingers slipping beneath the waistline of his shirt into the curls at the base of his belly button, your palm warm against the heat of his skin. He gazes down, and watches your hand move beneath the fabric of his shirt. “...soft.” 

The heat of the room caused his glasses to slide further down his nose, as we quickly glanced up at you. Smirking slightly at his disheveled state you take your hand that’s on his shoulder and swiftly push his glasses up higher on the bridge of his nose before a smirk found its way to your lips.

The weight of his gaze was heavy on you as he doesn’t answer, not with words. Instead, he leans in, his breath hot against your cheek, and then lower, until his lips find the spot just below your jaw, kissing you slow, open-mouthed, like he has all the time in the world, like he’s content to feel you melt into him.

His hand moves from your body, sliding down your arm, fingers tracing lightly until they curl around your wrist, rough and sure. He doesn’t speak, just guides you, pulling your hand from his shoulder, slow and steady, down the curve of his chest, lower, until your knuckles meet the hem of his shirt.

And then he pulls you under.

Your fingers slip beneath the fabric, joining the other hand already resting there, against the warmth of his stomach, where the muscles are tight beneath your touch, where the faint trail of hair leads down, disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans.

He doesn’t let go.

Instead, he holds your wrist there, pressing your hand lower, like he wants you to feel just how much he’s burning, how much of him is wound up right beneath your palm. His breath stutters against your neck, lips still moving over your skin, kissing, nipping, but slower now—like he’s caught in it, too.

You feel the heat of him, the way he shifts beneath you, hips pressing up ever so slightly, chasing your touch as your hands move together, exploring the firm planes of him, tracing the edge where skin meets denim, groping, lingering, hoping to god you’d take more—but instead, your breath catches, something low in your belly pulling tight, and though you don’t stop, not really, your hands stay, palms still pressed to the bare skin of his stomach, fingers splayed, feeling the way he stays warm beneath you, the tension thick, still humming between your bodies, heavy and close.

You lean back—not far, not fully, just enough to draw in a breath, to see him, to take in the way he looks, the way he’s fallen back into the sofa, not letting go but giving in, his chest rising sharp beneath your touch, his shirt pushed up, bunched high enough that you can still feel him, still press into him, skin flushed deep across his chest, creeping high along his neck, blooming in his cheeks, the color settling there, soft and red and beautiful in a way you weren’t prepared for.

And you don’t move your hands—you can’t—because there’s something about feeling him like this, about having him beneath you, so undone, so real, that makes it impossible to pull away, impossible to even think about letting go.

His hair’s a mess, still tangled from your fingers, the curls at the nape damp with heat, and those glasses—slipping low, crooked, barely holding on—make him look ruined in the best way, like no one’s ever touched him like this, like no one else should ever get the chance.

Your thumb drags slowly over his waist, your other hand rising slightly, feeling the way his stomach still trembles under your touch, and your breath hitches—not from what he’s doing, but from what he is, from what you see, what you feel, what you know.

“Yeah...” the word leaves you soft, low, more breath than sound, your eyes locked on him, watching the way he stays with you, caught in it, flushed and open and completely yours. “No one else should see you like this.”

You feel him shift beneath you, his breath deepening, like he knows, like he’s heard exactly what he needed, and you press your hands to him, firmer now, like you’re holding him there—not just to feel, but to claim, to remind yourself that this, him, all of it, belongs to you.

And you’re definitely not letting anyone else have it.

Not now. Maybe not ever.

---

a/n: WAAAHHHHH I WANT TO KEEP HIM SAFE IN MY ARMS FOREVER (also not really edited so soz for the typos)

PLS REBLOG TO SUPPORT 💛

[stellamarielu]

new territory

joel miller x female reader

summary: when joel returns home with an injury you’re quick to help him, but his wound isn’t the only thing being taken care of.

content: nsfw, 18+ mdni, cursing, mentions of blood, poorly written medical practices, descriptions of applying stitches, slightly submissive joel, oral m!recieving, a hint of ball worship [that old man needs his balls licked idc], soft jackson joel, p in v sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink!!!, mentions of pregnancy, it’s baby makin time fr, creampie, cum play, multiple orgasms

author’s note: what started as a submissive joel fic turned into nasty breeding kink smut and i’m not even sorry about it. ALSO i just realized this is the second time i’ve written smut about joel miller fucking the reader on a countertop… says a lot about me i think

Turning over in bed, a dim light had you stirring from your slumber. Your eyes blinked open just enough to survey the room, noticing that the stream of light on your face was caused by a crack in the bathroom door. 

You buried your head deeper into your pillow; your frustration dissipating into ease at the realization that Joel was home safe and sound.

He always tried to sneak in when he got home from his patrol shift. It was so late he never wanted to wake you, and normally he didn’t, but tonight— tonight he’d left the door open haphazardly, and you could hear him rustling around in the bathroom. The squeak of the medicine cabinet opening was unmistakable, and your stomach instantly turned. The medicine cabinet was reserved for one thing: a very unorganized and mostly expired assortment of first aid supplies. 

Despite the temptation of sleep, you sat up, brushing the covers from your body as your feet padded toward the bathroom door. You pushed it open to find Joel leaning over the sink watching himself in the mirror as he attempted to clean a wound just below his collarbone. 

“Joel.” You whispered, sleep still staining your voice as you stepped closer to him.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” His head turned in your direction, a wince evident on his face as his eyebrows pulled together from the pain of his injury.

“You should’ve woken me up Joel. Jesus that looks bad.” 

The worry in your voice was all too familiar. Your concern for Joel’s well-being was second nature, a constant theme in the narrative of your relationship.

“Let me see.” You were placing a hand on his back, signaling him to turn your direction so you could assess the cut just below his shoulder.

He didn’t even try to protest, shocking you with his obedience. Usually, the two of you would go back and forth while he tried to convince you it was “just a scratch that needs time to heal” brushing off your persistent hands. But this time he surrendered, turning around to face you; his unclothed torso marked with blood.

“What the hell happened.” You were questioning in a hushed tone as your fingers carefully ran over his body. 

“Had to take care of some raiders at the wall. Got a little too close for comfort.” 

It was rare for something like this to happen, but it did. And every time Joel somehow managed to be in the middle of it. 

You didn’t respond, instead you took your time looking at the wound stretching from his chest to his shoulder. It was deep, far deeper than time and bandages would heal, and you both knew it.

“Sit.” You were motioning to the toilet beside him. It was the only spot in the cramped space for Joel to take a seat, and you needed the florescent lighting of the bathroom to fix him up properly. 

He knew better than to argue with you, sitting down without a word, the porcelain lid of the toilet slightly clanking under his weight. 

“Gonna have to stitch it up, it’s deep.” The words were a mumble as you searched the medicine cabinet above his head, fishing out the collection of first aid materials and setting the box down on the counter.

You were rummaging through it, looking for the needle and thread you kept for moments like this. They’d only been used a handful of times in the last few years; and almost every occasion it was Joel who sat on the other end of your amateur sowing job. 

“I’m sure it’ll be-.” He began trying to make an excuse until you cut him off.

“Joel.” His name was all you said as you continued riffling through bandages and bottles of medication. 

Joel was a tough man. He could handle getting injured all day long, but he hated sutures. You remembered how hard it was to hold back your laugh the first time you had to give him three stitches in his hand. He was writhing away from your touch and almost begging you to stop. His childish trepidation would’ve been cute, had you not been lacing a needle through his skin. 

“Well if ya can’t find it we’ll have to just-“ He was grumbling from his spot next to you.

“Ah-ha! Found it.” You were pulling the thread from the box with a victorious grin on your face.

You looked over to Joel and your smile immediately faded upon seeing his apprehensive expression. 

“I’ll be fast I promise.” You offered him a small smile as you nudged his knees apart, positioning yourself between them.

He was sat with his legs spread, you standing in front of him. He watched you prepare to fix his wound, and even covered in blood with his body aching in pain, Joel couldn’t help but appreciate your compassion. It was sweet really, how you always took such good care of him. He liked having someone to come home to and although he’d never admit it; he enjoyed the way you tended to him like this. You were always so attentive— a true nurturing soul.  

He watched as you used whatever antiseptic solution was left from your stash and a washcloth to clean the area surrounding his clavicle. Your face was contorted in concentration as you took in the wound, mentally preparing yourself for the next step. 

“Ready?” The question was rhetorical as it left your lips, your hands swapping the washcloth for the thread and needle as you leaned in closer to Joel.

“As I’ll ever be.” He was answering in a mumble as he closed his eyes, working himself up for the inevitable sting. 

You began, and the sharp hiss that escaped him made your chest feel heavy. You followed through with your word, your movements quick and precise as you worked to close the wound on his chest, in and out in a continuous pattern as you tried not to let Joel’s shaky exhales interrupt your concentration. 

“You’re doing so good.” You whispered down to him as your hands continued to work.

Your compliment was delivered with pure intentions. You knew Joel’s eyes were screwed shut in pain and you felt like he could use a little bit of encouragement.  What you didn’t know, was the way your softly spoken words had Joel’s entire body heating up. 

The pain at his chest instantly faded into warmth as he let your praise sink into his body like honey— sweet and sticky.

His eyes peeled open to look at you, gazing upwards and watching as your brows furrowed in deliberation at the thread moving through his skin. He was suddenly becoming aware of your soft body pressed up against his crotch as you leaned into him. The only clothing covering you was a t-shirt and your underwear, the bare skin of your thighs rubbing against the thick denim of his jeans. 

You were so fixated on following the pattern of your movements that you hadn’t even noticed Joel staring at you. In fact, you were almost finished when you felt the familiar push of his erection against your uncovered thigh. 

You looked down between sutures ready to make a joke about him getting turned on right now until you were met with his big brown eyes on yours. He was looking up at you with undeniable defenselessness, tempting you with his vulnerability. The out of character switch in power dynamics had a calculated smirk forming on your lips.

“Such a good boy for me.” You made sure your voice was low and persuasive as you spoke down to him. 

Your words sent an undisclosed craving throughout his body and his hands found the back of your thighs, grabbing gently, careful not to disrupt your intricate work on his shoulder. 

He wanted to pull you down onto him; to put his hands all over your body and show you he was in charge. He didn’t want to let you get away with making him feel inferior, but he couldn’t move— not while you were stitching him up like this.

You thought Joel might playfully tell you to shut up or be quiet, but he didn’t. He just kept his eyes trained on yours, careful and compliant. 

This was not your usual dynamic. Not in your relationship and definitely not in the bedroom. 

Joel was always the one in control. 

It quickly became an unspoken agreement between you that he called the shots and made the decisions. You figured it was from a place of fear— of wanting to protect you. But now with him sat beneath you all bruised and battered, you got to be the one protecting him. It felt like you were stepping into new territory standing between his legs in the middle of your little bathroom at this ungodly hour. 

You finished in silence, setting your tools back on the countertop. Joel’s hands stayed on your thighs, his fingers splayed over your skin and his grip a little tighter than before. 

You brought your hands up to run over his chest, your fingertips tracing around his tended wound, admiring your work. 

“Not so bad huh?” You were sing-songing sweetly as you peered down at the man beneath you. It wasn’t often that you got to see Joel like this; docile and preening under your touch.

“No, not bad.” The words were fumbling from his mouth as he gazed at you.

“Think you deserve a reward for doing so good.” You were trailing your hands further up, fingertips finding the nape of his neck, your voice quiet and innocent.

“What do you think? Need a little something for being such a good boy?” one of your hands intertwined in his hair, grabbing gently and pulling so that his head tilted up to meet your gaze.

You caught the way his head moved in a subtle nod at your words. 

You smiled at him and the look exchanged between you was eager before you sank to the floor hitting the cool tile as you kneeled before him. 

The two of you worked simultaneously to pull his jeans down just enough to free his erection from the restraining denim. You were desperate to get him in your mouth, only letting his jeans make it halfway down his thighs before stopping him and leaning forward. 

You hadn’t even touched him yet and he was already excruciatingly hard, his member resting against his belly as he sat patiently waiting to feel you on him. 

He was expecting to feel your hand wrap around the base of his cock, or maybe your tongue licking a long stripe up his length; but what he wasn’t anticipating, was the warmth of your lips against the sensitive space sitting underneath his aching member. You placed a gentle kiss on his balls and his head instinctually fell back, a raspy groan melting from his lips as you gently kissed and licked.

“Fuck.” It was a breathless groan— long and drawn-out pouring from his throat as you sloppily worked at the underside of his cock. You hummed at the satisfaction of having him at your disposal, sat in front of you and pathetically whimpering from just a few simple kisses. 

The vibration of your hum purring against him had his hands finding your hair, fingers cautiously digging into your scalp.

You drew your tongue up his length stopping once you reached the head and placing a gentle kiss there before taking just the tip of him between your lips. 

His hold on your hair tightened, causing you to swirl your tongue around him as you took your time sucking and listening to the muffled moans fighting against his lips.

You deepened your movement, dipping your head lower as you let him fill you even further, the warmth of your mouth enveloping him almost completely. The pitiful noises seeping from him had one of your hands sprawling up his thigh until your fingertips were ghosting his balls.

You were caressing the delicate weight between his legs, gently toying with them in your hand while your mouth continued welcoming him deeper toward your throat. 

“Shit Darlin’.” 

His words were a hushed sigh of relief as your eyes fluttered up to meet his. 

His sinful gaze sent your thighs clenching together as you continued bobbing your head.

You brought a hand to the base of his cock, using it in tandem with your mouth to illicit more of those sweet sounds form his throat. His groans and grunts were sinking down to meet your ears causing your own arousal to pool between your legs. 

You continued your actions, setting a steady pace, knowing it wouldn’t be long until you tasted his sweet release on your tongue. 

“Baby, baby, baby.” He was chanting down to you— a breathless warning cry.

You hummed in response, prepared to take everything he could give you as he reached his climax. Only, he was using his hold in your hair to pull your mouth from him, caressing your cheek while he caught his breath, watching as you kneeled before him with watery eyes and puffy lips. 

Joel had one hand on your face the other loosely grabbing a handful of your hair as he leaned down to meet your line of sight. 

“Wanna cum in here.” 

He was bringing the fingers at your cheek down between your legs. Parting them slightly with his touch and cupping your heat in the palm of his hand. 

“That okay honey?” 

The warmth of his palm through the thin material of your panties had you nodding pathetically at his words. 

His fand flew back to your face as he captured your lips in a lazy kiss.

You knew the embrace of his lips well. The familiar dance of his mouth on yours ensued as he stood, bringing you with him and pushing your body against the bathroom sink. 

His hands trailed down to your waist, grabbing hold and beginning to lift until you stopped him, pushing his hold away from your body. You knew if he picked you up it would strain the stitches in his shoulder. 

“Nuh-uh Joel you have to be careful. I don’t want you breaking your stitches open.” You were breaking the kiss with a gasp of breath, motioning to the extensive wound spanning from his chest to shoulder. 

“Okay baby, I’ll be real gentle.” His southern drawl was undeniable as he murmured the words to you with a condescending smile. 

You lifted yourself up to sit on the cool surface of the bathroom counter as Joel moved himself between your legs, pressing his lips on yours once again. His kiss trailed down your jaw as he pulled your thighs apart. Both of his hands running up the inside of your legs, causing goosebumps to raise on your skin. He reached your underwear, his motions stopping once he felt the way the wet cotton clung to your core.

“Love when you get this worked up just from suckin’ me off.” He was groaning into your neck as he ran a single digit up and down your slit through your ruined panties. 

“Missed you today.” More mumbles into your skin as he slowly rubbed circles over your covered clit.

“I missed you too.” The words were a moan as you wrapped your arms around him, hands spread over his back as you pulled him closer. 

