#so the bits down the rest of his spine are still there

[onlymexsarah]

Burning Flames VI || Eris Vanserra

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Archeron!reader Summary: Since you became High Fae there were only two things that scared you: your deadly power and your attraction toward the male you should hate most after Tamlin, Eris Vanserra. Warnings: Suggestive, slight smut(?), language and my english :) A/n: Sorry for the waiting, but thank you for your patience! I'll see you at the end of the chapter, and if you want to be added to the taglist just let me know🫶🏻 Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3- Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6

Your back was pressed against some wall. His fingers felt like a ghost's touch on your neck, tracing immaginary lines all over your collarbone while everything inside you were on fire.

His scent was the only thing you could smell. Honey, burned wood, maple. He felt like the fire that kept you warm during the cold winter nights, like the sound of falling leaves in a autumn day, like a welcome breeze under the summer sun, like the perfume of a flowery meadow in spring.

His hot breath crashed against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. "Tell me to stop, Little Flame."

Your eyes shut closed. Why would you want it to stop when it felt so heavenly?

As an answer you locked your hands behind his neck and brought his body toward yours, making you officially presseded between the wall and him.

His lips rested against the sweet spot behind your ear and you bite your lips to prevent any unholy sounds to leave your mouth. He started to slowly kiss your neck as one of his hands went into your hair, and tilted your head to give him more access, while the other grabbed firmly your waist, pinning your hips against the wall.

If his lips hadn't been enough to drive you crazy, his leg making its way between yours surely was. "This is all I dream about since the day I met you." he whispered with a low, rasped voice. He bite your neck, sucking the skin between his teeth and making you grab his hair tightly as your head fall back against the wall behind you. "How would you taste..." his leg moved between yours, putting some pressure against your pulsing core, and this time you didn't hold the moan that grew in your throat. "The sounds you would make..."

Mother boils you.

His voice, his scent, his body. You could get lost in all of it and you would be eternally happy. It was so right being in his arms, pressed against his as your bodies were one. It felt as right as the stars shining during the night. As the sun rising at dawn. As the sun warming the day at its peak. As the sun seeting during dusk.

You were a torch and his mouth travelling down your neck, claiming every bit of it, was the spark that set you on fire. You wanted to burn, and you wanted to burn with him. His hair in your hands felt like they had always supposed to be there; his hot breath against your skin made you believe that no clothes or blanket would keep you warm again. His hands felt like they were shaped to be on your body, while him...he had been made to be with you.

Your head started to feel lighter, the air around you becoming colder with each breath. He stopped abruptly his movements and grabbed your hair tighter, as if he was holding it for his life. He brought his face away from your neck, and as you opened your eyes you were met with two golden pounds staring already in yours.

Eris.

Seeing him cleared something in your mind, and all of it suddenly felt more real. His hands were still holding you, and when his gaze softened you melted.

"I don't want to wake up." He whispered softly, as if he was afraid to speak too loud. "This is the only time I can be with you."

You furrowed your eyebrows, tilting slightly your head. 'Waking up'? You were very awake, and the male in front of you was exactly where he needed to be.

You brought a hand on his cheek, caressing the line of his face softly. Cauldron, he was so beautiful. If someone had asked you what perfection looked like, you would describe Eris, since there wasn't a single thing about him that hadn't been touched by the Mother herself.

"I am with you." You softly said while you gently pushed one of his curls away form his forehead. "We can be together whenever we want."

And why wouldn't you? There was nothing to stop you from being with him. His eyes hold the door of your home, there was nothing in the world that could keep you away from it. From him.

His narrowed his eyes, and you swore his gaze was burning right inside your soul. "You're here." he sounded surprised, like he had never seen you before. His fingers untangled from your hair and caressed you cheek, almost urgently, like you were doing to disappear at any moment.

You leaned in his touch as you let out a soft chuckle. "Why wouldn't I be?"

It was such a stupid question. You had always been with him. You had been with him from the moment you were born, you had been with him in all the past lives and you still would be with him in the nexts.

His eyes darkened. His fingers traces the line of your jawline, slowly, as if he was memorizing every inch of your face. They moved towarch your chin, then your lips, and you slightly parted them as his thumb caressed your lower lip.

"Oh, Little Flame..." he was so close now that you felt his breath on your mouth. "So many reasons, and it's just a matter of time before you'll remember them."

Then he did something that completely shocked you. He brought both hands on your cheeks, and tilted his head upward, placing a soft, warmn kiss against your forehead. Your hands fell from his face to his shoulders, keeping him there, against you.

Your eyes closed as he kept his lips pressed against your head. This. You wanted this. You wanted him.

"I will make this right. I will kill my father so that he will never be able to hurt you. I will kill everyone who'll want to harm you. I will burn everything that will stop you from being happy." he brought his lips away, and his eyes met yours again. "I had been a monster, and I still will be one if it means protecting you. I swear this on my court, the only good thing I had in my life before you. And you and me are going to share it one day. Side by side, we will make it blooms with all the goodness that my father had crashed during the centuries. You'll have everything of me: goods and bads. It will all be yours."

Your breath was short, your heart was racing in your chest. His voice, so full of determination made it impossible to feel even a sheer of shame for wanting that monster. For wanting everything of him.

"Tell me you want this, Little Flame." he whispered, his face leaning a inch closer to yours.

Then, as you opened your mouth to answer him, everything went black.

***

You gasped for air as you opened your eyes and quickly sat up. Where were you? Everything was dark. The surface under you was soft and you swore that was silk the material touching your bare legs.

Town house. Velaris. Night Court.

Your still asleep mind quickly worked all the basic informations that you needed to calm down.

Where was Eris?

You had been together a moment ago, you swore you could still smell his scent in your nose. The sensations you were feeling were so similar to the one of winnowing, but no. It was a dream.

You were dreaming.

Of Eris.

It had felt so real. His touch, his voice, his smell. The feeling of his hands holding you felt like impressed in your body, and for a moment you shivered from the lack of it.

"Tell me you want this."

Cauldron, what were you going to say to him?

You swore you had been about to tell him something, but you couldn't remember what.

What would you answer now?

Gods, if only you knew that.

Your hand brushed back your hair as you sighed. He had offered you his court. Him. Would you have taken it?

In the dream you knew you would have. But in the real world? If Eris came to you and offered to you his whole being, what would you do?

Are you even listening to yourself? Eris? Offering you what?

The voice in your head scowled you like a child, and a wave of embarassment grew inside you. The dream really fucked you up. Even losing time to think about it was proof of your foolishness.

You had been training togheter for threee weeks now, and you had gotten kind of used to his presence. You had considerably improved with your powers, and somehow, at some point, you and Eris had even started to joke.

But, unfortunately, joking didn't come easy for you the next time you saw him. As soon as you saw his eyes the memory of the dream struck you and you had to hide your face with your hair in order to not let him see the deep blush that was forming on your cheeks.

The worst thing was that if before you just found him attractive, now everything he did made your head going dizzy. Like he moved his fingers to produce fire, or how his voice would lower when he gave you instructions.

You hadn't realized that he was behind you until his velvet voice said something in your ear you didn't catch, and the flames you were controlling over your hands exploded, burning some trees around you.

"That, I think Kallias would mind." snorted ironically Eris behind you, pointing to the trees.

You rolled your eyes as you quickly stepped away from him, having noticed that the closer you were the more flustered you got. "It was your idea to train in the Winter Court this time."

His eyes studied your movements, and you knew that he had noticed the distance you were keeping that day, he knew that something was wrong, and, oh Mother, you hoped he couldn't know why.

"You have enough control now, it doesn't matter where we train." He said with calm voice you knew he used when he was studying something. "But today you seem...distracted. Is something on your mind?"

Cauldron, it had been just a dream. He didn't know about it. He didn't know that everytime your eyes fell on him you felt a strange pull inside you, like the memories of his hands, lips and body on yours were still imprinted in your mind.

"Nope, all good." you quickly replied, waving a hand in the air and facing the snowing landscape again. "Must be the dinner. Azriel made me try a new spicy food."

'Must be the dinner'? Was this really the best thing that went in your mind?

Thankfully he dropped the subject, but it didn't go unnoticed his amused smirk.

You were so lost in your thoughts, mostly of him pushing you against the nearest tree, that when Azriel arrived you didn't even asked Eris the question that you were suppose to.

***

Everything was a mess. Nesta had been captured for the Blood Rite, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. Eris had been captured by Briallyn and Rhys and Feyre had made a bargain to die togheter.

Eris had been captured.

By that bitch of Briallyn.

You tried hard to control the deafining song of your blood running wild in your veins. You would kill her. You would kill Briallyn for everything that she did, and you would make her suffer.

"Az can't go alone. We need you, Cassian." Feyra's voice was a low whisper over the rage that was building inside you.

Cassian, that bastard, had the nerve to esitate and then say, "Let him die."

"Screw you!" You jumped on your feet as you said those words, facing Cassian as if you weren't three feet shorter. You wouldn't let Eris die, and if you had to fight Cassian then it was better for his wings to be fireproof. "Eris is your ally, what kind of General are you if you let your allies to die?"

Cassian's eyes flared with rage that you were sure matched your own. "Your sister had been captured for the Blood Rite and you worry about some asshole who would be better off dead anyway?!"

You lift your chin higher, staring at the Lord of Bloodshed right in the eyes. "When my sister will come out alive from the Blood Rite, and she will, she'll only feel ashamed to be with someone who left everything crumble out of sadness for her disappearence."

Your words found their marks as Cassian winced under your gaze. People often forgot that Nesta was your twin, not vice versa. Every sharp behaviours she possesed, you had them sharper.

"Y/n." Feyre's warning tone made your head snap toward her.

"What?" you spitted out as your whole body tremble , begging you to take action and save Eris.

Rhys shifted shlightly in front of his mate, as if you were the threat at her life.

If you hadn't burn down his entire office few days ago he wouldn't be so caution around you, the voice in your head scoffed in your mind.

You couldn't have helped yourself. When Nesta told you and Feyre that the baby would likely kill your little sister, and that the whole Inner CIrcle knew about it and voted to keep Feyre in the shadows you had stormed inside Rhys' office and reminded him that while you were training with Madja to how use your power to heal, destruction came pretty easily to you if he dared to make choices for Feyre again.

"Maybe the Made dagger we gave him will grant him immunity from the Crown. If he's carrying the dagger, if they haven't unarmed him, it might shield him against another Made object." Feyre tried to reassure you with a calm voice, and somehow you felt even more sick.

You were showing everyone that you actually cared for the Heir of Autumn, the same male they all despise, and a wave of embarassment run all over you. It wasn't enough to calm the boiling blood inside you, but at least it made you take a step away from Cassian.

He was a mated male whose mate had just been captured in the middle of the night, you couldn't really blame him for not caring about anything else.

And we'll just pretend that this realization means nothing? A voice in your mind said sarcastically, but you shut it down before any following thoughts could come with it.

"There are plenty of other methods to get him to talk." Azriel's said darkly, and that sick sentation was back in your stomach.

If Briallyn did so much as touch him you would kill her with your bare hands, making her regret to be born in the same world as you were.

"I'll go with you." you said to Azriel, not leaving room for any arguments in your voice.

Amren scoffed beside him. "Stupidly honourable, but even if Cassian and Azriel are training you, you are no fighter girl. You can't even control your fire."

Your eyes snapped at her, and with a lazy smirk on your lips you rose your right hand, palm up toward the ceiling and let a fire as big as your face appear on it. "Can't I?"

A gasp escaped her mouth as Cassian widened his eyes. Amren narrowed hers as she studied you cautionly. "How?"

"I trained." You said with a little shrug, as you let your fire taking different forms over your hand. "With the same male that you are willingly letting in our enemy's hands."

Amren sneered a 'foolish girl' while her eyes shifted toward an unsurprised Feyre and Rhys, understanding that twice she had been left out of their secrets.

"Why?" Cassian asked beside you, looking at the flames on your hand. "He did nothing to deserve your trust."

You bit the inside your cheek, holding your tongue before you snapped back some comments that would only cause more troubles.

"He saved my life during the war with Hybern." you stated seriously, knowing it was time for them to know the truth. The way Azriel's eyes widened slightly made you understand that Rhys had just told him about your bargain with Eris, not the entire story. "I was with Elain when Hybern's soldiers found us. I told her to run while I stayed behind to buy her time...they were going to kill me if it hadn't been for Eris." You looked back at Cassian, your chin always high as you dared out the words that had been hunting you for months. "I know that in your shared history Eris had never proven to be trustworthy, but in ours shared past he did, and I'm going to repay the debt I own him."

Had you revealed too much of your thoughts? Had you looked like a stupid, naive girl obsessed over a male? You didn't care. Eris was in danger, and something warm inside you needed to save him, even if you were almost sure he would have never done the same for you.

"Be quick. Don't go near Briallyn for any reason." Rhys intructed you as you summoned the fighting leathers that Cassian had gifted you after three full weeks of training. "Y/n, follow their instruction and don't let emotions cloud your judgment. Eris might depends on your clear mind more than we can imagine."

You nodded before stepping beside Azriel and let him winnow you on the other side of the continent.

***

Eris was nowhere to be found in the lands surrounding the queens' castle, and you swore if you didn't find him before a week you would start to burn every piece of that castle until you found him.

You talked with a human merchant that was arriving just from the palace, and you weren't ashamed to say that you had used your High Fae's beauty to make him tell you if he had seen any 'new Fae male' around. He told you that a redhaired Fae male had been dragged to the castle the night before the last, and your stomach twisted at the word dragged.

Images of Eris hurt, bloody and chained flashed through your mind. You would make Briallyn pay for what she did.

"We'll wait here until they leave the castle. Then trail them from the cloud clover." Azriel instructed you with a dark tone that matched your face.

But no one went in or out of the castle for days. No one walked even close to it, the gate had stayed shut down closing the citizien in and the rest of the world out.

Cassian and Azriel patrolled the sky while you made sure to cover every inch of the ground surrounding the castle.

"Briallyn has to know we're here." Cassian said has he alit, his latest aerial survey completed. "You think she's waiting for us to make a move?"

"The place is guarded with as many wards as the House of Wind. If Briallyn is moving Eris, we'll be better off catching him then." Azriel said calmly, while shadows whispered in his ears.

"If he's still alive..." you murmur while you lit a little fire to keep all the three of you warm during the night.

The thought of Eris' death had placed roots in your head as soon as you had left Velaris. Your whole body froze everytime you remembered that you had no proof that the redhead still breath. You could feel his precense inside the castle, your whole soul knew that he was there, but maybe you were just sensing a body. A lifeless, cold, death body.

The thought of Eris' body turning cold felt unnatural, sending shivers of wrongness through your spine. Eris was warm, always radiating warmness to whoever was around him. He could never be cold. You would forbid it.

"I have every reason to believe he is." Azriel's voice woke you from your throughts.

You rose your eyes from the fire to him, and found two hazel pounds already looking at you. Studying you. "How? You said yourself that your shadows can't get inside the castle."

Azriel's stoned face stayed silent for a while, as if he was reading right through you. What was the spymater seeing was above your knowledge. For a moment you felt like an opponent that he was studying to understand her secrets, but true was that you hold any, even thought Azriel's gaze suggested otherwise.

"If Eris was dead, I have the rights to believe that everything would be different." You furrowed your eyebrows, not following his paths of thoughts. "This conversation would have never existed in the first place."

You braced your arms around your legs as your fingers played with the fire in front of you as you used to do when you couldn't sleep when you were a child. "Let's hope you're right."

I'll find you Eris, you are not alone.

***

Four days.

Four fucking days and still nothing of Eris.

"Four fucking days." Cassian hissed from where the three of you monitored the castle, echoing your thoughts. "We've been sititing on our asses for four fucking days."

"It's seems you've forgotten how much of spying is waiting for the right moment." Azriel said as his blade met yours. He had decided to keep training you during those days, both to occupy time and to make you ready for a fight situation. "This one was sloppy. Ground your feet better on the ground. People don't engage in their evil deeds when it's convenient to you."

Fighting looked like a second nature to Azriel as he changed conversation between you and Cassian as if you were trying to disarm him at every possible occasion.

"You would think that Beron would be worried after his son hasn't returned for days." You said between your breaths as Azriel changed from a defensive position to an offensive one. "instead here we are, only three of us looking for him."

"Beron likely knows what is happening to Eris." snorted Cassian crrosing his arms. "He might even see a lot of opportunities to have his heir under the command of the Crown."

Anger rose inside you before you could even notice it. Was there anyone in this world who cared for Eris? His mother probably, but she had been under Beron's talons too long to even do something in order to protect him.

He has you now, your mind said on its own.

Silently you accepted what had long grew inside you. If Eris had no one who cared about him, then you must be dead, five feet under ground. Caring for him didn't mean trusting him blindly. Didn't mean that you would give him the moon on a string if he asked you to. It meant that if a bitch of a Queen took him then you would rip the whole Phrytian apart to find him.

"Control your anger." Azriel commaned as you noticed that your strikes had become harder. "Let it control you and you are dead on a battlefield."

Before you could answer Cassian shot to his feet. "Someone's leaving the castle."

Azriel didn't wait any second before grabbing your waist and launching into the skies as Cassian followed you. Your arms locked behind Azriel's neck as your eyes skanned the ground from the cover of clouds that now hid you.

"I don't see a prison wagon." Cassian said over the wind as you watched the small caravan leaving the eastern city gates.

You were gratefult for a moment that your power made impossible for you to feel any kind of cold, or the chill air would have you trembling like a leaf.

Azriel's gaze remained on the earth below. "They don't need one." he said with quiet venom.

Something inside you stirred, like a string attached to your ribs, and you new who you would see before your eyes landed on him. You suddenly hold your breath, and there, riding at the front of the party, side by side with a hunched, small figure, was Eris.

You almost jumped from Azriel as soon as you saw him. You needed to know if he was alright, you needed him to know that you were there, for him.

"Stupid asshole." Cassian snarled. "She snared him with the Crown."

"No," Azriel said quietly, and you swore his hold grew a bit tighter around you and his tone become apologetically. "Look at his left. He's still got the dagger at his side. If he was in her thrall, he'd have already handed it over."

No.

No. No. No.

"So possessing another Made object does protect him against the Crown." Cassian accusation set in the air and your ears started to ring. "Traitor."

No.

You refused to believe it was true.

Eris would have never betrayed you. Any of you. Not when Briallyn was everything he stad against to. Not when allying to Briallyn meant leaving his father on the throne of the Autumn Court.

"There must be another explanation." You said, and hated how your voice sounded weak. "He must be playing along. Making her believe he is under the Crown's control."

"We follow them. Capture Eris now and we might not get anything out of him. We trail them and learn how far this betrayal goes, if there is any." You had the feeling that he added the last part just for you. "See who they're meeting with. It has to be important, for them to leave the safety of the castle."

What if Briallyn had promised Eris to overthrow his father? What if he had found another, more convenient, alliance in her? What if everyone had been right, and he had just been manipulating you?

As you followed the caravan for three days those thoughts eat you alive. Sometime you were sure that they were wrong, and Briallyn was indeed controlling Eris. Other times you wanted to bury yourself alive to have thought that you could have trusted him.

There was a flicker inside you that you couldn't understand what was, but sometime a voice would come out of it, telling you to run. The voice was so similar to Eris' that you thought you were really going crazy if you had started to hear his voice in your head.

But the worse part was when you were sleeping, because you would dream of him, glassy eyed, looking straight in front of him not matter how many times you yelled his name.

You could not see a inch from your nose. It seemed like you were in the middle of a cloud, making everything around you blurr and grey. Your thoughts were slow, your breathing hard, and walking felt like trying to go through a block of jelly.

"Run."

A voice echoed around you, but you could not see where the person was.

"Run away as fast as you can."

Eris.

Eris was somewhere close to you. "Where are you?" you asked back, trying to follow whatever the string inside you was.

"She will kill you." he said, and this time a flicker of red hair appeared among the clouds. "If you are lucky, she'll only kill you. If not, she'll make me handle you over my father, and he'll make me watch."

His voice sounded hollow, as if he had repeated those words so many times that they had lost meaning. You had no idea what nonsense he was talking about, but you'll be damned if you wouldn't reach him this time.

As you were close enough you saw him. His eyes were vacant, looking at something in front of him. His posture straight, like a soldier waiting for orders.

A sigh of relief washed over you.

Eris was there. You had found him, and you had no intention to let him be taken away from you again.

With your right hand you grabbed his, while you brought the left one on his cheek and make his gaze fell on you. "Look at me." You said firmly. "I'm here. Look at me, Eris. Tell me you recognize me."

His amber eyes met yours, and you knew that the world might start to end now, but you would never look away from his eyes if it meant freeing him from the Crown's control.

"Go back to Velaris." he sounded almost pleading, but his eyes stayed vacant, as if he was seeing right through you.

Your hold on his hand and cheek thightened. "Only if you come with us."

You would not leave him. You could not leave him. His mind was being controlled, he was under the control of a Made object and it was a good damn think that the Cauldron had Made you too. Had given you Made powers.

You could beat the fog around him, even if momentarily.

You closed your eyes and concentrated on the burning flames inside you. You called to them, urging them to grow and grow until there were enough for you to pull them out.

Your eyes flushed open as a bubble of fire had created around the two of you, keeping the fog outside while around you the forest come into view.

"I hope your mind is a bit clearer now." You smirked slightly as you saw him blinking quickly, waking up from whatever dreaming state Briallyn had put him through.

"You're here." his tone was surprised as his eyebrow furrowed, trying to understand what was happening. His hands quickly grabbed your waist, as if he didn't believe that yes, you were actually in front of him.

Should you ignore the butterflies that appeared in your stomach as his hands grabbed you? Definetly yes.

"For someone who lived five hundred years you get surprised too often." You commented with an amused smirk.

He matched your amused grin for a moment, then his face darkened. "This is a dream."

You watched him confused. "Is it?"

"The mat-" he stopped mid sentence as his eyes buried holes in yours. "The bond created by the bargain is making this possible." he said slowly, as if his throat had suddenly gone dry. "But it doesn't matter. I cannot fight her, Y/n. You have to go away before she find you. She knows you're here."

"We are not leaving without you." you stated firmly, almost offended that he suggested otherwise. "Can you not walk away from her so that we can take you?"

He shook his head. "I breath only because she commands so. I cannot do anything without her permission." Flickers of anger appeared inside you again. "Promise me something."

You nodded, and you ashamely knew that if he kept looking at you with that intensity you would have done anything he wanted.

"If it comes to me or you, you chose yourself, and don't make the same selfless, foolish choice that I would make."

Absolutely fucking not.

"No. I'll find a way to not let it come to that." it was your turn to shook your head. "You saved my life, remember? It is time for me to do the same."

"Yes, Little Flame, I save your life, and I'll do it again a thousands time." You were going to cry. Or kiss him. Or maybe both. "She controls minds, not emotions. So spare me the pain that your death would bring on me."

You had not time to process his words as he pushed you away from him, right outside the bubble of fire and into the fog.

