#that one piece of hair out of place is so perfect

[lesservillain]

Request: Friends to lovers with Steve? We want so desperately for him to notice us, but he never asks us to hang out outside of the group. We’ve got to take matters into our own hands…or do we?

i wrote all of this in one sitting so enjoy!

cw: smut, piv, perv steve

wc: 3.3k

You looked yourself over in the mirror a few times to make sure everything was in place. There would be other people at this pool party, including the kids, so you weren’t trying to show off too much. But you wanted to made sure you looked good. Good enough for him.

It had been a long time crush, longer than you’d like you admit, that turned into a head over heels affection for Steve Harrington as recently as last year. When you were tossed into the throws that was “the Starcourt Mall incident,” you saw how brave and caring he could be in real time when it came to putting himself before you and the others. It just solidified the feelings that you’d been harboring for the king since before he started working with you at Scoops Ahoy.

But Steve just didn’t seem to feel the same way about you.

You watched as he flirted with countless girls at the mall as they came in for ice cream, and you’ve seen him do the same with the girls at Family Video where he now works with Robin. You even thought that him and Robin might be having a secret fling, but she assured you that was not the case. Either way, Steve never seemed to even be more than friendly with you. And it was really starting to bum you out.

Now that you work at your mom’s hair salon, the only way the two of you really see each other was when the whole gang would get together. Which today happened to be such an occasion. It was Dustin’s birthday party and the weather was warm enough that Steve decided to throw him a pool party at his house. Dustin extended an invite to you and you decided it would be the perfect opportunity to finally catch Steve’s attention.

You checked out the two piece on your body in the mirror. The ruffled top accentuated your breasts and the bottoms were just peaky enough to leave more to be desired. Plus the navy really brought out the colour of your eyes. You did feel a little dumb putting on make up and doing your hair, but you didn’t plan on going under the water so you were sure you’d be fine.

When you pulled up to Steve’s house you could already hear the kids being rowdy in the back yard. You grabbed Dustin’s gift from your back seat and went around the back to find everyone there. It didn’t take long to find Steve, manning the grill in his swim trucks and a cropped, sleeveless t-shirt. Jesus christ.

���You came!” Dustin shouted from the pool grabbing your attention.

“Of course I came!” You reply, raising the wrapped box in your hand. “Wouldn’t miss my little buddy’s big 15th!”

“Told you guys she would come,” Dustin says pointing this thumb in your direction. The kids all rolled their eyes at him and continued swimming around in the pool.

“Hey,” Steve says, giving you a wave. “You can set that inside if you want. Don’t want these bone heads to accidentally get it wet with one of their water guns.”

That's when you noticed. The entire front of Steve’s body was clearly drenched in water and it was leaving little to the imagination about what was underneath. His chest hair was clearly visible through the shirt, as were his nipples…

“Earth to dingus, are you okay?”

Robin’s voice snapped you out of your trance.

“Y-yeah, sorry, I’m just feeling a little spacey today is all.”

“Sure you are,” she said with wiggled eyebrows. Robin didn’t know you had a crush on Steve, but you were sure she expected it, even though you denied it anytime she asked.

“Do you want a beer?” Steve asks, bending over to grab one from the cooler.

“Sure,” you say with a slight stutter. This was going to be a long day, and you might as well have a drink to help you keep it together.

“I’ll help you take that inside,” Robin says after Steve hands you a beer. You nod and the two of you go through the sliding glass door. 

There were several other gifts set out on the table so you just sat your gift there with the rest. When you turned to look at Robin, she had a shit eating grin on her face.

“What?” You ask, trying to keep as collected as possible.

“Oh, nothing,” she says, “Just seemed like you were checking Steve out out there.”

“Robin, I was not checking him out.”

“I knew you’d deny it. But I have eyes, and I can tell when someone wants to eat another person alive.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes at her.

“Steve is just a friend. I was just surprised to see him soaking wet is all.”

“At a pool party?”

Shit, she got you there.

“I guess I hadn’t thought about that.”

“I’m sure you hadn’t.”

There was a pause between you two before she inevitably turned and opened the sliding glass door. As soon as you walked out you heard your name being called from the pool.

“Come get in the pool, we need one more person for volleyball!”

Ah, yes, perfect time to unveil yourself.

“Okay, coming!” You say walking over to one of the pool chairs. You started to undress, hoping that Steve was watching you as you did. Shirt was off first; you made it a point to bend over in his direction when you pulled your shorts down. You heard a huff from Robin, who you were sure was seeing right through you, but you weren’t going to entertain her.

You took a chance to look over at Steve, who, to your dismay, seemed to be too preoccupied with the grill to have even looked your way. Damn it.

“Cute bathing suit,” El says from the pool.

“Thanks!” You say. At least someone noticed.

“What does it look like?” Max asks from the pool steps.She was looking in your general direction, but you knew she wouldn’t be able to see you from so far away, even with her glasses. You moved closer to her so she could see better.

“It’s navy blue, with some ruffles on the top and a little ruffle skirt.” You take her hand and let her touch the material so she can get a better idea.

“Shit!” You turn to see Steve holding his hand, wincing in pain.

“You okay, chef?” Robin asks.

“Yeah, just got too close to the grill is all.”

“Come on, lets play already!”

Your attention is taken away from Steve yet again by the teens calling for you. Dustin announces he wants you on his team and everyone groans.

“You only want her on your team because she’s an adult,” Lucas says.

“And your point is?” Dustin retorts.

“I’m honestly not that good, Dustin,” you tell him.

“We’ll see about that.”

And saw he did.

Even with El not using her powers, her, Mike, and Lucas beat you Dustin and Will by a landslide victory.

“Told you,” you shrug at him.

“It’s alright,” Dustin says defeated.

“I still think El cheated,” Will says.

“Did not!”

“Hey, food’s ready!”

That got the kids attention. They all rushed out, Lucas stopping to help Max get out as they did. They all hoarded around Steve who passed out dogs and burgers to everyone.

“What will you take?” He asks when he finally gets to you.

“A hotdog, please,” you say, holding your plate with the bun on it for him.

“Don’t shake it!”

“But nothing’s coming out-woah!”

It takes your brain a minute to process the feeling of something hitting you. You raise your hand to your hair and it instantly touches something wet and slimy. Bringing it back down, you look at your hand to find it’s covered in mustard.

The first thing you do is look at Steve, whose expression makes your heart drop. You probably look like a total idiot right now.

“Dude…” Steve turns to look beside you.

“I am, so, so sorry,” you hear Dustin say.

“It’s okay,” you say, more so telling yourself that rather than getting upset over an accident.