“Thought about you a lot.” His tone was casual as he kept the conversation going; and while you loved the man, you needed him to get on with it. You needed him bad.

Leave it to Joel to start swapping stories about your day with his dick dangerously hard and inches away from pushing into you.  

“Thought about the other day when you were talkin’ bout babies.” He brought his face back just enough to gage your expression as he spoke.

You weren’t expecting this to come up now.

Days ago Joel caught you watching the young family that lived across the street. They just had a baby and it was impossible to miss the way you ogled at them when they sat on their front porch rocking their newest addition. 

He brought the obvious gawking to your attention, partly as a joke, but it lit something in him as soon as he saw the way you got all fidgety and flustered about it. 

You were quick to defend your increased interest in your neighbors, “They’re just a sweet couple that’s all. And their baby is just so damn cute.”  

“Yeah, he is pretty cute isn’t he.” You were both staring out the window, his hand finding the small of your waist as he stood behind you. 

“Most newborn babies are ugly but that’s a good one.” Joel was cracking a joke that had you shoving your elbow back into his torso.

“Oh, shut up.” You were trying to hide the giggle in your words as you kept your eyes trained on the little family across the street. Shamelessly wondering what it would be like to have that with Joel.

“I happen to have a soft spot for babies.” You were muttering as you gazed out the window.

“That right?” Joel’s voice was tender and low as you turned to look at him. Your eyes locking in a moment of pure interest and understanding before you eventually broke the stare, choosing to start dinner and leave the conversation frozen in time.

But now he was bringing it up, in the middle of the night with fresh stitches adorning his chest and his body wedged between your legs. 

“See the way you look at them.” He was referring to your neighbors, his voice quiet and kind.

“You want that?” His gaze was affectionate as he kept his eyes on yours, watching carefully. His finger still circling the bundle of nerves at your center; his crude movements a complete juxtaposition to the way he was sweetly looking at you.

“Want a baby? A little family?” There was a slight smile on his lips as he mumbled the words.

“Yeah, I’ve thought about it.” Your response was simple, his eyes still watching as you answered. 

“With you.” 

One of his eyebrows innocently cocked at your follow up statement.

“I want that with you Joel.” You meant it.

Although you’d be lying if you said the words weren’t also fueled by the way his pointer finger was slowly and deliberately stroking your clit through your panties. 

“Do you ever think about it?” Your eyes were peering at him naively, your bottom lip caught in your teeth as you bit down trying to keep yourself from moaning in pleasure at his soft touch. 

“Having a baby with me?” 

The words were a sweet murmur on your tongue and Joel had to keep himself from groaning at your question. 

Of course he wanted it. He thought about it every time he caught you staring out the window at the kid across the street. 

He couldn’t shake the constant reminder ringing in his head that he was older than you, and a man his age shouldn’t be starting a family. He knew people would have a lot to say about it and he didn’t want you to be the topic of town gossip. But hearing you say the words to him right now— telling him how much you wanted to have his baby. It was maddening.

Every last insecurity was shoved to the side as he looked into your eyes so precious and kind, full of longing and anticipation. 

“All the time sweetheart.” He let the truth flood the space between your lips and the way your face lit up was all he needed to keep confessing.

“Nothin’ I want more than a family with you.” 

A squeak of a moan pushed past your lips both from his declaration and the increased pressure he was applying to your clit as he continued his lazy circles on your panties. 

“Then what’s stopping us?” 

You were bucking your hips into his hand and your soft smile was replaced by a convincing grin. 

His facial expression quickly matched yours as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down your thighs with his eyes still on yours.

“Gonna give me a baby Miller?”

He was pulling you closer to the edge of the countertop, angling himself at your entrance.

While he would normally stretch you out with a few strokes of his fingers before pushing his cock into you, tonight he was impatient and greedy. He knew you were already ready for him from your ruined panties that were now somewhere on the floor. 

“That what you want huh? Wanna be a mama?” The tone behind his questioning was sadistic as he let his tip nudge into you.

“Take such good care of me sweetheart, know you’d be so good with our babies.”

He leaned in, his forehead finding yours as he watched your eyelids flutter with each inch he pushed into you. 

“Joel…” Your mind was beginning to go blank, and his name was the only thing you could get out in an attempt to ask for more. 

“Gonna fill you up real good darlin’, give you a baby.” He was trying his best to keep his composure, but Joel’s words were filled with the threat of a moan as he bottomed out inside you. 

“God yes- Please Joel.” You didn’t even attempt to hide the sigh of relief that flew from your mouth at the feeling of him filling you.

He moved slowly at first, wanting to give in to the intimacy of your exchanged words. Then he felt you desperately clenching around him, rendering him powerless against his most primal desires.

His hips began snapping into yours; hands gripping the flesh of your thighs pulling them even further apart in his grasp. With each thrust he challenged you to take him deeper, rubbing the sweetest spot along your walls as your fingers dug into the muscles of his back.

You were a muddle of whines and whimpers as Joel continued to drive into you, paying close attention to the spongey place deep inside that had your whole body tensing up. 

“Want it so bad, don’t ya baby?” His question held a certain level of arrogance, but you didn’t even notice it with the way his hips were grinding against yours every time he drove into you. 

You simply nodded, your head bumping against his.

“Know ya do.” He watched as pitiable little noises fell from your parted lips.

“Can feel it.” He was groaning as he felt your walls squeezing around him signifying your inevitable release. 

You couldn’t remember a time when you came this fast; but the way he was speaking mixed with the thrill of a new desire being shared between you had your abdomen straining and your head buzzing. 

“Fuck I’m gonna-“

“I know sweetheart let it out.” 

His reassurance was coupled with heavy thrusts that sent moans spilling from the deepest part of your chest.  

Your fingernails were sure to leave marks as you gripped his back. The pressure in your core bursting as your release washed over you.

The pleasure was nearly blinding as your body heaved underneath Joel’s movements. It didn’t stop. The overwhelming feeling of relief continued to course through your veins as Joel kept a steady pace thrusting in and out of you. 

“Tell me how bad you want it.” His voice was breathless as it fanned over your face. 

His grip on your thighs had migrated up to your face as he held your jaw in his hands, keeping your forehead pressed against his. 

“Need it Joel.” You were mewling between gasps, as he plunged into you. 

“Need your cum.” 

His hold on your face forced your eyes to meet his and while you could barely keep them open; you were mesmerized by the way he was staring at you, his jaw slack and his eyes dark and focused.

“Wanna feel you.”

With each of your words, you could feel his thrusts growing eager and sloppy. 

“Want you to give me a baby Joel.”

The whining in your voice had Joel’s hips stuttering and his body going rigid as he pushed into you with one final thrust. 

You felt his warmth spitting and spreading through you; your walls soft and swollen, inviting every last drop. 

His groans were guttural as his forehead pushed against yours, his eyes squeezing shut in pure bliss.

Joel’s breath was heavy and elongated as he let himself melt into your touch. Giving himself just a few seconds to regain his self-control.

Wordlessly, he pulled away to take in the features of your face. Looking intently for any sign of regret or sudden realization but instead, he was just met with your comforting smile. 

“My sweet girl.” His voice was a gentle whisper as he kept his dick buried deep inside of you.

“Gonna look so pretty all pregnant with our baby.”

His hands were at your belly tracing delicate little patterns in your warm skin. 

He slowly began to pull out of you, both of your heads falling to watch the way he dripped out from between your legs. 

You expected him to grab a towel, taking his time to clean you up like he normally did after making a mess of you; but this time he veered from his usual aftercare habit. The towel hanging next to you stayed in its place as you watched Joel trail two fingers down your abdomen until he was gathering his spend leaking from your core and pushing it back into you. 

You were whining his name in protest, already overstimulated and messy from him fucking you through your orgasm.  

“C’mon honey, can’t let it go to waste.” His eyes bore into yours with a serious intensity as his fingers hooked into you, knuckles deep.

His name was falling like a chant from your lips. You were already pulsing around his digits, the feeling of his warm slicked fingers sending your body into overdrive.   

“Thought you wanted a baby?” 

You nodded and whispered a pathetic “I do” at his words. His hand pulled out from between your legs just enough for him to watch his cum coated fingers dip back into you again.

“Gotta take all of it then sweetheart.”

You kept nodding, the repetition of your head bobbing up and down making a victorious grin spread across Joel’s face. 

“Good job baby.” His praise was coupled by the obscenely wet sounds of his fingers fucking into you, curling with each thrust. 

“Joel-“ You choked out his name as he used his fingers to expertly bring you to your release. You were so close you could taste it. 

“Gonna make such a pretty baby sweetheart.” He was in a trance as he looked down between your bodies, you were so messy, sucking him in with each push of his fingers. 

Profanities twirled off your tongue as you felt another wave of pleasure chase through your body. 

Joel worked you through it, his fingers moving continually as you writhed under his touch.

The culmination of wetness at your core a sloppy mess of devotion and passion. Your body trembled as you came down from your high and Joel’s fingers carefully retreated, finding a place to rest on your bare thigh. 

Neither of you moved. The two of you staying in one place soaking in each other’s warmth.

You brought a hand up to trace his collarbone, surveying his wound that was thankfully still in tact. 

“Think it worked?” You were wondering aloud, referring to your spontaneous decision to make a baby on your bathroom counter.

“Eh, we can always keep tryin’.” Joel was toying with your hair, his body pressed against yours as he stood between your legs. 

“You know… for good measure.” He smiled through his words at the idea of getting to do that over and over again. 

my masterlist

[zyafics]

GIRL WITH THE SIREN SONG | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (Blurb)

Pairing – Rafe x Mermaid!Female Reader

Summary — Rafe doesn't know how to act when your singing attracts everyone's attention.

Word Count — 1.8K

Content — fluff, protective!Rafe, jealous!Rafe, Sarah acting like a know-at-all (she's lowkey right), enchantment from siren songs, you acting clueless, and occasionally talking to sea creatures. A continuum of this and this.

You’ve been living with the Camerons at Tannyhill.

You have your own room, your own bed, but each night, you sneak into Rafe’s. You don’t understand the human normative of it being scandalous, you see it as an innocent gesture. Because he’s your mate.

“Why do you keep doing this?” Rafe asks softly into your hair as you snuggle against his chest, head resting on his skipping heartbeat. “Is the bed not good enough?”

“It’s fine,” you say.

“Then why do you keep coming into my room?”

Rafe doesn’t mind it, truly. If he can have it his way, he'll have you here every night. But he did it because Sarah suggested it—that you need your separate space, your own sanction outside of Rafe. What Sarah doesn’t understand is that it’s not normal in merfolk culture.

“You’re my mate,” you answer simply, drowsiness coating your words as you yawn against his chest, eyes fluttering to sleep. It’s always easiest to find slumber in Rafe’s arms, and within a few minutes, your breathing evens out, heartbeats slows, and you knock out.

When he rises the next morning, as always, you’re gone. The first time it happened, it scared him. Did you run off somewhere? Leave? He never finds you in your designated bedroom—though, the chances of that are low—and he doesn’t see you in any of the common spaces at Tannyhill. For a bleeding second, he thinks you truly have left.

But when he does find you, it’s on the beach of his estate. Chasing seagulls along the sand, kicking grains in the air, and talking to something.

You tell him it’s the fishes who have come to visit you.

He thinks you’re going insane again.

“You have to show her around Kildare,” Sarah declares, flipping through her morning magazine. “She’s talking to sea creatures because she has no friends.”

That isn’t true. “She has me.”

“Sure, and that’s all the companion she needs,” Sarah drawls sardonically, taking a sip of her glass.

Somewhere, deep down, Rafe knows his sister is right. He refuses to admit to her face, but it’s lonely at Tannyhill. Especially since you rarely join Sarah and her adventures. It doesn’t help that Rafe sometimes leaves you alone to your own devices, needing to help his father at Cameron Development or entertaining his other ventures.

But Rafe doesn’t like the suggestion. He doesn’t like the idea of you going out, away from this protective bubble he made for you. To keep you safe. Yet, he knows it’s necessary. Especially when he comes after you and sees no fishes, no turtles, no sea creatures in sight for you to exhibit such a claim.

You tell him it's because Rafe scared them and they swam away.

After that morning, Rafe suggested a party. Summertime hosts a lot of events, and nothing is more of a Kildare tradition than their weekly bonfires on the beach. It took little convincing to agree, with the stipulation that Rafe joins you.

He does. There’s no way Rafe’s going to leave you alone, and after you get ready—slipping on a bikini set that shows off every inch of your body, with a sheer sarong wrapped around your hips—he takes you to the bonfire.

It’ll be fine, Rafe convinces himself. It’s not like you’re going to be alone; you’ll be with him, in his arms. There’s nothing of danger.

He forgets how captivating you are.

Because when you arrive, all eyes are on you. You don’t realize it yourself—too entranced by the raging ten-foot bonfire in the center of the gathering, fuming dense heat and smoke in your direction. You’re surprised by the magnitude of the human population, sitting on logs, slipping on plastic cups—causing you to scrunch your nose—and having this rhythmic beat coming from large , black boxes that seem to project magic.

At first, the night started off slow. You in Rafe’s arms, introducing yourself to strangers, while he occasionally sips from a glass bottle (you refuse to hand him a plastic cup) while you engage in enthusiastic conversations about human culture.

But sometime later, it all vanishes. The battery to the stereos died, and there was a stilted, eery silence on the beach. Someone suggested a little song around the fire, and while it’s supposed to be taken as a joke, someone else targeted you—asking if you knew any songs to share.

You tell them you only know songs from your pod, these little melodies your people sing while traveling the high seas. They thought you were a nomad, and asked for you to sing one.

So, you do.

And it enraptures the entire audience.

Because you don’t sing a simple tune, a hummed sound in the ocean currents, you activate your siren song, the type to lure men off their boats and make them susceptible to your bidding. It starts with a small group, a handful of guys around you, circling, but as you sing, the crowd grows in magnitude. All men—even ones with girlfriends—ditch their partners to flock to you, to hear your voice, to see you.

It’s a mesmerizing sound.

But it makes Rafe jealous.

He knows it does. All these men have their attention on you, their sights on you, their salivating desire for you; it’s predatory. It makes Rafe tick, because you are no longer his little secret, his little mermaid, kept in his pocket, safeguarded in his arms. You are known, and perceived as the woman with the beautiful voice; the voice that can make any man drop to his knees.

At some point, the song ends, and Rafe thinks he can excuse taking you away from the crowd. But the people cheer—swinging cups in the air, demanding another song. You giggle under the spotlight, firelight shadowing your delicate features, in a way that almost reveals a set of fangs.

You start a new song, another whistle against the wind. Just as alluring, just as deadly.

That’s when Rafe had enough.

He grabs your arm and hauls you off the solitary log, pulling you away from the bonfire, away from the beach. He’s walking so fast, you can’t keep up, feet scrambling to catch ground, to find stability, and your brows furrow with thick confusion as Rafe takes these long, stifled steps towards the parking lot.

“Wait, wait,” you murmur, trying to catch your breath. “I can’t—”

He doesn’t listen.

He persists, trekking along the sand, moving across dried seaweed and driftwood with vigor. It isn’t until you’re trying so hard to match Rafe’s pace, to no avail, that a soft sob rips from the back of your throat, thick with emerging tears.

Once Rafe hears that faint noise, he stops. He releases your wrist and turns around, discovering your crestfallen expression, your eyes brimming with sparkling tears, and the most sadden pout paired with an utter look of confusion.

You exhale softly, scanning Rafe’s tensed features.

“What…” You start slowly, “What did I do wrong?”

Rafe says nothing.

“Are you mad at me?” Your voice croaks as if you can’t stand the thought of him being upset at you. It cracks at his walls, at the hard demeanor he tries to project, and his heart eases.