A/N: Are we all seeing the parallels between the two of them? Two dreams in the same chapters, I hope you liked the idea🫶🏻 next chapter we'll get some action from our Eris and our reader! Also, YOU ARE SO MANY WTF?! When I started to write this fic it was just an idea I had in my head and that I wanted to share, and now you all want to read more?! Thank you all for reading this, let me know if you liked it and what you wish to see next🫶🏻

taglist: @adventure-awaits13 @blueeclipsepaperstudent @huffleruffplant @azysmate @bia-wayne-west @babypeapoddd @lady-targaryens-world@sourapplex @ghostwritermia @asteria33 @pinklemonade34 @tell-me-a-poem @speedypersonawhispers @historygeekqueen @webvics@paliketerson @lizzytish82 @tincanhat @marrass @acourtofmoonlightandstars @yasmin-oviedo @ghostwritermia @marly500 @kabekusa @gamarancianne @butterfix @itsxchar6 @iowaladynerd @that-girl-reading @kitsunetori @rcarbo1 @username199945 @giana1508 @homeslices @yasmin-oviedo @impossibelle @

[motorsportbarbie13]

Aftermath - Chapter 7

When Lando leaves you heartbroken after you get tired of trying to make something out of nothing for far too long, Max steps in to help you pick up the pieces.

Aftermath - Chapter 1 Aftermath - Chapter 2 Aftermath - Chapter 3 Aftermath - Chapter 4 Aftermath - Chapter 5 Aftermath - Chapter 6 Master List

warnings & a note: this is mostly smut but like, emotional smut? idk but while this was a struggle to write, i think it's one of my favorite bits. so enjoy!! as @lestapiastrisgirl said, this feels like a sigh of relief, like a FINALLY moment. but don't worry, we still have a bit to go so this is a sigh, but not the end!!! pairing: max verstappen x leclercsister!reader word count: 4.7k

When Max kisses you for the first time if felt like something in your soul slotted into place. Like you’d been holding your breath for your entire life and the moment his lips found yours you were finally able to breathe for the first time. He’s slow and unhurried with it at first, like he wants to savor that first taste of you for the rest of his life. Your hands clutch desperately at the fabric of Max’s shirt, a shudder zipping through your body at the way he works his mouth over yours like he’d been waiting years for this moment. You’re fairly certain he had been.

Every nerve ending in your body sparks to life when he drags his heavy calloused hands up your bare arms. Nothing has ever felt quite this good and he’s only just begun touching you. You lean into Max’s touch, needing the heat from his body as much as you need air in your lungs. Meanwhile, Max is trying to commit every curve and dip of your body to memory so he never forgets this moment. How he ever thought he’d be able to get over his obsession with you is utterly insane. The sound you make, a mix of a whimper and a sigh, when he licks into your mouth has Max’s hands gripping at your waist even tighter. 

Your hands find their way up into his hair, your fingers carding through the blond strands in a way that nearly sends Max to his knees. The strangled groan that rumbles through his chest when you tug at his hair sends a shimmer of satisfaction up your spine. He can’t get enough of the way you taste, the way you feel, the way your perfume overwhelms his senses. He’s fairly sure that he’ll never recover from this moment and he’s absolutely certain he’ll never forget the way you melt into him when he pulls you closer. His tongue works into your mouth, pressing against yours, licking against you in a way that has your breath catching in the back of your throat. You’re having trouble breathing against him you’re so overwhelmed with how he tastes and feels, warm and solid in a way you’ve never experienced before. 

It could be five minuets or five hours, you get so lost in the way he’s kissing you but eventually Max pulls back, blue eyes hazy with need. You should be embarrassed at the pathetic whimper that slips from your lips when he removes his mouth from yours, but the look that Max gives you tells you he feels the same. Your chest feels heavy with the weight of what just happened. Like the years you’ve known Max have all been leading up to the tension that crackles between you and the way it burns brighter when he touches you.  

Max lifts his hand to cup your cheek in his palm and you lean into the touch, sinking into the feeling of his warmth. You both can sense the weight of the moment, like there’s no going back to the way you two were before that kiss. Lines have been crossed and everything finally feels like it’s clicked into place. Like the thing that you two have been dancing around for however many years has finally been unleashed and you’re finally found the person to whom your soul belongs to. 

He drops his hands down your body before they finally grip your ass as he yanks you towards him. It’s  like you weigh nothing when he picks you up, strong arms cradling you against him. You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, giggling as you bury your head in the crook of his neck. It feels so wildly satisfying to be with someone who clearly not only wants your physically, but mentally and emotionally as well.

Max takes a few steps towards the corner of your studio where the couch that converts into a day bed sits. When Max spots it though, he freezes. You crane your neck around, wondering what’s made him go still. “Max?” 

“Have you been sleeping here?” 

Panic surges in his chest as he observes the little nest you’ve built yourself. It usually is folded up, disguised as a full sized couch but lately, you’ve been using it as your bed. Piled on one end are several pillows while a pile of blankets are spread out across the cushions. It gets cold in your studio at night due to the large windows that take up one wall and the lack of efficient heating in the building. 

Max slowly sets you down, needing a moment to get the pain in his chest under control. Your eyes dart away from his, cheeks burning in embarrassment. You had totally forgotten you hadn’t tidied up the bed from last night. You hadn’t needed to as no one really came in here lately and it had morphed into your second home. 

“Yeah.” You whisper, taking a step away from Max.

“Because of me?” 

You shrug, knowing that he’s going to take on the guilt when he hears you confirm his suspicions. “It just seemed like you didn’t want to see me. I didn’t want to make it awkward if we ran into each other in the building.” You pause, noticing the guilt etched into Max’s features. “It was easier to just stay here.” 

Max takes a step towards you, crowding you against the edge of the couch. You can see how labored his breath is and you want nothing more than to reach out and comfort him. When you do though, Max flinches away from your touch, brows furrowing as his eyes drop to the floor. “Fucking hell.” He swears under his breath. “I was just like him, wasn’t I?”

He doesn’t have to say Lando’s name, you both know who he’s talking about. Guilt sits heavy in his chest as he looks down at you, your eyes wide and innocent starting up at him. You reach for his waist, desperately needing to touch him. “Max…” You sigh, knowing that nothing you say is going to ease the anger you can see he’s going to beat himself up with. 

“No, don’t try to tell me that what I did was okay.” He shakes his head but doesn’t pull away when you reach up to cradle his face in the palm of your hand. “You’re right, I took a page right out of his book. I gave you the silent treatment and ignored you for weeks because I couldn’t handle being honest with myself or with you.” 

“But baby,” You coo before pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. You know how hard Max is on himself on and off the track and can sense that he’s about to go down a road that’s going to end up being destructive. “Baby, listen to me.” 

Max drags his gaze up to yours and the pain in his eyes has the breath catching. “You’re not him. He used the silence as punishment, as a way to get me to fall in line with what he wanted. He was abusive with it, and that’s not what you were doing.” 

“It doesn’t matter though.” He argues. In a move that shakes you to your core, Max sinks to his knees in front of you. His hands drag down your body until they come to rest heavily on your hips. He looks up at you, brows knit together like he can’t believe you’re allowing him to be in your presence. “I hurt you and I don’t know how I’ll ever forgive myself for that.” 

“Well,” You run your fingers through his hair, tugging a bit to get his attention back up to you. “How about we start with the fact that I forgive you, oui?” 

“That’s not enough.” Max’s voice scrapes a rough path against your skin like sandpaper. “I need to show you how sorry I am. I need you to know that I’m never going to do this again.” From where he sits kneeling, Max gently pushes you towards the couch. The backs of your knees hit the edge and you’re forced to sit. Your knees part to allow him closer and he wraps his arms around your waist. Your hands sit at his shoulders, gripping desperately at his shirt.

“You’re safe with me, liefje. I need you to know that. Need to show you how much you mean to me.” 

“Then show me, Max.” You whisper. 

Max’s pupils blow wide as he stands, encouraged by the heavy rasp in your voice. The way he towers over you, staring down with eyes so dark you swear they’ve gone black has your stomach twisting in anticipation. 

“Lay back.” He orders and you obey instantly, scrambling back to where your pillows are stacked. “Let me show you how fucking sorry I am. How much I need you, how much I adore you.” 

“Max.” You breathe, breath coming in short bursts as he reaches underneath the hem of your shirt. 

The rough scratch of his calloused hands send shivers skittering over your skin, goosebumps erupting whoever he touches you. Your shirt is the first thing to be discarded on the floor, tossed into a corner as you fight the urge to squirm under Max’s heated gaze. It’s almost too much, the way he’s looking at you. Like he’s been waiting for this very moment for his entire life and his wildest dream is about to come true. 

Max swings his knee over you so he’s straddling your hips. He leans down, pressing heated open mouthed kisses to the slim column of your neck before dragging his tongue so tortuously slow towards your collar bone. You gasp when he nips little bites into the delicate skin at the hollow of your neck, his tongue immediately licking in soothing strokes across the heated skin. Your hands skate over the fabric of his shirt, clutching at anything you can use to ground yourself in the moment. You fear if you don’t, you’ll float right off the bed. 

Max continues his perusal of your body, an erotic discovery of the sounds you make when he kisses new pieces of skin that have been long neglected. 

“Look at you.” He murmurs right before his mouth closes over a lace covered nipple. The whine that leaves your lips is breathy and should be embarrassing but you’re long past caring. All you care about is never having to go without Max’s mouth on you ever again. “So pretty for me. Always so pretty for me.” 

You whimper as he sucks the lace deeper in his mouth, swirling his tongue over the already pebbled skin. His hands slip under your back, lifting you up just enough to get access to the clasp of your bra, and before you’re able to blink you’re bare beneath him, bra discarded somewhere on the floor along with your t-shirt. 

His gaze meet yours and the raw desire you saw in his blue eyes just moments before is replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. He traces the curve of your breast with a trembling finger. “God, you’re beautiful.” He whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “I…I never want to hurt you ever again.” He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, a stark contrast to the fierce hunger of his earlier kisses. “Can I do this? Please?” He asks, his eyes searching yours for permission. 

The question hangs in the air, the vulnerability in his voice striking a chord deep in your chest. You reach out, your fingers brushing against his cheek, the rough stubble a familiar comfort to you now. 

“Max.” You breathe, your voice barely more than a whisper. His name feels like a prayer, a plea for the connection you both crave. His eyes close briefly as your fingers graze his skin. He nuzzles his face against your hand, his breath warm against your palm. 

“Tell me.” He murmurs, his voice raw with need. “Tell me what you want. Tell me how I can fix this.” 

It almost sounds like he’s begging and that sets the fire stoking even hotter deep in your belly. The words are so simple but they carry the weight of everything that has happened between you over the last few months. All the hurt, the anger, the longing…it all boils down to this moment. You swallow hard, your throat tight with unshed tears. Looking into his eyes you see the man that you grew up with, the man that you thought was just a friend for so long, the man that would never love you because of who you were and who you were with. But he’s more than that now. You see the man that you love, the man that is asking for your forgiveness, for permission, offering you a chance to rebuild what he broke with him. 

“I…” You start, your voice trembling. You take a deep breath, trying to find the words to express the complex web of emotions and feelings swirling within you. “I want this…I want you, Max. More than anything but I need you to promise me you’re going to be gentle with me. I need you to be careful.” 

A flicker of understanding crosses his face. He nods slowly, like he knows you’re not only talking about tonight, here in this room where everything feels so heavy and at tipping point, but beyond this. You’re asking him to be more of what you need and more of what you’ve never gotten from anyone else. 

“I know.” He whispers. He leans down again, this time his kiss is feather-light and tender, full of promises he fully intends to keep for the rest of his life. “I promise I’ll be everything you need me to be. Do you trust me?” 

You meet his gaze when he pulls back once again, your heart aching with a mixture of fear and hope. You knew there were no guarantees, that the road ahead would be fraught with challenges. But this was Max you were talking about. You know more than anything that he’ll keep his word and will protect you with everything he has. In this moment, looking into the vulnerable depths of his icy blue eyes that you’ve found yourself lost in so many times over the years, you believe him. You believe in the possibility of healing, of rebuilding, of finding your way back to who you were before Lando had tried to destroy you. 

You nod slowly, a single tear tracing a path down your cheek. “Yes.” You whisper.

With a nod, Max reaches behind him, pulling his shirt off in one quick movement. You’ve seen him without a shirt before but this is completely different. The dim light of the room catches the subtle play of muscle across his chest and shoulders, a familiar landscape that suddenly feels both familiar and utterly new to you. You sit up on your elbows, breath catching in your throat, not just from the physical beauty of him but from something else. 

As his shirt falls to the floor, your eyes are drawn to a black smudge of ink on his side, right in the middle of his rib cage.

A dove. 

A thin black outline, its wings slightly outstretched as if poised for flight. 

The sight of it steals the breath from your lungs. You stare at it, transfixed, your mind reeling. The vulnerability you saw in his eyes moments before deepens as he notices your eyes fixed on his ribcage, becoming something more profound. This wasn’t just a fleeting desire of his, a momentary lapse of control. This was…commitment. A brand. 

“Max.” You breathe, heart pounding in your ears as he sits frozen on top of you, watching your reaction silently. You reach out, your fingers tracing the outline of the dove. Max shudders under your touch, his hips rolling into yours ever so slightly. “When…when did you…” 

Max watches you, expression unreadable. He doesn’t answer immediately, his gaze locked on yours. The silence stretches between you, thick with unspoken emotions. Finally, he speaks, his voice low and husky. “Vegas last year.”

After he secured the championship, ending Lando’s title hopes.

His mind flickers back to that night. He had been drunk before he even left the track but not drunk enough to say no when someone on the team suggested tattoos to celebrate. No one on Red Bull had made the connection that night and at first, he had been able to reason with himself that it was just a generic dove, that it didn’t have any extra meaning. But watching you walk off with Lando that night, watching you console your boyfriend instead of celebrating with him had been a punch to the gut. 

“I guess drunk me knew I wanted you longer than sober me was willing to admit.” He chuckles lightly, but there’s a heaviness to his words that has your chest squeezing. 

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with regret and the weight of the past. You look at him, your heart aching with mixture of tenderness and a new sense of fear. This gesture, this permanent mark, it changes everything. It raises the stakes, making the possibility of future pain even more terrifying, but also making the potential for happiness that much more profound. 

You close your eyes briefly, trying to process the wave of emotions crashing over you. When you open them again, Max is watching you, his eyes filled with a tenderness that mirrors your own. He reaches down, his hand covering yours where it rests on his ribcage. His touch is warm, reassuring. And in that moment, you know that whatever the future holds, you’re not alone in this. 

Max leans down and kisses you again, this time with more urgency. His tongue traces the shape of your lips before slipping in side as he deepens the kiss, a silent conversation of longing and need. His hands move over your body, discovering curves and sensitive places that are now reserved for only his touch. He unclasps your jeans, the zipper whispering open, and you lift your hips against him, your own hands fumbling with the button of his pants. 

The air crackles with anticipation as he pulls back, eyes searching yours. “Are you sure?” He asks, tone rough with need. 

He’s achingly hard and desperate to be inside you but he’d stop if you said the word, no questions asked. And you know that. 

You nod, your heart racing in your chest. “More than anything.” You murmur.  

He kisses you again, a deep, possessive kiss that leans you breathless and your hips rolling up into his, searching for more friction than ever. With a slow, deliberate movement, he slides your jeans down your legs, revealing the soft skin of your thighs. He pauses, his gaze lingering on your body, a flicker of admiration in his eyes. 

A blush creeps up your neck but the heat of his gaze quickly chases it away. You reach up, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw, then move lower, to the pulse beating at the base of his throat. His skin is warm beneath your touch, his breath coming in short ragged gasps. 

With a shared breath you both move, the remaining barriers of clothing falling away, discarded somewhere on the floor. The contact of his bare skin against yours ignites a fire within you that’s been smoldering for years now, a burning need that’s been simmering for so long. 

Max pulls you closer, his body molding against yours. His touch is careful, as is he’s afraid he might break you. He kisses you agin, a slow and sensual press of his mouth to the crook of your neck. His hands roam over your body, caressing your curves, teasing at your skin. 

You moan softly, your own hands finding their way to his body, exploring the hard muscles of his back, the smooth skin of his chest. You trace the outline of the dove tattoo, a silent reminder of his commitment and vulnerability. 

Max shifts slightly, his weight pressing down on you and what a welcome pressure it is. His fingers dip below your waist, swiping at the wetness pooling between your legs. The growl that rumbles in his chest has your hips tipping up towards his cock that sits heavy and hard between your bodies. “So wet for me, my sweet girl.” He murmurs in your ear. “Are you ready for me?” 

All you can do is nod, eyes pinching shut as the heat between you two grows needy and frantic. 

“Open those pretty eyes for me, I want to see how you look when I fill you up for the first time.” 

You whimper at the filthy words, heated pleasure pulsing between your legs as Max pumps his dick a few times in his hand. The spark that started all those months ago when he walked you home from the art show has  grown into an out of control forest fire, blazing it’s way through both of your souls to where it’s brought you here in this moment. 

When Max presses into you for the first time, your entire world narrows to that delectable stretch of him filling you. He moves slowly at first, leaning into you inch by maddening inch. You’re not sure if he’s doing it to drive you crazy or to make sure you’re not too overwhelmed with the size of him. He’s bigger than anyone you’ve ever had before and the way he stretches you has you crying out.

For a moment, Max freezes which has you shaking your head and scratching at his back. “No, oh my God, no. Please, don’t stop Max. Keep going.” You beg, lifting your hips up towards his in a desperate attempt to be so stuffed full of him. It’s the only thing on your mind, the way your world has completely narrowed down to the spot where you and Max are connected on the most physical level two people can be. 

The sensation, the heat, the overwhelming pleasure is almost too much to take. You arch against him, your breath catching in your throat. His name escapes your lips, a whispered prayer for friction that you so deseparely crave from Max and Max alone. 

And then, he’s bottomed out and you’re full of him. Every bit of your existence stutters down to his touch, the way he feels, the way his skin tastes as you latch your mouth onto his shoulder, muffling your cries of pleasure as he begins to move. 

Max answers with a groan of his own, his body moving in perfect rhythm with yours. The years of longing, months of dancing around each other, the mutual pining that you’ve both been too scared to act on since your youth…all of it melts away in the heat of the moment. It’s replaced by pure, unadulterated connection that you didn’t even know was possible to experience with another person.

Max feels the release building at the base of his spine but he’s determined to bring you along with him. “I want you to come with me, baby. Can you do that for me?” He murmurs, tongue licking at the shell of your ear. His hips stutter erratically as he struggles to hold onto some sense of control. 

Your eyes flutter closed as your entire sense of being sparks to life. This feeling of connection, of pure pleasure, of being so full of another person, of Max is so foreign you almost don’t know what to do. The pressure builds deep in your tummy and you know you’re not far behind Max in chasing down your orgasm. In a desperate attempt to glean more pleasure out of the moment, you reach between your two sweaty bodies, fingers swirling around your own clit as Max continues his slow, deep grind into your needy pussy. 

“That’s it, shatje. Take what you need. Come with me, sweet girl.” 

The words are exactly what you need and the first waves of your orgasm crash over you, threatening to drown you in the waves of pleasure. Seeing you come undone beneath him is all Max needs to follow you over the cliff. The low groan that rumbles from deep in his chest has you clamping down around him, his name tumbling from your lips over and over. 

It takes several minutes for you both to come down form the high that washes over you and several more minutes for Max to find the strength to pull out of your soft, warm center. He doesn’t want to, fairly certain that he could spend the rest of his life buried deep in you. The whine that scratches at the back of your throat tells Max that you feel the same. 

Outside, the sun has long set and the night has settled over the city. The lights of the harbor drift in through the bay windows that hover above you, casting a soft glow of moonlight over your naked bodies. Goosebumps pebble your cold skin, missing the warmth of Max being buried deep inside you already. Max pulls you into his chest, your back fitting perfectly against his front as he pulls a blanket over your exhausted bodies. 

For the first time in what feels like weeks, a deep sense of calm settles over you. Max’s steady breathing behind you lulls you into the sort of peaceful sleep you’ve been chasing for years. 

Max isn’t sure how long he falls asleep but it’s still dark when he wakes up. The first thing he notices is how cold it is. He’s still under the heavy blankets he tugged over your sleeping frame as you cuddled into his frame after the most amazing sex he’s ever had but there’s one thing missing: you. 

His eyes blink open, confusion pulling at the spider webs of sleep still clouding his brain. “Liefje?” He croaks, sitting up. The room is chilly and dark, the quiet of the night still settled over the studio. 

A soft glow burns across the room where a lamp sits switched on. Next to it, Max spots your frame, sitting on a stool in front of a canvas. You’re wearing his shirt form earlier, the sleeves pushed up to your elbows, hem barely covering the tips of your thighs. Your hair is piled on top of your head in a haphazard knot, golden light from the lamp beside you reflecting off the shiny surface. You may be working on a painting, but Max is pretty sure you’re the prettiest masterpiece in the room. 

You turn to him then, soft smile playing on your lips. “Hi.” You whisper before turning back to the painting in front of you. 

Max gets up, tugging on his boxers, before padding across the hardwood floors to join you in front of the painting. His painting. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asks, lips finding the warm crook of your neck as he whispers into your skin. 

“I wanted to get this finished.” You murmur, leaning back into his solid frame. “I’m debuting several new pieces at Nessa’s gallery in a few weeks.” 

Max grips your waist as your words sink in. “Including this one?” 

“Is that okay with you?” You twist around so you’re facing Max fully now and he crouches down so you’re eye to eye. 

“Of course it is but it’s going to cause a stir, don’t you think?” 

The passion you’d poured into the painting of Max is undeniable. Anyone looking at it can tell your raw feelings for the man in front of you. 

“I think we’re about to give people a lot to talk about, so why not just get it started ourselves?” You shrug, a glint of mischief winking in the corner of your eye. 

Max chuckles before pulling you in for a kiss. “God, I love you.” 

You smile against his lips, “Love you too.” 

Tag List: @shelbyteller, @martygraciesversion381, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @linnygirl09 @meglouise00 @mixedstyles @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies @mrosales16 @charlesgirl16 @leclercdream @daemyratwst @dramaticpiratellamas @mochimommy2002 @llando4norris @iamaunknownsecret @maxivstappen @imlonelydontsendhelp @nina-or-anna-or-nora @a1leexxa @littlegrapejuice @sunflowervol18 @freyathehuntress @finn-dot-com @swiftie-4-lifes-stuff @chirasama @lauralarsen @dr3wstarkey @saskiaalonso @rbv3rstappen @ilovechickenwings @guaaafiiburg @mcmuppet @mindless-rock @piastri-fvx @mel164 @schumi-angel @myescapefromthislife @supertrashbread @sunny44 @tinystudentblaze-stuff @sarx164

[killerplink]

✨DINNER✨

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Female Reader

Plot: Dick comes home while you prepare dinner, but that turns into a different kind of pie ✨

Words: 1,7k

CW: established relationship, 18+, smut, cockwarming, creampie, kitchen sex, overstimulation, rough sex, Dick is once again a menace

Dick comes home from the grocery store, arms full of bags, sweat clinging to the back of his neck from the summer heat outside. But the second he steps into the kitchen and sees you—sees that dress—his brain short-circuits.

It's too little, barely covering your ass, the thin fabric teasing him with every movement as you stand at the counter, slicing through vegetables like you aren't a fucking menace, like you aren't standing there looking like that, completely oblivious to what you're doing to him.

His cock stirs instantly, blood rushing south before he can even think, before he can even drop the damn bags. And when he finally does, when they hit the counter with a dull thud, his body is already moving before his brain catches up.

He steps behind you, arms slipping around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder as he exhales, already a little gone for you, already needy just from the scent of your perfume, the heat of your skin against his.

You chuckle softly, still focused on slicing, like you don't feel the way he's pressing against you. Like you don't feel how fucking hard he is already.

"Did you find everything, baby?"

His lips ghost along your neck as he hums, voice lower, slower than usual. "Yeah."

But he doesn't move away. Doesn't even try to. If anything, he presses closer, letting you feel the way he's already hard for you, the heavy weight of his cock thick and insistent through his sweats, grinding against the swell of your ass like he can't help himself. And honestly? He can't.