“Do you want to use my shower?” Steve asks, looking at you pitifully.

“Thanks.”

“Gimme that,” Steve says, grabbing the mustard bottle from Dustin as he walks past.

“Hey, I was still going to use that!”

“Just turn the knob to, like, right here and the water should be plenty warm for you.”

Steve shows you how to use the shower while mustard still drips from your hair. At least he’s not making fun of you. Just another reason to love him

“Thanks, Steve.”

“Don’t thank me,” he says, turning to look at you. He’s very close to you in this bathroom, so much so you can smell his sweaty skin and cologne. “If you want I can run your bathing suit through the dryer real quick.”

“That would be perfect, thanks.” He stands there for a moment, and you don’t really know what to do. “Um, I’ll get undressed now.”

“Oh, yeah, right.” He leaves the bathroom and pulls the door shut.

You start to pull the bathing suit off when the bathroom door starts to open.

“What the hell,” you say, closing the door.

“Oh, sorry,” Steve calls through the door, “This door is broken and doesn’t always stay latched. I’ll stand outside the door while you shower to make sure no one comes by.”

“Okay,” you call back.

Once undressed, you stand behind the door the best you can and stick your arm through the opening. Steve takes your bathing suit and you close the door behind you.

You do your best not to wash your make up off while in Steve’s shower. You do take the time to huff his sweet smelling shampoo. You’ve smelled it on him before, and it reminds you of him. It was crazy to think he was just on the other side of the door while you were in here. The idea made you a little crazy. Something to think about later tonight when you’re alone.

Turning the water off, you pull back the curtain and find that the bathroom door is cracked open a bit. You decided not to think much of it. Not like anyone would see you while Steve was manning the door

You took the towel that Steve had given you and started to dry off before wrapping your hair in it. You wondered if Steve had a blow dryer some where and decided to ask.

“Steve?”

You hear a thump from the other side of the door.

“Y-yeah,” you hear him reply.

“Do you have a hair dryer?”

There’s a quiet pause.

“Under the sink,” he replies.

“Thanks!”

You bend over and look for his hair dryer, finding it hanging on the side of the cabinet on a little hook. A smart idea.

Plugging it in, you take the towel out of your hair and lay it over the shower rod to dry. You take your time to dry it, you used your fingers to run through it since you didn’t have a comb.

“You can use my brush,” you hear from behind you. It startles you, and you look at the door through the mirror.

You’re shocked when you can see an eye peeking through the crack.

You place the dryer back down on the counter and grab the towel, wrapping it back around your body slowly. 

Then, you suddenly grab the door and swing it wide open.

You weren’t sure what to expect, but it definitely wasn’t Steve Harrington with his cock in his hand.

“I can explain!” He says, covering himself. Well, trying to cover himself. He was huge. So big in fact that not even his big hands could cover the horse between his legs.

“Steve…were you spying on me?”

“I-I-wasn’t-I was--”

There’s no way this was real life. You’ve been trying to get Steve Harrington to notice you for months and you catch him not only jerking himself off, but doing it while spying on you.

So you make a bold move.

“Steve.” You drop your towel, fully exposing yourself to him. His eyes drop with the towel, slowly moving back up your body, examining you closely.

“If you wanted to fuck me, all you had to do was ask.”

He stands there, still as a statue as he tries to compute the words that just came out of your mouth. Since he didn’t seem to be getting the hint, you decide to grab him by the shirt and pull him into the bathroom. Pushing the door closed behind you, you hear it latch just fine.

“Are you going to say something, Stevie?” You say in a silky smooth voice.

“I-I--”

But you don’t give him the chance to stutter more. You take his cheeks in your hands and bring his lips to yours. The smell of his aftershave fills your senses as your lips move in tandem, waking him up from his stupor enough to get the hint.

He starts to take off his shorts, letting them drop to the floor and kicking them off. His shirt comes next, your lips parting for just a moment to let the fabric pull over his head. You let your hands land on his chiseled chest, fingers desperately running through the hair that resides there. The feeling only confirming that this was indeed happening.

His hands land on your hips, sliding down until they reach your ass. He cups you, and suddenly you’re being lifted up and onto the counter. He pushes you back, kissing you with such force that you hit the mirror behind you.

“You were so hot out there undressing,” he says as his lips trail down to your neck. “And when you let Max see your swimsuit. That was so sweet of you.”

“Really, that’s what got you going?” Your laugh turns into a moan as his hands grope your breasts.

“I’ve got a soft spot for those kids. Seeing you be nice to them just--” His lips meet yours again, his teeth taking your lower lip and pulling on it.

One of his hands moves from your breast and lowers down to between your legs. You feel him rub his fingers in your wetness and it makes your breath hitch when he hits your clit.

“Right there, huh?” He says, his fingers beginning to rub gentle circles into your bud.

“Oh, shit, Steve--”

“Sound so pretty when you say my name,” he says against your ear.

He does some moving between your legs and you suddenly feel his finger making its way inside of you, his thumb replacing them to keep tending to your clit. His finger pumps inside of you at a breathtaking pace, the thick digit hitting that spot inside you.

“You’re so wet. Is that for me or is it just from the shower?”

“Definitely for you,” you pant out. You could feel yourself getting close to your release the more he worked you. When he added a second finger stretching you out more, you felt the coil tightening at an alarming rate.

“Oh my god, Steve, I’m gonna--”

“Do it. Cum for me, baby girl.”

That chord snaps, and you start to cum on Steve’s fingers, legs shaking around him as you do.

Steve slows down, letting you come down from your high while giving you kisses all over your neck and cheeks.

“You think you’re ready for me, baby?”

You nod your head drunkenly. Steve uses the spend on his fingers to pump himself, lubricating his cock with it before bringing the head to your entrance. In a moment of clarity you almost panic. The sheer size of Steve between your legs had you worried.

“It’ll fit, I promise.” He says as if reading your mind. You gulp, but choose to trust him. “Just tell me if it hurts and I’ll stop.”

You nod your head again, and the both of you watch as Steve lines himself up with your entrance, slowly pushing into you. The stretch was something else. You’d never been with anyone as big as Steve before and it started to make you question any guy you’d been with before.

But he took his time. He definitely knew his limits and rocked in and out of you at a gentle pace until he found himself fully sheathed inside of you.

“You ready?” He asks in a sultry tone, giving you a half smile.

“Y-yes, please,” you gasp out, still amazed that he was able to fit.

Steve chuckles and begins to move. And it feels amazing. It wasn’t a brutal pace, but as it picked up, you could definitely understand why all the girls in high school talked about his game back in the day. This was the fullest you’d ever felt in your life.