With a clenched jaw, Rafe glances back to the dispersing crowd of men—disenchanted, now murmuring with sounds of confusion on why they gathered together in the first place.

“Why were you singing?” He demands.

“You don’t like it?” You ask.

“No, I—” He rubs his jaw, a frequent habit he’s been doing since your arrival. “Do you see how those men look at you?”

“Of course I do,” you answer, normally, detached, as if there’s no problem with that.

“And you’re fine with that?” He scoffs.

“It’s a siren song,” you explain. “Of course, they’re going to be entranced. That’s the power of the lure.”

He remembers in his readings about this concept. The way sirens lured sailors to their deaths by the ballad of their voice. But he didn’t think it was still relevant. Of course, he doesn’t really know anything when dealing with this lore—this fusion of reality and fantasy.

Yet, it still doesn’t make sense.

If it’s meant to enchant all the men—why didn’t he get affected? Why didn’t he fall into a spell? Why didn’t he come to her? All he felt was a grating, nauseating feeling hollowing out his chest, thickening his lungs, at the idea that he has to share you and your voice with the rest of the island.

“Why didn’t it affect me?” Rafe asks lowly. He can’t believe he’s playing into this nonsense, this mythology, but it’s the only frame of reference he can work from. “If it’s a siren song, it’s supposed to lure me too. Why didn’t it?”

Your lips curve, as if you’re finding entertainment in his dubiety. Underneath the weight of the moonlight, it comes again, the sharpened row of teeth that he believed to be a reflection of his imagination.

“You’re my mate,” you declare, referring to Rafe as that term once more. “Mates aren’t affected by siren songs.”

“What—?” Rafe’s truly at his wit’s end. “What is that? What does that mean?”

“Do humans not have mates?”

“Do you mean friends?”

You shake your head delicately, taking a step towards him. “It’s a companion for life,” you explain, “Merfolk often travel in pods, but they break up when they hunt. Mates don’t. They’re always together, always bonded. That’s you to me.”

He’s trying to synthesize this into normal terminology. “So a boyfriend?”

“No,” you shake your head. “A mate.”

He’s clearly not getting it, and he’s too frustrated tonight to find the right answer. But, from what you’re saying, it implies that he means something valuable to you. Something precious. That settles the weight in his chest, tames the irritable side of his emotions, and calms the roaring ember of jealousy.

“Alright,” Rafe says after a long beat. “I’m heading back to Tannyhill, you comin’?”

You nod. There’s no way you can stay without your mate; that’s unsightly. Rafe extends his hand for you to take, and upon recognizing human customs, you do.

With contact, Rafe pulls you back towards him, towards his side, and you evenly walk to the parking lot where he has his car.

“If it bothers you, I’ll stop singing,” you say as Rafe wraps an arm around your shoulder, shielding you from the brisk nightly wind of the Atlantic Ocean.

“No, don’t,” Rafe enjoys your singing. In the morning, as you talk to your sea creatures; before bed, as you clean your teeth. He likes the soothing element of the sound. Music to his ears.

He just doesn’t like sharing.

“Just don’t sing to anyone but me.”

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[gyuuberryy]

fatal trouble

pairing: vampire!sunghoon x reader

synopsis: your roommate is hot. really really hot. and odd too. really really odd. after a strange experience with him, you slowly start distancing yourself from him. but, it becomes exceptionally hard with your feelings coming in the way. how are you supposed to protect yourself if you can’t resist him? the answer is you don’t need to. your fates are intertwined and there's no letting go.

genre: roommates to lovers, vampire au, soulmate au

warnings: suggestive content, mentions of nightmares and blood, jealous!sunghoon, 

note: dropping this before i go on hiatus for a month due to school work. i haven't proofread it that well i hope there are no mistakes. also im obsessed with vampire aus, enhablr needs more of them fr!! i hope you enjoy reading this!

word count: 6k

if you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3

the soft glow of your laptop screen illuminated your face, casting long shadows across sunghoon's pristine white sheets. you were sprawled out on his bed, legs crossed beneath you, surrounded by a chaotic scatter of textbooks and papers. the quiet hum of the air conditioner filled the room, broken only by the intermittent clicks of your keyboard.

sunghoon sat at his desk, a silhouette against the darkened room, save for the focused beam of his desk lamp. his fingers danced across the keyboard with an almost rhythmic precision, the soft glow of the screen reflecting in his dark eyes. you’d grown accustomed to the sight of him engrossed in his work, a solitary figure lost in the world of ones and zeros.

you’d known each other for a few months now, the kind of acquaintance born out of shared living space and the occasional group project. as roommates sharing the same major, your apartment had become a de facto study hub. computer science had thrown you together more often than not, and tonight was no exception. 

“hey, did you get the part about the algorithm?” your voice, a whisper in the quiet, cut through the comfortable silence.

sunghoon glanced up, his eyes a deep, almost unnatural shade of red in the dim light. for a moment, you were struck by how different he looked compared to the daylight. “yeah, i think so. isn’t it something about minimising the time complexity?”

you nodded, your eyes scanning the code on your screen. “exactly. i’m just having trouble with the implementation.”

a comfortable silence settled over the room as you both focused on your respective screens. the only sound was the rhythmic tapping of keys and the occasional sigh of frustration. you glanced up at sunghoon, his profile illuminated by the soft glow of his monitor. his long, slender fingers moved with an almost hypnotic grace across the keyboard.

there was something undeniably attractive about his focused intensity. his features, normally sharp and aloof, softened slightly when he was engrossed in his work. it was a side of him you rarely saw, and it was oddly captivating.

you shook your head, mentally scolding yourself for such thoughts. he was your roommate, nothing more. and besides, there was no way he could be interested in someone like you.

“hey,” sunghoon’s voice cut through your reverie, “i think i figured it out.”

you blinked, startled. “oh, really? want to explain it?”

he nodded, sliding his chair back and standing up. he walked over to your side of the bed, his tall frame looming over you. as he leaned in to point at your screen, his scent washed over you – a subtle blend of wood and something else, almost sweet, that you couldn’t quite place.

you felt a strange warmth creeping up your neck as he hovered over you. his proximity was unnerving, yet strangely intoxicating. you swallowed hard, trying to focus on the code in front of you.

sunghoon's breath was warm against your ear as he leaned in closer, his voice a low rumble, "try this." his finger hovered over your keyboard, about to demonstrate.

you felt a shiver run down your spine, not from the cool night air but from the inexplicable sensation of being so close to him. his scent, a mix of something woodsy and faintly sweet, was intoxicating. you tried to focus on the code, to ignore the way your heart was pounding in your chest.

he typed a few lines, his fingers brushing against yours. the contact sent a jolt of electricity through you. you forced yourself to concentrate on the screen, trying to understand the changes he made.

"see?" he said, straightening up. "it's simpler this way."

you nodded, still reeling from the physical contact. "thanks," you managed to say, your voice barely a whisper.

sunghoon stepped back, a small smile playing on his lips. "no problem," he said, turning back to his own computer.

you took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. it was just sunghoon, your roommate. nothing more. but the way he had acted, the way he had touched you, it was making it hard to think of him that way.

the room was quiet again, the only sounds the soft clacking of keyboards and the occasional rustle of paper. you were deep in thought, trying to wrap your head around a particularly complex problem when a question popped into your head. on impulse, you asked, “so, sunghoon, what do you do in your free time, when you’re not, you know, studying?”

sunghoon paused, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. a flicker of something, perhaps surprise or amusement, passed across his face before he responded smoothly, “free time is a luxury for a computer science student, don’t you think? but when i do find a spare moment, i usually spend it reading or exploring new coding languages.”

his answer was polite, but it felt rehearsed, as if he'd prepared a response for just such a question. a sense of curiosity sparked within you. you’d always thought sunghoon was a bit of an enigma, but this was a new level of intrigue.

curiosity, a persistent itch, prodded you to ask something more than just about schoolwork.

“hey, i was curious about this” you started, your voice barely audible over the hum of the air conditioner, “where are you from?” it was a simple question, one you would normally ask any new acquaintance, but there was something about sunghoon that made you curious about his past.

he paused, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. for a moment, there was a stillness in the room that was almost palpable. then, with a casual shrug, he replied, "oh, just a small town. nothing interesting." the response was swift, deflecting your question with ease.

confused, you returned to your code, but your mind was racing. there was something off about sunghoon, something that had intrigued you from the moment you met him. you couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but there were strange little details that had started to accumulate.

there were those odd instances – like the time you'd woken up in the middle of the night to find the kitchen light on and sunghoon standing at the counter, completely motionless, his eyes glowing an eerie red. or the way he seemed to have an uncanny ability to appear and disappear without a sound. and then there was the peculiar lack of a reflection in any mirror in his room.

these memories surfaced, sharp and clear, as if your brain was piecing together a puzzle it didn't know existed. you shook your head, dismissing the thoughts as overactive imagination. after all, sunghoon was just your roommate, a fellow computer science student. nothing more, nothing less.

a yawn escaped your lips as you stretched, the late hour finally catching up with you. “i think i’m going to call it a night,” you announced, rubbing your eyes. the weight of the unanswered questions about sunghoon was beginning to feel heavy.

sunghoon nodded, his gaze fixed on the computer screen. “alright, good night then. i’ll probably stay up a bit longer.”

you nodded in response, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. as you stood up, you glanced down at the floor. something was off. the soft glow from sunghoon’s computer cast long shadows on the floor, including a distinct one from his chair. but there was no shadow of sunghoon himself. the spot where his shadow should have been was empty, an inky void against the illuminated floor.

a chill ran down your spine. your heart pounded in your ears. your mind raced, trying to come up with a logical explanation, but nothing made sense. you snatched up your bag, your movements jerky and panicked. without a second thought, you fled back to your room, the door slamming shut behind you. you fumbled with the lock, your hands trembling. only when you heard the satisfying click of the lock did you allow yourself to breathe.

your heart pounded in your ears as you leaned against the cool metal of your door. the realisation of what you had seen was slowly sinking in. no human lacked a shadow. it was impossible. a chill ran down your spine.

you tried to rationalise it away. maybe there was a draft, or a trick of the light. but deep down, you knew better. something was profoundly wrong, and it was connected to sunghoon. the friendly, quiet roommate you thought you knew was now shrouded in an unsettling mystery.

you glanced at the clock. it was late, and exhaustion was starting to creep in. you needed to sleep, to clear your head. but how could you sleep with this looming over you? you decided to distract yourself by pulling out a book from your shelf, hoping the words would drown out the unsettling thoughts.

as you turned the pages, your mind kept drifting back to sunghoon. his unusual behaviour, the absence of his shadow, it all fit together into a terrifying puzzle. you tried to shake off the feeling, but it was like a persistent itch you couldn't scratch.

sleep finally claimed you, but it was restless. your dreams were filled with shadows, long and menacing, closing in on you. you woke up with a start, your heart racing. the first light of dawn was filtering through your curtains. you got out of bed and went to the window. the world outside looked ordinary, peaceful. but you knew the truth was far from it.

something was wrong with sunghoon, and you were determined to find out what.

the days following your unsettling discovery were a blur of forced normalcy. you tried to interact with sunghoon as if nothing was amiss, but the weight of your knowledge cast a long shadow over your interactions. you found yourself avoiding his gaze, your voice trembling when you spoke to him.

sunghoon seemed oblivious to your discomfort at first. he’d always been a quiet person, so his reserved nature didn’t raise any immediate suspicion. however, as the days turned into weeks, his patience began to wear thin.

"hey, are you free to study together tomorrow?" he asked one evening as you were both making dinner. his tone was casual, but you could detect a hint of underlying disappointment.

your heart skipped a beat. you’d been avoiding his study invitations, coming up with increasingly elaborate excuses. the truth hung heavy in the air, a tangible thing between you. you hesitated, your mind racing.

"i... i’m really busy tomorrow," you stammered, your voice barely audible. "maybe next week?"

disappointment flashed across sunghoon’s face before he masked it with a forced smile. "sure, no problem," he replied, his voice flat.

as he turned away, you couldn't shake the feeling of guilt. you'd hurt him, and you knew it.

the night was a descent into terror. you dreamt of shadows, long and menacing, closing in on you. sunghoon was there, but not as you knew him. his eyes burned with an unnatural light, and his form was distorted, monstrous. you were running, but your legs were leaden, and the shadows were gaining on you. a scream built in your throat, but no sound escaped.

you woke with a start, drenched in sweat. your heart pounded like a drumbeat in your chest. panic washed over you as you gasped for air. you were disoriented, unsure of where you were. a noise from the living room startled you, and you jumped out of bed.

the light was on, and there, standing in the doorway, was sunghoon, his face etched with concern. before you could react, you found yourself lunging at him, your hands grasping at his neck. he didn't fight back, instead, he held you tightly, his arms wrapping around you protectively.

your sobs racked your body as you clung to him, finding solace in his warmth. he shushed you softly, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. gradually, your breathing began to slow, and your body relaxed.

when you finally calmed down, sunghoon gently guided you back to bed. he sat on the edge, running a comforting hand through your hair. you clung to him, your fear slowly dissipating.

in the quiet that followed, you felt a strange urge to confide in him. your voice was barely a whisper when you began, "i dreamt of you... as something... different."

sunghoon stiffened, but his grip on you didn't loosen. something flashed behind his eyes, but he listened intently as you recounted the terrifying details of your nightmare. when you finished, he was silent for a long moment. finally, he whispered, "go back to sleep," and you felt him lean down to kiss your forehead.

with that, he quietly left the room, leaving you alone with your racing thoughts.

the days that followed were a careful ballet of avoidance. you moved through your days with a practised detachment, constructing an invisible wall between yourself and sunghoon. the weight of your decision pressed down on you like a physical burden. despite the burgeoning crush that had blossomed in the quiet corners of your heart, you'd created a formidable wall between yourself and sunghoon. his enigmatic nature, coupled with the unsettling discoveries you'd made, had convinced you to keep him at arm's length. it was a lonely existence, a self-imposed exile that offered a semblance of safety.

your days were a monotonous cycle of lectures, assignments, and solitary meals. you'd found solace in the company of your classmate, lee heeseung, his cheerful demeanour a stark contrast to the storm raging within you. yet, even as you laughed and shared stories with him, a part of you longed for the quiet intensity of sunghoon's presence.

in the vast, impersonal lecture hall, you’d sought refuge in the anonymity of the crowd. but even here, you couldn't escape the weight of your decision. a persistent sense of being watched gnawed at you, a constant reminder of the eyes that followed your every move. and you knew very well who it was. it was during one such lecture that the tension reached a breaking point.

you were engrossed in your notes when a subtle shift in the atmosphere caught your attention. a cold prickle ran down your spine as you slowly turned your head. there, in the row behind you, sat sunghoon, his gaze fixed intently on you. his expression was a complex interplay of emotions - longing, pain, and a flicker of something darker.

your heart pounded in your chest as a wave of guilt washed over you. you'd hurt him, pushed him away without a second thought. in that moment, as his eyes held yours, you realised the depth of your own cowardice.

not to mention, with each passing night your nightmares had intensified. each night a descent into a darker, more terrifying realm. sleep, once a refuge, had transformed into a battlefield, leaving you exhausted and on edge. the physical toll was evident - dark circles shadowed your eyes, and your skin had started to take on a sickly pallor.

despite your deteriorating condition, you continued to maintain your distance from sunghoon. guilt gnawed at you, but fear held you captive. yet, in the aftermath of each nightmare, you found yourself seeking solace in his presence. he’d sit by your bed his silent vigil a comforting anchor in the storm of your nightmares. his touch, gentle and reassuring, had become a lifeline, pulling you back from the brink of despair.

one particularly harrowing night, you woke up screaming, your body drenched in sweat. sunghoon was by your side almost instantly, his arms wrapping around you in a comforting embrace. as your fear subsided, you began to recount the nightmare, your voice trembling.