The second he saw you, it was over for him.

You keep chopping, acting completely unbothered, but you're not fooling him. Not when your breathing hitches just slightly, not when your grip on the knife shifts like you're struggling just a little to focus. And when he presses forward, lets his cock slot right against the curve of your ass, you suck in a sharp breath, body going the slightest bit tense.

Oh, baby. You feel it. You feel him.

He lets out a soft, needy little sigh against your skin, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout you don't even have to see to know it's there.

"I want you."

You smile, shaking your head with a chuckle. "After dinner, baby."

But oh, he doesn't want to wait—he can't.

His hand slips from your waist, down, slipping past the hem of your dress, right into your little panties. His breath hitches when he feels it, when he feels just how fucking wet you already are for him, his fingers dragging through your slick folds, teasing, pressing, rubbing slow circles that make your knees tremble before you catch yourself.

A low, pleased groan rumbles in his chest as he teases your clit, lazy and deliberate, making you gasp. "You sure you wanna wait, sweetheart?"

Your breath hitches. "Dick—"

"I have a better idea."

Before you can question him, your dress is bunched up around your waist, your panties pushed to the side, and then—fuck—his cock is slipping between your legs, sliding through your soaked folds, the heavy weight of it rubbing against your clit with every slow, teasing thrust.

And God, he's already so fucking gone for you, already leaking precum all over your pussy, rutting between your folds like a man starved, like he doesn't need air, doesn't need food, doesn't need anything but you.

"Baby, d-dinner," you murmur, a weak protest as pleasure sparks up your spine.

"Oh, my love, you can keep going," he says, all honeyed teasing, like this isn't killing him, like he isn't one second away from bending you over the counter and giving you exactly what you both know you need.

Then he angles himself up, grips your hips, and slides the thick head of his cock inside you, pushing past your entrance and sinking in deep until he bottoms out, stuffing you full. You're so tight around him that he has to squeeze his eyes shut and take a second, has to breathe through the urge to just fucking ruin you right then and there.

Because God, you feel good. And he's already so fucking gone.

Your mouth parts in a silent gasp, hands gripping the counter for support as your walls flutter around him, struggling to adjust to how thick he is, how deep he is.

"What are you—?"

His hands find yours, guiding them back to the knife, helping you steady it as his cock throbs inside you, a slow, pulsing ache. "You're not done chopping, baby."

It's filthy. It's unbearable. You try to focus, try to keep your hands steady as you slice through the bell pepper, but his dick is stretching you open, filling you to the brim, the girth of him pressing against every sensitive spot inside you, and worst of all—he's not moving.

He just stays there, buried to the hilt, thick and throbbing, leaking hot spurts of precum against your needy walls. And fuck, you can't help it—you clench down around him, your body reacting on its own, desperate for friction, desperate for him to just move, to fuck you open like you need.

A low, ragged groan rumbles in his chest, his hands tightening around yours as he fights the urge to snap his hips forward. "Fuck, baby, don't do that, or this is gonna be over real quick."

But you can't fucking help it. You keep squeezing around him involuntarily, your walls fluttering, and every tiny movement, every little shift of your hips, makes his restraint crumble.

By the time you're done chopping the last bell pepper, your hands are shaking, thighs slick, your breathing uneven, coming out in short, quiet gasps. You're soaked, dripping around his cock, every little flex of him inside you making you throb, making you ache.

Dick's voice is rough when he asks, "Done here?"

You nod, cheeks flushed, legs weak, barely able to stand.

He hums, lips brushing your ear. "Good."

And then he bends you over the counter and fucks you. His restraint snaps, his hips slamming into you with a force that makes you yelp, your arms barely catching yourself against the counter as he pounds your dripping cunt. He sets a brutal pace, driving into you so deep that each thrust sends shockwaves up your spine, makes you gasp, makes you shatter apart inside.

The sound of skin against skin fills the kitchen, filthy and wet, the lewd squelch of your slick coating his cock, making everything messy, obscene.

"Fuck, baby... look at you," he groans, his voice wrecked, watching how your pussy swallows him with every deep thrust, watching the way your walls cling to him, stretch around him. "Taking me so well."

You can barely breathe, barely think, and when he slips a hand between your thighs, rubbing your clit in quick, tight circles, your whole body jolts. You're already shaking, already so overstimulated from the teasing, and when his fingers press just right, rolling over your swollen little bud, the pleasure hits you like a fucking truck.

You break.

Your orgasm slams into you, stealing the breath from your lungs, making your whole body go tight. Your walls clamp down around his cock, pulsing, squeezing, your cunt spasming around him like you're trying to milk him dry.

But he doesn't stop. He fucks you through it, chasing his own release, his grip on your hip bruising as he slams into you over and over, his breath coming out in ragged, desperate moans.

And then he growls, voice rough with need, "One more, baby. One more."

You sob, overstimulated, but the way he fucks you—the way his dick pounds into that sweet spot, unrelenting, ruthless—you don't stand a fucking chance. Your body isn't yours anymore, just a desperate, trembling thing caught in the drag of his cock, the brutal stretch of him splitting you open again and again.

You're helpless. You give in.

Pleasure bursts through you like a live wire, so sharp, so devastatingly good it knocks the breath from your lungs. Your walls clench down hard around him, gripping him in wet, greedy spasms, sucking him deeper, milking him for everything he's got.

And fuck—he feels it.

The way your cunt pulses around him, spasming and clinging to his dick like you never want to let him go. He groans, head dropping to your shoulder, barely holding himself together as your pussy works him, drags him closer to his own undoing.

He swears under his breath, voice wrecked, "God, baby, you're fucking squeezing me so tight—"

And you can barely respond, too lost in the aftershocks, too ruined by the way he keeps going, chasing his own high, and fuck—that's it for him.

His hips slam forward one last time, burying himself deep, so deep it feels like he's trying to claim you from the inside out. And then he breaks, his whole body trembling as he spills into you, thick, hot spurts of cum flooding your cunt in pulse after pulse, filling you up so much you swear you feel it in your belly.

You feel everything.

The way his cock throbs inside you, the way his cum rushes in hot, thick, coating every inch of your insides. The heat of it spreads through you, sticky, overwhelming, leaking out around his cock, trickling down your thighs in messy little drips.

Dick groans, deep and raw, as your pussy clenches around him again, milking him for every last drop, wringing him dry. He doesn't pull out—not yet—just stays there, buried to the hilt, keeping you so full, so stuffed with him that you can barely think.

But fuck, there's too much. It leaks out around his cock, slick and messy, dripping down the backs of your thighs. He watches, panting, dazed, as a thick bead of cum escapes your stretched cunt, sliding down to where he's still stuffed inside you.

And then he grits out, "Fuck, baby... gonna keep you like this all night. Keep you so full, so messy, so—"

He cuts himself off with a low, desperate moan, hips giving a slow, lazy grind just to feel how wet, how slippery you are with his release.

He should pull out. He knows he should. But the way your walls flutter around him, still so warm, still so tight—it's too fucking good. And God, if you let him, he'll fuck his cum right back into you.

He slumps against your back, panting, his cock still twitching inside you, both of you wrecked, both of you ruined.

And after a long, heavy silence—his forehead pressed to your shoulder, his breath ragged—he chuckles, voice wrecked. "Think you burned the garlic."

You groan. "Dick."

But you can't even be mad. Because fuck, he was so worth it. He always is.

[racoon3lizabeth]

Art critics at work: part two

part 1 | part 2

summary: remus dislikes a lot of things. not just the teachers lounge but the cafeteria as well. But what he didn’t know is that someone else is using his secret place to eat.

notes: this was sort of rushed and not as well written as the first part. I’ve been having a lot of writers block so that’s why. but next part will be longer and much more well written! buuuuuut I hope you like it either way!!

remus lupin x fem!reader

Eating lunch at school should be illegal if you ask Remus. At least as a teacher. Not only does he sneak into the art classroom to print papers, which he had completely forgotten to do when he stumbled upon the new teacher, he also tries to sneak away during lunch to eat in peace. Hence as to why he always brings his own lunch.

Sirius and him usually eat together. Sometimes outside on the benches or in Remus' classroom. But that’s why Wednesdays are the worst. Their lunch breaks are normally at the same time but unfortunately not in the middle of the week. So he’ll have to eat alone because there’s no chance he’s eating in the cafeteria.

With his salad in hand he walked out the front door, turning right to continue down the path which leads down to three couples of tables. The wooden tables are all rectangular with two bench seats. Lightened up by the yellow spring sun.

It’s still in that early phase of spring where the sun shines the brightest but offers the least of warmth. Not even his dark brown leather jacket and red scarf could save him from the chill air.

Remus is once again too caught up with his own thoughts. If he hadn’t been repeating the lessons he’ll be holding later today in his head he would’ve been able to stop before you saw him.

“Remus?”

The professor looks up from the ground at the sound of your voice, only a few metres from the benches, stopping in his pace when he sees you. “Hi,” his lips curled into a quizzical smile. “What are you doing here?” He questions. Even though it’s obvious due to the sandwich in your right hand.

You regard him with a nervous twinkle in your eye. You’ve only talked once, about a week ago and you’ve only seen him in the hallways since then and once during a meeting. Always sending each other subtle glances as you walk past each other.

But you haven’t truly spoken and the mere thought of sparking another conversation sends a chill down your spine.

“Eating lunch,” you explain, raising your shoulders in a half shrug. “I’m too nervous to talk to the other teachers.” You add, letting out an anxious chuckle. Taking a bite out of your sandwich.

Remus takes your words as an invitation to sit down with you, which it also was. It’s not like he’s any more confident than you, he’s just as nervous at the thought of having a conversation. But he hasn’t got anywhere else to sit. There’s two other tables but he obviously can’t just ignore you and choose to sit at another table.

That’s like experiencing the teenage drama that’s happening around them everyday.

He could also go back to his classroom and eat his lunch in peace. But he needs some fresh air. The stuffy air in his classroom can get a bit too much sometimes, even if he tries opening a window. There’s always someone who complains about the cold or noises from outside since a few of his students always stayed behind.

He settles down in front of you, placing his salad on top of the table. “Most of them are alright,” the cold wind blowing through his curls. “Sirius is nice.” he remarked. Observing her with a gentle gaze as he opens the plastic lid to his food.

Your eyes flick back and forth over his face, studying him as you raise one of your eyebrows. “Who’s Sirius?” You inquire, voice not over a whisper, embarrassed by the fact that you don’t know who he is.

Remus pauses in mid action, fork just above his lips. “Mr Black?” Tilting his head to the side. “Music teacher?” He questions, lowering his hand to rest on the table.

Your mouth forms a small O shape as the realisation dawns upon you. You had actually seen Sirius talk with Remus multiple times. Perhaps you had just been too busy peering at the handsome history teacher to notice Mr Black. “Right,” you snicker. “Yeah I know who that is.”

The history teacher starts to eat as you talk. Having a hard time concentrating when you’re just sitting there in front of him looking effortlessly radiant. “He’s one of my best friends,” he elaborates when he finishes chewing. “I’ve known him and two other blokes since we were eleven.”

“Really?” You raise a curious eyebrow. “How come?”

“We went to school together.” He explains simply. It actually wasn’t more complicated than that at all. They all met when they were eleven and very mischievous. Though he doesn’t have to tell you about the number of pranks he pulled through his youth. Maybe he’ll tell you one day, on the first date. Or maybe that’s more of a third date thing?

His heart rate goes from normal to abnormally fast at the thought. Immediately regretting his stupid daydreaming. He barely even knows you.

“That’s nice,” you responded, your beautiful voice causing him to snap back to reality. “Weird coincidence that your friend Sirius also works here.” You comment, lips twitching into a small smile. Taking another bite of your sandwich, the cold breeze makes its way into your thin jacket, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

Remus quickly finished his salad, placing his cutlery inside of the box before he closed the lid on top. Chewing on his lower lip as a grin spreads on his face. “Not really,” your eyes meeting for a few seconds before Remus peers down at the table. Crossing one leg over the other. “I worked here first and then my mate Sirius needed a job.” Remus recalled.

You manage to nod slowly as you observe him. His chocolate coloured eyes turn more hazel as the sun shines down on them. A small, almost unnoticeable scar stretching from his right eyebrow down the slope of his nose. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, not that you’re complaining, but you can see his pretty face much clearer.

“Are you going to that teacher parent meeting tomorrow night?” You questioned, changing the subject since the small dusting of freckles on his nose had made you completely forget what you talked about in the first place.

Remus drums his fingers against the edge of the table, your piercing although kind gaze making him restless. “Yeah,” he confirms. Running a hand through his hair. “Are you?” Not knowing if you’re aware that those meetings are pretty much mandatory since you just started working at the school.

“Yeah,” you echo, finally finished with your lunch. “So I’ll see you there?” You ask, eyes lightening up just by the thought of it.

Remus clears his throat, folding his hands in his lap. “Yes.” He replies, tugging at his scarf that suddenly felt extremely tight. The cold wind didn’t feel so cold anymore. His hands had even started to grow clammy due to how fast his heart thumped inside of his chest. “I’ll save you a seat.” He adds, chuckling nervously as he realises what he just uttered. Why on earth does he always tend to make a fool out of himself?

Your entire face reddens, turning crimson as a flush creeps up your neck. “Great.” You only mutter, not really trusting your voice at the moment.

“Great.” He repeats, voice cracking slightly.

Based on your reaction it wasn’t that out of place for him to say. Maybe just a little.

—————————————————————————————————

tags: @amatoanima @po3tbbygirl @lettertovera @allformoony @ladyaida

[leaderwon]

TEASING HEARTS : LHS | 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭 (𝐝𝐚𝐲 - 𝟖)

Synopsis : A cozy movie night at home takes a romantic turn when Heeseung's playful teasing leads to soft touches and lingering kisses. Beneath the teasing, love blooms in quiet, intimate moments that make the night unforgettable.

Warnings : Fluff, light teasing, light physical contact, suggestive

Wc : 1.4k+

masterlist

The evening was warm, but not from the heat. It was the kind of warmth that only came from being near someone you cared about. You were sitting on the couch, laughing softly as Heeseung playfully tried to steal the blanket you had wrapped around yourself.

He had been like this all night, constantly teasing you, making little comments that kept you on your toes. His mischievous grin never seemed to leave his face, and every time he caught you off guard, you couldn’t help but laugh.

"Stop trying to steal my blanket," you said, pulling it tighter around you. Heeseung raised an eyebrow, his gaze playful. "Is it your blanket, or is it ours?" You paused for a moment, pretending to consider the question. "It’s mine, obviously. You have your own."

He reached out, tugging at the blanket again. "I don’t think that’s true. I’m pretty sure I’m allowed to share it with you." You narrowed your eyes playfully, trying to hold your ground. "Not without permission."

Heeseung leaned in, the mischievous glint in his eyes now tinged with a hint of something more. "I’m pretty sure I don’t need permission for that."

Before you could protest, he was right next to you, his arms slipping under the blanket and pulling you closer. You ended up in his lap, the blanket now fully shared between the two of you, your body pressed against his in the most unexpected and intimate way.

"You didn’t really think you’d win, did you?" he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke. You bit back a smile, trying to maintain your composure even as your heart raced. "You’re impossible." Heeseung only grinned wider, his fingers gently tracing circles on your back. "That’s why you love me."

The teasing was becoming less playful now and more… intimate. You could feel the heat of his body against yours, and the way his hand rested just a little too low on your back made your breath hitch.

"Maybe," you murmured, leaning in so close that your lips almost touched his. "But I’m not sure you deserve it." Heeseung's eyes darkened for a moment, his expression shifting into something more serious. "Oh, I think I do."

Then, in a fluid motion, his hand cupped the side of your face, tilting your chin upwards. You didn’t even have time to react before his lips found yours, warm and eager.

The kiss started soft, gentle, but quickly became more heated as he pulled you even closer, his other hand running down the length of your spine. You melted into him, the weight of his touch sending waves of warmth through your body.

You could feel his smile against your lips as he kissed you, and it made everything feel that much more special. Despite the teasing, the playful back and forth, Heeseung always had a way of making you feel cherished.

When you finally broke apart for air, your heart was racing, and your body was still pressed against his. Heeseung rested his forehead against yours, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "See? Told you."

You huffed, trying to regain some semblance of composure, but your voice came out a little breathless. "You’re insufferable." "But you love it." He kissed you again, quick and sweet, before pulling back with a grin. "Now, how about we watch that movie you were talking about?"

You shot him a playful look, the smile on your face not quite matching the words. "You’re not getting away that easily." Heeseung raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Oh, I’m not? Then what are you going to do about it?"

For a moment, you just stared at him, the heat between you both still lingering. Then, without another word, you closed the gap between you again, your lips crashing against his in a more passionate kiss.

The teasing had turned into something else entirely now, and neither of you could pretend it was just playful anymore. It was real, and the energy between you was undeniable.

When you pulled away, breathless but content, Heeseung’s hands found their way back to your waist, gently tracing patterns on your skin. "You know," he said, his voice soft and sincere, "I think this is my favorite kind of night."

You smiled, resting your head against his chest. "Me too." And for the rest of the evening, there were no more words, just you and Heeseung, sharing the kind of intimacy that needed no explanation.

© @leaderwon 2025. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[yunholic-jongholic]

Reaffirming Love and Connection | J.YH x Reader

SUMMARY | Yunho and You engaging in fluffy aftercare following a session of intense, rough sex. Trading kisses and loving words, cleaning each other up, tending to any bruises or the like their play might have left, and overall, just taking the time to reaffirm their relationship and make sure they're both in a good place emotionally.

PAIRINGS | Yunho x Fem!Reader

RATING | Mature, 18+, NSFW, MDNI!!!

CONTENT WARNINGS | One Shot, SMUT, NSFW, Smut without Plot, Explicit Content, Begging, Marking Kink, Hand Kink, Dirty Talk, Fingering, Cursing, Degrading, Praising, Voyeurism, Unprotected Sex (Don't do that…), Creampie (Sorry if I missed some!)

WORD COUNT | 1.3k

AUTHOR NOTE | How are my hotteok sister wives feeling? :) Sorry this story goes straight into smut, but you get to the soft fluffiness at the end, and I made sure to make it the other half of the story! <3

•

You were undressing yourself, while your husband Yunho was watching you, he sat on the bed, you felt his eyes all over you as you pulled your skirt off along with your panties. Yunho on the other hand was fully dressed. You felt a bit embarrassed but once you saw Yunho waved his hand for you to go to him, you obeyed and sat on his lap.

"You look beautiful" He exhaled as he felt you shift on top of him causing him to grab ahold of your cheeks to make you look deeply into his eyes. Yunho smirked at your reaction as you still were flustered about being fully naked and him being fully dressed.

"Thank you..." is all you could say. You started feeling heat rush down inside you as he just stared deeply into your eyes. He soon commanded you to rest your body on his lap as he turned you over. You did as he said and soon you felt his hand caress your back causing your spine to shiver. As his hand went lower you felt two fingers rub against your cunt.

"Yunho..." you moan out as he circled his two fingers around your folds. You felt immediate sharp pain and pleasure as he shoved his two fingers deep inside you causing you to let out a gasp. He only smirks at your response and immediately wastes no time digging himself deep into you and penetrating inside.

"You are so tight and wet." Yunho teases you and his other hand reaches you mouth which you are breathing heavily and moaning onto.

"You are already a fucking mess." He curses at you as he stuffs two fingers down your throat causing you to gag around them. He swirls his fingers around your tongue playfully tugging it as if he was fighting with your tongue. You felt his bulge poking you stomach as you try to sit up but felt too weak to even sit up straight.

"You are enjoying this aren't you? Me fucking and using you with only my hands." Yunho groans as you moan and hum in response, tongue still swirling around his fingers until he shoves them deep down your throat.

Yunho took his fingers out of your mouth, a string of saliva connecting from his index finger and your tongue. You are helplessly breathing heavy and moaning as his other hand continues to work against you.

"Yunho, please I need you." You moan digging your nails into his thigh. He smirks and pulls out his two fingers and sets you on your knees in front of him as he looks down at you.

"What do you want from me princess?" You hear his voice now deeper as he calls you princess. You look down as his bulge, knowing now he is desperate himself to be touched.

"I need you." You hum again, your hands now trailing up his thigh. You softly palm at his crotch causing him to groan and grip your hands. Yunho pulls your hand off and he pulls his pants and underwear off letting his cock spring up. Your eyes watch, mouth slightly watering at the sight of him in front of you. Yunho stands up and tells you to get up and go on the bed. You do as he says and ask him which position he wants you to be in.

"For now, on your knees." He tells you getting ready. You get on your knees and place a pillow under your legs and one under your hands to hold onto. Yunho got behind you and pulled you a bit closer to him positioning himself. You felt the tip of his cock press against your folds causing you to shiver lightly at the feeling. Not even a second later, Yunho shoves himself deep into you causing you to gasp and scream out. He doesn't waste time before slamming into you and as he starts, Yunho grips onto your neck pulling you towards him and holds you against his chest.

"Yunho!" You moan as he grips onto your chin and cheeks. His other hand slides up your body and holds you up. You place your hands on his arm and dig your nails into his arm as he thrusts deeply into you. He groans in your ear causing you to shiver again. He buries his face against your neck nibbling on your skin.

"You are so warm." Yunho huffs out, you felt his teeth sink in your skin leaving bite marks. He threw you down on the bed pressing your back on the bed holding your hips gripping them harshly. You knew there will be bruises tomorrow.

"Yunho please!" You moan against the pillow gripping it as he slams deep into you stretching you out more and more. No matter how many times you both have sex, you always felt like it was your first time with him since he would always stretch you out.

Yunho pulled you back up holding your neck again as you became a moaning mess grinding your hips against him begging him for more. His grip tightened around your neck as he placed two fingers on your bottom lips. You only could moan helplessly letting him do whatever to you. Yunho shoved his two fingers down your throat causing you to moan and gag around them.

"You are so fucking perfect." He curses in your ear. You felt your insides pulsing and your stomach going into knots.

"You are my perfect girl." Yunho kisses your tears away as you whimpered at the intense feeling. Your body couldn't take it anymore, becoming a moaning wet mess. He took his fingers out placing them back around your neck. saliva was attached and dripping from your lips onto his fingers.

"I want you to go to work tomorrow and show how fucked you were by your husband tonight." He caresses your hips with his other hand and touches his own markings on your neck.

"I am going to lose it, Yunho." You moan out finally being tipped over the edge. You came on him and he was soon to be next. He wrapped his arms around your waist as he thrusted deeply into you and came inside soon after you. You felt hot and sweaty falling straight onto the bed panting. He pulled out and helped you up on his lap holding you.

You still had tears in your eyes, you felt exhausted, but he started comforting you. He kissed your lips softly caressing your face wiping your tears away.

"I love you so much." He leaves feathery kisses against your lips causing you to giggle at how soft he is always after sex.

"I love you too." You poke his cheek, and he smiles at you. You rest your hands on his shoulders looking into his eyes.

"I didn't hurt you tonight, right?" He asks a bit worried you were crying because he caused pain on you, but you reassured him he didn't hurt you in any way to be mean. He sometimes does get carried away during sex, but he makes sure at the end that he is caring and sweet towards you, making sure that he loves you and doesn't want to lose you. He notices his bite marks were a little too deep and apologizes for how he was. You soon see him lean down and kiss the bruises and bites he did on you.

"Yunho..." you hum telling him it's okay. He carries you to take a shower with him to clean you both up. Once both cleaned up you get dressed in cozy pajamas together and flop on the bed. You lay down and he wraps his arms around you resting his head on your chest.