But Steve wasn’t just fucking you. No, this felt like there was passion behind it. Something about the way he was staring between you with an open mouth expression really turned you. It didn’t feel like just a random fuck on a random Tuesday.

“Steve, Steve, Steve,” you moan out as his hips smack into your ass over and over.

“That’s right baby girl, tell me who’s fucking you right now,” he says as his pace starts to quicken.

“You are, oh my god, you are, Steve,” you say. You start to feel that familiar feeling in your stomach again the more he pounds into you.

“Fuck yea,” he moans, moving in close to take your lips as his once again. “Been wanting-to do-this for-a while.” He talks between kisses and his words set your body aflame. Steve wanted to fuck you. If you weren’t experience it in real time, you’d say this was just another one of your wet dreams.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum,” he says as he pulls away. His thumb returns to your clit to rub quick circles  into it, only heating you up more.

“Fuck, fuck, Steve--” You feel yourself getting closer to the edge as he continues to work you. It’s not much longer before you feel yourself cumming on his cock, squeezing and contracting around him in a way that drives him crazy. And in just a few more pumps, you feel Steve starting to fill you up. 

After a moment, you finally come down from your high to see Steve panting like he just ran a marathon. You’re about to speak when he brings his lips to yours. Even in his post nut clarity, he feels the need to kiss you like a man starved.

But you kiss him back joyfully, glad to know that this wasn’t just going to be one big mistake for him.

“That was--”

“Crazy.” 

“Yeah,” he says with a smile that melts your heart.

You wince as he pulls himself out of you. He grabs the towel from the ground and reaches around you to wet the end of it, using it as a rag to clean you up.

“You’re too sweet, Steve Harrington,” you say with hearts in your eyes.

“Nah, I just really like you,” he says throwing the towel to the ground.

“You like me?” You say with surprise. “Like, like me, like me?”

He looks at you sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“For a while now. I just didn’t want it to become a whole thing with the kids if I asked you out and you turned me down.”

“Well, I definitely wouldn’t do that. I’ve liked you longer than you’ve even known I existed.”

Steve head tilts back and he laughs that sweet laugh of his. 

“Of all the girls I try and ask out, the one I had a chance with is the one I actively avoided.”

“I guess you should ask her out then. She’d probably say yes.”

“How’s Friday night looking for you?”

“Looks like I’ll be busy with Steve Harrington.”

[cosmiclily]

chapter four: bad decisions

wc: 2.4k

cw: mdni, suggestive, cussing.

You wake up with a pounding headache and a sour taste lingering on your tongue. Your body feels heavy, and when you try to stretch, something—or rather, someone—solid stops you. Panic sets in instantly.

God, what did I do? Did I go home with someone? Did I get kidnapped? What is going on?

Your heart races as you take in your surroundings. Relief floods you when you realize you're in your hotel room. The familiar sight of your clothes haphazardly tossed across the floor reassures you that at least you're in the right place. But the warmth next to you makes it clear you're not alone.

Slowly, you turn, dread pooling in your stomach as you brace yourself to see who—or what—is in bed with you.

A mop of black hair catches your eye.

No. No, no, no, no, no.

Your brain short-circuits as you stare. You don’t know whether to feel relieved that it’s someone you know—or horrified for the exact same reason.

What the fuck is Vi doing in my bed?

And then it hits you.

Why am I naked?!

You pull the covers up to your chest, your breathing shallow as you try to piece together what happened last night. Images flash through your mind—shots with Jinx and Ekko, the dance floor, the blonde woman... Vi’s piercing gaze.

Vi stirs beside you, mumbling something incoherent as she shifts, her hand brushing against your leg. You freeze, your heart thudding so loud it feels like it might wake her up.

What the hell did I do?

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to focus on the images from the previous night, but everything is a blur. All you get are flashes—Vi and you on the dance floor, the feel of her hand on your waist, the two of you laughing in the back of a taxi, her lips crashing into yours, the elevator ride where things got heated, her grip tightening as her hand slid lower, lower, lower into your skirt.

Was that real? Or just a dream?

Before you can unravel your fragmented memories, a knock on the door jolts you out of your spiraling thoughts. Panic flares in your chest as you scramble to wrap the blanket tightly around your body.

You tiptoe to the door, peeking through the peephole, and your stomach sinks. It’s Archie. He doesn’t look very pleased.

Of course. Perfect timing.

Taking a deep breath, you crack the door open just enough to poke your head out. “Good morning, Archie!” you whisper in your best attempt at sounding chipper, though your voice cracks halfway through. “Um, this isn’t a great moment. I’m... I’m really sorry. I’ll catch up with you soon, okay? Please don’t be mad!”

Before Archie can get a word in, you ramble through your apology and slam the door shut, leaning against it as your heart races.

From the other side of the door, you hear a muffled, “What the bloody hell—?” followed by the sound of his retreating footsteps.

You exhale, relieved he didn’t press the issue, but when you turn around, you realize Vi is now awake, sitting up in bed with a lazy smirk on her face.

“Smooth,” she says, her voice low and gravelly from sleep. “Real smooth.”

You groan, pressing your palms against your temples. “What the fuck happened last night, Violet?”

“You know as much as I do, princess,” she replies, picking up her shirt from the floor. “For all I know, you could have taken advantage of me. I don’t remember shit.”

"Stop with the jokes, this is serious. I can only remember things clearly up until that stupid purple shot Jinx gave us. Do you think your sister could have drugged us?" You ramble, walking in circles in your room, your mind racing a million miles per hour, the pounding headache making it impossible to focus.

"Wow, too many words, too soon," she says, massaging her temples. "But I don't think she drugged us. She’s a little crazy, yeah, but not a criminal. You know her better than that."

"Yeah, yeah. God, the one time I decide to let loose, I end up sleeping with you." You let out a frustrated sigh, running your hands over your face, trying to wrap your mind around everything.

"You weren't complaining last night, that’s all I have to say." Vi says with a mischievous grin before casually walking toward the bathroom and locking the door behind her.

"Oh, so you remember it, you little shit." You bang your fist lightly on the door, your voice rising in both disbelief and annoyance. You hear her laughing from the other side.

"Relax, princess," she calls back, her laughter muffled. "You’re just mad ‘cause it was fun."

You press your ear to the door, shaking your head, your chest tightening with a mix of confusion, embarrassment, and something else—something you can’t quite name. The whole situation feels like an overwhelming blur, but there’s no denying the way it all seems to linger, just beyond the edge of your memory. And God, did it feel good.