"i... i dreamt of a place," you managed to say, your words halting. "a dark place, with... with strange symbols."

sunghoon's grip tightened around you. "and you were alone," he finished for you, his voice low and soothing.

your eyes widened in shock. how could he know what you had dreamt about? you hadn’t even managed to complete your story. yet, sunghoon had described it perfectly, as if he had been there with you.

a chill ran down your spine. you pulled away from him, your eyes filled with fear and confusion. sunghoon simply looked at you, his expression unreadable, before turning and leaving the room.

what did this mean? how could sunghoon know about your nightmares? the answers were as elusive as ever, but one thing was certain: the line between the ordinary and the extraordinary was blurring, and you were caught in the crossfire.

the nightmares ceased as abruptly as they had begun. you woke each morning feeling refreshed, the spectre of terror finally lifted from your shoulders. a sense of relief washed over you, but it was tinged with a strange melancholy. the nightly visits from sunghoon, a comforting ritual amidst the chaos, were now absent.

initially, you welcomed the return to normalcy. the constant fear and exhaustion had taken a toll on you, and the ability to sleep soundly was a precious gift. but as days turned into weeks, a nagging sense of unease crept in. sunghoon's absence, once a welcome respite, now felt like a void.

you started noticing subtle changes in him. his eyes, once bright and alert, were now shadowed by dark circles. his once sharp features seemed softened by fatigue. it was as if a weight was pressing down on him, a burden he carried alone.

a pang of guilt struck you. perhaps your avoidance had contributed to his deteriorating condition. you wanted to reach out, to offer support, but fear held you back. what if your presence only made things worse? what if you discovered something terrifying?

you longed to reach out to him, to offer solace and support, but the words remained trapped in your throat. the fear of rejection, of further pushing him away, paralyzed you. it was a cruel irony that the person you yearned to comfort was the one causing you the most pain. 

the afternoon sun beat down on the bustling campus as you made your way towards the nearest convenience store. the promise of a refreshing popsicle was the only thing that could lure you away from the confines of your dorm room. with a popsicle clutched in your hand, you emerged from the store, ready to face the world, one frozen treat at a time.

just as you were about to savour the first bite, heeseung materialised beside you, his infectious grin lighting up his face. "arcade?" he suggested, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. you nodded, the prospect of a distraction proving too tempting to resist.

you split the popsicle down the middle, the sweet, icy treat a welcome respite from the oppressive heat. as you handed one half to heeseung, a strange sensation washed over you. it was as if a cold draft had swept across your skin, a shiver that had nothing to do with the melting popsicle in your hand.

instinctively, you turned around, your heart pounding in your chest. there, on the other side of the road, stood sunghoon, his figure cast in the harsh sunlight. his eyes, usually guarded, were fixed on you with an intensity that bordered on hostility. a scowl marred his usually indifferent features, and his jaw was clenched tightly.

you offered a timid smile, a feeble attempt to bridge the chasm between you. but his gaze remained unwavering, cold and unforgiving. with a final, contemptuous glance, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd.

a wave of guilt and confusion washed over you. you'd hurt him, you knew that. but the intensity of his reaction was unexpected, almost frightening. as you turned back to heeseung, you forced a smile, determined to push the unsettling encounter to the back of your mind.

the encounter with sunghoon left a bitter taste in your mouth. his hostile glare had shattered the fragile peace you'd been cultivating. as you and heeseung made your way to the arcade, your mind raced, trying to decipher the meaning behind sunghoon's outburst. had your avoidance pushed him to the brink? or was there something more sinister at play?

the arcade, with its flashing lights and the cacophony of sound, offered a temporary escape from the turmoil within. you lost yourself in the rhythm of the games, the competitive spirit temporarily drowning out the unsettling incident. yet, even as you laughed and cheered with heeseung, your mind kept drifting back to sunghoon, his angry gaze burning into your memory.

as the afternoon wore on, a sense of unease settled over you. the carefree atmosphere of the arcade couldn't mask the growing storm within. the incident with sunghoon had opened a wound, a raw and painful reminder of the complex dynamics between you.

you glanced at heeseung, his laughter infectious, and felt a pang of guilt. he was doing everything to lift your spirits, to distract you from your troubles. but your mind was elsewhere, trapped in a labyrinth of doubt and fear.

the walk back to your dorm was a solitary affair. the campus, usually bustling with activity, seemed deserted. with each step, the weight of your worries grew heavier. the encounter with sunghoon had forced you to confront the reality of the situation. you couldn't continue to bury your head in the sand, hoping that the problem would resolve itself.

the weight of the day pressed down on you as you unlocked the apartment door. exhaustion tugged at your limbs, but the lingering unease from your encounter with sunghoon kept your mind racing. 

as you stepped into the living room, a jolt of surprise ran through you. sunghoon was standing in the kitchen, his silhouette outlined by the soft glow of the refrigerator.

there was an unnatural stillness to him, a predatory calm that sent a shiver down your spine. his eyes, when they met yours, held a strange intensity, a glint of something dangerous lurking beneath the surface. "fancy seeing you here," he said, his voice low and measured.

you forced a smile, your heart pounding in your chest. "just got back," you replied, your voice barely a whisper.

he approached you slowly, his steps deliberate. "we have that new assignment," he began, his voice low and seductive. "maybe we could work on it together tomorrow?"

your mind raced, trying to come up with an excuse. "i'm... i'm pretty busy," you stammered, avoiding his gaze.

sunghoon's expression darkened. with a swift movement, he closed the distance between you, cornering you against the kitchen counter, his hands grabbing your hips. his proximity was unnerving, his scent, a mix of wood and something faintly sweet, filling your senses. you could feel his breath on your skin, hot and heavy. 

"don't lie to me," he hissed, his voice low and menacing. "i know what's going on."

his grip tightened around you, and you winced. 

"it's nothing," you insisted, your voice trembling. "just... busy."

"busy with heeseung?" he spat out, his jealousy evident in his tone. his eyes narrowed, and you could see the anger simmering beneath the surface.

your face flushed with embarrassment. he was taking this the wrong way. “it’s not like that,” you stammered, your voice barely a whisper.

sunghoon's grip tightened, pinning you against the cool surface of the counter. his breath was warm against your skin, and a strange sensation, a mix of fear and excitement, coursed through your veins.

“don’t lie to me,” he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. “you're avoiding me.”

you didn't know why, but the power dynamic between you and sunghoon was intoxicating. he had never behaved this way before let alone showcase jealousy so blatantly. it was hot. you felt a blush creeping up your cheeks, a mixture of embarrassment and arousal. 

before you could respond, you found yourself leaning in, your lips brushing against his. it was an impulsive act, a desperate attempt to silence him, to end the confrontation. but, to your surprise, he responded, his lips moving against yours with a gentle intensity.

the world seemed to slow down as the kiss deepened. but as quickly as it had begun, it ended. you pulled away, your heart pounding in your chest.

overwhelmed by a rush of emotions, you turned and fled to your room, slamming the door behind you. you leaned against the door, panting, your mind racing. 

the realisation of what you had done hit you like a tidal wave. you had kissed your roommate, a person you were actively avoiding due to a growing sense of fear and unease. the implications of your actions were terrifying. you'd crossed a line, a boundary you had carefully constructed to protect yourself.

a series of frantic knocks on the door jolted you out of your stupor. it was sunghoon, his voice muffled through the wood. "open up, please," he pleaded. your heart pounded in your chest. you couldn't face him now. you needed time to process what had happened, to regain control of the situation.

the knocking continued for a few minutes before finally ceasing. silence enveloped the room, heavy and oppressive. you slid down the door, your body trembling. what had you done?

morning arrived with a sense of foreboding. the thought of facing sunghoon filled you with dread, but the need to uncover the truth was stronger. you waited until the sound of his footsteps faded down the hallway, a sign that he had left for his morning jog.

with a deep breath, you crept into sunghoon's room, a sense of trepidation gnawing at you. the room was immaculate, a stark contrast to the chaos that often reigned in your own space. everything had its place, every surface spotless. there were no hidden compartments, no secret drawers, no clues to the enigmatic man who inhabited this space.

disappointment washed over you. you'd hoped to find something, anything that would explain the strange occurrences, the unsettling behaviour. but the room held no secrets, only a sense of emptiness.

your eyes scanned the room, searching for any hidden compartments or secret passages. everything seemed ordinary, almost mundane. disappointment was beginning to creep in when your gaze fell on a small cabinet tucked beneath sunghoon's desk. it was always locked, a tantalising enigma that had piqued your curiosity countless times.

today, however, there was a change. a key was lodged in the lock, an open invitation to delve into the forbidden. a wave of hesitation washed over you. you were invading his privacy, crossing a line you had sworn never to cross. but the allure of the unknown was too strong. curiosity, like a relentless tide, pulled you forward.

with trembling hands, you grasped the key and turned it. the lock clicked open with a satisfyingly smooth sound. you slid open the cabinet door, your heart pounding in your chest. a mini-fridge, small and unassuming, greeted you. a wave of relief washed over you. so this was the secret? a hidden stash of snacks?

you reached out to open the fridge door, a smirk playing on your lips. but as the cool air enveloped you, your blood ran cold.

inside, lined up neatly on the shelves, were rows of blood bags. the crimson liquid glinted in the dim light, a chilling contrast to the sterile white plastic. the sight was so surreal, so utterly horrifying, that for a moment, you thought you were hallucinating.

your mind went blank. a wave of nausea washed over you as you stared at the horrifying contents of the fridge. this couldn't be real. this was a nightmare, a twisted hallucination. but the cold, hard truth stared back at you, undeniable and terrifying.

the world tilted as your legs gave way, sending you crashing to the knees. blood bags. sunghoon kept blood bags. your roommate, the seemingly normal guy you knew, was a… vampire? the very concept seemed absurd, ripped from the pages of a fantasy novel. yet, the evidence sat before you, a stark reality that defied logic.

panic clawed at your throat, but a desperate hope flickered within you. maybe it was a medical condition. maybe he had a strange blood fetish. anything but a vampire!

"vampires don't exist, do they?", you mutter to yourself still in shock.

"yes, they do," a low voice confirmed, sending a tremor through your entire body. you spun around, scream caught in your throat. sunghoon stood in the doorway, his face unreadable, his eyes a bottomless well of emotions.

shame washed over you in a tidal wave. you felt exposed, not just for snooping, but for the fear and disgust that clouded your mind.

jumping out the window, a ridiculous notion moments ago, now seemed like the only way out. here, trapped in this surreal nightmare, your only escape seemed to be a dramatic leap from the fourth floor. it wouldn't kill you, right? you’d only break a few bones at best, which you were absolutely okay with. 

with a burst of adrenaline, you scrambled to your feet and bolted towards the window, desperation fueling your actions. but before you could reach the latch, a hand clamped around your waist, pulling you back with an iron grip. "don't even think about it," sunghoon's voice was a low growl, the air crackling with unspoken emotions.

you were pinned against his chest, his warmth a stark contrast to the chilling terror that gripped you. his eyes, no longer cold and distant, burned with a mix of anger and concern.

his words hung in the air, a stark contrast to the wildness of your actions. you struggled against his hold, your fear fueling your resistance. but there was an undeniable strength in him, a power that held you captive.

"please, let me go," you gasped, your voice trembling.

sunghoon's grip loosened slightly, and he took a step back. his eyes held a mixture of concern and something else, something you couldn't quite decipher. "i won't hurt you," he said, his voice soft. "i need to explain."

your eyes met his, a mixture of fear and confusion swirling in their depths. sunghoon seemed to read your mind, his expression softening as he took a step closer. he sighed, a heavy exhale that seemed to carry the weight of centuries.

"i know this is a lot to take in," he began, his voice low and steady. "but i need you to trust me."

you nodded, your mind racing. there was something about his tone, a vulnerability beneath the hardened exterior, that compelled you to listen.

"i'm a vampire," he said, the words hanging heavy in the air. "it's not how i wanted things to be, but it's the reality i've been forced to live with."

he paused, his eyes searching your face for any signs of revulsion. but to your surprise, a strange sense of calm washed over you. this was the answer, the missing piece to the puzzle.

he went on to explain his existence, the centuries of solitude, and the desperate hope that had brought him to you. he talked about the blood bags, a necessary evil to sustain his life.

he continued, his voice laced with a hint of vulnerability. "i’ve been alone for so long. i've tried to live a normal life, to blend in. and then i met you."

his gaze softened, a tender look replacing the earlier intensity. "you're my anchor, my reason to keep going. your nightmares, the ones you've been having, are a connection between us. we share them, a soulmate bond, if you will. it's the only way for me to experience human emotions, to feel truly alive."

the revelation was mind-boggling. a vampire? your soulmate? it was a story straight out of a gothic novel. yet, as he spoke, a sense of peace washed over you. there was a truth in his eyes, a vulnerability that resonated with your own.

without thinking, you reached out and hugged him. your arms wrapped around him, offering comfort and acceptance. he froze, surprised by your sudden embrace.

"i don't care," you whispered, your voice muffled against his chest. "i'll figure it out. we'll figure it out together."

he returned the hug, his arms tightening around you. his face was buried in your neck, his breath warm against your skin. you could feel his heart pounding against your chest, a rhythm that mirrored your own. in that moment, surrounded by the warmth of his embrace, fear and confusion faded, replaced by a sense of hope and possibility.

"i'm so sorry about the nightmares," he murmured, his voice filled with regret. "i stopped sleeping for a while, trying to find a way to stop them. i hated seeing you scared, all because of me."

your heart ached for him. he had sacrificed his own well-being to protect you. anger and concern warred within you. how could he be so selfless, so reckless? you pushed against his chest, needing to see his face, to read the emotions swirling in his eyes.

"don't be stupid," you scolded, your voice stern. "you can't just stop sleeping."

you gently pushed against his chest, trying to create some distance between you. you needed to see his face, to gauge his sincerity.

"stop," he whined, his voice laced with playful annoyance. "just stay like this for a little longer."

his words were a stark contrast to the seriousness of the situation, but they had the desired effect. you froze, your body responding to the unexpected shift in tone. sunghoon's grip tightened around you, his face buried in the crook of your neck. his lips brushed against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. the warmth of his breath mingled with the scent of his skin, creating an intoxicating blend that clouded your senses.

you were caught in a whirlwind of emotions, fear and confusion replaced by a growing sense of intimacy. the line between platonic comfort and something more was blurring, and you were dangerously close to crossing it.

his voice dropped to a low octave, a husky rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "i can't stop thinking about how your lips felt against mine last night," he confessed, his breath warm against your skin. he pulled back, his eyes holding yours, a mischievous glint in their depths. 

"can we do that again?" he asked, his voice laced with playful arrogance.

before you could respond, his lips were on yours, claiming your mouth with a fierce urgency. the kiss was a whirlwind, a tempest of emotions and sensations. his tongue explored your mouth, demanding entrance, while your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. the kiss was different from the one you had shared the night before, filled with a newfound urgency and intensity. his tongue explored your mouth, a dance of desire and longing. you could feel the heat radiating from his body, a warmth that was both intoxicating and terrifying.

his hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer. with a swift movement, he lifted you onto the bed, his lips trailing a path of fire down your neck. he nuzzled your skin, his breath creating a tingling sensation. "you smell so good," he murmured, his voice a low growl. "i had to stop myself from pouncing on you the first time i saw you." 