"You are like a giant puppy. I can't breathe!" You jokingly tease him as he just lays on top of you. "Well stop having a comfortable chest for me to lay on." He murmurs. You sigh and ruffle his hair running your fingers in just helping him relax more.

"God made you too perfect for me." he mutters underneath his breath. You kiss his forehead calling him cute, Yunho sinks in on top of you and slowly falls asleep.

•

My GOD. My requests are so backed up, this was requested by another fellow hotteok wife who is like my sugar mommy lol. Love u M! <3

[4vanaa]

WHILE YOU WERE SLEEPING, rafe cameron, 21

summary: y/n left the outer banks years ago, determined to build a life far from the memories of her childhood love, rafe cameron. now a botanist, she's moved on-though a quiet part of her still clings to the past. when an event brings her back to OBX, she's forced to confront the one person she never truly forgot.

cw: none | masterlist | 20 | 22 |

The first thing you felt was warmth. The kind that made it impossible to move, the kind that made you want to stay wrapped up in it forever.

Noah’s arm was heavy around your waist, his fingers tracing absentminded circles on your skin. His heartbeat was steady beneath your ear, the rise and fall of his chest lulling you into that hazy space between sleep and wakefulness.

You sighed softly, nuzzling closer. “Morning.”

His lips pressed against the top of your head, lingering. “Morning,” he murmured, his voice low and scratchy with sleep.

For a while, you just laid there, wrapped up in quiet, in each other.

“I don’t want to get up,” you admitted.

He chuckled, tightening his hold. “Then don’t.”

You smiled against his skin, but reality crept in slowly, reminding you of the hours ahead. “Sarah texted me last night,” you said carefully.

“Mmm.” His fingers brushed up your spine, slow and lazy. “About?”

You swallowed, pressing your palm against his chest. “I have to walk with Rafe.”

His hand stilled for just a fraction of a second before he exhaled softly, his lips brushing your temple. “Okay.”

You pulled back slightly, searching his face. “You’re not… mad?”

Noah’s brows furrowed, like the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. “Y/N, it’s a wedding. It’s just a walk.”

You let out a small, nervous laugh. “Right. Just a walk.”

His fingers tipped your chin up, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “Hey,” he murmured, “I trust you.”

Her breath caught in your throat.

It wasn’t defensive. It wasn’t forced. He wasn’t saying it just to say it.

He meant it.

Something swelled in your chest, an emotion so deep it almost hurt.

“You do?” You whispered.

He smiled softly, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “Of course I do.” His voice was gentle, certain. “I know how you feel about me.”

You held his gaze for a moment, then let your lips curl into a teasing smile. “I guess I love you.”

His eyes narrowed playfully. “You guess?”

You bit back a grin, dragging your fingers down his jaw. “Yeah, I guess.”

Noah let out a dramatic sigh, rolling onto his back like he was genuinely wounded. “Wow. And here I was, thinking this was real.”

You laughed, leaning over him, your hands splaying against his chest. “Alright, alright. I love you.”

His lips twitched, eyes softening as he looked at you. “Yeah?”

You kissed him then—slow, lingering, your answer pressed into the curve of his mouth. His hands slid up your back, pulling you closer like he never wanted to let go.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads rested together, breaths mingling in the quiet space between them.

“I love you,” you murmured again, just to make sure he knew.

His smile was immediate, effortless. “I love you more.”

For a moment, you let yourself believe that love was enough.

That no matter what came next—no matter the tension waiting just beyond this room, no matter the emotions stirring where they shouldn’t—everything would always lead you back here.

Back to Noah.

Always.

The music swelled softly, the faint hum of guests murmuring in anticipation. You stood at the entrance, smoothing the fabric of your dress as the bridal party lined up.

Then you felt it. A presence just behind you.

“You have something—”

Rafe’s voice was quiet, his fingers brushing your bare shoulder before you even registered what was happening.

Your breath hitched. You turned slightly, catching the moment he fixed the delicate strap of your dress, his fingers lingering just a second too long.

“There,” he murmured, voice lower now.

You should have stepped away. Said thanks and left it at that.

But you didn’t. You looked at him. Really looked at him. And the way he was looking back made your stomach tighten.

His gaze dragged over you slowly, deliberately—like he was memorizing the sight of you. His lips parted slightly, like he wanted to say something, but no words came.

The air between them felt charged, heavy with something unspoken.

“Rafe,” you started, your voice barely above a whisper.

Then the music changed. Your cue.

His expression flickered—something unreadable passing through it—before he offered his arm. You hesitated for half a second before slipping your hand into the crook of his elbow, your pulse thrumming.

Just as you stepped forward, he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear.

“You should’ve worn your hair up,” he murmured. “Would’ve been a shame if I had to fix that too.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs. You turned to glare at him, but he was already looking ahead, jaw set, the ghost of a smirk playing at his lips.

And then you walked.

a/n: ngl i need noah gone like yesterday 🙏

🏷️: @xoxo-ada @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @sleepiibunniiii @urbrunettebombshell @sideboobrry11 @acidfeens @marleymarleymarleymarley @hadids-world @ursogorgeous1313 @louxmcl @cyberkitty1 @pogueprincesa @drewrry @the-oracle-at-delphinitely-not

[spiderziege]

can you tell us more about your characters please please please???

ooohh yes i will tho i honestly dont have that much actual story, im just. worldbuilding atm. heres a map! (i posted this before but i cleaned it up a bit and improved the dragon, it was looking kinda weird before lol)

still work in progress though! the dragon is asleep under the earth and has been there for a long long time, shaping the landscape. most people believe its some sort of legend but some do believe its real and might wake up on day and destroy everything

and here's the 6 main guys and also their locations in the world (roughly)

Eshiel & Luz both didnt grow up in the steppe/plains area they live in now; Eshiel grew up very far west deep in the forest pretty isolated from the rest of the land. Luz was born in the mountainrange along the dragons spine, but he spent most his childhood travelling with a circus so i dont think he'd really think of that as home anyway. those two are sort of runaway criminals (as in they pissed off one very powerful and very evil guy). also Eshiel isnt her real name she just changed it so its harder to find her

The town Valérie lives in is very historic, not technically a capital city but sort of a central point for travel and trade. Valérie grew up there and works as a farrier. i havent really decided in what way magic exists here but Val is definitely the one who'd be into it the most.

everything south from that city until you reach the ocean (basically along the dragons neck & shoulders) is completely abandoned and forbidden to enter except for once every couple years for a tournament where people try to cross that land on horseback. which is dangeorus cause theres monsters/sort of demonic forces down there but theres good prize money & glory involved so people do it anyway. all 6 of them end up taking part for various reasons

The last three all come from the snow kingdom in the northeast. Kokoro is a princess and Caliott & Cäcilia are both knights. Koko basically runs off on her own to search for her older brother who took part in that tournament a few years ago and never returned, Caliott & Cäcilia are sent after her to protect her

i think thats it? heres a pinterest board lol. thank you for asking about them :') hope this all makes sense kinda. talking about ocs is so scary why is it so scary

[alittlegiraffe]

Title: Stay With Me

The morning sun seeped through the blinds, casting soft golden lines across the bedroom. You stirred under the warm covers, nestled against Marshall’s chest, feeling the slow, steady rise and fall of his breath. His arm draped lazily around your waist, fingers tracing small, absentminded circles against your skin.

"You awake?" His voice was thick with sleep, rough in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.

You hummed, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. "Mhm… barely."

A quiet chuckle vibrated through his chest. "Good. That means you ain't gettin' up yet." His grip tightened slightly, keeping you flush against him.

You smiled against his skin, pressing a soft kiss to his collarbone. "Mmm, we can't just lay here all day."

"Says who?" He shifted, rolling onto his side so he could look at you properly. His blue eyes, still heavy with sleep, locked onto yours. "I don’t got nowhere to be. You?"

You sighed, brushing a hand through his short, slightly messy hair. "No, but—"

"Exactly." He smirked and tilted his head, capturing your lips in a slow, lazy kiss. His hand slid up your side, fingers ghosting over the curve of your waist before resting just under your ribs.

You melted into him, fingers curling against his bare chest. Kissing Marshall was always something that sent a thrill through you, no matter how many times you had done it before. The way he took his time, savoring every second, made it impossible to think about anything else.

When he finally pulled back, he let his forehead rest against yours. "See? Ain't no reason to get up."

You let out a soft laugh, eyes still closed. "You’re impossible."

"And you love it," he murmured, pressing another kiss to your lips.

You playfully pushed at his chest, rolling onto your back. "Okay, but seriously, I should at least—"

Before you could finish, Marshall moved fast, hooking an arm around your waist and flipping you back toward him. A surprised squeal left your lips as you found yourself pinned under his weight, his smirk widening above you.

"Where you goin', baby?" His voice had dropped to something lower, rougher, the teasing edge laced with something deeper.

You swallowed, your hands resting on his shoulders. "I was just gonna—"

"Uh-uh." He shook his head, pressing a kiss to your jaw, then another just below your ear. "You ain't goin’ nowhere."

Heat curled low in your stomach as his lips trailed down your neck, his hands sliding over your sides, holding you there like he wasn’t about to let go anytime soon.

"Marshall," you whispered, a soft sigh escaping as his lips moved lower, grazing your collarbone.

"Shh." He kissed a path back up to your lips, slow and deliberate. "Just stay with me."

His fingers slipped beneath the covers, running over your bare skin, igniting every nerve he touched. Your breath hitched when he pressed himself against you, letting you feel just how much he wanted you.

The teasing smirk was gone now, replaced with something deeper—something that made your pulse quicken.

"Let me love you," he murmured, lips brushing yours.

And as his hands wandered and his mouth claimed yours again, you knew there was no way you were getting out of bed anytime soon.

And honestly? You didn’t mind one bit.

[duachai]

PAS DE DEUX - THE8 | SEVENTEEN

Minghao is the mentor for a new batch of trainees and catches M/n, an unmotivated and conscious trainee in a way no one can quite explain. They spend time in the studio together. Maybe too much. The others are jealous. But nothing is stopping him from teaching his boy his body is beautiful.

Do it like how you taught me, Make bands by my lonely

♱ PAIRING : XU MINGHAO X MALE READER ♱ CONTENT WARNING : This writing contains VERY explicit sexual content and mature themes. ♱ AUTHOR'S NOTE : Um... so once again I got carried away... 20 pages... tah dah! LINKS : Wattpad

The studio was alive with movement, the rhythmic pounding of feet against the polished wood floor syncing with the bass-heavy track playing overhead. The air smelled of sweat and determination, a reminder of the countless hours poured into perfecting every step, every breath, every motion. 

M/n stood at the back of the room, trying to blend in, but it was impossible. His movements weren’t sharp, his footwork not crisp. He could feel the stares, the subtle shifts in the energy around him and other trainees noticing, judging. 

“Again,” the dance coach called out. The music restarted, M/n clenched his fists before throwing himself back into the choreography. He knew he wasn’t the best, but he refused to be the worst. 

The murmurs started the second he stumbled. 

“He’s still struggling?” someone muttered under their breath. A quiet scoff from another trainee followed. 

M/n bit down on the inside of his cheek. Then, the music cut off abruptly. 

"Alright, take five. Everyone, except you." The unfamiliar voice was firm but smooth, and the moment M/n turned to look, his breath caught. 

Xu Minghao stood near the mirrors, arms crossed, eyes sharp and assessing. The dancer, Seventeen’s performance powerhouse, was watching him. 

M/n swallowed hard. His muscles ached from overwork, his chest tight from exertion, but nothing compared to the weight of Minghao’s gaze on him. 

"You," Minghao continued, taking a step closer, "stay back. The rest of you, get some water." 

The trainees hesitated, some exchanging glances before filing out. Their silent judgment burned against M/n’s skin. 

Minghao watched him for a long moment before speaking again, pointing to the floor, still comfortably leaning against the mirror. 

"Show me the last section of the routine." 

M/n exhaled sharply, nodding, wiping the sweat on his palms on his sweatpants. He stepped into position, body tense with nerves, and the music started again. He moved, he tried. He failed. 

Minghao clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "You're too stiff," he said, stepping forward. "You're overthinking. Let me show you." 

Before M/n could react, Minghao was behind him, close enough that M/n could feel the warmth of his presence. Slender fingers traced his skin as he guided his arms into the right position, fingers skimming his wrist, adjusting his posture. 

M/n's breath hitched. 

"Relax," Minghao murmured, voice low, close to his ear. "Feel the movement, don't fight it." 

The words sent a shiver down M/n’s spine, but he nodded, forcing himself to focus. He had to. He couldn’t afford to fall behind. Not in dance, not in his dreams. And definitely not because of the sudden, unwanted spark curling in his chest. 

Not for his mentor. 

Not for Xu Minghao. 

M/n took a steadying breath, forcing himself to focus on Minghao’s instructions rather than the way his mentor’s touch lingered just long enough to make his pulse quicken. 

“Again,” Minghao said, stepping back. 

The music restarted, and this time, M/n moved with more fluidity. His muscles still burned from exhaustion, but the difference was immediate. The moment he stopped fighting the choreography, it started to feel… natural. 

Minghao watched intently, nodding slightly as M/n executed the steps with newfound ease. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better. When the routine ended, the silence stretched, save for the sound of M/n’s heavy breathing. 

Minghao’s lips quirked slightly. “See? You can do it.” 

M/n wiped the sweat from his forehead, his heart hammering from more than just exertion. “Barely.” 

“If you were hopeless, I wouldn’t be wasting my time.” Minghao’s tone was calm, matter-of-fact. He wasn’t giving compliments; he was stating a fact. 

Still, something in M/n’s chest fluttered at the words. 

The studio door opened, and the other trainees filtered back in. Some shot him unreadable glances, while others ignored him entirely. The shift in atmosphere was subtle, but it was there; the quiet resentment of those who had watched M/n struggle, only to see him get special attention from Xu Minghao himself. 

Minghao seemed to notice too, but he didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he clapped his hands together. “Break’s over. Let’s get back to work.” 

M/n exhaled, shaking off the unease creeping up his spine. It didn’t matter what the others thought. He wasn’t here to impress them. He was here to prove to himself, to the company, to Minghao; that he belonged. 

As the next round of practice began, M/n threw himself into the dance, pushing past the doubt and the whispers. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t ignore the weight of Minghao’s gaze on him. 

And he wasn’t sure he wanted to. 

`` Days blurred together in an endless cycle of training, evaluations, and exhaustion. The choreography became muscle memory, but M/n's mind never settled. The studio had become a battlefield; one where every misstep felt like a bullet, and every success only fueled the silent resentment simmering around him. 

`Minghao remained a constant presence, his mentoring sharp and precise. He pushed M/n harder than the others, but in a way that felt deliberate, almost as if he was testing him. 

One evening, after an especially grueling session, M/n lingered behind in the studio, staring at his reflection in the mirror. Sweat dripped from his temples, his shirt clinging to his body. He should have left already, but his frustration wouldn’t let him. 

Why do I still feel behind? 

The door creaked open. 

"You’re overthinking again." 

M/n startled, turning to find Minghao leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed. His sharp gaze softened slightly as he stepped forward. 

M/n swallowed. "I just… I don’t get why it’s so easy for everyone else." 

Minghao hummed, stopping just a step away. “It’s not.” 

M/n scoffed. “You don’t see them struggling like I do.” 

"Because they hide it." Minghao tilted his head. "Like you're trying to right now." 

M/n froze. He hadn’t realized how tightly he was clenching his fists until Minghao’s gaze flickered to them. 

"You’re improving, M/n." Minghao’s voice was quieter now. "But dance isn’t just about the moves. It’s about trust." 

"Trust?" M/n frowned. 

Minghao nodded. "In yourself. In your body. In the movement. You fight it too much." 

M/n huffed. "Maybe because I keep feeling like I don’t belong here." 

The words slipped out before he could stop them. 

Silence settled between them. Minghao studied him for a long moment before speaking again, his voice firm but calm. 

"If you didn’t belong, I wouldn’t be wasting my time on you." 

The words hit deeper than M/n expected. 

For the first time in weeks, the tight knot in his chest loosened just slightly. 

Minghao didn’t offer more reassurance; he simply turned toward the sound system. "One more time. Just you and me." 

M/n hesitated before nodding. 

The music started, and this time, M/n let himself move. He let himself trust. 

And for the first time, he didn’t feel like he was chasing the rhythm. 

He was dancing with it. 

And Minghao was watching. 

M/n woke up sore the next morning, his body aching from the extra practice with Minghao. But despite the exhaustion, a sense of accomplishment settled in his chest. For once, he wasn’t drowning in self-doubt. 

Yet, as soon as he stepped into the practice room, the atmosphere felt… different. 

The other trainees were already stretching, but the usual chatter was subdued. A few pairs of eyes flickered toward him, whispers exchanged just low enough that he couldn’t make out the words. 

M/n exhaled sharply, pushing down the unease. 

He knew the others had noticed the extra attention Minghao gave him. He knew they probably thought he was getting special treatment. But they weren’t there when I stayed late. They weren’t there when I worked myself to the bone. 

"Suck up," someone muttered as he passed by. 

M/n’s jaw clenched, but he ignored it, focusing on his warm-up. 

When Minghao walked in a few minutes later, the tension in the room only thickened. He greeted the group briefly, eyes scanning the trainees before landing on M/n for just a second too long. M/n looked away, hoping no one noticed. 

They did. 

Practice was brutal. Minghao wasn’t holding back today, pushing them harder than ever. M/n did his best to keep up, but every time he executed the moves, he could feel the weight of eyes on him. 

Then, during a water break, the whispering turned into something worse. 

"Did you hear?" one of the trainees said just loud enough for M/n to catch. "Minghao’s been giving private lessons." 

M/n’s stomach twisted. 

"I've noticed he’s a lot more flexible." another voice joined in. "I think he’s getting stretched out a different way then us." 

Laughter. A sharp, bitter kind. 

M/n’s grip tightened around his water bottle. He forced himself to stay silent, to not let them see that their words had gotten under his skin. 

But Minghao had heard. 

"Line up," Minghao’s voice cut through the tension, sharper than usual. 

The trainees scrambled into position, but the mood had already shifted. 

Minghao’s eyes flickered toward M/n, unreadable, but something about his posture had changed. 

He had heard everything. 

And he wasn’t going to ignore it. 

M/n forced himself to focus, but his mind raced with the words he had just heard. Private lessons. Getting ahead. It wasn’t just whispers anymore; it was an accusation. 

Minghao stepped forward, his expression unreadable as he scanned the group. His presence was always commanding, but today, there was something sharper in his gaze. 

"Let me make one thing very clear." His voice was calm, but the weight behind it made the room feel smaller. "In this industry, you earn your place. No exceptions." 

No one dared to speak. 

"If someone is improving, it’s because they’re putting in the work," Minghao continued, his eyes sweeping over the trainees. "If they stay behind after hours, if they push themselves past their limits, if they refuse to give up no matter how hard it gets; that’s why they get better." 

M/n’s breath hitched. 

Minghao took a slow step forward, gaze locking onto the group. "But if anyone here thinks they can undermine someone else’s progress because of their own insecurities, you’re free to leave now. Because if I catch any more of this petty, baseless gossip-" he let the words settle, his voice dipping lower, "you won’t last here." 

Silence. Heavy and suffocating. 

M/n could feel the shift in the room. No one met Minghao’s gaze, but the shame was palpable. The whispers wouldn’t vanish overnight, but Minghao had drawn a line. 

Then, just as quickly as the moment came, Minghao clapped his hands together. "Now, unless you’d rather gossip, we’re running the routine from the top." 

The music started, and M/n exhaled. 

For the first time, he didn’t feel alone. 

Minghao had defended him. Publicly. Unapologetically. 

And no matter how much M/n tried to ignore it, his heart raced at the thought. 

The shift in the atmosphere was undeniable. After Minghao’s warning, the whispers didn’t completely stop, but they dulled into background noise. The jealousy hadn’t disappeared, but no one dared to openly challenge M/n anymore. 

Still, the weight of their eyes lingered. 

Minghao didn’t treat him any differently in front of the others, but there was something there, something unspoken, simmering beneath the surface. 

It was in the way he lingered just a second longer when adjusting M/n’s form. The way his gaze followed M/n when he thought no one was looking. The way his voice softened ever so slightly when speaking to him. 

M/n told himself it was just his imagination. 

But then came the partnering exercise. 

Minghao had decided to challenge them with a new routine; one that required working in pairs to test their synchronization and connection. 

And when it came time to assign partners, Minghao didn’t hesitate. 

"M/n, with me." 

The room was silent for a fraction too long. 

M/n swallowed. "O-Okay." 

As the other trainees moved into their own pairings, M/n found himself standing directly in front of Minghao. The height difference was subtle, but noticeable enough that M/n felt it as they took their positions. 

Minghao placed a hand on M/n’s waist, his grip firm but controlled. "Relax," he instructed. "You’re too tense." 

"I’m trying not to be," M/n muttered. 

Minghao smirked, just barely. "Then let’s fix it." 

The music started, and M/n focused on moving with the rhythm. But it was impossible to ignore how close they were; how every shift, every step, brought him within inches of Minghao’s frame. 

When Minghao guided him into a turn, his grip tightened, steadying him effortlessly. M/n’s pulse stuttered. 

"You’re hesitating," Minghao said. 

"I-" M/n faltered as their eyes met. 

Minghao’s gaze was unreadable, but there was something intense in the way he was looking at him. Something that made M/n’s breath catch. 

"Don’t hesitate," Minghao said, voice quieter this time. 

M/n nodded, but his heart was beating far too fast for reasons that had nothing to do with the dance. 

They moved together, the world fading around them. And for just a moment, it didn’t feel like practice. 

It felt like something else entirely. 

The music swelled, and they moved as one. 

M/n had stopped thinking, stopped overanalyzing every step, every motion. His body followed Minghao’s lead instinctively, matching his rhythm, his energy. It was effortless. Natural. 

Minghao’s hand was firm on his waist, guiding him through the turn. The proximity between them was undeniable, but M/n barely had time to process it before Minghao executed the final move; a deep dip, pulling M/n flush against him. 

M/n’s breath hitched. 

His back arched slightly over Minghao’s arm, and for a split second, they weren’t just two dancers in sync. 

They were something more. 

The studio felt too quiet, the air thick with something neither of them dared to name. 

Minghao didn’t let go immediately. His grip on M/n’s waist lingered, just a second too long. And when M/n’s gaze flickered up, their eyes locked. 

The tension snapped tight. 

It was in the way Minghao’s fingers curled slightly, holding him in place. The way his lips parted, as if he wanted to say something but stopped himself. 

M/n barely realized he was gripping onto Minghao’s arm until he felt the heat of his skin beneath his fingertips. 

Then Minghao inhaled sharply; just a small, barely audible breath and that was enough to jolt them both back to reality. 

He released M/n, stepping back. "Again," he said, voice neutral, but there was an edge to it—like he was forcing himself to sound unaffected. 

M/n swallowed hard, nodding. "Right. Again." 

But as they reset into position, his pulse refused to settle. 

And when they moved together once more, M/n couldn’t shake the feeling that they had just come dangerously close to crossing a line neither of them was ready to acknowledge. 

The tension between them didn’t fade. If anything, it only grew stronger. 

Days passed, filled with grueling practice sessions and lingering glances. M/n told himself it was just in his head, but he could feel it every time Minghao adjusted his form, every time their fingers brushed, every time their eyes met for just a second too long. 

It was a slow, torturous build-up, a silent push and pull neither of them acknowledged. 

Until one night, when the studio was empty, and there was nowhere left to hide. 