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The van looked like a funeral—Jinx and Ekko were sharing earbuds, Vi had a massive blue neck pillow and sunglasses on, and you looked like a zombie. Archie climbed into the van with a disappointed look on his face, his eyes scanning the group before he let out a fake cough to get your attention.

“I wanted to do this formally, with time and all that, over breakfast, but it seemed like you all had other plans,” he said, his voice gradually becoming more agitated. As he spoke, his accent thickened with each word, the tension rising in his posture. You could hear Jinx stifling her laughter from across the van, and it only made things worse.

“This small briefing will have to do,” he continued, clearly trying to regain control of the situation. "After the show yesterday, some producers called me, and we're discussing a label contract, and a single."

You blinked a few times, still trying to wake up, but the words didn’t immediately sink in. A label contract? A single? You rubbed your temples, the pounding headache from last night threatening to come back full force.

“So... you’re telling me we’re getting a record deal?” Vi mumbled, her voice muffled by the neck pillow, still clearly not fully awake.

“There are a couple of labels interested in you,” Archie replied, his tone more serious now. “So we’ll talk about this properly when we’re back home. But yes. So, you better get your pens ready and use your explosive emotions to work.” He said the last part while looking directly at Vi, his expression pointed.

Vi grunted in response, but otherwise, didn’t offer much. The drive to the airport was uneventful, the hum of the tires on the road providing a constant background as your mind started to wander. Many ideas popped into your head—some excited, others hesitant—but through it all, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were on the edge of something big.

You allowed yourself to dream a little, imagining the potential of the label deal, the single that could launch everything you’d ever wanted. But just as quickly, your thoughts kept drifting back to last night. You drank water, hoping it might ease the lingering effects of the night before, and slowly, the memories started coming back—bit by bit.

You remembered how, after the shot, Violet pulled you onto the dance floor. The look on her face that you couldn’t decipher long gone, taking place for one that was a mix of something intense and wild. Then, as the music played, you talked, and after a particularly heated song, you kissed her. It was the best kiss you’d ever received—urgent, electrifying, and full of something unspoken. In the background, you could hear Jinx’s laughter.

“At least she’s not thinking about the one who shouldn’t be named,” Jinx teased between giggles.

After that, it was all a blur of heat and excitement. You were the one who asked Vi if she wanted to come back to the hotel. You initiated the makeout session in the backseat of the taxi—poor taxi driver, you thought, hoping you’d left him a generous tip for having to endure that. And when you reached the hotel, you were the one who made the first move, sliding your hands where they probably shouldn’t have been in the elevator.

You leaned your head back against the seat, your stomach twisting into knots as the weight of everything finally hit you.

What are we going to do about last night?

You really needed to talk to Violet. You had to. But at the same time, you weren’t sure what to say or how to approach it without everything feeling like a mess. Was it just another reckless night? Or something more?

You weren’t interested in any type of relationship, especially not with someone who had just come out of a long-term one. Vi was still getting over Caitlyn, and you had seen the way she still looked at the mention of her—torn between letting go and holding on. The last thing you wanted was to be someone’s rebound, or worse, complicate things further. You had your own emotional baggage to deal with, and you didn’t need to add another layer to it.

──────────────────────

You made sure to share a seat on the plane with Vi, it was a short flight but it was enough time to talk about what last night had meant.

“So… should we talk about last night or what?” You whisper to her, so no one else would hear.

She looked at you over her sunglasses. “What is there to talk about? We fucked, what’s the big deal?”

Your cheeks flushed and you weren’t sure if it was from embarrassment or rage. “The big deal is that this” you say pointing between the two of you “can become very complicated, very fast, and we have a career on the line.”

“Listen, princess, if it’s that complicated for you, we can pretend it never happened, you don’t talk about it, i don’t talk about it and what’s done is done. I don’t think Ekko nor Jinx remember that we left together, and if they do they won’t mention it.”

Vi’s nonchalant response sent a wave of irritation through you, but there was something else, too—disappointment, maybe? You weren’t even sure why it stung so much. Her ability to brush things off so easily made you question whether last night meant anything to her at all.

Leaning in closer, you lowered your voice. “You don’t get it, Vi. It’s not just about us. It’s about the band, the dynamic, the fact that if this gets messy, it could ruin everything we’ve worked for.”

She sighed, finally pushing her sunglasses onto her head and meeting your gaze. Her piercing eyes carried an intensity that made it impossible to look away. “Okay, fine. I get it. You’re worried. But, honestly? Nothing’s gonna get messy unless you make it messy. You’re the one overthinking this.”

You felt your jaw clench. “Overthinking? I’m trying to be an adult here, Vi. I’m not saying last night wasn’t… fun, but—”

She cut you off with a smirk that both infuriated and unnerved you. “Fun. Sure, we’ll call it that.”

Your glare sharpened, the frustration bubbling over. “Can you be serious for one second? I’m trying to have a real conversation here.”

Vi leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms as her smirk faded. Her voice was softer this time, more measured. “Alright. If you want to talk about it, then let’s talk. Last night was... unexpected, yeah. But it doesn’t have to mean anything unless we decide it does. If you want to chalk it up to a drunken mistake, fine. I won’t hold it against you.”

Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond.

“Vi,” you said slowly, choosing your words carefully, “I don’t think it was a mistake. I don’t… regret it.” Her eyes widened slightly, and she tilted her head as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. “But I also know we can’t afford to let this become a problem. The band, the label—there’s too much at stake.”

Vi was silent for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, she let out a dry chuckle, running a hand through her hair. “You’re such a perfectionist, you know that? Always worrying about the ‘big picture.’ Sometimes, you just gotta live a little.”

“Living a little is what got us into this mess,” you shot back, though your voice had lost its edge.

“Fine,” she said, her tone light but carrying a weight that wasn’t lost on you. “We’ll keep it professional. I promise.”

You nodded, trying to ignore the pit forming in your stomach. Something about the way she said it didn’t sit right, as if her words carried an unspoken challenge.

The rest of the flight passed in strained silence, though Vi’s presence next to you was impossible to ignore. Every accidental brush of her arm against yours sent a ripple through your entire body. You tried to distract yourself with thoughts of the future—the meeting with the label, the potential single, the career you’d spent years chasing. But no matter how hard you tried to push forward, your mind kept circling back to her.

The memories hit you in waves, sharp and vivid. Vi’s arm brushed yours, and suddenly you were back in the elevator, her hands gripping your arms as you kissed your way down her neck. The low, guttural sound she made when you found her pulse point echoed in your mind, impossible to shake. You heard her sigh in frustration as she struggled with a packet of peanuts, and your brain betrayed you with the memory of her other frustrated sounds—breathless and needy, muffled against your skin as she —

You clenched your fists, your nails digging into your palms as you desperately tried to stay grounded. You were going insane. How were you supposed to keep this professional when every single part of her was burned into your mind? The way she looked at you last night, the feel of her hands on your skin, the taste of her lips—it was all too much.