"from now on, you're sleeping in my bed," he declared, his voice firm. "i need to make sure those nightmares don't come back. and besides, i like having you close."

as he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. in this moment, with sunghoon holding you close, everything else seemed to fade away. the line between reality and fantasy blurred, replaced by a single, undeniable truth: you were in the arms of a vampire, and you were dangerously close to falling in love.

his lips trailed down your neck, with such heat that it left you breathless. he nibbled at your skin, his teeth gently scraping against your sensitive flesh. the sensation was both painful and exhilarating, a heady mix of fear and desire. you gasped, your body arching involuntarily. 

"i'm not going to bite you," he promised, his voice laced with a hint of mischief. 

"not yet, at least."

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr

˚ · .𝗮��𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

[satori-runa]

—My favourite type

Summary: Mr Crawling learns about kisses and gets used to their different meanings.

Tags: Fluff, Established Relationship, romance

Words: 0,9k

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Mr. Crawling doesn’t fully understand human affection, but he’s managed to grasp one thing: you like to press your lips against his cold ones.

It confused him at first—and perhaps it still does—but if it makes you happy, he’s content to let you continue. In fact, he’s come to appreciate every kiss and has even learned to mimic the gesture, giving you kisses in return.

Kisses on the cheek, for example. They’re quick and fleeting, yet they leave a warmth he cherishes deeply. Afterward, he’ll often refuse to wash his face, touching his cheek repeatedly as if to hold onto the sensation. You usually kiss him on the cheek when you’re leaving for school or work, and to him, it’s like an unspoken promise that you’ll always return.

When you kiss his forehead, he takes it as a gesture of apology or reassurance. It’s your way of silently telling him that everything will be okay. These kisses are reserved for moments when he feels down, and he loves the way you stroke his hair before pressing your lips gently against his forehead. It soothes him in ways words never could.

Then there are the kisses on his hands—quick, yet deeply meaningful. His hands are rough and scarred from crawling, but you don’t seem to mind. You kiss them while cuddling, as if to silently say you love and accept every part of him. It makes him giggle softly, a sound that’s both rare and endearing.

Kisses on the lips are still the most mysterious to Mr. Crawling. He doesn’t quite understand the meaning behind them, but he knows how much they mean to you. The first time you kissed him, he froze, unsure of how to react. His lips, perpetually cold, didn’t seem like they would bring you any comfort, yet you smiled so warmly afterward that he couldn’t find it in himself to question it.

Over time, he began to enjoy these moments, even if he didn’t fully comprehend them. Your kisses on the lips are slow and tender, carrying emotions he can’t put into words. They make him feel connected to you in a way that’s both thrilling and unfamiliar. Sometimes, he even leans in first, mimicking your gestures as best as he can, pressing his lips against yours in his own awkward but endearing way.

He’s noticed how these kisses make your eyes soften and how they often end with your laughter or a whispered confession of love. While the meaning behind them may remain a mystery to him, the happiness they bring you is enough for Mr. Crawling to adore them. They’ve become a part of his world, a small but precious ritual he wouldn’t trade for anything.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the dim lamp casting a warm glow over the space. Mr. Crawling sat beside you, his posture stiff but his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that sent heat creeping up your neck. He had always been awkward when it came to intimacy, unsure of what to do or how to navigate the nuances of affection, but tonight, something felt different.

“You’re staring,” you teased softly, a smile tugging at your lips.

“You pretty.” he replied, his tone as measured as ever, though the faintest flicker of something—curiosity? longing?—danced in facial expression.

Leaning in, you cupped his face gently, your thumb brushing over the cool, smooth planes of his cheek. “Do you trust me?”

He giggled, the movement bubbly but sure, and it was all the permission you needed. Slowly, your lips met his—softly at first, a tentative touch that carried all the patience in the world. His breath hitched, and you felt the slightest tremor run through him, a clear sign of his inexperience, but he didn’t pull away.

Instead, he leaned into you, his hands eagerly finding their way to your waist. His touch was claiming, almost posessive, as if afraid he won't be able to feel you after pulling away. You deepened the kiss, your lips moving against his with a tenderness that coaxed him to relax, to follow your lead.

When you finally pulled back, his expression was a mix of happiness and confusion, his lips slightly parted as if still processing what had just happened. “Mouth…?” he began, his voice uncharacteristically unsteady.

“That was just the beginning.” you murmured, your fingers trailing down to his collarbone, where you placed another kiss, slow and deliberate. His breath hitched again, and this time, his hands tightened on your waist, pulling you closer.

You continued, your lips exploring the curve of his neck, the sharp edge of his jawline, and every inch of him that seemed to call out for attention. Each kiss was a silent promise, a wordless declaration of how deeply you cherished him. And though he couldn’t fully articulate it, his responses—soft gasps, trembling hands, the way he tilted his head to give you more access—told you everything you needed to know.

“You warm,” he whispered at one point, his voice barely audible, as if he were afraid speaking too loudly might shatter the moment.

“And you’re perfect,” you replied, your words pressed against the cool skin of his neck before your lips found his again. This time, he was the one to lean in first, his movements still hesitant but filled with a quiet determination that made your heart ache with affection.

[xhyjin]

husband geto! who always carries two hair ties on his wrist one for his own hair and one just in case you need it. it doesn’t matter if you don’t usually tie your hair up; he insists on keeping one there “just in case” because it’s his way of taking care of you. if you ever ask to borrow it, he’ll grin, tie it gently into your hair, and murmur, “told you it’d come in handy.”

husband geto! who wraps you up in his oversized robes when you’re cold, the fabric so big it drags along the floor and picks up dust with every step you take, but he swears you look so much cuter like that than in any regular jacket. sometimes, though, instead of giving you a robe of your own, he’ll just untie the one he’s already wearing and wrap it around the both of you, pulling you against his chest. “warmer this way, isn’t it?” he murmurs, his chin resting gently on top of your head as his arms tighten around you. you grumble at how snug and immobile it makes you feel, but he just smiles softly, completely content to hold you there, sharing his warmth and his space with you.

husband geto! who lets you sit in on his cult meetings even though he insists it’s “no place for someone like you.” he doesn’t mean it harshly—he just doesn’t want you to hear something he isn’t ready to explain yet. still, he brings you along anyway, trusting that his followers will take the hint to speak carefully when you’re around. to them, you’re almost untouchable, a divine figure worthy of devotion simply because you hold his heart. sometimes, when the meeting drags on and grows dull, he’ll catch your eye across the room and give you a subtle wink. the smirk that threatens to tug at his lips only deepens when he sees you look away, flustered. later, as you leave, he’ll tease you softly, “you’re too cute when you get embarrassed, you know that?”

husband geto! who has his followers bring back gifts for you from their travels—anything from small trinkets and rare teas to fine fabrics he knows you’ll love for new kimonos. he’s too proud to admit how often he talks about you, dropping little hints about your interests here and there, and his followers, eager to please, can’t help but return with offerings they hope will make you smile. whenever you question why you receive so many gifts, reminding him that you don’t play a major role in his cult, he’ll simply shrug and say, “because they respect you. you’re important to me, so you’re important to them.”

husband geto! who can only find comfort in you after long days spent exorcising curses and managing his followers. the moment he steps through the door, the outer persona he shows to the world falls away, leaving only the man who craves your warmth. without a word, he pulls you into a quiet embrace, burying his face in the crook of your neck as his breathing speaks louder than anything he could say. for a while, he just holds you, steadying himself in your presence, before he finally pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against yours. his eyes meet yours, soft and vulnerable, as he whispers, “you’re the only peace I have left.”

husband geto! who asks his followers to leave when he wants time alone with you. he can be in the middle of a meeting or just anywhere his followers are present, and he’ll dismiss them. he’ll feel a strong urge—a need—to be with you at that very moment. if he’s ever in a meeting, crowded and the air serious, but the second you walk in with that adorable smile he fell in love with, he’ll be quick to wave his hands and dismiss them. “leave us,” he says with an air of authority before smiling softly and pulling you onto his lap, immediately attacking your face with kisses.

husband geto! who loves seeing you interact with the two little girls he took in. his heart swells whenever he sees you braiding their hair just like how you braid his, helping them with homework, or doing activities that a mother would do with her daughters. it makes him want to have his own kids with you (not that he doesn’t consider them his kids), and the thought of that both scares him and excites him. he doesn’t want to bring something so precious into a world so cruel.

husband geto! who sometimes lets you tie his hair back for meetings or missions. you carefully smooth out any stray strands as he watches you, always either on your tiptoes or standing on a chair to reach his head. sometimes, he’ll hold you up, your legs dangling in the air as he grips you firmly by your waist, a loving gaze and smile on his face as he watches you concentrate on making sure his hair is perfectly tied. your tongue pokes out to the side, and your brows furrow in focus. when you’re done, he’ll say, “perfect. you’re better at this than i am,” before pressing a kiss to your knuckles and wrists.

husband geto! who holds you close at night, whispering his fears when he thinks you’re asleep. he rarely shows weakness during the day, but in the darkness of the night, when your breathing is soft and steady, he finds himself snuggling closer into your warm embrace, admiring you. “i don’t deserve you… but i won’t let anyone take you away from me.” so many times, you have to stop yourself from opening your eyes and hugging him tightly, wanting to tell him that he does deserve you. but you know he’d probably stop once he realizes you’re awake, not asleep.

husband geto! who would destroy entire villages if someone hurt you. his calm demeanor would shatter the second he thought you were in danger, to his followers, he's a leader, but to anyone who threatens you, he becomes something far more terrifying. "if you lay a hand on her," he'd warn coldly, "there won't be enough of you left to bury."

husband geto! who swears he'll leave it all behind someday-for you. there are moments, late at night, when he tells you softly about his dream of a peaceful life with you. no followers, no curses, no battles— just the two of you in a quiet home, free from the weight of the world.

"someday," he promises, brushing your hair back as you rest against him.

"someday, it'll just be us."

and that someday is sooner than he thought it would be.

[satorena]

❛ I'LL HYPNOTIZE YOU WITH THIS P*SSY ! ❜

ᥫ᭡ featuring. g. satoru, f. toji, g. suguru, n. kento, k. choso

content warning. explicit content (mdni). pūssydrunk!men. oral (f). face sitting. overstimulation. virgin!choso. cowgirl/lotus. backshots. breath play. brēēding kink. unprotected sex. daddy kink. dom/sub undertones. mirror sex. virgin!reader with suguru (do not lose your virginity like this). corruption kink. afab!reader + feminine descriptions.

ᥫ᭡ rena's note. reupload cuz it got flagged weeks ago and i never noticed :P

gojo ☆ satoru

“could be here for hours—shit baby, y’taste so fuckin’ sweet.”

his praises fall deaf to your ears as your mind blanks, brain melting to mush at the overwhelming sensation of his tongue lapping at your folds. your hands claw at his snowy white tresses, fingers carding through his hair and tugging onto his scalp.

when satoru ate pussy, he put his entire being in it— and it only got worse on the rare occasions you’d do him the favour of sitting on his face. he’d never half ass such an opportunity, long fingers gripping onto your ass tightly and spreading the cheeks apart to flick his tongue between the private spaces.

“talk to me princess, tell me how good it feels.” he pops your clit out of his mouth, warm breath fanning over the bundle of nerves. you jolt from the strange yet pleasurable feeling, muscles tensing and contracting over his face, resulting in your slick to drip down onto his chin, staining his face even more in your arousal. “c’mon, flatter me, pretty baby.”

“f-fuck, toru, don’t stop!” you moan wantonly, fat tears building at your lash line. your thighs press at the side of his head when he hums against your clit, diving deeper into your weeping cunt. he drags an index finger from the crevice of your ass all the way up front to your swollen clit, collecting slick along the way. “‘s great— so fuckin’ good, ngh, please—keep going!”

your stomach tightens when you feel his digit slip into your clenching pussy, plunging knuckle deep.  you can’t help the moan that rips at your throat, toes curling as he immediately aims for the spongy spot that has you seeing stars.

you look down at him and you’ve got the prettiest look on your face— eyes misty with tears, your flushed cheeks stained with fallen tears you couldn’t contain, pouty lips glossy and trembling. draping over your frame is his button up top, unbuttoned all the way down, perky buds from your breast rising up in arousal.

gojo feels his balls tighten at your lewdness alone. he’s so hard it hurts, thighs rubbing one against the other for relief. if you keep digging your nails into his scalp in that painful way you do, rocking your hips into his face and swallowing him whole inside your cunt to use him in order to chase your own pleasure, he’s bound to cum untouched.

only you could pull something like this out of him.

his eyes darken in the way it does whenever he’s particularly on a high about something passionate, and he knows from that pleading look in your blown out pupils that he’s got to make you blackout. not entirely for your own pleasure, but for his own too. there was no better feeling in this world than being sprayed by your essence all in his face, folds gaping and clenching down on his fingers as your clit weeped and released your juices pathetically.

you’re not even sure when it happens but one minute you’re facing the headboard of your bed and the next your head dangles off the edge of the bed, back laid on the mattress with your legs hanging off his broad shoulders.

gojo gives you no time to process the switch in positions as he lays flat on his stomach and latches his kiss bitten lips onto your cunt. he swipes his tongue and eats you out like a mad man— spreading your folds with his hands and fucking into your tight hole with his tongue. your back arches and your hands fly to grip at his head, torn between pushing head head deeper or further away. it’s all too much at once, both pleasurable and overwhelming, your thighs trembling from the sting.

“heh, look at this creamy pussy go,” you hear him whistle in between your thighs, though it comes out muffled. he’s gripping so tightly onto your thighs that you’re sure it’s going to leave bruises, hair cascading his face despite his dark orbs peaking through the bangs. “shit, ‘m gonna keep you with me forever, never letting this pussy go.”

when he flicks his tongue at your swollen clit, your hips rise off from the mattress and you push his head away, the numbing sensation overtaking your limbs and gut tightening in a familiar way. you hear him tut disapprovingly, forcing your hips down and you’re left powerless but to lay there and let this blinding orgasm wash over you.

“‘s too much— oh god, toru, fuck— ‘m cumming, don’t—baby, don’t stop!” you babble, saliva dribbling past your lips. you begin to feel lightheaded from the blood rushing to your brain, and the airy feeling leaves you feeling like you’re floating, one hand leaving his matted hair to grip at your neglected tits, firmly groping the mound.

all it takes is an additional slip of his fingers into your gushing cunt to release its dam, his end goal accomplished as your folds greedily suck him in. your pussy wails and cries onto his face, squirting all over him from his forehead to nose and chin. through it all, your body rakes and shudders, trembles taking over as you cry out his name.

he holds your free hand through it all, pupils dilated as he himself trembles in amusement, thumb brushing the soft skin of your knuckles.

“give it all t’me princess, be the good fuckin’ girl you are and soak me in your essence— needa taste ya, sweetest fuckin’ thing ever, i swear.”

fushiguro ☆ toji

“oh yeahhh, that’s it mama—keep throwin’ it back, shit, gonna breed this greedy pussy full’a cum.”

you respond with an overly eager moan, hips pushing back to slam your ass down to his pelvis. you’re beyond your element—mind both dazed and consumed with alcohol and lust, glossy lips parted as you fog the mirror before you with your warm breath.

you plant the surface of your palms at the mirror, skin moist as you hold onto the glass for stability. standing on the tip of your toes, your calves are put into overtime as you sink down on toji’s dick, your pussy well spent and spread to accommodate to his inhumanely girth. he stretches your folds painfully, but the feeling is one you welcome dearly as his tip kisses areas inside of you that has you thanking him endlessly and going as far to wanting him to fuck you full of his cum.

bent over in a ninety degree, toji grips onto your hair in one tight hold, pulling your head back up. he forces you to stare at the mess he makes out of you, and you watch as your tears leak black from mascara, staining your cheeks dark and saliva dribbles from your lips to your chin. your skin is matted from sweat and other liquids, eyes dazed and unfocused as his balls repeatedly slap at your puffy clit.