M/n had stayed behind again, practicing long after the others had left. He was exhausted, his body screaming for rest, but he couldn’t stop. Not yet. 

The music played softly in the background as he moved through the steps, his reflection staring back at him in the mirror. But something was off, his timing, his balance. Frustration bubbled up, and he ran a hand through his damp hair, exhaling sharply. 

"You’re pushing yourself too hard." 

M/n startled at the voice, whipping around to see Minghao leaning against the doorframe. 

"Thought you left," M/n muttered, trying to steady his breath. 

Minghao stepped inside, his eyes scanning M/n carefully. "I was going to. Then I saw the lights still on." 

M/n huffed. "Figured I’d get in some extra practice." 

Minghao crossed his arms. "You don’t need more practice." 

M/n scoffed. "You sure? Because it feels like I do." 

Minghao exhaled, stepping closer. "You’re not struggling with the choreography anymore, M/n. That’s not why you’re still here." 

M/n froze. 

Minghao studied him, his gaze unreadable but intense. "You’re fighting something. And it’s not the dance." 

Silence stretched between them. M/n felt his pulse quicken, his body growing warmer under Minghao’s unwavering stare. 

It would be so easy to deny it; to laugh it off, change the subject. But in this quiet, empty studio, with nothing but the sound of their breathing between them… 

Lying didn’t feel like an option. 

M/n swallowed. "And if I am?" 

Minghao’s eyes flickered with something, something dangerous. "Then stop fighting." 

M/n’s breath caught. 

The distance between them felt smaller than before. He wasn’t sure who moved first, but suddenly, Minghao was right there, close enough that M/n could feel the heat radiating from him, close enough that if he just leaned in… 

"You drive me crazy, you know that?" Minghao murmured, his voice quieter now, lower. "I tried ignoring it. I tried pretending it wasn’t there. But every time I watch you dance, every time I correct you, every time you look at me like that-" 

He exhaled, shaking his head slightly. "I can’t ignore it anymore." 

M/n’s heart pounded. "Then don’t." 

For a moment, they just stood there, breaths mingling in the stillness of the studio. 

Then, finally, finally, Minghao closed the distance. 

It wasn’t rushed or hesitant it was slow, deliberate, a silent answer to everything they had been holding back. M/n melted into it, his fingers curling around Minghao’s shirt, anchoring himself. 

M/n felt his world tilt on its axis as their lips met. It was soft at first, a gentle press of mouths, but quickly turned into a desperate kiss, the passion igniting. 

Minghao tasted of mint and determination. His hands, earlier strict and disciplined in their corrections, now explored M/n's back under his shirt with a tenderness that belied their usual professional demeanor. Fingers tangled in hair, breaths mingled, and the studio filled with the soft sounds of their mutual surrender. 

M/n was lost in the kiss, in the warmth and comfort of finally giving in to his feelings. He felt Minghao's arms wrap around him, holding him close as if he might disappear if he let go. The kiss deepened, becoming more frantic as their hunger for each other overwhelmed any remaining restraint. 

Minghao pinned M/n against the studio mirror, his body flush against the other's. He trailed kisses along M/n's jawline, pausing to nip gently at his earlobe. 

“Is this okay?” Minghao asked, keeping apart from M/n’s lips for just a second as he held his face close by the back of his head, fingers entangled in his hair. 

“Yes,” M/n reassured, looking through his long eyelashes up at Minghao.`  

"Good..." he whispered, catching M/n's bottom lip between his teeth gently. His hands started to trail down from M/n's neck, across his collarbones, to the hem of his shirt. "Can I..." he asked softly, fingers grazing the bare skin of his stomach. "Take this off?" 

“Mm,” M/n hummed. 

Slowly, almost reverently, Minghao eased M/n's shirt upwards. His calloused fingers brushed along M/n's sides, sending shivers across his skin as the fabric slid off completely. Minghao drank in the sight of M/n's bare torso, eyes darkening with appreciation. "Beautiful," 

“You’re just saying that...” 

“Look at me,” he demanded softly, his fingers hooking into the waistband of M/n’s pant. He wanted M/n to see the sincerity in his eyes, the way he was looking  at M/n like he was a prized possession. 

Minghao leaned in and placed a soft kiss on M/n’s neck, his warm breath fanning across his skin as he spoke. “I’m saying it because it’s true,” he murmured, his fingers slowly untying M/n’s sweatpants, “You’re so fucking beautiful, M/n.” 

He gently pushed M/n’s pants down, hooping around his thigh along with his undergarments, reveling his slim hips and thighs. He trailed kisses down M/n’s chest, his abs, and then finally his thighs as he helped M/n step out of his clothes, “Lift your arms,” he whispered. 

M/n followed instructions. The damp t-shirt slipped off his body, then their forehead pressed together for a moment, peppering kisses as Minghao drank in his junior's body, “Fuck...” he breathed, admiring M/n’s naked form in the studio mirror light, “You’re so perfect,” He trailed a hand down M/n’s side. 

Minghao began to remove his own clothes. His shirt was discarded quickly with the help of M/n, reveling taut muscles and smooth skin. His pants followed soon after, leaving his bare before M/n. M/n stood starstruck. He’d never in a million years think his idol would be au naturel right in front of him. 

Minghao stepped back closer, his hands framing M/n’s waist possessively. He nuzzled his face into M/n’s neck, inhaling his scent deeply. “Turn around,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “I wanna see you from every angle.” 

Guided by Minghao’s hand, M/n turned and faced the mirror. 

One hand snaked around M/n’s waist, resting low on his stomach. The other traced up his chest, brushing against a nipple. “Look at yourself...” 

M/n looked into the mirror. He was in awe at himself. He didn’t recognize himself. In Minghao’s arms, he felt sexier, more alive, more than what anyone could tell him. 

Minghao wrapped him arms around him, placing a kiss on M/n’s shoulder, smiling onto his skin, “See how stunning you are?” 

M/n’s lips curved into a soft smile as covered Minghao’s hands with his own, relishing the feeling of their naked bodies pressed together. “Every curve, every line...” Minghao cooed, his hands roaming over M/n’s torso, “Absolutely gorgeous.” 

“I want you,” M/n whispered breathy, almost not aware he said that out loud. 

Minghao’s breath hitched at M/n’s confession. A slow, wicked smile curved his lips as he felt a shudder run through M/n’s body. “Fuck, I want you too. You deserve it.” 

M/n leaned back into Minghao’s embrace as their fingers locked over M/n’s chest. His breath caught in his throat as he felt M/n’s weight settled against him. “Let me treat you like the prince you are.” 

Minghao slips his fingers into his own mouth, covering it in his spit. He slowly trails those wet fingers down M/n’s backside, pushing M/n gently into the mirror. 

He spread M/n’s legs apart with his thigh as he slowly circled his wet fingers around M/n’s entrance, teasing and preparing him gently. He looked at the scene in the mirror, his eyes darkening with desire as he took in the reflected image of M/n panting, sweat sticking to his forehead and the mirror. 

His finger slowly pushed inside M/n, watching carefully for any signs of discomfort, “Good, baby.” He cooed, his free hand slid around to grip M/n’s erection. He saw M/n’s reflection, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure as he hissed and ahed. 

Pushing his fingers deeper, he started stroking M/n in rhythm with each thrust, his hand working the younger’s length perfectly. In the mirror he could just see how turned on M/n was, “Look at how beautiful you are taking my fingers,” His teeth nipping at M/n’s ear. 

Minghao withdrew his fingers, leaving M/n trembling with need. Holding M/n by the hips, Minghao guided him to bend forward slightly, pressing his chest his back as he hooked his chin on M/n’s shoulder, locking a hand together in front of him as his other positioned himself at M/n’s entrance. 

He slowly pushed in, giving M/n time to adjust. Minghao’s fingernails dug into M/n’s hips as gently as possible, M/n’s hand gripping tightly in his. Minghao pulled back slowly. Almost withdrawing completely before snapping his hips forward again.  

“Fuck... God...” Minghao groaned deeply, pleasure rolling through him as he watched M/n accept him so perfectly. In and out, he had a set steady rhythm, his hips rocking forward and pulling back, watching the erotic sight of their coupling in the mirror. 

“Hao, f-fuck,” M/n choked, the vibration of his moans and whines bouncing off the mirror. Minghao’s lips curl into a smile at M/n calling out his name so lude. His togue ghost his lips briefly at the needy whimpers. 

M/n could feel his release building in his stomach, his thighs shook and he practically was scream for a resolve. Minghao reached his hand back around M/m’s leaking length, stroking him in time with his thrusts, “Come for me,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire but so sweet like his smirk as M/n came undone, him following suit. 

He felt M/n’s released pulse through him, hot and west against his hand. The sight of M/n falling apart in the mirror, pleasure contorting his features, stuttered as he came hard, burying himself deep inside M/n with a choked groan, then a sweet string moans straight in M/n’s ear. 

As the final shudders of their releases faded, Minghao stayed buried deep inside M/n, holding him close. He peppered soft kisses along his junior's shoulder blade, murmuring praises between each gentle press of his lips. 

The next morning, nothing had changed. 

And yet, everything had. 

M/n and Minghao returned to practice like nothing had happened. They kept their distance, their interactions no different from before, strictly professional, strictly normal. No one batted an eye. 

But beneath the surface, there were cracks in the facade. 

It was in the fleeting glances they shared when no one was looking. The way Minghao’s hand brushed against M/n’s lower back for just a second too long when adjusting his form. The way M/n held his breath whenever Minghao got too close, because now he knew what it felt like to have that distance erased. 

And then there were the nights. 

When practice ended and the others left, and Minghao would find an excuse to stay behind. When M/n would linger in the studio just a little longer, waiting. When the silence between them carried an entirely new weight; one filled with stolen moments, quiet confessions, and the unspoken promise of more. 

They weren’t reckless, but they weren’t distant either. 

Late at night, after the world had gone still, they met in empty studios and whispered things they couldn’t say in daylight. Minghao would pull M/n close, pressing lazy kisses to his temple, murmuring things like, "You’re getting better." "You’re going to make it." "I’ll be right here." 

And M/n would believe him. 

Because despite the secrecy, despite the world they lived in; the competition, the expectations, the scrutiny, this felt real. 

And for now, that was enough. 

As M/n packed up his things after another long day, he felt the familiar presence before he even turned around. 

"You’re staying late again?" Minghao’s voice was quiet, just for him. 

M/n smiled. "Depends. Are you?" 

Minghao’s lips twitched. "If you are." 

The answer was unspoken, but they both understood. 

So as the doors shut behind the last of the trainees, and the studio emptied once more, M/n turned to face Minghao; his partner, his mentor, his secret. 

And in the soft glow of the practice room lights, as they stepped toward each other again, M/n knew this was just the beginning. 

[lightdancingwords]

Second Chances - Part Nineteen of Nineteen

Pairings: Beau Arlen x Y/N Female reader Series Summary: A chance meeting in a grocery store brings a second chance for you and for Beau. The only thing standing in your way are your respective pasts... and a tiny little roadblock. Word Count: 4,008 Tags/Warnings: None. Just lots and lots and lots of fluff. A/N: Comments, Likes, Reblogs, Kind feedback are always highly appreciated. Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

NOTE: Y’all are gonna want to kill me, but I promise you, this is not the end! In fact, I’m wrapping this part of the series and continuing it under a new series name! I haven’t decided what to call it, so I’m putting out a poll! Check it out and tell me what you think! Divider: credit to @sweetmelodygraphics

Chapter Nineteen: Almost There

The last thing Beau wanted to do that morning was get out of bed.

The room was dimly lit, early morning light just barely creeping through the curtains. Outside, the world was waking up, but inside this bedroom, everything was still, warm, and perfect.

Y/N was curled against his side, her bare skin pressed against his, her fingers tracing lazy, featherlight circles over his chest. He had one arm wrapped around her, holding her close, while his other hand rested low on her back, fingers splayed, keeping her exactly where he wanted her.

Neither of them had spoken yet.

They didn’t need to.

They were comfortable, wrapped up in each other, their bodies perfectly entangled in the best way.

Beau sighed, his lips pressing against Y/N’s hair as he murmured, “Darlin’… what if we just don’t go to work today?”

Y/N smirked against his skin. “Tempting, Sheriff.”

Beau huffed, running his fingers along her spine. “I mean, technically, you own your own alarm clock. You could set it to ‘do not disturb.’”

Y/N laughed softly, tilting her head up to press a slow, teasing kiss to his jaw. “And what about you? I think the entire department might come hunt you down if you don’t show up.”

Beau groaned dramatically. “Jenny can run things for a day.”

Y/N snorted. “She would kill you.”

Beau smirked, rolling them slightly so that Y/N was beneath him, her body stretching beneath the sheets. “You sure I can’t convince you?”

Y/N hummed, her hands trailing up his arms. “You make a very good argument…”

Beau leaned down, his lips brushing against hers. “Damn right, I do.”

Y/N sighed into the kiss, her fingers threading through his hair, her entire body softening against him.

And for a very long moment, neither of them moved.

Beau kissed her slow, deep, thoroughly, like he had all the time in the world.

Y/N let out a quiet moan against his lips, her legs wrapping around his waist. “We really should be getting up.”

Beau smirked, pressing another lingering kiss to her neck. “Mm. In a minute.”

Y/N giggled, playfully pushing at his chest. “A minute is how we end up being late, Sheriff.”

Beau sighed dramatically, rolling onto his back and pulling her with him, keeping her securely against his chest.

Y/N smirked, propping herself up on his chest, her fingers tracing along the scruff on his jaw. “Do you ever get up on time?”

Beau grinned. “Not when I’ve got this to wake up to.”

Y/N bit her lip, thoroughly enjoying herself. “I swear, you get worse the closer we get to the wedding.”

Beau chuckled, running a hand down her back. “You love it.”

Y/N laughed. “That’s not the point.”

Beau sighed, letting his head fall back against the pillows. “Fine, fine. We can be responsible.”

Y/N smirked, rolling off of him and sitting up. “Good. Because I do have work to do today.”

Beau watched her stretch, his eyes trailing slowly over her bare skin before he groaned, throwing an arm over his face. “You’re killin’ me, woman.”

Y/N laughed, reaching for her robe. “Oh, I know.”

With great reluctance, Beau finally dragged himself out of bed, stretching as he stood. “All right, let’s get this over with.”

Y/N smirked, brushing past him toward the bathroom. “Look at you, so responsible.”

Beau swatted at her playfully, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

Y/N winked before disappearing into the shower.

Beau let out a long, suffering sigh.

And with great reluctance, he accepted the fact that they had to be actual adults today.

But tonight?

Tonight, he was definitely making up for lost time.

By the time Beau arrived at the sheriff’s department, coffee in hand, he was already half checked out.

His mind wasn’t on work.

His mind was on Y/N.

On the way she had felt in his arms that morning, on the way her lips had lingered just a little longer than necessary when she kissed him goodbye, on the way she had smirked at him as she left the house—knowing exactly what she was doing to him.

It was unfair, really.

And Beau was feeling it.

Which was exactly why Jenny noticed.

She watched him as he walked in, coffee halfway to his mouth, eyes somewhere else entirely.

Jenny smirked, leaning against the counter, arms crossed. “You wanna be here, Sheriff?”

Beau paused, blinking as he looked at her. “Huh?”

Jenny snorted. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Beau sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Jenny—”

Jenny smirked, pushing off the counter. “Don’t ‘Jenny’ me. I know exactly what’s goin’ on with you.”

Beau raised a brow. “Oh, do you now?”

Jenny grinned. “Oh, I do.” She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice just enough to be annoying. “Your wedding is a week and a half away. Your hot fiancée is at work. And you, my dear Sheriff, are so distracted by her that I’m amazed you even made it here this morning.”

Beau groaned, already regretting walking into the building. “Jenny, I swear—”

Jenny held up a hand, smirking. “No, no, it’s fine. You’re hopeless, and I accept that.”

Beau rolled his eyes, finally taking a sip of his coffee. “I’m not hopeless.”

Jenny arched a brow. “Oh? So if I asked you what I just said, you could repeat it?”

Beau opened his mouth—then paused.

Jenny grinned wider.

Beau sighed. “Okay. Fine.”

Jenny cackled, shaking her head. “It’s so fun seeing you like this.”

Beau muttered something under his breath, taking another long sip of his coffee.

Jenny smirked, tilting her head. “So… is it excitement? Or are you nervous?”

Beau exhaled, finally looking at her. “Jenny. I’m marrying the love of my life. What the hell would I be nervous about?”

Jenny smiled, genuinely pleased by his answer. “Damn. You really are all in, huh?”

Beau shot her a look. “Jenny. I knew I was all in from the second I met her.”

Jenny sighed dramatically. “You are so disgustingly in love, and I love it.”

Beau huffed, shaking his head. “Are you gonna tease me all week?”

Jenny grinned. “Oh, absolutely.”

Beau groaned, fully resigned to his fate.

But honestly?

He didn’t mind one bit.

Because in just a few days, Y/N was gonna be his wife.

And nothing—not even Jenny’s relentless teasing—was gonna ruin that for him.

By the time Friday rolled around, the entire department had caught wedding fever.

Beau was officially clocking out for his long-awaited vacation—the last shift before his wedding and the much-deserved honeymoon that followed.

And of course, Jenny wasn’t about to let him leave quietly.

The moment he stepped into the department that morning, he knew something was up. There was an air of mischief, the deputies all trying way too hard to look busy, Jenny’s smirk wider than usual.

Beau exhaled, giving her a pointed look. “What’d you do?”

Jenny feigned innocence, placing a hand over her chest. “Me? Why do you assume I did anything?”

Beau sighed, rubbing his temples. “Because you always do.”

And then—

The cheering started.

Beau turned just in time to see Poppernak, Morales, Jenkins, and a few other deputies coming out of the conference room, carrying a giant cake with the words “Goodbye, Bachelor Beau!” written in bold, ridiculous lettering.

Beau groaned as Jenny cackled.

The rest of the department joined in, some clapping, others whistling, and Poppernak—always the extra one—started a chant.

“One more week!”

Beau shook his head, crossing his arms. “Y’all are actin’ like I’m being sentenced to something.”

Jenny smirked. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, Sheriff—we’re happy for you.”

Poppernak nodded. “Yeah. It’s just—well, your single days are officially over.”

Beau arched a brow. “And that’s supposed to bother me?”

Jenkins grinned. “I mean… a little?”

Beau chuckled, shaking his head. “Not even remotely.”

Jenny sighed dramatically, throwing an arm over his shoulder. “Ah, yes. That’s right. Our Sheriff is disgustingly in love and thrilled to lose his bachelor status.”

Beau smirked, shrugging. “Damn right, I am.”

The room erupted into groans, laughter, and a few deputies playfully throwing napkins at him.

Jenny shook her head, her smirk still very much in place. “It’s honestly sickening how ready you are to be a married man.”

Beau grinned, grabbing a plate and serving himself a large piece of cake. “Y’all act like I haven’t been married before.”

Poppernak chuckled. “Yeah, but this time you actually like your fiancée.”

Beau let out a booming laugh. “That is a key difference.”

Jenny rolled her eyes, but her expression softened just a bit. “All right, seriously, Beau—we’re happy for you.”

Beau smirked. “I know.”

She shook her head, nudging him. “So, you ready for this? Wedding’s just a few days away.”

Beau exhaled, taking a sip of his coffee. “I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life.”

Jenny nodded, something genuinely warm in her expression. “Good. Because she’s crazy about you, Sheriff.”

Beau smiled, his chest swelling at the thought of Y/N. “Yeah,” he murmured, voice full of certainty. “I know.”

And as the celebration continued, as his deputies teased him about his last days as a single man, Beau knew—

There wasn’t a single part of him that was gonna miss his bachelor days.

Because the best part of his life was just about to begin.

Saturday morning came with the buzz of excitement and last-minute wedding preparations.

For Beau, though, the most important task of the day was heading to the airport to pick up his parents.

Hank and Evelyn Arlen were flying in from Texas, and as much as Beau loved them, he was mentally preparing himself for the whirlwind that was his mother.

Y/N had offered to go with him, but with so much still to finalize before the wedding, she was needed at home. So, with a quick kiss goodbye and a smiled warning from Y/N to not let his mother drive him insane, Beau had headed to the airport.

Now, standing near the arrivals gate, he adjusted his hat and sighed, scanning the incoming passengers.

And then—

He spotted them.

His mama—Evelyn Arlen—was the first to step through the terminal doors, wearing a stylish blue blouse, her graying hair perfectly curled, and an expression of absolute determination as she marched toward him.

Hank, his much calmer father, followed closely behind, carrying both their suitcases like a man who knew better than to argue with his wife.

Beau barely had time to brace himself before Evelyn reached him.

“Oh, my baby!”

Beau huffed as she practically launched herself at him, pulling him into a tight, borderline bone-crushing hug. “Hey, Mama.”

She squeezed him tighter, rocking them slightly. “Oh, I missed you so much! Let me look at you!”

She pulled back, cupping his face. “You look so good, sweetheart! But are you eating enough? You look lean.”

Beau sighed, shaking his head. “Mama, I eat plenty.”

Hank chuckled, finally catching up. “Evelyn, let the boy breathe.”

Evelyn waved him off, still studying Beau like she was assessing his life choices.

Beau smirked, finally turning to his father. “Hey, Dad.”

Hank grinned, finally getting his turn to hug his son. “Doin’ alright, boy?”

Beau sighed, grateful for the much calmer interaction. “Doin’ great.”

Hank patted his back. “Looks like life’s treatin’ you well.”

Beau smiled, thinking of Y/N, of their kids, of the family they had built. “Yeah, Dad. It really is.”

Evelyn sighed dramatically, looping her arm through Beau’s as they headed toward baggage claim. “I still can’t believe my baby is getting married again.”

Beau chuckled. “Mama, I am not a baby.”

Evelyn sniffed. “You will always be my baby.”

Hank smirked. “You walked right into that one, son.”

Beau huffed, but he didn’t argue.

As they made their way through the airport, Evelyn sighed again, shaking her head. “And I cannot wait to meet Y/N in person. You know I have questions.”

Beau groaned. “Mama, please go easy on her.”

Evelyn gasps dramatically. “Excuse me? I am always charming.”

Hank smirked, muttering under his breath, “That’s debatable.”

Evelyn narrowed her eyes at her husband. “Watch yourself, Hank.”

Beau laughed, shaking his head. “Lord help me.”

Evelyn patted his cheek. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic, sweetheart. I just want to know the woman who captured my son’s heart!”

Beau smiled softly. “You’re gonna love her, Mama.”

Evelyn softened, squeezing his arm. “Well, I better. Because she’s about to officially become an Arlen.”

Beau’s chest swelled with happiness at the thought.

In just a few days, Y/N would be his wife.

And as his parents chattered beside him about the wedding, the details, the plans—Beau knew—

This was just the beginning of the best chapter of his life.

The drive from the airport to the house was surprisingly smooth, mostly because Evelyn spent the entire ride alternating between gushing about the wedding and subtly (not so subtly) interrogating Beau about Y/N.

“So,” she mused from the passenger seat, adjusting her sunglasses as she glanced at her son. “Tell me again how you met this wonderful woman of yours?”

Beau sighed, gripping the steering wheel. “Mama, I already told you the story.”

Evelyn waved a hand. “I know, but I like hearing it.”

Hank, from the backseat, smirked. “She just wants to make sure it wasn’t fate and you weren’t tricked into this.”

Evelyn swatted at his knee. “Oh, hush, Hank.” She turned back to Beau. “Continue.”