The truth was unavoidable. You were completely, hopelessly in trouble. And if Vi noticed your internal struggle, she didn’t show it. She just sat there, casually munching on her peanuts, completely at ease while you felt like you were unraveling.

Being professional was already proving to be far more difficult than you had anticipated.

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masterlist - chapter five

notes: my birthday was yesterday, officially 22!! anyways, here is a new chapter, there isn’t anything explicit (but it will come!!!) but it’s a kickstart to stir things 😋

taglist: @saturnhas82moons @baylegend6 @oidloid @vaebear @wicked-laugh

[fandomnerd9602]

Just a Little Drive

Country!Wanda x Reader

She couldn’t believe her luck. As an early wedding gift, you bought your country girl Wanda her pa’s old 1950s Pontiac GTO. It was old and rusted but Wanda was immediately crying.

“It’s just like how I remembered it” she gently ran her hands over the rusted surface. Her mind went ablaze with the memories of her pa and ma driving her and her brother Piet through the countryside.

You and Pietro spent the next few weekends slowly restoring it. You worked on reupholstering the interior. Pietro worked on the engine. The two of you worked to scrap all the rust off the body of the car. Wanda worked on finding the radio and the perfect shade of hot rod red to put on the car.

She and Pietro regaled you with tales of your life with your ma and pa. It was amazing to hear tales of familial love and affection. While you never got a chance to meet them, you felt that you got to know thru the tales that the twins told.

Within a matter of weeks, you, Pietro and Wanda got the Pontiac restored; it looked like it was taken right off the car lot. Wanda was ecstatic.

“Oh it looks even better than it did back when Pa drove it!” Wanda exclaimed, tears beginning to stream down her face.

Pietro and you look at her with a little bittersweet smile. “I know Ma and Pa would give anything to be here with you, sis” Pietro says.

“I-I found the car online” you explain, “I figured we would have it for our family vehicle, you know…keeping a part of them alive with us on our wedding day”

Wanda hugged you both tightly, “thank you.” A little giggle with her country twang escaped her lips. She felt so blessed to have two amazing people in her life.

Later that night, you were putting the finishing touches on the detailing in the garage. You felt a familiar presence sneaking up behind you as you completed the job.

“You can’t sneak up on me anymore, my country girl”

Wanda giggles, standing there in her comfy set of Bewitched PJs, the ones you got her for her birthday. “I had to try, city boy” she smirks at you.

“I hope this little wedding gift is okay”

“It’s more than okay, baby. It’s perfect.” she smiles at you.

You open the back door for her. Wanda gladly slips into the car of her childhood.

The radio turned on. Wanda couldn’t help but giggle. The song practically described her to a T…

(She’s Everything by Brad Paisley)

She's a yellow pair of running shoes

A holey pair of jeans

She looks great in cheap sunglasses

She looks great in anything

She's, "I want a piece of chocolate"

"Take me to a movie"

She's, "I can't find a thing to wear”

Now and then she's moody

She's a Saturn with a sunroof

With her brown hair a-blowing

She's a soft place to land

And a good feeling knowing

She's a warm conversation

That I wouldn't miss for nothing

She's a fighter when she's mad

And she's a lover when she's loving

And she's everything I ever wanted

And everything I need

I talk about her

I go on and on, and on

'Cause she's everything to me

Wanda couldn’t help but giggle. Your country girl moved into your lap, straddling you and wrapping her arms around your neck. “My city boy” she whispers before kissing you hungrily. You wrap your arms around her waist, gently running your hands up and down her back, kissing her with the same equal passion.

She's a Saturday out on the town

And a church girl on Sunday

She's a cross around her neck

And a cuss word 'cause it's Monday

She's a bubble bath and candles

Baby, come and kiss me

She's a one glass of wine

And she's feeling kinda tipsy

She's the giver I wish I could be

And the stealer of the covers

She's a picture in my wallet

The cabin of the Pontiac filled up with the sounds of laughter and giggles between you and your country girl. The windows quickly fogged up. Wanda’s hand hit the back passenger window. She tried to catch her breath.

“You’re gonna take my breath away, city boy” she giggled as she kissed you tenderly.

“You constantly take mine away, country girl” you respond.

“Gettin’ kinda sinful.” she smirks, “you better make an honest girl outta me”

You kiss her knuckles and look at the engagement ring on her finger. “Well we got a month or so. Best decision I ever made.” Your gal giggles and kisses you again.

Someday when I'm ninety

She's that wooden rocking chair

I want rocking right beside me

Every day that passes

I only love her more

Yeah, she's the one

That I'd lay down my own life for

And she's everything I ever wanted

And everything I need

She's everything to me

Yeah, she's everything to me

Everything I ever wanted

And everything I need

She's everything to me

You kiss her nose, allowing yourselves to be happy and blissful as you held each other in the backseat of that old Pontiac.

“You’re everything to me” you whispered into the crook of her neck.

“You’re everything to me” she whispered back.

Tags @lifespectator @supercorpdanbeau @scarletquake-n7 @multi-fandom-enjoyer @revanshand @russianredassassin @pinklawyerwinnerzonk @dudesweet17 @texaswolf23 @arsenysworld @moonlit-imagines @moonlit-ficrecs @olsenmyolsen @idkwhatever580

[kalmiaphlox]

The Perfect Girl

AO3 Link / Masterlist

There's still one piece not in place. Astarion holds his hand out, flexing his fingers, a devious grin upon his face. “Your panties, please.” With a roll of her eyes and a muttered, “Insatiable…” Hircine peels off her sheer panties, slapping them into his awaiting hand. They're damp. 

Having been married for a while now, Astarion has learned all the inner workings of his wife, Hircine, quite well he thinks, but tonight, something is... off, be it her scent or mood, that woman just isn't right.

He'll get to the bottom of it one way or another, and if he gets to play with her tits, then all the better.

Pairing: Astarion x Named Female Tav (Hircine)

WC: 4.9k

Main Tags: Fluff, Smut, Body Worship, Focus on BOOBS, BREASTS and TITTIES, Mild Praise Kink, Mild Scent Kink, Thigh Riding, Breast fucking, a little Panty thievery, Established Relationship

Sharp, full-bodied and extra sweet, something about her scent changed.

Anytime in the last two days that his wife drifts by, Astarion’s mouth waters and his head follows her path unconsciously. It can’t be a new perfume, there’s nothing artificial about this enticing smell.