“fuckin’ whore— awe, just look at ya,” toji mocks, the hand holding your hips letting go of the flesh and flattens his palm instead to slap at your ass. you moan at the sting, your skin tingling in pain as the skin reddens from the harsh impact.

“think i ain’t notice, doll?” your eyes roll up to watch him, his smirk as prominent as ever through the reflection of the mirror. his own locks are matted to his forehead, and he bares his fangs at you in a smile that sends shivers down your spine. “y’think i don’t feel yer cunt squeezin’ me in? you fuckin’ love it when ‘m mean with you, ‘fess it up mama.”

you chew on your bottom lip, slightly embarrassed by the truth being revealed. you could call him the worst man on the planet, mean and relentless, but at least he knew how to fuck you inside out. you shake your head in denial, but when the hand in your hair snakes to your throat, fingers pressing down on the column of your neck tightly—you moan at the lack of oxygen coursing in your body.

“answer me when i ask you somethin’, basic fuckin’ manners sweetheart.” toji kisses his teeth, pulling your body up by the neck. your sweaty back meets his sweaty chest, and you feel him panting against your temple just as you can see him nuzzle his nose against your hair.

he’s grinding into your cunt in motions that has his cock rubbing at your sensitive spots, his pelvis pressed right up against your ass. you reach your hand behind to grip onto his thigh, squeezing the firm muscle and the other wraps itself around toji’s hold on your neck, as you’re overtaken by the familiar beating of your cunt clenching down on his throbbing dick.

“fuckkk, love it daddy! love it when y’re mean t’me—love it when you fuck me s’good—ngh!” you cry out, tears soaking your cheeks and breast jiggling in rotations built by a rhythm made from the man pounding into you.

“there’s my slutty girl,” you feel his hand pat at your cheek, the sting making you loll your tongue out of the cave of your mouth. he plunges his teeth into the supple flesh of your neck, sucking eagerly as he marks down his territory.

you drive him mad— something about the way you comply to his every desire no matter how you feel about it, just to please him, had his cock twitching in ways it’d never had. your sweet and innocent demeanour completely consumed and taken over by his sinister and malicious ways, moulding your pussy into the shape of his cock so it would only obey to him and him alone.

his green eyes zero into your facial expressions and he can both tell and feel that you’re close, your cunt clamping down on his dick whenever he grinds up against that sweet spot that has your legs quaking and barely able to hold yourself up. naturally he wants to bring you that finish— selfishly, that way you’re stuck on him and obsessed with his dick alone.

he’ll remind you endlessly nobody else could ever make you feel this good, just as nobody else could ever have him deliriously possessive the way you do.

“‘m gonna fuck this slutty pussy so good, nobody will ever come close to fuckin’ you dumb— shit, might fuck around and fill my pretty pussy full of my cum.”

geto ☆ suguru

“shit baby—‘m gonna need you to relax f’me—fuck, loosen up—we gotta make it fit, right?”

you’re barely half way sunken down on his dick, the stretch painful enough as your arms are thrown around his broad shoulders for stability. it hurts in a way that makes you either want to get it over with and fully slam yourself down on the rest of the inches or completely take off, but the gentle thudding of geto’s finger tips at the base of your back has you rethink your decisions.

geto’s aware that the size of his dick isn’t the most accommodating for beginners, much less virgins. but you’d been so eager to take care of him and willing to give yourself to him, to want him to deflower you, take your innocence and purity and keep it in his possession— there was no way he would refuse you of anything.

“ngh, sugu— fuck, it hurts!” you squeal, thighs aching from the awkward angle. he’s holding your body entirely from your ass alone, gently playing with the soft flesh in attempts to distract you from the excruciating pain.

he places kisses at your cheek, nuzzling into your smooth skin with a sympathetic sigh, “mhm, i know baby, i know.” his whispers fall short into your ears, noticing the goosebumps on your skin trailing. “just a few more inches, kay? you’re so close—y’got this mama.”

you’re so adorable, he thinks, as simple words are enough for you to nod, wiping your tears away with the back of your hand. you sit up straight, nose grazing over his, and he leans forward to kiss your lips. you’re so distracted by the sweetness of his lips onto yours, tongue slipping in between your swollen lips that you fail to notice you’ve officially bottomed out.

geto eases your body down onto the rest of his cock, and groans when you clamp tightly onto his dick. you’re so tight he feels like he’s being suffocated, and even with all the prepping and squirting from prior, you still hadn’t been entirely ready to take him in.

though, the hard part is over, as you cry out into his mouth— fresh tears now staining your pretty cheeks and rolling onto geto’s face as well. he almost feels bad, but there were many layers to him— and he was extremely turned on by yours tears. knowing you were in a state of painful pleasure that brought you to tears, lashes thick and wet as you wailed and seeker comfort from him despite him being the reason you’re crying—

it has his balls ache terribly.

“there we go princess, just like that.” geto encourages you, one arm wrapped behind your back and the other holding onto your hips firmly. the back of your heels dig at his lower back, your chest pressing against his. “you’re taking me so well, shit, you feel so fuckin’ good.”

he takes note of the thin veil of dark red that coats the perimeter of his dick, realizing he’s finally popped your cherry— and he isn’t sure he can put into words the weird feeling that has him smirk ferociously in a primitive way. shamefully, he’s filled with pride that he’d been your very first time and disgustingly enough, he slips his hand between both your bodies, collects the evidence of your purity now taken away, before rubbing the liquid onto your neglected clit.

“forgive me, princess.” he mumbles into your ear, a gentle kiss pressed to the shell of your ear in major contrast to the sudden pain throbbing in your core at the newfound position.

you then understand by his relentless thrusts, your legs now draped over his shoulders as his hips meet the back of your thighs in rhythmic slaps, that he had been asking for your forgiveness because he wouldn’t be able to hold back any further.

“promise it’ll stop hurting soon—fuck, you wanna hold out for me, baby?” he never stops his thrusts, interlocking both your fingers together before pressing them above your head. his eyes stare deep into your soul, and behind those purple orbs you see your reflection intertwined with a mischievous glint. and when you nod your head, he tilts his own, “use your words, love.”

“y-yes suguru—want you to fuck me! i’ll hold out for as long as you n-need me to! i promise!” you roll your hips up to match the pace he has set. he rises his body up and slams down into your cunt, and you greedily accept him, muscles relaxing into the pain that slowly dissipates into pleasure.

you’d never felt anything like it before, but the way geto repeatedly fucked into you, his dick dragging against your walls and coming out slicker than the last time he plunged inside made the room stink of sex and echo with sinful squelches. his cock rubs at your virgin walls, spreading you open as you helplessly lay and take everything he has to offer you.

your toes curl at the sides of his head and your back arches— you’re effortlessly gorgeous when you’re milking his dick dry for what he’s worth, greedy pussy sucking him in so well, you could’ve easily fooled him into thinking you’d been experienced in this domain.

when he hangs his head low to watch how his dick enter and disappear inside the void of your tight cunt, he notices the bulge in your tummy. he can’t help the grumble that leaves his chest, ultimately obsessed by the pudge that forms at your pussy simply because you allowed him the honour to properly make love to you.

“whew, ‘s that me in there baby? shit— y’re driving me insane, ‘m gonna make you cum real hard, you’ll be cryin’ and beggin’ for more— oh yeah, you like that?”

nanami ☆ kento

“need you to hold still for me, sweetheart—shit, let me finish you up nice and good like you deserve, hm?”

nights like these, there were no logical reasoning as to whatever urge to passionately make love to you, to devour you whole and to make you crumble beneath him. anything could fuel the sudden want to strip you naked, body to soul, to sink his cock deep inside the cave of your warmth and have you come undone for him alone.

nanami loved it whenever you presented yourself so submissively to him, so obeying and willing to comply to his word. you were his wife, and he was truly and utterly obsessed with your entire being. to him, there was no prettier sight than your pussy dribbling slick from its puffy folds, clenching around air as it desperately calls out his name.

you laid on your knees with your cheek pressed into the mattress of your shared bed, hands bind and tied behind the back of your thighs by his infamous tie. you were restrained, most sacred parts of your body open for his accessibility alone. your entire body shivered, coming down from the high that nanami’s tongue brought to you, lapping at your folds and puckered hole, fingers pumping with precision into your cunt.

“kento, ngh, i need you, can’t wait any longer— please!” you squirm as much as your restricted form allows you to, wiggling your ass side to side as if to sway him to your desires.

you had to know there wasn’t anything you could ask him that he wouldn’t give you. begging was so below you, as his partner— there was nothing you needed to beg him for. he supposes he’s at fault for making you wait as long as he did, and he’s got no choice but to correct his mistake, to make you forgive his bad actions.

“stay still love, ‘m gonna fuck you real good now— don’t you worry, pretty girl.” he presses his kisses from the bottom of your back, the mounds of your ass, and makes his way up your spine, trailing his kisses to the column of your neck.

he revels in the way you shiver uncontrollably, your frame fragile and petite in comparaison to his larger one. you smell a scent too divine—an aura so sweet, so honeyed and so unmistakably you.

he collects your slick with two fingers, dragging the pad of his fingers at your weeping cunt, before coating his own raging hard on in your essence. he’d been so needy for you, mind clouded in trances of your body, that you hadn’t even needed to focus any attention on his dick for it to get to this point of arousal. bringing you to a state of blinding pleasure was enough of a stimulus to get him ready to go.

grabbing the base of his dick, he lines himself up at your entrance, dragging his mushroom tip up and down your folds. you whine and beg him to to push up inside, to fill you up to the brim, so full that all you can think about is the pattern of veins on the underside of his cock brushing at your golden spot.

when nanami finally does bottom out, you both release moans that sync in a melodious tune, the harmony of both your bodies and soul merging into one clouding his mind with primitive lust. he starts off slow, pushing in and out of your cunt, hissing at your tightness despite having fingered you open not too long ago.

“‘m losing my mind baby,” nanami breathes out, hands gripped tight at your hips. he quickens his pace, balls slapping at your clit in patterns as your body jerks forward. “your pussy feels heavenly—shit, so warm and tight and all mine.”

“yes sir, it’s all yours— always have been, always will be k-kento!” you whine, the surface below you dampened from your tears and drool. you catch his gaze from your angle, your lashes fluttering prettily as you wordless encourage him further.

he reads you like a book, he reads your soul and knows you better than he knows anybody. and so, he pistons his cock in your eager entrance, thrusts long and deep as your pussy grips onto his shaft greedily. you moan, toes curling as your fingers reach for him despite not being able to due to the cloth restraining you. your back arches and the shift in angles has his tip immediately locating your sweet spot.

“oh f-fuck!” you wail, body shuddering as you’re overwhelmed by an intense pleasure. you feel nanami’s hands trail over your skin, down your back, caressing your ass, the back of your thighs. “hah, right there sir— please don’t stop, hngh, ‘m gonna cum!”

and of course nanami knows this, already a step ahead of you as he leans forward, arms holding him up at the side of your shoulders. he puts a hand between your thighs and through the loop of his tie to focus his attention on your neglect clit, drawing figure eight patterns on the bundle of nerves.

you keep sucking him in, and he must be growing old the way it’s becoming so much easier to draw him to the finish line. nanami knows better— it’s the entirety of you, from the way you sound when you whine and beg him for relief, to the way your body reacts so fluidly with his, the way your eyes linger a moment longer on his own. he’s head over heels in love with your entire being, and it’s no shocker that when you cry out his name and soak both of your thighs in your sweet honey, that he himself feels his balls empty into your womb.

“shittt—there we go my love, take all of my cum like the perfect wife you are, mmh, just like that—my pretty little thing.”

kamo ☆ choso

“oh f-fuck, ‘m so sorry princess, it just— shit, it feels so fuckin’ good—need some more!”

load after load, your boyfriend shoots his cum inside your cunt without warning, hips stuttering and rutting into your sucking void. it doesn’t bother you as much as he thinks it does, though you are concerned that he’s going to fuck himself into a blackout with how eager he is to bring you to the finish line.

porn had nothing on real sex, choso concluded when he finally sunk his full length into your cunt and immediately came. there’d been no movement or warning, but as soon as his balls met the lips of your pussy, you moaned at the hot rush of cum spurting inside of you.

he’d been so winded, his fingernails left moon crescents into your flesh as he emptied out his first load of semen into your womb. he shivered and whined, your name rolling off his tongue in a desperate plea as his premature ejaculation washed over his body in waves.

by the time he’d come down from his orgasm, you’d caressed his cheek and pushed his hair away from his face, kissed him and told him this sort of thing happened often. he was still a bit embarrassed by the disaster but the gentle look of honesty in your eyes and your pretty smile had reassured him rather quickly— and also got him hard again.

“take your time baby, ‘m not goin’ anywhere.” you nod your head while giggling, sprawling your body down to your mattress. choso sits on the back of his feet and pulls his dick out, hissing as your pussy grips onto him despite his protest to slip out. eventually he pulls out and he’s enamoured by the way his seed spills out of your pretty hole, liquid filthily staining the sheets beneath you both.

you lick the tip of your index and middle finger, coating the digits in your saliva before slipping them in the space between both your bodies. you keep firm eye contact with your boyfriend as he watches you with hearts in his eyes, your other hand trailing up your chest to tweak at the buds of your hardened nipples.

you collect his creamy cum from your cunt, bringing it back up to your plump lips and licking your fingers clean. you moan at the taste of him, so overwhelming and strong but undoubtedly him.

“cho, baby, you taste fuckin’ so good,” you plop your fingers out of your mouth, and smile in faux innocence. he’s quiet and gulping in anticipation, dick twitching at the entrance of your folds. he’s already dribbling more pre come, tip of his shady sticky and ready to dive into your gaping pussy, aiming to please you more and more, until you yourself feel as good as you were able to make him feel just now.

and so, pushing himself on his knees, he begins his rutting yet again, grabbing the base of his cock and lining himself at your puffy lips. he grabs your hips firmly and lifts you off the bed as he bottoms out, your ass falling onto his lap and fucks into you desperately. his thrusts come out sharp and harsh, penetrating so deep inside your pussy and rubbing at areas that had your vision go unfocused.

“oh fuck, b-baby, shit— oh my fuckin’— you feel so good, y’re killing me here!” choso throws his head back, sweat dripping down from his matted hair to his bare chest. his stomach contracts and he pants heavily, his hold on your hips tight. he’s fucking into you as if you were a fleshlight— a mere toy he’s discovered that he isn’t willing to stop playing with.

it doesn’t bother you the second time he cums inside your pussy and apologizes, it doesn’t the second and it doesn’t during the third time either. at every orgasm he’s taken over by, you feel yourself drawing towards the end of the finish line, that high so near that when it’s taken away from you suddenly, it’s annoyingly great.

he’s unintentionally edging you, and despite your whines and pleas, fingers messily rubbing at your clit in attempts to draw some kind of blinding conclusion, he cums yet again, filling you to the brim.

“fuckkkk, hah, ‘m so sorry baby— promise i’ll get it right this time, ngh, gimme another c-chance!”