Beau huffed but smirked anyway. “Fine. Y/N and I met in a grocery store. Her daughter, Eliza, knocked over a whole damn wall of Chef Boyardee, and I almost got taken out by a rogue can of ravioli.”

Evelyn gasped. “Oh my Lord.”

Hank chuckled. “That does sound like a dramatic entrance.”

Beau grinned. “That’s exactly what I thought.”

Evelyn narrowed her eyes. “And yet, despite the near-fatal grocery store incident, you still pursued her?”

Beau laughed, shaking his head. “Mama, I knew the second I saw her that I wanted to.” He shrugged. “Eliza was already set on us being together anyway. Figured I’d listen to the kid.”

Evelyn sighed, placing a hand over her heart. “Oh, I love that.”

Beau smirked. “Good. ‘Cause you’re gonna love her, Mama.”

Evelyn smiled warmly. “I better.”

Hank chuckled. “Well, son, if your mother doesn’t approve, you know you’re in trouble.”

Beau grinned, pulling into the driveway. “Well, good thing I ain’t worried.”

As soon as the car pulled up, the front door opened, and there stood Y/N—poised, smiling, welcoming—with Eliza bouncing at her side.

“Bo-Bo!” Eliza shouted, launching herself forward.

Beau grinned, scooping her up with practiced ease. “Hey there, wolf-child.”

Eliza giggled, her little hands gripping his shirt before she turned and spotted the new faces.

Her eyes went wide. “Who dat?”

Beau chuckled. “That’s my mama and daddy, baby.”

Evelyn, already misty-eyed, gasped softly. “Oh, my stars—you are just precious.”

Eliza tilted her head, inspecting Evelyn with serious toddler scrutiny.

Then—she reached for her.

Evelyn beamed, taking Eliza into her arms as if she had always belonged there. “Oh, we’re going to get along just fine, aren’t we?”

Eliza giggled, resting her head against Evelyn’s shoulder. “Bo-Bo’s mama.”

Beau smirked. “Yep, baby girl.”

Y/N, watching the interaction, smiled softly, stepping forward to greet Hank first with a handshake before turning to Evelyn.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” Y/N said warmly.

Evelyn sighed dramatically, shifting Eliza slightly so she could take Y/N’s hands in hers. “Oh, sweetheart, I have so many things I want to say, but let’s start with—thank you for loving my boy.”

Y/N blinked, visibly touched. “I’d say it was the easiest thing in the world.”

Evelyn made a soft, pleased noise before pulling Y/N into a hug—Eliza still in her arms, squished between them.

Hank, standing beside Beau, grinned. “Well, son, looks like your mother approves.”

Beau let out a slow breath, watching as his fiancée and his mother already bonded over Eliza’s chatter.

His chest felt full.

“Yeah, Dad,” Beau murmured, his heart settling. “I think we’re all gonna be just fine.”

And with that, the Arlen family officially began their final countdown to the wedding.

After plenty of warm introductions, laughter, and Evelyn insisting on taking over Y/N’s kitchen to prepare a “proper” Southern-style dinner, the house was buzzing with life.

With the wedding just days away, everyone was settling into their roles, and part of that meant making room for Beau’s parents.

Emily, ever the gracious daughter, had already volunteered to move into Eliza’s room for the week, letting her grandparents take the guest room.

Now, standing in the doorway of her temporary bedroom, Emily watched as Eliza carefully gathered her stuffed animals, arranging them in a very specific formation.

“You sure you’re okay with me staying in here, kiddo?” Emily asked, arms crossed as she leaned against the doorframe.

Eliza, very busy adjusting her favorite stuffed horse, barely looked up. “Uh-huh.”

Emily smiled. “You positive?”

Eliza paused, her little brow furrowing. “Where you sleep?”

Emily chuckled. “Right here.” She gestured to the small fold-out cot that had been squeezed beside Eliza’s bed.

Eliza tilted her head, considering this. Then, with a very serious expression, she said, “You scared of da dark?”

Emily snorted, shaking her head. “Nope.”

Eliza nodded, satisfied. “Good. ‘Cause I not scared either.”

Emily bit her lip, thoroughly entertained. “Well, I feel better already.”

Beau, who had been watching from the hallway, chuckled. “Wolf-child, you keep an eye on your big sister, al lright?”

Eliza gasped dramatically, puffing up with importance. “I protect her.”

Emily laughed, rolling her eyes. “Oh, thank God. I was so worried.”

Beau smiled, stepping into the room and ruffling Emily’s hair. “Thanks for bein’ a good sport, kid.”

Emily huffed, adjusting her hair. “Yeah, yeah. Just make sure Grandma and Grandpa don’t start interrogating Y/N the second we leave them alone.”

Beau chuckled. “Oh, you know Mama’s gonna interrogate her.”

Emily grinned. “I’m just hopin’ I don’t get grilled next.”

Beau smirked. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I distracted her with Eliza.”

At that exact moment, from down the hall, Evelyn’s voice called out—

“Eliza, darlin’, come tell me all about how your mama and daddy met!”

Eliza gasped with pure joy, immediately bolting past Beau and Emily. “OKAY!”

Beau smirked, looking at his eldest daughter. “See? Problem solved.”

Emily shook her head, laughing. “You are so lucky she exists.”

Beau chuckled, pulling her in for a quick side hug. “Thanks for makin’ room for ‘em, sweetheart.”

Emily smiled, nudging him playfully. “Yeah, yeah. Just remember this the next time I ask for extra wedding cake.”

Beau smiled. “Deal.”

And with that, they settled in, the house fully alive with love, laughter, and the final countdown to Beau and Y/N’s big day.

The next few days were a whirlwind—a beautiful, stressful, exciting whirlwind of last-minute wedding preparations, meeting out-of-town guests, and controlled (and occasionally uncontrolled) chaos.

The house was full—not just with Beau’s parents, but now with aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends rolling into town for the big day.

And Beau?

Beau was taking it all in stride.

Mostly.

Wednesday afternoon, just three days before the wedding, the wedding party gathered at the venue for the official rehearsal.

Beau stood at the front of the beautiful outdoor setting, dressed in his usual jeans and boots, but with a stunningly crisp button-up that Y/N had specifically picked out for him (“No, you can't wear the same damn flannel, Beau.”).

Y/N, standing a few feet away, was focused—going over every detail with the wedding coordinator, double-checking timing, confirming the music cues.

Beau, meanwhile, was grinning, hands in his pockets, watching his soon-to-be-wife with pure adoration.

Jenny, standing beside him as his best woman, smirked. “Alright, Romeo, focus.”

Beau huffed, snapping out of it. “I am focused.”

Jenny snorted. “Oh, sure. You’re real focused on staring at your fiancée like she’s the last drink of water in the desert.”

Beau smirked, shrugging. “She is.”

Jenny groaned. “I regret saying yes to this role.”

Poppernak, standing nearby, grinned. “No, you don’t.”

Jenny sighed dramatically. “Yeah, okay, I don’t.”

The rehearsal went smoothly (mostly—Eliza kept getting distracted by the flower petals she was supposed to scatter, and Caleb absolutely tried to chew on the ring box at one point), but by the end of it, Y/N finally relaxed, leaning into Beau’s side.

“We’re really doing this,” she murmured, resting a hand on his chest.

Beau smirked, tilting her chin up to look at him. “Damn right, we are.”

Y/N smiled, brushing her fingers over his jaw. “You ready?”

Beau leaned in, kissing her softly. “I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life.”

Jenny groaned loudly from the side. “Okay, stop, we get it, you’re in love.”

Beau and Y/N just laughed, completely unbothered.

By Thursday, the full guest list had arrived—which meant even more Arlen family members (and a few of Y/N’s long-distance relatives) were rolling into town.

The house became a revolving door of people stopping by, some staying for coffee, others just dropping in to hug Beau to death (his aunts, mostly) and grill Y/N on her feelings about marrying into this chaos.

Margaret absolutely took over as the unofficial hostess, making sure everyone was greeted, fed, and informed of every detail of the wedding weekend.

Her husband, Y/N’s stepfather, finally arrived that evening, having been delayed by work.

Russell was a kind, reserved man—someone who balanced out Margaret’s bold, take-charge energy with his steady, grounded nature. The moment he stepped into the house, he took one look at the absolute circus around him and sighed.

“Should’ve gotten here sooner, huh?” he muttered to Y/N as he pulled her in for a hug.

Y/N laughed, squeezing him. “Oh, definitely.”

Russell smirked, then turned toward Beau, eyeing him appraisingly before extending a hand. “So. You’re the one making my stepdaughter an Arlen.”

Beau grinned, shaking his hand firmly. “Yessir. That’d be me.”

Russell gave a small nod, glancing at Margaret, who was already smothering Eliza with kisses. “You know what you’re getting into, right?”

Beau chuckled, glancing at Y/N with so much love in his eyes. “Oh, I know.”

Russell sighed, shaking his head fondly. “All right then. Guess I can’t stop it.”

Y/N snorted, nudging him playfully. “You like him, admit it.”

Russell smirked. “I’ll let you know after the wedding.”

Beau laughed, but he knew—he had won over Margaret, and Russell wasn’t far behind.

Friday night, the last night before Beau and Y/N officially became husband and wife, the house was buzzing with final details, pre-wedding excitement, and last-minute preparations.

Y/N had made the executive decision that they would not be spending the night together—something about tradition and it making the moment more special.

Beau, for the record, hated it.

“You do realize,” he murmured, standing in the doorway of her room, “that this is the last time I’ll ever sleep without you, right?”

Y/N smirked, stepping up to him. “Exactly why you’ll survive one night.”

Beau sighed dramatically, wrapping his arms around her waist. “You say that, but I’m already suffering.”

Y/N laughed, pressing her hands against his chest. “You love the anticipation.”

Beau grinned, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to her lips. “I love you.”

Y/N sighed against him, fingers tightening on his shirt. “Tomorrow.”

Beau’s lips brushed against hers. “Tomorrow.”

And as they finally pulled apart, Beau grinned, stepping back. “Try not to miss me too much, darlin’.”

Y/N huffed, shaking her head. “Oh, go sleep, Arlen.”

Beau smirked, taking one last lingering look at her before heading toward the guest room.

And as he laid in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, knowing that the next time he closed his eyes, he’d be waking up on his wedding day—

Beau knew one thing for certain.

He had never been happier in his entire life.

Tag List: @spxideyver, @deadlymistletoe, @bitchykittenconnoisseur, @aarpfashionvictim, @stoneyggirl2

@foxyjwls007, @katastrophicmind, @globetrotter28, @deansimpalababy, @daisychaingirl

@nancymcl, @deans-baby-momma, @kickingitwithkirk, @kmc1989, @ozwriterchick

Want to be a part of this tag list or others? Comment here and I'll add you! And check out my other stories that are currently being written!

[headfullof-ideas]

I couldn’t help myself after sitting on this idea for weeks

I like to think that once she gets comfortable with being exposed to the rest of the family like this, she gets into all sorts of mischief. Usually targeted at Rudi. When she gets mad at him, she drags his shoes or tools under Jaimes bed, or hides them somewhere he can’t easily find or grab them. Bianca sets up a timeout corner with a cone of shame and sign that says what Khaji did to get put there this time. She also steals Jaime’s hoodies and stuffs them into a corner of his room that only she can access so that she has her own space

She only starts detaching herself like this at Jenny’s place when Jenny and Jaime start initiating in ‘alone time’. She goes ‘Ah NOPE’ and scuttles out of the room and into the nearest small, dark hidey-hole as fast as her little legs can carry her.

I like the idea of Khaji Da being able to "detach" herself from Jaime's spine, like her main body, but shes still connected to him on a cellular level.

Like one day shes like, "ima explore the house" and just Peels Herself off his back and drops to the floor before skittering off.

and no one knows what just happened, their all just staring at her retreating form like "What the fuck just happened?"

like she'll only do this in the Reyes house and no where else cause safety

[tonycries]

Can't Touch Me (Like Gojo) - G.S.

Synopsis. In which intentionally making your fríend-with-benefíts jealous ends up with more benefits than you’d think.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, FWḂ! Gojo, slight Sukuna x reader, rough VERY jealous séx, Satoru goes feraI omg, unprotected, FWḂ-to-lovers, thígh riding, fíngering, creampíe, overstím, spítting, implied thréesome, he’s a bit mean and possessive, swearing.

Word count. 4.8k

A/N. Heheh, hoping y’all have a lovely week coming up <3

“-n’ there’s this really great café downtown with those cupcakes you like-”

“Toru.”

“-I’ll get ya some for that kick you need after a lecture with Yaga. Speaking of Yaga-”

“Toru-”

“-he’s the one in need of a kick. I swear, that man gave me a B on my presentation just because I caught him in the middle of his interpretive dance routine-”

“Satoru!”

At this, Satoru pauses in the middle of buckling up his jeans to throw a grave nod your way. “I know, right?” Promptly sauntering over to pick up his t-shirt from where it had been thrown onto your bedroom floor, “It gave me nightmares for a few days, too. Which is why we should go to that café tomorrow and then…”

You roll your eyes - partially out of frustration, partially out of necessity to rip your stare away from those sculpted shoulders on display. Decorated in angry, red scratches running down, down, down. Somehow, you manage to grit out, “Satoru I have a uh- date.”

And ah, was it a sight to behold - because, perhaps for the first time in the twenty-something years that Gojo Satoru has wreaked havoc on this planet, he’s stunned into silence. 

Still very groggy from sleep, still very sinfully shirtless standing at the foot of your bed. His kiss-bitten lips fall slack as you plow on, “And it’s just- I can’t make it tomorrow night because he invited me to his party.” 

Party? This was the first time you canceled one of your…appointments with your friend-with-benefits - and it was for some party? Satoru could do parties, too - much better ones than this loser, he’s sure. Ones that would actually warrant you bailing on him.

Shaking away the strange thoughts ringing in his mind, he spits, “Who?” Just about all he could get out now. 

Whoever he was - it was true about the parties. Why would you want to waste any time going to something like that when Satoru was the one known for them on campus. Him and Suku-

“It’s Sukuna.”

“Oh.”

---

It was stupid - it was ridiculous. And you don’t know why Sukuna ever agreed to this scheme, but here you were, glued to his side like his favorite lil’ plaything for the night. 

“What?” you shout for the nth time tonight, scooting closer on the couch. And you see his lips move, yet, to your frustration - despite being seated so flush against you - no sound comes out of them. 

Whatever they say about Sukuna and Satoru’s parties were true - and then some. Because right now, it was so loud you could barely hear yourself think, let alone whatever Sukuna was talking about. Heaving out a sigh, you get ready to give up and suggest joining the thrumming dance floor - before, a large, soft hand glides down to your waist. 

Fingers digging into the plush of your hips as Sukuna yanks you easily to plop down onto his waiting lap. Thighs strong and steady underneath yours, meeting your surprised gaze with his smug one, “This better?”

His hot breath fans the shell of your ear, sending traitorous shivers running along your spine - all the way down to where Sukuna was resting hand right above where your tight dress was hiking up. 

Involuntarily, you find yourself nodding along, “Y-yeah. Much better.”

“Good.”

Fuck, you could feel each and every rumble of his broad chest against yours as he continues the conversation like nothing happened. The faint tap! tap! tap! of Sukuna’s fingers drumming on your squirming hips to the beat of the pounding music. 

And it’s really hard to forget where you are, yet it hits you like a semi-truck - five of them, in fact - when his dark eyes widen at something over your shoulders. The steady beat of his fingers halting abruptly, “Oh?”

You knew what that look meant - knew who it meant. Because, really, there was only ever one person that could command as much attention in such a hazy, packed campus party.

Dipping your head, you hastily ask, “Is he looking over at us?”

To which Sukuna finally tears his gaze away, amusement and something else so dark swirling behind his gaze when he grabs the back of your throat. Whispering against the skin, “More than looking, pretty. Satoru’s planning my funeral and dancing on my grave already.” Moving up, voice dropping to a low, low whisper, “All according to plan, of course. N’ I think…” You jolt as he bites down on your earlobe, hard. “-that we should give him a lil’ show, hm?”

You bite back a soft moan, palms smoothing over Sukuna’s pecs to steady yourself. “And just what did you have in mind?”

“A little bit of this.” he grins, eyes flickering over behind you. “A little bit of that. And some of-” Sukuna chuckles at the way you’re so responsive underneath his touch, bucking when he gives your ass a tight squeeze. Tracing right up, up, up the middle of your spine, “-this.” Lips just inches away from yours now, close. “And you get him as a new boyfriend, and I get killed for taking what I can’t have.”

You feel something soft - fleeting. 

And then immediately Sukuna’s pulling away, those lips that were just barely one yours curling up into such a sly smirk, “Yo, Satoru.”

You stiffen at the name - and the burning hole being stared into your back right now - whipping your head around to be met face-to-face with a towering Satoru. Brows furrowed, biceps rippling when he crosses his arms, lips drawn tight as he hisses through his teeth, “Seems the two of you are having a lot of fun.”

Oh, were you thankful for Sukuna’s sharp mouth right about now. Because while you’re still sitting there with your mouth stupidly agape, he muses, “Mhm, a lot of fun.” Thumbing your face back towards him, “Isn’t that right, pretty?”

Fuck, those were fighting words, ones that had Satoru looming closer - practically sandwiching you between the two men.

“I’m sure she can speak for herself.” he snaps back, slender fingers circling your wrist. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

“I dunno, Toru.” And, well, maybe you were an idiot. Maybe you were a mastermind, because you only bat your lashes up at Satoru so deceivingly innocently. “Kuna here-” relishing in the way he flinches at the nickname, “-was jus’ telling me how great of a boyfriend he’d be. Right?”

The other man nods, “Since this pretty lil’ thing is single, thought I might as well take a shot.”

“Please.” Satoru was pulling you closer against him now, irritated huffs prickling waves of goosebumps across your skin. Words venomous, “Some boyfriend he’d be. I’m sure he’d do nothing other than give you weak dick and bore you to death.”

Sukuna scoffs, “Right, because yours is so much better?”

“You really think you have what it takes to satisfy this lil’ minx?”

Both men were gritting their teeth, trapping you between them. People were starting to stare now - some even pulling their phones out to start recording in case of a fight. And before the argument could escalate until that point, you catch Sukuna’s eye. Cutting off whatever next retort was on the tip of his tongue with a short, subtle shake of your head. 

“Well then…” he instead purrs, grinning as if he was in on some inside joke between the two of you - on purpose, of course, just to watch Satoru’s eyes grow harder. “Guess if I’m ‘boring her to death’ then you-” Sukuna gives you a little push, nudging you towards Satoru’s chest. “-can teach her all about fun.”

Before you can react, two strong arms are looping your waist, helping you stand up - and pulling you clean off of Sukuna’s lap. 

You’re hit with Satoru’s expensive, heady cologne - and his chest against your back, rock-hard, chest thumping wildly. You blink up at that uncharacteristically clenched jaw, “Toru?”

Now, you’ve seen him moody, you’ve seen him irritated - but never to this extent. Positively fuming, teeth grit, jolting at the mere sound of your voice as if his whole body was hit with a wave of electricity. Like some hidden, primal part of himself was being poked so dangerously awake when you softly intertwine your fingers with his. All gentle against his almost bruising hold, you question, “Are you alri-”

You don’t get to finish the question, because all it takes is another slow, leering grin flashed at you from Sukuna before Satoru mutters, gravelly. “Excuse us, then. I must have a talk with my woman.”

Starting to walk in long, fast strides upstairs - with you all stumbling and trying to keep up behind him. 

Urgent. Dangerous.

“Extra room’s unlocked, you two!” you hear Sukuna call out after the both of you. And the last sight you see of him is when he mouths a silent “You’re welcome.”. One hand flashing you a thumbs up, the other adjusting the crotch of his pants. “Have fun.”

Satoru only clicks his tongue, moving very purposefully towards where Sukuna’s bedroom was instead.

“Woah- Toru, slow down.” you yelp, out of breath at his ruthless pace. But of course, since this is Satoru, he won’t have it any way other than stopping immediately in his tracks. Turning briefly around to you - only to wrap two arms around your waist, throwing you so easily over his shoulder like some ragdoll. Large palms tugging down the hem of your ass as he continues walking. “Y-you’re so-”

So what? Mean? Jealous? Playing right into your hands?

You don’t even know - nor do you really care, because Satoru finally reaches his destination.

“Fuck- here.” he spits.

Slam!

The door is flung open so hard it almost rattles off its hinges - and you aren’t faring any better. Because no sooner has Satoru stepped inside, he’s throwing you onto the king-sized bed in the middle of the room. 

The mattress dips as he slowly makes his way up to you, your legs quiver at how much he just looked like a man starved - eyes half-lidded and crazed, hair ruffled. Having finally found a full meal in years. Darkly eyeing down the way you’re splayed out like such a slut on the mattress, dress hiking up with each bounce at the sheer force of his throw. 

“So-” Satoru’s fingers reach out to lazily unbuckle the straps of your heels. Lingering much more than necessary. “-got anything to say?”

You bite your lower lip, holding back a delighted grin while his hands dance up your thigh to fiddle with that garter you knew he’d love. Slow. Agonizingly slow. Cocking your head in faux-confusion, “Hmm, like what?”

“Oh I dunno.” Satoru muses, saccharine sweet. And oh you could tell by his tone that he didn’t like that - didn’t want to like it. Running his fingers feather-light all the way down your legs to fling that useless garter onto the floor. “How about a ‘oh I’m so sorry, Toru, for bailing on you and acting like such a slut with the biggest asshole on campus jus’ to rile you up.’” 

You bristle at his mockingly high tone, oh yeah, your plan worked - hell, maybe too well. 

Teeth clenched, you hiss, “Well what are you gonna do about it, Toru?” Jutting your chin in defiance, “You’re not even my boyfriend. Maybe he jus’ fucks me better than you.”

“Say that again.”

Fuck, it takes you a second to even recognise his voice as your familiar friend-with-benefits. So jagged and raw. 

And yet, you’re still running your mouth - so close to his. Too close. “Maybe he jus’ fucks me be-”

Now, usually you were the one that’d shut up Satoru mid-sentence - this time, however, he’s the one crashing his lips against yours. Swallowing the rest of that sentence in such a messy clash of teeth, and spit, and desperation. 

Pulling ever-so-slightly on your glossy lower lip with his teeth, “Say it again, sweetheart.”

Oh, you knew you shouldn’t. Not one bit. But you do it anyway, letting out a muffled, “He f-”

And again. And again and again and-

Each and every time Satoru’s kissing away your mean little words, a large hang coming up around your throat to thumb apart your lips further. “Open.” he hisses against your mouth, so angry. 

It’s as if on autopilot when you do, bruised lips sagging open. Leaving the perfect lil’ opening for Satoru to spit onto your lolling tongue, once. Twice. Thrice. Until your bleary eyes are snapping open, whining against Satoru’s iron-hold fist when you pathetically try to pull away in embarrassment.

Because shit, let it be known that Gojo Satoru has perfect aim - except for when it comes to you. Letting the steady strip of spit splatter against the side of your mouth, gliding his thumb to smear it all over your lips.

“How cute.” Satoru coos, eyes hooded. He gives your pouty mouth a final, chaste peck, sucking softly on your bottom lip. Chuckling, “Makin’ me almost forget you were locking lips with some other bitch earlier.”

And Satoru has the audacity to laugh - laugh - hoarse, and humorless at the way your jaw drops open in disbelief. Humming into your throat, “Yer right, though, m’not your boyfriend.” He leaves little bite marks down your racing pulse, your collarbone, your tits spilling out of your sinful dress. Eyes just devouring you through his long lashes, “But that doesn’t make you any less mine.”