Nothing out of the ordinary was eaten recently, there’s been no strange happenings in the mines, and Hircine’s not even particularly burdened these days, so what’s caused this alteration?

He likes it, obviously, but he needs to know why.

Tonight, Hircine lounges on the sofa in one of those short, tulle nightgowns she likes that tend to flounce around with her every dainty movement. The sleeves are long, the collar and hem ruffled and the pale pink color gives her a playful aura that offsets her ever-present seriousness. Her gray hair spills out all across her back and arms, not held back by any of the pins and ties that keep it out of her face during work hours.

She was moody today, if not outright snappy, and now she lays chest down, running a hand along the rug with her bare legs in his lap while Astarion translates some abyssal documents, occasionally sneaking glances to figure out his approach. Her irritation waned once they left the mines so maybe work stressed her out, but if Hircine’s weighed down, there is a sure fire way to relieve that tension—for both of them, because it’s hard work suffering this mood.

Clearing his throat, Astarion sets down the parchments and quill on the end table. “Love,” the point of an ear angles in his direction a few degrees to indicate she’s listening, the brat. “Will you come here?”

He can hear the quietest indignant exhalation as Hircine pushes herself up and turns around to crawl over to his side, leaning all her weight against his arm. “Mm?” She huffs.

What is this absolute creature of a woman?

Patting his lap, Astarion smiles tightly, muzzling the urge to be snippy back. “Sit, please.”

Thankfully, she doesn’t question his words and swings a leg over, straddling his lap so the nightdress bunches up around her toned thighs. The gold ring of her hazy lavender eyes reflects the light as they dart around anywhere but at him, and the full bottom lip juts out in the smallest pout.

No one would guess she’s almost one hundred and fifty with this childish attitude.

He rests his hands on her shoulders, rubbing up and down along the soft fabric of the nightdress. “What’s wrong, pet? You’ve been… under a rain cloud all day.” She frowns in response. Gods below. Dropping his hands to her thighs, Astarion tries again. “Are you in pain?”

Hircine twists her lips. “No…”

At least it’s words this time.

He slides up over her hips, running his thumbs along her smooth belly, feeling how she quivers at the touch though the frown sticks to her face. Now she’s just being difficult. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” she says simply.

Easy enough.

Cupping her shapely breasts, Astarion squeezes them together, flicking the pad of his thumbs over her peaked nipples. Her thighs clamp down over his legs and she keens softly.

Hmm, something’s off. They feel different, and while Hircine loves having her breasts touched, she doesn’t react this strongly to it.

“Not that I’m necessarily an expert on your tits, love, but they’re… heavier than usual.”

Her face flushes a plummy hue that makes his fangs ache, and oh, isn’t it so obvious? Hircine swallows audibly. “It’s just that time for me.”

“I thought you didn’t experience menstruation.”

“Not exactly. The magic stops the bleeding part, not the… hormones.” So none of the fun, how boring.

He leans forward, trailing his nose along her jawline to inhale her heady aroma. Fuck, it’s good. “That explains why you smell so delightful then. I’ve been losing my mind over this.” Giving her breasts another firm squeeze, she whimpers, maybe a little too pitifully and Astarion releases her, concern stomping all over his lusty intentions. “I'm not hurting you, am I?”

“They're jus’ sens'tive.” Hircine mumbles.

“Is that so?” Is it strange to admit he likes whiny Hircine? She's always so uptight and repressed with her desires, avoiding being too loud or saying exactly what she wants. He needs to coax those wants and needs out of her with each meticulously placed touch.

Her hands find his under the layers of tulle, placing them back on her chest as she stumbles over her words. “No, I—I want you to—to, uh, touch them—me.”

“Gently?” Astarion asks.

“N-No, harder. Please.”

He freezes, all sound drowning out by the roar of blood rushing past his ears. His wife, Hircine, the uncompromising business woman who never asks for anything, asked for him to be rough.

To her lovely, perfect tits.

If words like that aren't meant to break a man, then what can?

Such a sight should be complimented by her bouncing on his thick cock while inarticulate moans and sighs of pleasure ring out into the room, but they aren't there yet.

That doesn’t mean they can’t play in other ways.

Astarion grasps her breasts, kneading the buttery flesh with amusement at how unusually swollen they are—overflowing handfuls, and he brings his mouth over where one of those tender buds lies beneath her nightdress, latching onto it through the fabric. She rocks in his lap, and he pulls her forward squeezing her tight against him before calming those movements to brush their lips together. “Slow yourself, love.”

Hircine pulls away, clearly displeased. “Why?”

He smiles, all sharp fangs and hunger, squeezing her tits with enough force that her breath catches in her throat and then Astarion lets go, a flood of remorse at no longer holding them. “Get up.” He commands. “We're going to have some fun.”

Quick to listen, Hircine takes to her feet, heavy lidded with want as she stares at him, awaiting further instruction.

“Take it off.” His hand flicks in her direction. She looks down, grabbing the hem of her dress, holding it out as if to say ‘This?’ and he nods. As if it could be anything else.

Lifting her hands, Hircine deftly unhooks the collar from the back, pulling the fabric forward over her shoulders so it drops to the ground where the fabric pools into a pink puddle at her feet. A satisfied hum slips past his lips as he takes her form in. Slim and graceful, the silhouette of his wife’s body haloed by the fire is all soft curves and toned muscles crafted from years of dancing and sword play. Narrow shoulders, thin waist, rounded hips covered by sheer lacy panties, all places he'd like to run his tongue and fingers—another time. Astarion’s focus has been drawn elsewhere for the night.

“Face that way.” He points to his right and she does so without question. Trailing down from the flutter of her lashes, to the sharp edge of the clavicle, his eyes alight at the top of her breasts, following along to the slightly upturned points of those delectably tightened nipples, the same ghostly white as her mouth—he tries not to think about it too often, it works him into an insatiable frenzy when she forgoes her usual dark lipstick.

It's factually untrue. I am an expert on her tits.

They are bigger—fuller, only just so. Any lesser man or woman wouldn't notice, but Astarion spends plenty of time touching, staring… occasionally tasting. How could he not see the change?

Well, he didn't, did he? Though he can pinpoint why.

“It must have been terribly uncomfortable for you throughout the night, when your dresses are all tailored perfectly to your measurements. Poor things were smothered in all that tight cloth.” He tuts sympathetically as he stands, crossing to her side silently. With gentle hands, Astarion turns Hircine towards the fireplace, feeling as the radiating heat warms her soft skin while he glides his palms down her arms and back up to her neck, brushing gray strands of hair aside before moving to her jawline to tilt her head back against his shoulder. Their lips meet, melding together in a slow, roiling passion that will lead down a path of no return should they continue. The taste of her is so light and refreshing as he flicks his tongue against the pursed seam of her mouth.