[reidrum]

wine or wine not | s.r

spencer reid x bau!reader

a/n: i think i love writing buildup to smut than actual smut, but i hope you guys like this lmk what you think. this was requested with the prompts "look at me when you come on my fingers" and "muttering compliments kissing down their body" and it was so much fun to write aaaaahh, my requests are open so please send more!!! guidelines in pinned <3

summary: you're hopelessly pining after spencer at a rossi party, and when you run into him in the kitchen when you're getting a refill and he asks if you want to explore the mansion with him, who are you to say no?

cw: 18+ minors dni pls, fingering, p in v, nipple play, soft!dom!spence, spencer being ridiculously hot its criminal, ooc penelope but it was for the plot, pining idiots, wine cellar sex wine cellar sex wine cellar sex, public sex, morgan and prentiss being dumb, rossi being a smug lil shit, a dumb ass title sorry i didn't know what else to name it lol

wc: 4.1k

★・・・・★・・・・★・・・・★・・・・★

these days rossi was always finding some reason to throw a party at his mansion. you’re not exactly sure what it was tonight, a birthday? an anniversary? regardless, you and the team appreciated the excuse to unwind, dress up, and have non murder related fun.

the sun is setting over the rolling hills the mansion is perched on, and you’re sat at a table with the girls— penelope, jj, and emily discussing penelope’s latest dating escapade. you’re trying hard to pay attention, you really are, but it proves to be difficult when you’re focused on the man showing magic tricks to the kids across the room.

you look on yearnfully as spencer pulls a coin from jack’s ear, all the kids are laughing and cheering and he has the biggest smile you’ve ever seen.

“hellooo?” penelope waves a hand in front of you dramatically, “i’m getting to the good part and you’re off in space!”

you jolt back to the present, “sorry pen, i’m listening i promise. so he shows up to your door with maple syrup and feathers?”

“YES, anyways so then he’s like i have a proposition for you…” penelope continues her story but you can’t help but zone out again. your eyes drift back to boy genius as he finishes another trick for little henry before rising up to his full height. it’s in that moment his eyes meet yours and softens as he offers you a small wave. 

you return the gesture back which causes the girls at your table to look in the same direction and they come to a glaring conclusion too quickly.

“ah, that’s why you’re not paying attention. too busy ogling mr. houdini over there.” jj remarks.

“i am not!” you scoff.

“oh you so are,” emily says, “when are you going to let yourself feel your heart’s full content.”

“first of all, i can’t stand you. second of all, it’s not worth it. he would never feel the same about me.” you say as emily rolls her eyes.

this time penelope interjected, “oh don’t be so cynical. you haven’t even tried how could you even know?”

but you did know. it’s not that spencer didn’t like you, he treated you the same as any team member, but that was just it. you wanted him to see you as more. during cases you would try to impress him or make breakthroughs in the hopes he would tell you ‘good job’. a couple times you brought him coffee when you got yours, just to hear him say your name and thanks. work conversations rarely seemed to move past small talk, but you’re a little sure that’s on your part because he just made you so nervous. and like, he’s a profiler. so you’re sure to some degree he knows how you feel, and it just makes you regress into your safe hole even further because you think he’s being nice by not acknowledging it and saving you the embarrassment.

the girls knew about your harbored crush for a month now, since the last bau drinks night you got a little too truthful during truth or dare. you were much younger in comparison to your colleagues, so they offered their sympathies at your unrequited love and tried to get you to come out more and let loose.

which is one of the reasons you’re sitting in rossi’s living room, wine glass in hand, as morgan recounts the craziest date hes ever been on. the other reason, which you wouldn’t admit to anyone, was so you could admire your (not) lover from an acceptable distance and not risk embarrassing yourself.

so here you are, two glasses deep, rising up from your spot on the floor telling everyone you’re going to get a refill. your heels click against the hardwood floors all the way to the kitchen where you just so luckily run into the (your) man of the hour.

“hi.”

you were looking down at your feet as you walked to the kitchen, your head snapping up to meet the voice, “hi spencer.” you said softly.

“if you’re looking for more wine, i think emily just grabbed the last bottle,” you must have outwardly deflated as he continued, “that bad out there?”

“only so much wine can get me through penelope’s sexcapades and derek’s crazy one night stands.” you joke.

he chuckles back, “oh i know, why do you think i’m hiding out in here?”

you laugh again before an uncomfortable yet strangely comfortable silence falls between you both. unknowingly you both take turns gazing at each other, indexing the others features as if this moment would be the only chance you got.

you’re about to take your loss and leave when spencer speaks up again, “you know, i wouldn’t put it past rossi to have a secret wine cellar somewhere.”

“honestly, you’re probably right. what kind of italian just runs out of wine.”

spencer pauses slightly before saying, “do you want to see if we can find it?”

you look at his eyes again and catch a glint of mischief? concern that you’re wine-less? whatever it is, you take the bait.

“i’m game.”

—

rossi’s mansion was humongous. it was well known that he was loaded from his years in the bureau and multiple book deals, but holy shit, the rooms just seemed never ending, and none of them were a wine cellar.

“i don’t know spence, i'm starting to lose hope, and debating to revoke rossi’s italian card.”

you’re both in one of the many studies and are about to leave to find another room, when spencer notices a smaller door next to the study. he slowly opens it and peaks inside to find a descending wooden staircase. he looks at you with a smirk, “i think we just found it.”

he holds the door open and gestures you to enter first, following shortly behind you as he shuts the door. he makes sure to check that it’ll still open even after it’s shut, and you both relax a little seeing it still unlock. you move down the stairs, gripping the handrail and praying you don’t trip over your heels and fall to an embarrassing demise.

spencer descends a step behind you, trying so hard not to let his eyes wander down your bare back to the curve of your hips. once he steps off you both go in opposite directions to explore. you take in the vast amount of shelves and wine racks, taking note of how it seems to be separated by year and by type. running your fingers over the labels, you’re intrigued by a shelf with the year you were born, and pause in front of it. you reach up to a shelf that is just a smidge taller than you, hoping to grab the neck of an old wine bottle.

even in your heels you’re struggling, attempting little hops to try and reach. you’re about to give up when you feel a warm hand on your right hip, while an outstretched arm on your left seamlessly grabs the bottle and brings it down to you, “careful sweetheart, don’t wanna break that pretty head of yours.” spencer says lowly.

excuse me, what the fuck did he just say.

you inspect the bottle he so kindly brought down for you, but it’s a futile effort. you can’t even remember why you wanted to see it. all you can think about is your hands clamming up, sending threats to the wine bottle it’s holding. your mind is fogging up fast, and you’re trying to order your brain to say something instead of going mute while he’s still an inch behind you. with his hand on your hip still.

“oh god,” you start shakily, “you scared me spence.” you angle your body to the left so you can attempt to show how unbothered you are and look at his face.

good save (not).

he’s staring down at you with a hint of a smirk on his lips, like he’s keeping a secret from you. his eyes are intently focused on you when he speaks again, “just didn’t want you to get hurt. s’all.”

with his close proximity, you’re sure he can hear your heart beating through both of your chests, hell it was so loud they could probably hear it upstairs. he’s still got you caged in front of him when he continues, “any particular reason for this bottle?”

“yeah no, i just, wanted to see what bottles of wine he had from the year i was born.” you answer, watching as spencer moves back to give you space when you turn to face him.

he nods, “did you know that wine is associated with the greek god dionysus?”

“no i didn’t, actually.”

“it’s really interesting,” he moves forward a tiny inch, “they call him the patron god of wine, but a lot of people often forget that he’s also the god of fertility and ecstasy.”

oh. “ecstasy?” you whisper confusingly.

“yes, he believes when you drink wine it gives you emotional and physical pleasure.”

“how does that even work?” you nervously laugh.

spencer reaches his arm above your head, never breaking eye contact, and grabs two wine glasses by their stems, “you wanna find out?”

with only so many words, you give another nod. he uncorks the bottle with ease and pours out two glasses, with his having a little less than yours, most likely due to his slow but steady return to drinking casually. clinking your glasses, you take a big gulp hoping it’ll satiate the building nerves. but you’re watching the way his fingers wrap around the glass, his veiny hand showing prominently and you’re unable to focus on anything else.

“you know, i’ve been running something of an observation the last few months.”

you take another small sip, starting to feel less nervous, “oh yeah, what about?”

“you.”

it took everything in you not to spit your drink out all over his suit. 

“me?”

he nods after another sip, “i’ve been watching you, and not in a creepy way i swear. but i’ve been keeping track of your habits; how you take your coffee, your tells when a case gets too much, things like that,”

that didn’t seem overtly terrible to you, you knew spencer was an observer of his environment, always seeking out patterns to aid his predictions. you’re about to speak when he cuts you off.

“i’ve also been noticing how you seem to change, when i’m in your presence.”

you feel like the sweat and nerves are just oozing out of you at this point, and he continues his verbal taunt.

“i’ve seen your breathing rate get faster,” he moves a step forward, “how your cheeks rise with the faintest red, kind of like right now,” another step forward, “and how you try to avoid looking directly at me because you think i’ll find out everything if you do.”

the room has to be at least a thousand degrees at this point, heart beating so fast it’s probably gone to the moon, and your brain just unable to have any coherent thoughts at the realization that maybe you weren’t as subtle as you thought.

he takes one final step to close the gap between you and delicately places two fingers on the pulse point of your neck, “i couldn’t figure out your heart rate from afar,” he pauses to count, “but now that i know it, i can come to my conclusion.”

the air in your lungs has all but escaped, nowhere to be found. “and wh- what is your conclusion d- doctor reid?” your voice betraying you by dripping with anticipation.

“that i make you nervous. do you agree? do i make you nervous?” he says while you feel the hot breath of his whispers ghosting on your lips.

your mouth opens to say something and then shuts, because what the hell are you supposed to say? any and all logic has left the room, but the last working neuron works to make an unthinkable conclusion of your own. there is no way.

spencer moves his fingers to grip your chin between them, guiding your face to look directly into his copper eyes, “i asked you a question angel, do i make you nervous?”

you’re cornered, “y- yes.”

“why’s that?”

“spencer..”

“is it because you’re thinking of me the same way i think i about you?” his thumb starts tracing the outline of your lower jaw. he’s pressed right up against your chest, his other arm covertly moving to snake around your waist. the way you lean in subconsciously towards him, paired with your silence is all the confirmation he needs.

the pad of his thumb traces your lower lip, dragging it downwards a little. there’s a hitch in his breath when his eyes flicker from your lips back up to meet your eyes again. he quietly mumbles, “can i?”

your eyes widen slightly, relishing in the way his arms are holding you firm and steady. this was about to really happen. you’d been pining after him all this time, believing you were destined for unrequited love. but as spencer stands in front of you, looking at you as if he’d been poisoned and the only antidote is your lips, you can’t help but wonder if there’s been a similar weight on his side that’s been holding him back too.

so you nod once again, and trust your voice this time, 

“yes.”

you’re fully expecting him to go into it full force, and kiss you like a man starved. but he lets the premonition bubble for a little longer as he so agonizingly leans down and closes the gap, teasing you with the ghost of his lips on yours without making contact. he waits a moment, and just as he predicted your subconscious betrays you again and you impatiently lean up in an attempt to meet your lips together. spencer can’t help but smile before he softly pressed himself against you.

the feeling of his mouth on yours is something you can only describe as cosmic, like a star exploding into a supernova, emitting a powerful and luminous show of energy. it’s all consuming, the light reaching every neuronal end of your body and electrifying it ten times over. your hands reach up to tangle in his curly hair and he lets out the faintest whimper, spurring you on to grab it more earnestly.

spencer loses all restraint. his hands begin furiously mapping out your body, running up and down your back, reaching down to grasp a handful of your ass. he moves his hands down further to grip your thighs, effortlessly lifting you to sit on the counter behind you. spencer slots himself between your legs and continues kissing you, his mouth marking a hot trail to your neck as he mutters between, “is this okay?”

“please don’t stop.” you moan softly.

his fingers move to deftly slide the straps of your dress off your shoulder, mirroring the movement on the other side while continuing to work his down your neck. he slides the dress far enough down to expose your chest, immediately taking the swollen nub into mouth and running circles around it with his tongue. you let out a sharp gasp at the sudden warmth, whimpers leaving your throat. he repeats the motion to the other one as you cradle his head closer in an attempt to keep him there, as if spencer had any plans of leaving.

he moves his mouth back up to meet yours again, in a lust filled attack sending shock waves straight to your core. you move your fingers to work the buttons of his dress shirt and spencer moves his hand further south and under the hem of your dress, something you don’t notice until his thumbs are rubbing circles onto the plush of your inner thighs. it makes you falter on his last button as he pushes your legs farther apart,  inches closer to where you desperately need him.

spencer looks directly into your eyes as his thumbs reach up to hook onto the side of your panties and slowly move them down your legs. he groans outwardly at the resistance caused by your slickness, “all this for me, baby?”

you’re rendered speechless watching spencer and his ministrations but he continues, “you are so goddamn beautiful, you know that?” his fingers are less than an inch away from your cunt, “i see you walk around the office in those tight pants, your hair and makeup all done, and those blouses jesus,” he reaches your entrance and dives in to collect your wetness, you brokenly moan as he begins to spread it all over. “couldn’t tell if you hated me for the longest time.”

“c- could never hate you.” you whine.

“i know baby,” he slides his middle finger into your hole, “just imagine the fun we could’ve had if we figured this out earlier. but it’s okay, we have all the time now.” he sets a steady rhythm before inserting his ring finger, actively working you towards a barreling orgasm.

“spencer, fuck, oh god.”

“you’re so fucking wet, bet you’re gonna come soon, right? gonna make a mess on my hand?” he baited.

you’re in shambles, one hand deathly squeezing onto one shoulder the other turning white from the grip you held on the counter. the moans won’t stop falling out of you, he works his fingers so skillfully within you it’s impossible to hold any resolve when he curves upwards and hits that spot.

your head tilts back, reeling from the intense pressure coil building inside you, the peak about to hit you any moment now. spencer uses his free hand to move your head back down, “look at me when you come on my fingers.”

that was all it took for the white hot to ravage through you, engulfing every sense and leaving you breathless. he continues moving his fingers through your orgasm, watching as you come back down to him. you don’t waste a second reaching for his belt to unfasten it, slipping your hand down to palm him through his boxers. he moans in your ear as he feels you slip inside, your small hand moving up and down, and getting impossibly harder when you take your hand back up to spit on it to then return to your movements.

you take the moment to lean into his neck and leave bites of your own, finding his sweet spot right behind his ear and sucking hard. spencer’s hands have taken a spot on your lower back beneath your dress, pressing so hard with his fingertips you know there’ll be evidence of this night tomorrow.

“spence..” you mutter in the crook in the neck.

“yeah baby?” he whispers back.

“can you fuck me now?”

he preens at your boldness, and wastes no time pulling his pants and boxers down enough to fully free himself. he pulls you closer to the edge of the counter before pulling his length out and giving it a few strokes. he lets it glide between your folds, gathering your wetness as lubricant as it hits your clit. both of you are panting hard realizing the anticipation has led to this moment. spencer positions himself at your entrance, never breaking eye contact with you, and watches your face drop into a perfect ‘oh’ as he pushes in.

spencer is absolutely wrecked as he hears your breathing pick up, reveling in the vice grip your cunt has on him. you’re no better above him as you’ve broken eye contact to stare at where the two of you connect, watching as he disappears into you and the feeling of being so full overtakes you and you’re letting out soft expletives. he bottoms out and stalls for a minute, waiting for you to signal that you’re okay for him to move. in the time he’s waiting, he takes a moment to really look at your face, how absolutely ruined you look, your cheeks are deeply flushed, hair flying in every direction, and he can’t help but tell you, “you look so pretty.”

your eyes soften as you gaze back at him and nod slightly, and he pulls back all the way to ease in again experimentally. once he hears you moan out loud at the movement, and feels you tighten even more around his cock, he loses any and all restraint he’d been holding onto this entire night.

his hips pick up the pace in harsh snaps to your core, sending ripples of pleasure all over you. your arms are wrapped around his neck attempting to pull him impossibly closer to you, “spencer…fuck…” you drawl with a whine.