Sitting back on the mattress, all it takes him is a simple tug on your hips to seat you so prettily on his lap. Your legs trembling around his thick thighs, gasping at the feeling of something so rock-hard right under your clothed pussy. 

“Since ya like riding thighs so much, sweetheart-” Bunching your dress up at your hips, gripping your waist - tight. “-let’s see how you like mine.”

“What- oh ngh- fuck-” you’re gasping when he just starts dragging your sloppy hips down his thigh. Long, harsh movements that don’t even ease you into it. 

“Shit.” Satoru groans at the feeling of your cunt drooling, seeping into his skin already. He’s angling his head to spy on the heavenly view - hooking a finger around your drenched panties. “This damn thing is-” Pulling - tearing. “-in the way.”

You’re gasping when Satoru pulls back to look at you with a content grin, dangling the flimsy fabric around his finger like a badge of honor. “You’re- ngh- buying me a new one.”

“Oh, anything for you.” he’s grazing his teeth along your earlobe, fingers finding their way back on your hips to grind them on his thigh, back and forth. Up and down up and down up and- “Or is that what you wanted me to say?”

And shit Satoru is so mean with the way he gives your ass a sharp smack! Pulling your whiny face closer, grinning sternly against your lips. “Why don’t you ask that new boytoy of yours to buy you some, huh?” 

“B-but-”

“B-b-but-” he mocks, bouncing his knees up and down to get you to slide your cunt down his long thighs faster. Puffy folds spreading so shamefully open - so shamefully good. “You were so happy being such a slut for him before, right?” Just goading on your poor self to huff and puff in a way that made his cock twitch wildly. “So why are you here? With me?”

You’re stubbornly keeping your lips sealed shut to keep yourself from crying out - and oh, Satoru didn’t like that. Almost as much as he didn’t like seeing you giving those beautiful heart-eyes at some other bastard.

“Oh? Playing shy now?” Smack! “What happened to the slut from earlier, huh?” Bouncing his knee faster. The pads of his long fingers sting into your skin, sure to leave bruises for him to admire later - and for some people to take note of. Pulling - drawing your cunt to hump him like a bitch in heat. “Tha’s alright, pretty. I get it.” 

And Satoru - mean, mean Satoru - waits until your features soften in relief, almost letting out a sigh - before dipping a hand down to brush a thumb at your pretty clit. Hard. “Guess I’ll jus’ have to bring her out.”

“Oh- fuck fuck fuck-” you mewl, nails digging into Satoru’s shoulders when he starts to draw frenzied, methodical little circles on your throbbing clit. “S’too- good- oh my god-”

“‘Toru’ works jus’ fine, sweetheart.” 

But oh for how confident Satoru was talking you into insanity, he can’t help but gape in wonder down below him, awe-struck with how sloppy you were. He could see you sweet sweet juices trailing down his palm, that glossy sheen on his thigh. “You’re so dripping wet, pretty. Who’re you this wet for? Me or-” Satoru’s free hand comes up to squish your cheeks together into an embarrassing pout, turning your head to the adjacent wall, where Sukuna had a framed photograph of himself - because of course he did. “-him?”

Fuck, Satoru can’t even be mad at the way he feels your cunt clench in surprise - because the feeling is so heavenly. His pretty girl, getting off on just his thigh.

Hips stuttering as you move faster - sloppier. So, so filthily all the way from around his knee just till where you could feel the curve of his massive erection. 

He doesn’t even have to move your hips for you anymore - you’re moving as if on instinct at this point. And it makes him smirk, “Heh, such a slutty lil’ thing aren’t ya? Gettin’ off on my thigh?” Feeling you push your hips down hard - so hard. Pelvis desperately trying to hit all your sweet spots, “N’ who’s thigh are you riding right now?”

It’s all you can do to manage out a whimpering “Y-you.”

But, of course, that wasn’t enough. And Satoru’s only quirking his fingers just enough on your clit to make you cry out loud. “Yeah tha’s more like it. Louder now - who’s thigh are you riding right now?”

“You-”

“N’ who got you this fucking wet?”

You cry out when Satoru angles his leg up ever-so-slightly to watch gravity slide you faster down his thigh. Clit catching so fucking obscenely along the fabric of his pants. Ruthless.

“F-fuck you, Toru!”

“Mhmmm, thought so.” His hot tongue darts out to catch those big, fat tears rolling down your cheeks at the unforgiving stimulation. Muscled thighs burning lightly now - faster -  fingers so erratic. Only getting even more so. “Cuz you’re mine aren’t ya?”

You cum so hard - violent, even - that you don’t realize when you are. Just that you’re letting out a broken sob of Satoru’s name while he toys so relentlessly with your clit through your high.

Flashes of white in your vision, your heartbeat in your ears. So good that you’re almost tearing apart his button-up to shreds, hips jerky and sensitive as you your sloppy cunt gushes all over Satoru’s thigh. And, fuck, you’ve never felt so much like such a slut than when you look down to catch the glossy coating all over it. 

One that Satoru swipes thumb at - pooling the syrupy slick on his fingerpad before bringing up to his pretty pink lips and-

Pop! 

“Mmm.” He groans, muffled. “Fuck, you’re so sweet - could taste you forever.” Eyes rolling to the back of his head at your addictive taste, “Almost makes me forget that you didn’t answer my last question.”

And you don’t know what you’re reeling more from - the way that Satoru throws you around so easily, pushing you back until you’re splayed out against the plush mattress, shaky legs on his shoulders, arms around his neck. Or from the realization that shit, you’d been too busy losing your absolute sanity to answer his question. 

“I- I didn’t hear.” you make up an excuse, heels digging into the muscles of Satoru’s shoulders now. “I’m yours, Tor-”

“Now now, don’t try that with me, sweetheart.” Satoru cuts off your flurry of apologies, kissing softly at the ankle beside his neck while he pulls off your dress and bra. You didn’t need those, anyway. “Guess I just hafta prove it to ya, right?”

And fuck was he well and fully intent on proving it to you. Because the words are barely out of his mouth before he’s peeling down his drenched pants - and those unnecessary boxers right along with it, too. 

Satoru hisses when his painfully hard erection smacks against those toned abs, smearing precum in a small, filthy little pool. So so angry with the need to be inside your tight pussy - to prove to you from the inside out that you were his. 

“Ya like what you see?” he notices your fixed stare at his cock. Greedily following the precum beading at his fat, red head, making its way between Satoru’s prominent veins. To those tufts of white way down, down, down- “Hey there.” You’re startled out of your little reverie by two wet fingers being snapped in your face, “As flattered as I am, this is actually my favorite part.”

And fuck you could see why it was.

Because it felt so sinful to watch with bated breath at the way Satoru fists his swollen cock, gliding his weeping tip between your swollen folds. Letting your pretty pussy slobber all over him. Up and down. Again. And again. Teasing. 

“P-please, Toru-” you whine around the fifth time he’s “accidentally” nudging at your poor clit. Hips bucking up in need for more more more- “Enough teasing, jus’ wan’ you ngh- inside me.”

To Satoru, no sweeter words have been spoken. But he still manages to curl his lips into a leering smirk at your fucked-out, needy self. “Funny. Coming from someone who shit- pretty, you’re pussy’s trynna suck me up - who couldn’t wait to bail on me tonight for some other hah- jerk.” He presses his thick tip down on your clit, on purpose. “Would’ve fucked you ngh- real nicely, tonight, y’know? What a shame.” 

You can only watch when he draws his hips back, lining up right with your sloppy hole. “What a shame m’gonna ah- fuck you like the slut you are right now.”

It’s all that’s said before he’s pushing in - to your snug cunt, to your fucking lungs it felt like. 

“Oh- oh fuck, Toru-” you keen, back arching off the bed at the stretch. Satoru’s girth was rubbing up against your gummy walls and stretching them out so good. All the way until all you could feel was the rapid thump! thump! thump! of his throbbing cock pushing between your legs. “God, s’too big-”

“No no no, you don’t get to say that.” Satoru spits into your open mouth, hips jutting forward like some animal in short, shallow grinds to bully himself deeper. “You don’t get to fuck- ngh- act all coy when you brought this upon yourself.” His words come out faster - more slurred. Falling out faster and faster as his hips do, “Not when you decided t-to act like a lil’ slut hah- n’ guess what?”

Whether it was a rhetorical question or not - you weren’t sure. All you know is that you’re mewling up tearily at such a feral Satoru, “W-what?”

To which he only smiles against your lips, hips suddenly going still. Dangerously still. “N’ that means m’gonna fuck you like one.”

Before you can even react, he’s pushing in all in one go. Fuck, it never got easier even after so long. 

“Oh- fuck I can’t take it- all-” you cry helplessly as he keeps pushing past that first ring of resistance. The curve of his cock massaging all those hidden sweet spots inside while he keeps splitting you apart deeper and deeper - not daring to even slow down. Not until Satoru’s well satisfied with the kiss of your bruised cervix against his thick head ,heavy balls smacking against your marked-up ass. 

“See? Knew you could take it, you always do.”

And then he’s moving - not with the slow, persistent determination from before, no. Satoru was so animalistic, bouncing you unapologetically on the mattress. 

Hands keeping your hips still to let him ram his entire cock inside your tight pussy. Over and over and-

“Still don’t think you’re not- fuck- mine, sweetheart?” Satoru runs a hand through his hair to see you better, to drink in the sight of your puffy folds bulging around his cock. Struggling to take in each mean thrust, “Because this seems ngh- reeeeal convincing that you are.”

You scrunch your brows in a pathetic plea, “I-I am yours, Toru- ngh-”

But he only brings his ear closer, “What was th-that? Didn’t hah- hear you-” Hands pushing apart your legs until they burned at the stretch. Until you were so shamefully on display for him, “You hah- need more convincing? Oh, I see.”

“I don’t! Oh- T-ngh”

It’s all you can do to let out teary, broken moans when Satoru rolls his hips harder. So carefully practiced with the way he locates your sweet spot easily. 

“Yeah? You hah- like that?” he groans, words punctuated by a deep, harsh thrust. All hitting the bulls-eye each and every time. “Like me f-fuckin’ you like you’re mine?”

At this point, you’re scrambling at the damp sheets, the headrest, Satoru’s shoulders - just anything and everything to hold onto whatever’s left of your sanity - which seemed to be slipping away with each press of Satoru’s head against your g-spot. 

But it still wasn’t enough.

Languidly, he brings a hand over to pinch your ravaged clit between two fingers. Having you whine so prettily with each roll of his fingertips. “Answer the question, pretty.”

“Yes!” you gasp, feet kicking at the sheer overstimulation. “I love it- ngh shit shit shit- I love it, Toru- love it so much.”

Shit, you might’ve just broken him.

Because while you may have thought that this answer would calm your Satoru down a bit - it only made him snap. Eyes widening, hips stuttering, swollen lips falling into such a fucked-out oh! - he looked like an absolute wreck.

Letting out a low, throaty groan of, “Oh fuck, you’re gonna be the ngh- death of me.” With this, he’s pressing his sweaty forehead onto yours, breaths coming out in feverish little puffs that match his merciless cadence. “Wish they could fuck- see you like this.” Ramming inside you harder - meaner. Giving your clit a light smack! before he starts playing with it once more. “I’d ah- fuck you in front of all those losers that think they have a chance just to show off how good you are f’me. Because you’re fuck fuck fuck- my good girl, right?”

You nod as much as you can, head just spinning with each brush of Satoru’s dick against your sensitive spots. Fingers twirling at your clit just as dizzyingly. Letting your slick glisten all over his wrist - his painfully squeezing balls - all the way up to his abs with how hard he was fucking into your tight pussy.

The both of you were getting so sloppy now. No care or concern for the party still raging on outside, not when your gummy walls were sucking up Satoru’s aching cock like that. 

“No one ngh- can fuck you like this.” Satoru sucks on your lower lip. Ragged, like it pained him to keep talking, but he couldn’t stop anyway. “No one.” Milking you harder and harder like he was high off your sweet moans. More desperate - depraved. “Cuz m’yours.”

And he repeats that - into your lips, into your forehead, down your neck - over and over while you cum so fucking hard all on his swollen cock. Plushy walls squeezing so tight that it was almost difficult to fuck you through your high.

Ripping out strangled, raspy groans with each clench of your slutty cunt, “N’ you’re mine.” You think your vision gets hazy through your climax, and the only thing you can hear are those obscene squelches and Satoru’s voice. Like a mantra, “You’re mine- you’re mine you’re mine you’re mine- fuck you’re mine.”

Not straying too far behind, Satoru cums and he thinks he sees the pearly gates of heaven - with you, such an angel. 

So sweetly whining into his ear when he’s painting your walls white, pumping rope after rope of thick, hot cum into your awaiting pussy.

Blinking back his vision only to eye the way it overspills, dribbling down your slit with each harsh ram of his hips. 

“Wan’ go again-” Satoru groans. Only fucking his seed deeper and deeper and oh- he didn’t want to stop. Didn’t think he could stop with the way you were bringing out each and every single last drop like it was delicious. “F-fuck I needa go again. Swee-”

SLAM!

“Woah, seems the two of you are having a looota fun.”

Still not pulling out, both you and Satoru scramble to cover yourselves up with Sukuna’s now-soaked sheets. Well, mainly cover you up, for Satoru had no shame in staring the other man down. Scoffing out, “The fuck are you fuck- don’ squeeze me so hard, pretty- the fuck are you here for?”

“It’s my room, n’ I had a feeling you’d be here.” Sukuna lets the door shut so agonizingly slow, flashing the two of you a lazy, devilish grin. “Besides - this is my date, after all.”

A/N. Plagiarism of work not authorized.

[stainedglassvariations]

Morning Showers

Non-sexual intimacy, sharing an early morning shower, GN!MC

Zayne doesn’t flinch when he hears you opening the shower door, already pressing himself into the corner so you have room to wriggle inside. His shower is really too small for this, but he can’t find it in him to care when you press yourself to his front; eyes still shut from the early hour. In a minute or two, you’ll start to wake up, insisting on lathering his hair if only for the simple amusement of styling it up, and he’ll run the loofa down your soft back after. When you get out, he’ll step aside so you can do your skin care, and you’ll tell him which tie he should wear while watching him through the mirror. Your little morning ritual ends with lips against his cheek, drops of water dripping down onto his collar, and the rest of the day seems to go by just a bit faster.

Xavier is the one to follow you in, his arms around your waist as he sleepily follows you through the apartment. You help him pull his sleep shirt over his head, let him hold onto you as he steps out of his sweats and boxers, and brace his weight against your back as you adjust the water to the perfect temperature. When you step into the water, you have the showerhead angled so he can rest his cheek on your shoulder without being drowned. You always wind up a little late to work on these mornings as you spend most of the time running your hands up and down the length of his spine. 

Rafayel badgers you into it at first, but now you can’t imagine a week without at least one morning spent in his ridiculous walk-in shower. He plasters himself against you, complaining about the water temperature but never re-adjusting the knobs, and demands that you wash his hair. In retaliation, you steal away with a bottle of his expensive body wash as if you don’t see the grin that stretches across his face when he smells it on you three days later. The mornings you shower together are playful and sweet, with soap bubbles being blown and water flicked into each other’s faces. By the time you get out, you’re pruned and slightly overheated while he looks unfairly refreshed and moisturized. 

Sylus carries you in on the mornings you have no desire to get out of bed. His hands are gentle as they take off your clothes, big palms keeping you warm against the early morning chill. He sits you between his legs, moving the showerhead over your body before getting a nice lather with the bodywash he made you pick out weeks before. You almost fall back asleep leaning against his thigh while he massages your shoulders, barely aware when he reaches down to lift you back up against him so he can wash your legs. The robe he wraps you in after he’s done is sinfully soft, warmed on the heated towel rack, and you’re reluctant to leave when your alarm shatters the morning peace. Thinking back on it once the haze of sleep clears, you think that may have been the entire point.

Caleb is too big for you two to be sharing the shower in your apartment, but that doesn’t stop you from squeezing into what little space is left. He laughs when he feels your arms around his waist, cheekily asking if you have room to breathe back there, but his hands hold fast to yours as if afraid you’ll slink away. You respond with a light nip to his shoulder and demand the hot water to be made even hotter. Underneath the spray, the two of you talk about anything and everything, making plans for the coming days you’re together. When it’s time to rinse the suds off, it’s a careful dance to get beneath the showerhead without knocking anything off the walls. After, the two of you fight for space in front of the mirror like when you were teens. It ends with you warning Caleb not to get toothpaste in your hair as he brushes his teeth over your head, you tucked against his bare chest.

[crypticgrayson]

Round and Round ~ Part 2

Pairing: Front Man/Hwang In-ho x F!Reader

Warnings: Blood, Death, Smut, bit of angst

Summary: Continues on from the previous part, the aftermath of the Mingle game and Gi-hun’s plan to go after the Front Man..

Part 1

You moved your hair behind your ears before turning your head to look at the man sat next to you on the stairs leading up to your bunk beds, the circle on Young-il’s chest now replaced by a cross after the next round of voting. Even with over half of all the players dead after the mingle game, the vote turned out to be a draw. Young-il noticed you staring and drew up one of his brows, causing you to quickly turn back around.

You opened the box of food on your lap, surprised to see a fork on the side of the tin. “Something you wanted to say?” Young-il asked as he moved down a step to sit next to you, “No, not in particular” You replied. “Oh? They didn’t give me one” Young-il spoke as he nodded towards your tin, his eyes falling on the metal fork, moving your gaze towards the metal box in his hands to see he wasn’t lying.

Young-il closed the tin again with a sigh, laying it down at his feet as you started on your food, feeling Young-il’s thigh pressed against yours as he spread his legs slightly to close the distance between you. You knew he was testing you to see what your reaction would be, if you would move away, but you didn’t move an inch as you continued eating, not acknowledging the contact between you.

When you finished your food not much later, you had been starving after running around in the last game, you held out your fork to the man besides you, taking it from your outreached hand before grabbing his tin from the floor. Young-il barely managed to take a few bites when everyone’s looked up, some bloodied players with circles on their chests walking in, led by a group of pink guards. Your eyes fell on the bloody fork in one of the men’s hand, another group walking in from the other side, seeing some people you knew in this group with crosses on their chests.

“What happened?” Gi-jun asked when the x group walked over to the rest of you, the room clearly split in the middle by x’s and o’s. “Thanos and 333 broke out into a fight, 333 killed- killed him, which caused everyone to join in” Dae-ho spoke, everyone moving closer to listen in. “Did we lose many?” Jung-bae joined in, everyone turning their heads to the other group to see they were already staring. “Count how many they have, and how many we have” Young-il suggested, Gi-hun started to count your group as Young-il counted the other side.

“Well?” You asked, your gaze shifting between them. “They have 65” Young-il replied, Gi-hun sighing softly. “We have 66, they’ll never accept that for the revote tomorrow” Gi-hun spoke, most of your group nodding in agreement. “Did more people get forks in their boxes?” You asked, a few people raising their hands. “So they have weapons if they want to try and take some of us out” You continued, Gi-hun biting down on his bottom lip, seemingly deep in thought.

“They’ll attack us tonight, when they think we’re asleep, they only have to take out two of us to have the majority vote tomorrow” Gi-hun spoke softly, making a shiver run down your spine as you wrapped your arms around your waist. “We should take turns keeping watch, then all of us can still catch some sleep for the next game” Young-il spoke, everyone nodding in agreement. Everyone moved to their beds after a little while had passed, Gi-hun and Jung-bae taking first watch.

You laid your head down on your pillow when the lights dimmed, letting out a nervous sigh, knowing falling asleep would be difficult as hell with your heart beating loudly in your ears. After what you estimated to be an hour had passed you sat up with a sigh, wanting to join Gi-hun but a voice softly called out to you from the bed beside yours. “What are you doing?” Young-il whispered, your eyes shifting toward him. “I can’t sleep, I’ll switch with one of them” You replied, nodding your head in the direction of the two men keeping watch.

“You should really try to sleep, you need energy for tomorrow, Gi-hun and Jung-bae are keeping an eye out” He replied, “I know.. but by the time he notices someone’s all the way back here, it’ll already be too late” You spoke, making him sigh in agreement. “Come sleep next to me then, I’ll stay awake so you can catch some shut eye” Young-il told you, shifting to the side of his mattress to give you space. You had to bite back a laugh at his words, wanting to tell him how that wouldn’t be any better since your trust in him had faltered because of what happened in the past game, but you still moved out of your bed.

You took the three steps to cross the path between your bunks, sitting down next to him before lying down, your back facing him. Young-il let out a deep breath before lying down beside you, placing a hand on your arm as he moved his other hand to prop his head up, doing as he promised. His hand on your arm drawing gentle patterns through your jacket somehow calmed your nerves, and you were already fighting to keep your eyes open, sleep overtaking you not much later. Young-il looked down at your sleeping face with a sigh, carefully lifting his hand to move a loose strand of hair out of your face, moving the back of his fingers over the incredibly soft skin of your cheek. He had to hold himself back to not press his lips where his fingers had just been before he heard footsteps come in his direction, moving his hand back down to your arm.

It didn’t take long for Young-il to shake you awake, opening your eyes to see Gi-hun kneeled in front of you too. “We need to do something, they’re planning their attack and we don’t have enough people strong enough to fight back” Gi-hun softly spoke, Jung-bae stood behind him. “What are you suggesting?” Young-il asked as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, sitting up too. “Let’s wait until they attack, the guards will come to stop the fight because they don’t want too many of us to die, we steal their guns, and-..” Gi-hun spoke before stopping, furrowing his brows. “And?” Young-il questioned, Gi-hun scratching his jaw before replying, “We attack the front man”

You let out a laugh before noticing the serious look on Gi-hun’s face, “You’re being serious?” you asked. “Yes, this could be our only chance, and it’s better than having to fight them” Gi-hun replied, a silence falling between the four of you. “Let’s do it” Jung-bae spoke, “I’m in as well” You added, the three of you turning to Young-il who stayed silent. He looked up and the stoic look on his face shifted to a smile you now easily recognized as fake, “Let’s tell the others” he spoke before getting up.

You spent the rest of night waiting for movement from the other side of the room, until all your heads perked up when you heard footsteps approaching. You heard a scream from somewhere in front of you before several fights broke out, Young-il grabbing your shoulder to pull you behind him, leading you away from the fights and down the stairs. “Let’s hide so we can grab one of the guards” Young-il softly spoke, his hand still behind him to hold on to you. You looked to your side to see Gi-hun and Jung-bae fighting with two other men, holding down the urge to run over to them as you kneeled behind a flipped bed next to Young-il.

What felt like hours were a few seconds in reality before the lights came on, hearing the loud footsteps of the pink guards’ boots. “Everyone halt and lay down your weapons!” The leader of the guards called, hearing the commotion stop. You peeked past the side of the bed to see the guards were too far away to grab, before Gi-hun started another fight to try to lead a guard his way. Young-il and you exchanged a look when you heard boots coming closer, waiting until the guard was close enough before you popped out behind the cover, Young-il throwing the guard to the floor with his full weight as you grabbed the rifle from the guard’s hands, firing at the other guards as Young-il pulled you back into cover.