Astarion breaks away, planting some tender kisses along the crook of her shoulder, hooking his arms under hers and cupping her breasts once again as he does, swaying them from palm to the tips of his fingers to feel their weight.

Delightful.

Oh, to sink his fangs into the soft flesh of one, draining every last drop of blood until she's just a lifeless corpse... Not the best or most wanted idea, but fuck if it doesn't make him hard.

Hircine looks down at his ministrations in puzzlement, finding his current actions underwhelming. Astarion grins against her shoulder blade, playfully jiggling her breasts in his hands so they ripple and bounce.

An unamused glare is flashed his way, but all it does is make him laugh and nuzzle against her cheek. “I’m just letting Belbol and Iiyola breathe, pet. It’s no surprise you were feeling so poorly today…” And finding himself merciful, Astarion decides she deserves what she asked for.

‘Harder.’

Taking her pert nipples between his thumb and forefinger, he twists and pulls. The sweet songbird cry that erupts from Hircine is cut short when she claps a hand over her mouth, falling limply back against his chest.

Well, that just won’t do.

He drops his hold on her to force Hircine to stand on her own, moving away with hands on hips, clicking his tongue in disappointment. “Hircine, my love, I won’t tolerate any quietness tonight. If I’m touching you, I had better hear it.”

“But—” She starts to say and Astarion wags a finger in her face. “No ‘buts’! We both know the servant’s won’t step foot out here. I want to hear you, and you will be heard. Understood?”

She chews on her lip and nods. “Yes, Husband.”

What a chore it’s been, ignoring his own arousal but Hircine being obedient is too much. Whiny, begging, obedient… Maybe he just likes Hircine doing anything. The confines of his pants is unbearable now and as much as he’d like to only please his wife, it feels a little unfair to be left out of all the fun, not that he’s missing out on anything playing with her tits.

Astarion jerks his chin up slightly, tapping his chest haughtily. “You know, I’m also starting to feel a little restrained… There must be something in the air. Strip me down, love.”

The powerful shiver that tracks down her body at his words leaves Astarion biting back a moan. How can she be so perfect for him? Needy and wanting, only ever bowing to his demands. Pliable, malleable, flexible. She’s all of that and more.

Like annoyingly tight-lipped for everything except his cock.

Stepping forward, Hircine closes the gap between them, the heat from her body leaching into his skin through his clothes. What control he has to not pull her flush against him, to feel her breasts pressed against his chest as he grinds his throbbing erection into her hips, anything so Hircine knows how he hungers—yearns for her.

Instead, Astarion fastidiously watches her hands as they rise up under his chin, taking the blue cotton collar of his shirt between her trembling fingers, sliding down to the first button which she carefully undoes while her glowing gold eyes flick back and forth between his face and the task at hand. Another button is unhooped, then another until Hircine reaches the hem of his shirt, fiddling with each side almost shyly.

Her heart is hammering in her chest, sending a beating upon her poor rib cage in its fraught attempt to escape from Hircine's body, breaths shallow and quick as she pushes the cotton from his shoulders.

To take her in his hands… He wants it. He needs it.

The shirt falls away from him with ease, dropping to the floor. “Oh, good girl.” Astarion praises, drinking in the way she trembles with excitement, a leaf rustling in the wind. Then he rushes forward, taking a fistful of Hircine’s thick hair to wrench her head back and slam their lips together, tongue demanding entry to her mouth.

Ever eager to receive, Hircine opens for him, letting their tongues tangle together. Warm and inviting, decadent and soft, they share breath, taste and fervent affection.

His darling wife, putty in his capable hands.

Physically that is. Astarion still doesn't have her heart, not yet, not truly.

But I will. Whatever it takes.

Taking a plush lip between his teeth, he pulls, tugging on it gently while keeping a firm grip on her hair. A mesmerizing whine escapes Hircine’s throat and Astarion swallows it, claiming her mouth once again. Gods, she smells of berries plucked fresh from the vine muddled with spices, and the taste… like a rich barrel aged wine with hints of oak and tannin upon his tongue. Divine, this wife of his is.

It’s time to get back to business though.

They separate, panting for breath, foreheads pressed together and Astarion presses his lips to her cute nose. “My beautiful girl,” his hands once again find her breasts, thumbs circling her areolas with a contained passion. He makes an amendment, giving her tits a playful squeeze. “My beautiful girls.” Hircine flutters her lashes, hiding any annoyance at his statement, not that she’s ever seemed to care much where his fixation is concerned.

Bending her backwards till her back arches in a curve, Astarion leans down, taking a tight, pale nipple in his mouth, sucking hard until Hircine gasps out an “Oh, gods, yes!” He pulls back with a satisfied pop, watching her tit bounce in place. They will be feasted on with utmost reverence tonight.

“Can you get the rest of my clothes, love? I want to see how perfect you are on your knees.” His breathy voice whispers across her skin, raising gooseflesh in its wake. If it weren’t for Astarion holding her up, she might have collapsed into a lust-filled pile of limbs at his words with the way she softens in his embrace.

To have his wife be so willing… His cock twitches in his pants at the sight.

Never taking her eyes off his, Hircine slips down to her knees, skimming her delicate fingers along the firm muscles of his abdomen, sparking trails of electricity across his skin. Fingering the edge of his trousers, she looks up, asking silently for permission to continue.

“Good girl. Go on,” Astarion coos and she dives into her task, ripping the end of his belt from the strap, much to his amusement—and disappointment. Astarion pulls his hips back, letting dissatisfaction drip from his words. “Slow down, pet. I need you to take your time.”

Hircine blinks, reigning herself in with a weak nod, ensuring a more appropriate pace is taken to de-clothe him. Belt is discarded and trousers worked down over his hips until they drop to the floor where Astarion steps out of them. Gods, his poor cock is straining against his underwear, leaking pre-cum in its sorry state.

Playing with the elastic band of his underwear, Hircine rises on her knees, dragging her wet tongue from his navel to where she torturously slow reveals the flushed head of his shaft. Her lips are silken as she kisses his cock once and pulls down his underwear completely, much to Astarion’s unquiet relief.

Oh, to fuck that beautiful mouth of hers until she gags…

Next time, he concedes.

“I know you could love on my cock all day,” he starts to say and Hircine nuzzles against his member in agreement, taking him at the base in her warm hands, her pale lavender-gold eyes seek his reactions. His lip is sucked into his mouth, swallowing down a groan when she finds the head again, laying sweet kitten-licks against his glistening slit.