“i got you baby, gonna take good care of you, promise,” he says back in between grunts. the sentiment causes you to squeeze on his cock again as he attempts to continue, “if you keep…fuck…keep squeezing me like that i’m n- not gonna last long.”

one hand in his hair and the other leaving dark red scratches on his back, you feel your second orgasm of the night hastily creep up on you. he can tell you’re close and quickens his pace as he thumbs your clit. you moan his name out once more before reaching your peak, feeling like your body is on fire as he continues to fuck you through it. 

spencer feels his own release building up, “wh- where should i..?”

“inside, i’m on the pill just please come inside me.”

it was more than enough for spencer’s movements to stutter as he released his hot load in you, groaning out loud as he finished.

he slows to a half, still hilted inside of you but softening post orgasm. you’re both breathing heavily as you look up at each other and take in the other’s fucked out faces. spencer presses a chaste kiss to your forehead before resting his own on it, “that was..”

“intense,” he quirks his eyebrows at you, “in a really really good way.” you add quickly.

he smiles down at you, “i wasn’t kidding, what i said earlier. i think about you an embarrassingly high amount each day. i’d love to take you out and make this a real thing.”

“yeah?” you gape incredulously, “thought i was the one embarrassing myself if you were able to notice all those things i did when you were near me.”

he laughs, “no, no it was endearing, definitely made it easier to be as forward as i was tonight knowing you wouldn’t freak out.”

you’re about to respond when you hear the door to the cellar open, you’re both hidden from view but know it’s only a matter of seconds before someone catches you. you both look at each other in panic as spencer pulls out of you, tucking himself back in and zipping up his pants. you grab your panties from the floor and begin to pull them up your legs when he notices his come dripping down your thighs. he swiftly gathers the release on his fingers and shoves it back inside you, causing you to let out a near pornographic moan as he pulls up your underwear all the way.

“did you guys hear that?” a voice sounding like emily said.

“see this is why i don’t do big houses like this, too many creepy ass noises.” morgan.

“mansion,” rossi corrects, “and for a couple of profilers, you both are stupid if you don’t know what that sound was.”

your eyes widen to match spencer’s, you’ve been caught.

“was it a mouse or something?”

“no more like, bunnies,” he joked with an innuendo, “come on, i found the bottle i was looking for, let the bunnies do their thing so they can leave and go home to do whatever it is bunnies do.”

“you’re a weird old man david…” emily muttered.

the door closes and you both let out a big breath, and burst into a fit of laughter, “how the hell are we gonna show our faces to him on monday?” you whine.

“that is a monday us problem,” he starts, “but right now, i think it’s time for me to take you home.” he winks.

two stuffed bunnies show up on yours and spencer’s desk on monday. you’re both redder than a tomato as rossi chuckles when he walks by. prentiss and morgan are still confused.

[moonlightwritingf1]

The Sweet Surprise | LN4

⋆˚✿˖° summary ━━━━━━━ Lando finds Y/N's sex toy

⋆˚✿˖° pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

⋆˚✿˖° word count ━━━━━━━ 2.7k

⋆˚✿˖° warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content

Based on this request.

It was a quiet Friday evening in London, the sky painted with hues of pink and orange as the sun began to set. Inside her apartment, Y/N was still at work, wrapped up in her typical 9-to-5 routine. The familiar hum of her laptop screen and the rustle of papers were the only sounds filling the space. But there was something different in the air today, something she couldn’t quite place. Perhaps it was the way the evening light seemed to make the room feel a little warmer, or maybe it was the anticipation of the surprise she knew was coming.

Lando had always been a bit unpredictable when it came to their time together. After weeks of gentle teasing and persistent gifts, she had finally agreed to go on a date with him—six dates, to be precise. Each one had brought them closer, the chemistry undeniable, the tension palpable. Yet, Y/N couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that he was just playing with her. She wasn’t sure whether he was serious about her or simply enjoying the chase. And as much as she tried to convince herself that she wasn’t falling for him, she couldn’t ignore the fluttering in her stomach whenever she saw him.

Tonight, she had no idea what to expect. All she knew was that Lando was coming over, and he had promised her a surprise.

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

She opened the door to find Lando standing there, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. In his hands was a box, carefully wrapped with a ribbon. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long,” he said, his voice low, yet teasing. “I brought you something.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, feeling a sudden wave of curiosity. “What’s this?”

Lando grinned mischievously. “You’ll see. Open it.”

Inside the box was a cake—no ordinary cake, but the one from her favorite bakery. The one she had mentioned in passing months ago, how she rarely got the chance to have it because it was always sold out. Lando had somehow managed to secure a special order, paying extra for the bakery to make it just for her.

“You actually got it?” she asked, her voice filled with surprise. “How did you even—”

“I have my ways,” he said with a wink. “But you deserve something special. I figured this would be the perfect treat.”

Her heart warmed at the gesture. She hadn’t expected something so thoughtful. “You really went all out.”

“I would do anything for you,” he said softly, his eyes locking with hers. “I hope you like it.”

They sat down together, savoring the rich layers of the cake, the sweetness of the moment matching the sweetness of the dessert. The conversation flowed easily, the two of them slipping into a comfortable rhythm. The tension between them was undeniable, but they both danced around it—teasing, flirting, but never crossing the line.

After they finished their cake, Y/N stood up to put the remaining slices in the fridge. As she did, Lando leaned back in his chair, watching her with that familiar glint in his eyes.

“So,” Lando said casually, leaning against the kitchen counter as he watched her put away the leftover cake. His tone was smooth, almost too casual. “Do you have the book you promised me?”

Y/N glanced over her shoulder, momentarily confused. “Book?”

“Yes, the one you said I absolutely have to read,” he replied, smirking. “You said it’s in your room.''

“Oh!” Y/N’s eyes widened as realization struck. “Right. That book.”

He chuckled softly, amused by how easily distracted she was. “Where is it?”

“It’s on my nightstand,” she said, closing the fridge door. “You can grab it. I think it’s on top of the stack.”

“Sure,” Lando said, pushing off the counter and heading toward her bedroom.

Y/N didn’t think twice about it. Why would she? The book was exactly where she said it was, and her room was relatively tidy—at least, she thought it was. She turned back to the counter, wiping it down absentmindedly as her mind wandered to the cake he had surprised her with.

Meanwhile, Lando stepped into her room, his gaze immediately falling on the nightstand. The book was there, just as she’d said, but his attention didn’t stay on it for long.

Because there, on the bed, lying in plain sight, was something far more attention-grabbing: her dildo.

He blinked, taken aback for a second, before a slow, mischievous grin spread across his face. Of all the things he’d expected to find, this was certainly not one of them.

“Did you find it?” Y/n called out from the kitchen, her voice carrying a casual tone as she slid the remaining slice of cake into the fridge. The sweet aroma of vanilla and buttercream lingered in the air, mingling with the faint scent of Lando’s cologne that seemed to follow him everywhere.

Silence.

“Lando?” she tried again, this time tilting her head toward the hallway leading to her bedroom. Her heart began to thud softly in her chest, a nervous flutter she couldn’t quite explain. She wiped her hands on a dish towel and stepped into the hallway, her bare feet padding softly against the hardwood floor.

When she reached her bedroom door, she froze.

Lando was standing by her bed, his back to her, shoulders tense. His gaze was fixed on something on the mattress, something Y/n had completely forgotten about until now. Her dildo.

Oh God. Her stomach dropped. Heat rushed to her cheeks, spreading down her neck and across her chest. How could I forget? Earlier that day, after a particularly steamy session in the shower, she’d left it there, too lost in her own thoughts to remember to put it away.

“Uh…” she started, her voice barely audible. “I can explain…”

Lando turned slowly, his blue/ green eyes darkening as they met hers. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, but it wasn’t mocking—it was hungry. “Explain what?” he said, his voice low and smooth, like honey dripping off a spoon. “That you like to keep things… handy?”

Y/n crossed her arms over her chest, trying to will away the embarrassment. “It’s not what you think,” she muttered, though even she knew how weak that sounded.

Lando took a step closer, his fingers brushing against the edge of the bed. “Oh, I think it’s exactly what I think,” he said, his tone teasing yet laced with something deeper. Something raw. He picked up the toy, turning it over in his hands as if inspecting it. “Impressive size,” he added, his smirk widening. “Guess you don’t settle for less, huh?”

She groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Could you not?”

He chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. “Why? Embarrassed?” He closed the distance between them, stopping just inches from her. His free hand reached out, gently tugging one of hers away from her face. “You shouldn’t be.”

His touch was warm, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in a way that made her breath catch. She looked up at him, her eyes wide, searching his for any hint of judgment. But all she found was… desire.

“Lando…” she whispered, her voice trembling.

He leaned in, his lips hovering just above hers. “Do you really think I care about that?” he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. “If anything, it just makes me wonder… What else are you hiding behind that tough-girl act of yours?”

She swallowed hard, her mind racing. This was dangerous. Too dangerous. She’d spent months keeping him at arm’s length, convincing herself he wasn’t serious, that he didn’t see her the way she secretly hoped he did. But now, with him so close, with his words unraveling her defenses, she wasn’t sure she could hold back anymore.

“I’m not hiding anything,” she lied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lando tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Bullshit,” he said bluntly, his tone firm yet gentle. “You’re always hiding, Y/n. Behind your sarcasm, your independence, your I-don’t-need-anyone attitude. But I see you. I always have.”

Her breath hitched. No one had ever talked to her like this, stripped her bare with just a few words. It terrified her. And yet…

Before she could stop herself, she blurted out, “And what if you don’t like what you see?”

He paused, his expression softening. Slowly, he set the toy down on the nightstand and cupped her face in his hands. His touch was so tender, so genuine, it nearly brought tears to her eyes. “I already do,” he said, his voice steady. “Every single part of you.”

The room felt impossibly small, the air thick with tension. Y/n’s heart pounded in her chest as she searched his face, looking for any sign of deceit. But there was none. Just honesty. And something else… something that made her knees weak.

“Lando…” she breathed, her resolve crumbling.

He didn’t wait for her to finish. His lips crashed onto hers, the kiss fierce and hungry, as if he’d been holding back for far too long. Y/n gasped into his mouth, her hands instinctively clutching the front of his shirt. He deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against hers, and she melted into him, every thought, every doubt, vanishing in an instant.

When they finally broke apart, both of them breathing heavily, Lando rested his forehead against hers. “Stop running from me,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “Let me in.”

Her eyes fluttered shut, her body trembling with the weight of his words. She wanted to. God, she wanted to. But fear still lingered, clawing at the edges of her mind.

“What if I’m not enough for you?” she asked, her voice breaking.

He pulled back slightly, his hands still cradling her face. “You already are,” he said firmly. “You always have been.”

She searched his eyes, finding nothing but sincerity. For the first time in months, maybe even years, she let herself believe it.

“Okay,” she whispered.

His lips curved into a soft smile, and he kissed her again, this time slower, more tender. Their bodies pressed together, heat building between them, until neither of them could think straight.

“Bed,” Lando murmured against her lips, his voice husky.

She nodded, her heart racing as he guided her backward, their movements clumsy yet frantic. When the back of her knees hit the mattress, she fell onto it, pulling him down with her. He hovered above her, his eyes burning with desire as he brushed a strand of hair from her face.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

She shook her head, her hands gripping the collar of his shirt. “Don’t you dare.”

Lando’s lips trailed down her neck, leaving a searing path of heat as his fingers gently traced the curve of her waist. Y/n’s breath hitched, her mind still reeling from the intensity of their kiss. She could feel the weight of him above her, the warmth of his body pressing into hers, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

His hand slid lower, brushing against her thigh, and she instinctively parted her legs, inviting him closer. But instead of continuing where she expected, Lando pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with mischief as he glanced toward the bed. Her cheeks flushed when she realized what—or rather, who—he was looking at.

The dildo. Still lying there, shamelessly exposed.

“So…” Lando drawled, his voice low and teasing. “Is this how you spend your Friday nights?”

Y/n groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Oh my God, can we just forget about that?”

He chuckled, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Why would I want to forget?” His fingers brushed over her wrist, prying her hands away from her face so he could look into her eyes. “I think it’s hot.”

Her heart raced at his words, and she bit her lip, unsure how to respond. Hot? The idea of him finding something like that attractive made her stomach flip in the most delicious way. But before she could say anything, Lando reached for the toy, holding it up between them with a smirk.

“You know,” he said, his tone dripping with playful confidence, “I could give you a much better experience than this.”

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat, her eyes widening as she processed his words. “W-what are you saying?”

Instead of answering, he leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “Let me show you.”

A wave of heat surged through her, pooling at her core. She couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, all she could do was nod weakly as Lando moved down her body, his hands trailing along her skin. He pushed her dress higher, exposing her thighs, and she tensed slightly, her nerves getting the better of her.

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice soothing despite the wicked grin on his face. “Just let me take care of you.”

She swallowed hard, her pulse pounding in her ears as she watched him position himself between her legs. His gaze locked with hers, and he held up the dildo, his expression daring her to stop him. With deliberate precision, he slid her panties to the side, exposing her to him fully. But she didn’t stop him. She couldn’t. The anticipation was too intense, the desire too overwhelming.

When the cool silicone touched her bare skin, she gasped, her hips arching instinctively. Lando’s free hand pressed against her hip, holding her steady as he teased her with the toy, tracing slow, deliberate circles around her most sensitive spot.

“You like that?” he asked, his voice rough with need.

All she could manage was a whimper, her hands gripping the sheets beneath her. The sensation was maddening, every touch sending jolts of pleasure through her body. And then, just as she thought she couldn’t take anymore, he pressed the tip of the dildo against her entrance, slowly pushing it inside.

Her back arched off the bed, a moan escaping her lips as she felt herself stretching to accommodate it. Lando’s eyes never left her face, watching intently as he began to move it in and out, setting a slow, teasing rhythm.

“Fuck,” she breathed, her head falling back against the pillow. It was unlike anything she’d ever felt before—the coldness of the toy contrasting with the heat of his touch, the way he seemed to know exactly how to move to drive her wild.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Lando murmured, his voice thick with admiration. “Completely undone.”

She opened her eyes, locking gazes with him, and saw the raw desire in his expression. It sent a thrill through her, knowing that she was the one who had put that look on his face. Without thinking, she reached for him, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him down for a bruising kiss.

Their lips clashed together, messy and desperate, as he continued to work the dildo inside her. The dual sensations were almost too much—the deep, filling pressure of the toy combined with the soft, insistent movements of Lando’s tongue against hers.

“More,” she begged against his mouth, her voice trembling with need.

He obliged without hesitation, increasing the speed and intensity of his thrusts until she was writhing beneath him, her nails digging into his shoulders. Every nerve in her body was alight, every inch of her skin on fire. She could feel the tension building, coiling tighter and tighter until it threatened to snap.

“Lando,” she gasped, her voice breaking. “I-I’m close.”

“Come for me,” he commanded, his tone firm yet tender. “Let go.”

And just like that, she shattered. Pleasure exploded through her, white-hot and all-consuming, as her body convulsed around the toy. Lando held her through it, his arms wrapped tightly around her as she rode out the waves of ecstasy.

When she finally came down, her chest heaving and her limbs boneless, Lando set the dildo aside and shifted to lay beside her. He brushed her damp hair from her face, his eyes soft with affection.

“See?” he said, his voice laced with smug satisfaction. “Told you I’d do better.”

She laughed breathlessly, her cheeks flushing again. “Okay, fine. You win.”

“Good,” he replied, leaning in to capture her lips in another kiss. This one was slower, more tender, but no less passionate. When he pulled away, his eyes sparkled with mischief once more.

“But don’t think for a second I’m done with you yet.”