When you hit a few of the guards who had ran over to close in on you some of the others from your group had managed to grab a couple of rifles, all of having shot down around 10 of the guards before they decided to retreat. “Let’s go, this is our chance!” Gi-hun yelled, walking over to the pink bodies to grab whatever ammo and walkie talkies they had on them. “Who’s with us?” Jung-bae called out, the only ones to respond being Hyun-ju, Dae-ho, 156, 047 and 246. “We’ll never make it with just 9 of us” Jung-bae softly spoke, making Gi-hun shake his head, “We don’t have a choice, let’s go”

Hyun-ju explained to you how to reload the gun and check on the magazine when you made it to the stairs, before a few bullets flew just inches past your head, all of you crouching down before shooting back. “Stay close to me at all times” Young-il told you as he moved in front of you, giving him a quick nod in response before you made your way up, shooting at whatever bit of pink you saw peeking through the openings around you. “They’re coming from over here!” Gi-hun yelled as he stood at the front of your group, peeking around a corner. “Jung-bae, come with me, the rest of you cover us until I’ll call you over the walkie to tell you if it’s safe” Gi-hun continued, disappearing around the corner with Jung-bae before you could even protest. “Let’s hold our ground here!” Hyun-ju called out, each of you taking your positions as you shot at the guards making their way over. You felt in your pocket to check if the full magazine was still there, feeling the heavy weight of it in your jacket to your relief. You saw Young-il throw away his empty magazine and load his gun with a new one, checking yours to see you still had half of it left. A few minutes had passed, yet your walkie stayed silent, concern raising within you as you grabbed Hyun-ju’s arm.

“Some of us should check on them, it’s taking too long and our ammo is running out” You told her, Hyun-ju humming in agreement. “I’ll go, Y/N can come with me and we need one more” Young-il spoke, 047 raising his hand. “Let’s go” Young-il continued, running over to the door Gi-hun had jammed open with an empty rifle. You followed the dead bodies sprawled out through the hallways and stairs, until you heard gunshots come from close by. The three of you turned the final corner before your eyes fell on Gi-hun and Jung-bae, who signed for you to stay back. “They just keep coming, we need to find a way to attack them from behind” Gi-hun whispered, ducked behind the wall. “I think I saw a way back there, we’ll attack from there” Young-il replied, “Good luck” Gi-hun spoke as his eyes shifted to yours.

You followed Young-il back the way you came, 047 close behind you. Young-il shot at a guard who popped out behind a corner, before you heard his gun was empty. You had just reloaded your own and doubted for a second when Young-il threw his rifle to the floor with a loud curse, moving the band off your shoulder before handing your rifle to him. “You’re a better shot than I am” You told him, Young-il taking it from your outreached hand. You made it up another set of stairs, Young-il taking out the two guards before making it around the corner, seeing the guards at the top were stood with their backs towards you.

“This is it” Young-il softly spoke as he turned to face you and 047, “How much ammo do you have left?” He asked 047, who opened his magazine to check. “Over half” 047 told him, Young-il doing the same. “I have less than half” He told the man, 047 moving up. “I’ll take lead then, if they turn around I have more bullets to fire at them” 047 spoke, Young-il giving a nod in agreement. 047 was clearly shaking as he moved up the stairs before gunshots sounded from right next to you, 047 falling to the floor as you saw the bullet holes in his back. You took a few steps back as you looked at Young-il with his rifle lifted, feeling your heart shoot into your throat as you moved to the other side of the stairs with you back pressed against the wall before the pink guards turned in your direction.

Before Young-il could yell out a loud “No!” a gunshot sounded before you felt a sharp pain at your shoulder, falling to your knees as you moved a hand up to the painful spot. You moved your hand back down when you felt a warm liquid cover your fingers, seeing blood dripping from your hand before you lost your balance, moving your hand towards a step in an attempt to hold yourself up. “Get them!” Young-il yelled at the guards before throwing his rifle to the floor, moving over to you as he pressed his hand to your shoulder to try to stop the bleeding. You used your last strength to look at him before huffing, “I knew I-.. I shouldn’t have trusted-…” you muttered before everything went black.

~~~

You blinked a few times as you felt warmth coming from your left side, feeling that you were lying on something soft and a warm yellow light was around you. You wanted to lift your hand to rub your eyes but pain spread from your shoulder as soon as you lifted it too far up, hearing rustling coming from a bit further away as footsteps neared you. You turned your head towards the source of the warmth to see you were lying on a couch next to a fireplace, a hand moving towards the side of your face as you turned to look at who it belonged to. “Shh you’re ok, you’re safe” A voice you recognized sounded, but your vision was still too blurry to make out who it was.

Where even were you? The last thing you remembered was speaking to Gi-hun and Jung-bae as you and Young-il fought through the guards, before he-, before he shot 047. You moved to sit up but Young-il gently pushed you back down, your vision shifting into focus to see he had changed out of his player uniform into a black t shirt and pants. “Young-il, what are you-“ You tried to say but he interrupted you, sitting down on the edge of the couch to lean over you, “Let’s start with; that’s not my name, it’s In-ho, and yes I wasn’t just a player”

You parted your lips to say something but you didn’t know where to start, his whole demeanor had changed compared to who you thought him to be, looking at your shoulder when he finished taping the bandage on it. “Why?” You asked, feeling tears edging to roll out of the corner of your eyes but you quickly blinked them away, slowly sitting up which In-ho allowed this time. “That’s a very long story, the only thing you need to know is that.. I have grown very fond of you, I never meant for them to shoot you” In-ho told you, the same softness you had seen in his eyes earlier returning. “I’m so very sorry for that” He muttered before leaning towards you, pressing his lips against the only part of your shoulder that wasn’t covered in bandages. You let out a shaky breath before he moved upright again, his hand slowly running down your arm. You only now realized you were only dressed in your white but blood stained tanktop and the green sweatpants you had been in since the start of all this, wondering if he was the one to undress you and take care of your wound.

You had so many questions but your head was too clouded to even think straight, made only worse when he ran his fingers through your hair, your attraction to him somehow taking up all your thoughts instead of his sudden betrayal. You knew it would only be rational to hit him in the face and ask him where your friends were, but somehow you could only focus on his dark gaze looking over you as his hand combed through your hair. “What are you going to do to me?” You asked him, your eyes meeting his, his brows furrowing as he met your gaze. “That all depends on you, sweetheart” In-ho spoke, moving his hand out of your locks to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your cheekbone. Your eyes fell on the gun laying on the table behind him, In-ho noticing and turning your head to make sure your gaze was only on him

He gave you a second to reply but when you stayed silent he moved the slightest bit closer to you, his face now close enough so you could feel his breath, your lips parting automatically as you held his gaze. His hand moved down around the base of your neck, setting gentle pressure before closing the distance, his lips meeting yours in a hungry kiss. You let out a gasp before allowing his tongue to slip inside, his arms wrapping around you before he nudged you to lie down, moving on top of you without ever breaking the kiss.

Your hands disappeared into his soft hair which caused a moan to leave him, grinding his hips into you as his hands grazed over your sides, moving up slightly to look down at you. “I’ve been wanting to do this since the moment I laid eyes on you, jesus” He groaned, his fingers trailing down your ribs before stopping at your waist, grabbing onto the hem of your tanktop before gently stripping it off you. He moved a hand behind you when he helped you out of the top to continue on your bra, sliding it down your arms before throwing it to join your tanktop on the floor. In-ho propped himself up to take in your exposed body, pulling at your sweatpants before pushing them down your legs, the only garment covering you now being your panties.

Your fingers clawed at his back before he lowered himself down on top of you again, moving his head down to let his teeth graze over the sensitive skin of your neck before sucking at exactly the right spot, unable to hold down the moan that escaped your lips. One of his hands trailed down your chest to your stomach before stopping at the hem of your panties, his fingers teasing at the edge before moving further down, rubbing you through the soft fabric. You both let out a gasp as you moved your hands under his shirt, his warm skin under your fingertips driving you even further to the edge as you closed your eyes, pressing your face into his neck, his heavy breathing loud against your ear.

“I can barely hold myself back, I need to be inside you” In-ho groaned, a gasp escaping you before pulling off his shirt, In-ho moving back to let you move it over his head, disposing it next to your pile of clothes, his pants following soon after. “Please..” You muttered as you moved a hand up in his thick dark hair, both of your underwear joining the floor soon after, his hand back between your legs as he spat on his fingers before easing two of them inside you. You couldn’t make out which of your moans was louder when your walls clenched around his index and middle finger, his other hand digging into your waist.

“I need to fuck you” In-ho growled against your neck, moving his fingers out of you before moving them between his lips to clean off your juices, his hands on both sides of your head, dug into the pillows of the couch beneath you. “I want you to, In-ho please..” You mewled as he moved himself against you, one hand wrapped around your throat as he slowly pushed into you, closing your eyes as he pressed his forehead against yours. One of your hands was on his back, your nails pressing half moons into his skin when he picked up his pace, your other hand pulling on his hair every time he thrusted into you. In-ho pressed his body even closer to you, his arms wrapped around you as you felt his warm pants on your face, your eyes meeting his which caused a deep groan to leave him, his tongue meeting yours in a messy kiss.

“You feel like heaven, fuck” In-ho muttered against your lips, feeling that he had to hold back in order not to fill you up already, wanting to savor this moment as long as he could. “I want to feel you cum inside me, In-ho” You moaned as he looked down at you, feeling his body stutter at your words before fucking into you completely, causing a loud moan to leave you as he thrusted into you as deep as he could. “Such a good girl for me..” In-ho moaned as you felt pressure building inside your belly as he fucked you into the couch, both of your bodies starting to get covered in sweat as your moans filled the room. You hooked your legs behind his back to somehow urge him even deeper, feeling a shiver spread through him before burying himself inside you, a load growl escaping him as he pressed his face against your neck. Both of your hands buried in his hair as you let him ride out his orgasm, his arms wrapped around you so tight you had trouble breathing. You felt him fill you up completely as he slowed down before stopping, still buried deep inside you as you felt his cum leak out of you, dripping down your lips.

When he finally caught his breath he moved his head up to meet your cloudy gaze, his pupils dilated so wide his eyes looked black, lowering his head so his nose rubbed against yours before pressing a soft kiss on your lips. He carefully moved out of you as he moved to lie down behind you, rolling over on your side as In-ho moved against you. His arms wrapped around you as he buried his nose into the crook of your neck, moving your hand up to grab onto his lower arm as you eased against his warm chest. “In-ho, I-…” “Shh, let keep the talking for tomorrow yeah? For tonight.. I am far from done with you” He interrupted you, unable to hide the grin on your face when his lips pressed to your neck, pulling you even closer against him, knowing you were in for a very long night..

[girl-lostconnection]

A little addition to this. Shout out to @sundaescreamcheese because they’ve guessed right.

Warnings: Banished knight!Ghost x Witch!Reader x Bloodhound knight Soap, Elden Ring AU, Johnny is a bit of a dog, possessive behaviour, suggestive themes, smut at the end, biting

“Hail, witch”, gruff low voice would have startled you if your wards didn’t tense the moment he stepped onto your territory.

You don’t know what he’s doing here, this deep in the woods, this far from his usual duties and this far from Stormveil Castle.

But you aren’t going to be rude to the man in full armour, with a sword taller than you.

If whatever he seeks can be found without much hassle and he could get off your territory that would be great.

“Hail, knight”, you muse back, careful distance from him. Your wards won’t let him step much closer to the cottage, not unless you specifically grant him entrance and for now…for now you aren’t sure you should.

The man looks at you — someone’s skull now adoring the front of his helmet, his horse a menacing thing that huffs out cold air in agitation. Yeah, it’s no easy journey to get here.

That’s why you live here.

The man in front of you is tall and absolutely huge, more monster than a knight. Makes you wonder what happened for someone like him to become Banished.

What brought him to your doorstep.

You sigh, a little grateful that Johnny is too busy fussing over chickens in the backyard because gods know he can’t stand strangers. Even more than you so.

“You seek refuge or favour?”, you tilt your head to the side, eager to get rid of him faster. Johnny may not be able to run like he did before but he’s still one very good Bloodhound. You don’t have much time until he will stalk outside to see what’s going on in front of your house.

(The previous visitor that had a gall to grab your hand before leaving was hunted down by Johnny. Hunted down and brought back, the hand that gripped you resting on the first step of your porch)

Banished knight looks at you for a few very long moments but if sensing your agitation, gets off his horse — landing on his feet with grace, that sends shivers down your spine.

He’s not just big.

He’s in a very good control of his body and he’s very aware of his size.

He’s dangerous.

Your wards tense up, not letting him through when he steps forward and he freezes as if he forgot about them. Though who knows, maybe he did forget.

Knights did have tendency to feel like they are owed entrance wherever they go, perhaps this one is no different.

“I need to find another knight. Bloodhound”, his voice is low, muffled by the helmet he doesn’t take off — dark eyes boring into you, staring you down from the high of his height.

Your brows furrow at the strange request, heart thumping faster. There’s only one knight who has been around these parts of the woods.

And he’s no longer Bloodhound. You are not giving him back. You are not going to let anyone take him away and rip him off everything you and time out here have been slowly restoring.

“I can’t help you”, you voice sharp, unusually so and Banished knight tilts his whole body forward as if trying to press himself through the wards, his fingers curling and uncurling — leather of his glove creaking.

“I don’t need much, witch. Just tell me where he went. And I will leave”, Banished presses further, shoulders tense and voice curling around your throat like a grip.

He takes a breathe before stepping back, raising his hands in half-hearted placating gesture.

“I mean no harm. I can pay if you need. Just tell me if you saw him”, he sounds almost gentle, head tilting down so he can look in your eyes without you having to crane your neck at him. “I’m…a friend”, he adds reluctantly, like he needs to physically tear the words out of himself.

Your brows furrow further and coincidentally Johnny couldn’t find a moment to show up better than now, sound of his walking uneven — still a limp to his step.

He rolls out of the house, picture of faux nonchalance, despite the sharp edge to his eyes.

“Hen, you alright? I heard-“, words die on his tongue when he sees the Banished knight, eyes widening. There is a strange kind of hunger in his gaze.

You don’t like it.

Because Banished knight sees Johnny and almost lunges himself in his direction, the only thing stopping him are the tethers of your wards, curling around his throat, forcing him back, forcing him out.

Air smells like ozone, air cracks with pressure, your fingers quickly warming up with a spell because you were right.

This man is dangerous. He saw Johnny.

You can’t let him leave now. He will need to disappear.

But Johnny grips your shoulders and shakes his head, eyes mad and desperate, an anguish to his face that you don’t quite understand.

“Nae, hen. It’s Simon. Don’t”, he breathes out, fingers digging into your skin, eyes boring into yours.

You glance back at Banished knight and he’s sitting on his knees now, tethers forcing him down, still tightly wrapped around his throat.

He’s dangerous. You don’t know him.

But Johnny’s nose presses to your cheek, breathing shuddering and he doesn’t let go of you. He doesn’t pull away until you give him a slow tentative nod.

Your fingers flick, soft popping of tethers letting go audible in the air and Johnny actually lunges himself at the Banished knight, sending them both tumbling in the snow.

Knight holds onto him with such hunger something in you churns uncomfortably. What if he will take Johnny away?

Your fingers warm up with the subconscious desire to push the strange man (Simon, his name is Simon) out. Out of your territory, out of your woods, out of your life.

But Johnny looks genuinely happy to see him so you let it go, just sitting yourself down nearby. You’ll be damned if he gets injured just because you looked away for a second.

But Simon grips Johnny like he’s the lifeline and answer to his prayers. Simon’s palms slide all over Johnny’s body, stroking sides, checking for wounds or tethers (your lips practically curl in snarl when you notice. Who the fuck does he think you are?).

He pauses at Johnny’s bad knee, touch getting more careful, eyes expectant and suddenly on you.

“Old injury”, you tell him for some reason. Not like you actually have to. You don’t owe this man anything, he’s unwelcome guest in your home. “I did what I could. If I found him later, he’d probably be without leg by now. Infection practically ate him alive”

Banished knight holds your eyes for a very long moment and then melts back into Johnny, murmuring something under his breath — too far for you to hear.

Doesn’t matter. The man isn’t staying in your home. He’s dangerous.

You tell that yourself and finally go back into the house to put kettle on. It’s too cold to stay mad out in the open. He’s not staying here anyway, so there’s no need to get too riled up.

He’s not staying but Johnny still shifts his weight from one leg to another in the doorway, Simon looming over his shoulder. They both look like a pair of big, wet from snow dogs.

You look at Johnny unimpressed but he tilts his head to the side, grown out strands of hair falling over his forehead. It should be illegal to be that bloody handsome.

You sigh and gesture for them to get in.

Okay, tea never harmed anyone. You’ll let this man warm up and he’ll be on his way before the sundown.

With or without Johnny.

The thought makes bile rise in your throat but you force it down focusing on the task at hand.

You can’t keep him if he’d want to go and you won’t humiliate yourself with begging him to stay.

But Johnny, so attuned to your moods by now, so used to having you chat for both of you steps closer — hands wrapping around your waist, part of his weight leaning on you to give a break his healthy leg.

“Yer not happy”, he notes, nose pressing to your ear, huffing out air and you can’t help but relax, letting him lean on you. He’s warm, heat rolling off him in waves, seeping through the sweater you made for him. Your head tilts back on his shoulder and he presses a kiss to your neck.

“He’s dangerous”, you muse quietly and ignore the chuckle Simon lets out. Banished knight is now sitting in front of your fireplace, cloak taken off and hanged on the chair to dry out.

Johnny just nods, calloused fingers rubbing idle circles on your solar plexus. It’s a long moment before he speaks again.

“I’m dangerous”, it’s said almost causally, his breath ghosting over your neck and you suppress the urge to roll your eyes.

“It’s different”, you snap back immediately.

Simon huffs behind your back and if Johnny wasn’t leaning on you, you’d have probably thrown something in the man. He’s not going to laugh at you in your own bloody house.

“Simon’s not bad, hen”, Johnny breathes out, tone softer, teeth grazing over sweet spot behind your ear, heat dripping down to your abdomen. Bastard. He knows what he’s doing.

“And Simon is not staying here”, you grumble, pouring herbal blend in three mugs, suppressing the urge to shiver when Johnny bites your neck.

“Hen”, he starts and you already know where it leads, you head shaking quickly.

“No”, you cut him off and nudge him with a shoulder to step back so you can move. “Move, I need to give this Banished his bloody tea”

Johnny grumbles but peels himself off you, less than happy to lose the comfort and warmth your body provides. Less than happy to let you slip out of his grasp.

“He can stay in the barn”, Johnny offers and just grins when you send him a glare. His teeth itch to sink into the nape of your neck, press you into the bed, lick the fight and agitation out of you, make you soft and pliant.

“I said no”

“Hen”

“He’s dangerous”

“Hen, have mercy”

Simon watches the way you two bicker, enjoying that none of you even noticed he took the helmet off to drink the tea you placed on the table with more force than necessary, some of it trickling down the rims of the mug.

Simon huffs out a dry chuckle when Johnny tries to pull you back into his hands and you sidestep, smacking his hands away. Leaving Bloodhound almost pouting.

“Cruel”, he complains to Simon, hands crossing over his chest. But despite everything…Johnny looks good. Better than Simon remembers him.

He’s wider now, there is bulk to him that Bloodhound Knight Johnny didn’t have. His eyes are brighter.

He is talking.

Simon didn’t even know Johnny could fucking talk, thought all Bloodhounds are mute. Courtesy of the profession.

“I understand you want to sleep with your Banished in the barn today?”, the witch arches their brow at Johnny and groans when his eyes light up.

Like a bloody dog catching the whiff of blood on the hunt. Old habits die hard, evidently.

“You can stay”, Johnny announces to Simon like it’s his personal victory, like he brought his master a good game after the hunt and is waiting to get his ear scratched.

His grin so wide it’s a miracle his face doesn’t crack. Witch rolls their eyes but Simon sees the way their lips twitch.

Seems not only he has a soft spot for Johnny.

Maybe it should’ve made him feel uneasy but if anything he feels satisfied, like something finally clicked in place. Puzzle finally unlocking in his hands, showing him the reward.

Simon tilts his head to the side, scar crossing his lips stretching when he smiles down at you.

Yeah, he’s staying.

A day turns into a couple days and then into two whole weeks because of the blizzard, Simon pushing further and further.

Eyes heavy and dark when he’d catch a glimpse of your throat or Johnny’s bites — purple bruises on your neck, soft creaking of the bed upstairs whenever it happened.

Simon doesn’t tell you that he moved from barn to the cot in the kitchen and you pretend that you don’t know he’s been sleeping there for the last week.

Simon pretends in return that he doesn’t strain his ears, catching the smallest sounds Johnny tears out of you. That he doesn’t lean on the cold wall of the kitchen, thighs spread wide, his eyes closed. That his hand doesn’t find its way to touch himself, stroking at almost lazy pace.

After all, Johnny is not starving Simon of little love here and there, eyes electric blue, mouth slick on the inner side of Simon’s thighs — your taste still on his lips.

Simon worms himself into your life and starts moving bloody furniture so he can position himself more comfortably, clicking his tongue when you hiss at him — tilting his head at you the same way a heavyweight horse would at the farm’s cat.

His fingers catch your jaw when you grumble that he rearranges your kitchen again, his lips pressing to yours.

You take a step back just to feel Johnny’s warm chest pressing into you, breathing heavier than usually, hands wrapping around you.

Simon angles your face so he can slip his tongue in your mouth, groaning appreciatively when you let him in. When you tilt your head up, allowing his fingers to curl over your neck.

Here we go. Finally.

Simon licks your lower lip, finally pulling away and reaches for Johnny just to give him a kiss just as wet, now grinning like a well-fed creature. Satisfaction dripping out his every pore.

Johnny nuzzles into your hair, breathing out a low “think Simon can sleep with us now, hen?” and you just nod. Your legs jelly that don’t hold you properly, head stuffed with cotton, skin tingling from the heat of their stares.

That’s…an unexpected turn. You were ready for Simon to leave. You were ready for Johnny to leave with him.

But this…this is a surprise.

Simon presses a short kiss to your forehead and walks away to feed the livestock. There’s a new spring to his step, as if something just depressurised his spine, letting him grow a few inches up.

The issue arises only when it’s time to actually sleep because Johnny is insatiable and he refuses to move anywhere from between your thighs, not reacting to anything.

Especially not to Simon walking in.

You feel hot, Johnny’s tongue sending white hot sparkles down your spine, your eyes meeting Simon’s whose pupils blow wide and god, he’s more monster than a knight.

He’s the solide presence when he crawl in bed to pull you into his lap, big palms holding you open for Johnny, fingers sinking in the meat of your thighs.

“Eager today, aren’t we, sweet’eart?”, Simon sucks his own mark in your skin, teeth grazing your throat, his grip on your thighs getting stronger when you make the prettiest needy sound.

Music for his ears.

“It’s okay. Gonna take good care of ya. Gonna take care of both of you”, he practically purrs, sliding his fingers down your body to find the fluttering hole, dipping in it just to marvel at your body swallowing his first knuckle.

Johnny whines, his tongue circling lower, curling around Simon’s fingers, making you choke on your own breathing because too much-too hot-too wet.

Simon presses a kiss to your jaw, grin wicked and dark, stubble on his cheek scratching your skin.

“Be good, luv”, he murmurs, eyes heavy and hungry when Johnny sucks his fingers in, practically gagging on thick digits. “Open up for us”

Johnny bites on the fingers in his mouth before pulling away, dropping back down between your legs, sinking his teeth in the meat of your thigh.

Marking.

Simon smiles wider and adds a second finger, pushing in deeper, cooing in your neck when your hips buckle.

There’s no rush, love. They aren’t going anywhere.

After all, you already let them in. They might as well make themselves at home.

Johnny‘s tongue traces the bite mark on your thigh, his eyes fixed on another one he left on Simon’s knuckles that are currently sinking inside of you. Wet squelching sound sending a heatwave through Johnny’s whole body.

So welcoming to them. So sweet, hen. It would be their pleasure.