She's so good to me.

A brush of his fingers across her cheekbones and into her marble gray hair that is so pleasing to wind into his hand, Astarion takes a gentle fistful of it and pulls Hircine back so her neck is bared to him, but he doesn't bite. “Like I said, you can do this all day, but that's not what I want right now. Up.” With a tug of her hair, Hircine drops his stiff cock like a forgotten toy, the pout returning to her face in full force as she stands on wobbly legs.

This moody creature, what will he do with her?

There's still one piece not in place. Astarion holds his hand out, flexing his fingers, a devious grin upon his face. “Your panties, please.”

With a roll of her eyes and a muttered, “Insatiable…” Hircine peels off her sheer panties, slapping them into his awaiting hand.

They're damp.

Every synapse within his body misfires and Astarion goes statue-still, unsure of what he wants to do. The smell, the feel, the taste. He'll have it all.

Collapsing backwards onto the couch, Astarion mashes the panties against his face, huffing her intoxicating aroma so it's all he knows. It would be all too easy for him to get off with these now, shove them in his mouth as he strokes his cock until it bursts. Mere moments would pass with how wound up he is.

“I thought we were going to have fun?” Hircine interrupts his lusting, her voice whiny and quiet. When he turns his attention back onto his wife, she stands there with arms crossed exactly the way he likes, right under her bust so her tits are propped up and squeezed together.

The sight is absolutely mouth-watering.

Tucking the panties behind him so they can be added to his collection later, Astarion outstretches his hand, pulling Hircine closer when she places her hand within his, guiding one of his legs between hers. “Well, I’ll have to rectify that issue immediately. Sit your pretty cunt on me please.”

She pauses momentarily at the command before lowering herself slowly—obediently. As she does, Astarion takes her breasts in hand, leaning in to suck a nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue over the hardened bud until she grasps at his hair, pulling him further into her soft chest. He massages the other, feeling the give of its flesh and enjoying Hircine’s whispering whines. He’ll hand out a correction soon if her volume doesn’t increase. Her heat is dripping when it meets his skin and the smell of her arousal is driving him to the brink of insanity, moaning into her tit, fighting the urge to sink his fangs into it and bleed her till there is naught but a husk left.

Pillowy, delicious, and perfect. He adores these things, and the one they are connected to.

With one last hard suck, Astarion lets go, pinching her other nipple between her fingers and Hircine bucks her hips in response, slicking up his leg something glorious. “My sweet pet,” he begins, trailing his lips along the top of her breasts, “I want you to fuck yourself on my thigh,” he nibbles at her collarbone, earning him a hushed sigh that's a whisper from the gods themselves, “and I’m going to devour Belbol and Iiyola as you do, and you cannot stop until you come, not even for a moment. If you stop, I won’t touch you again for the rest of the night. Can you do that for me?”

“Ye-Yes.” Hircine whispers, her fingers entangling further, making a mess of his styled curls.

Bouncing the leg she’s sitting on, Astarion pulls back and watches her tits jiggle in tandem. Gods, he aches for them. “Can I bite you tonight?”

Her cunt clenches against his leg, thighs squeezing him as she nods and that nearly destroys all of his self control.

He regrettably tears his eyes away, staring into the shining rings of her eyes to save some thread of sanity with a shaky breath in to steady himself. He needs to last through this.

Moving up so she’s situated closer to the top of his thigh, Hircine places her arms behind her body, resting her hands on his knee so her back is arched, jutting her chest towards him.

The little vixen… She’s too much for him some days.

No time is wasted as he dives towards her chest, cupping her breasts to lavish attention on each nipple, alternating sucking, pinching and lightly biting. Gods forbid Belbol and Iiyola not get equal attention. Hircine is working as directed, rocking her lower lips against his skin, angling her hips down to build friction on her clit.

Her mewls of pleasure are music to his ears, feeding Astarion encouragement when he does something she likes.

Settling back against the couch while Hircine rides his thigh, he watches—admires, the way her curvy hips gyrate to some unheard beat, heavy breasts swaying in tandem. He licks his lips at the sight, wanting them covered in his bites and spit and scent, anything to mark her as his. “You need to be louder, Hircine.” He reminds her with a click of his tongue.

A rough twist to a nipple has Hircine crying out loudly, “Oh, fu—! Yes! I will be! Please, please, please!” Hips moving faster as her chest heaves under his touches. Now that was the right move.

Nearly a whole breast is sucked into his mouth when he takes one again, tugging it up and swirling her peak with his tongue while the other tit is palmed and squeezed aggressively, awaiting its turn.

Alternating to the next finally, his teeth graze over that luscious nipple, gently taking it between his teeth to pull on. He looks up and their eyes meet. Hircine’s jaw hangs slack at the sight, a sharp, erotic moan breaking out of her throat as she buffs her clit hard against his leg.

Releasing her breasts, they are now flushed and puffy from how hard he’s worked them. I think it’s time, Astarion thinks to himself.

“Which one?” He asks, breathless.

Hircine rocking slows, but doesn’t stop as confusion shatters through the lusty haze on her face. “Wh-What?”

“Which one do I bite? I’ll let my good girl choose.” He croons dreamily.

Her breath hitches and thighs bare down on him again. “The le—”

“Use her name!”

She’s able to muster a weak eye roll. “Ah~ Belbol.”

Astarion flicks the underside of Iiyola. He’ll find her a different reward later. “Good choice, pet.” Giving no time for any snark, Astarion plunges his fangs down into the chosen breast, relishing as her rich blood instantly fills his mouth. The bite is the last push Hircine needs to tumble over the edge, physically and metaphorically, as her arms give out, falling backwards limply while her orgasm pulses through her body, drowning him in more of her essence. Astarion wraps his arms up her back, holding her tight while he drinks another mouthful of that effervescent life blood spiced so wonderfully with her release.

Two more deep swallows are taken before he unlatches, running his tongue along the rivulets that dribble out. Hircine likes to be light-headed after his bite and anymore than that makes her unresponsive, so he strictly regulates how much blood he takes. To her, the high is fun, making her quite giggly and ‘floaty’, whatever that means. Four to five draws of blood tends to get her there without leaving her dopey and it fills Astarion up nicely for the day.

The wound sealed, he continues to suckle at her breasts and nipples, laving over those peaks with his tongue the way she does to candy, not yet ready to let them go. Each hard pull has Hircine shivering in his arms, her body involuntarily twitching with the aftershocks of her orgasm and bringing forth quiet, pleased sighs from between her bitable lips.

Regaining her faculties, Hircine wraps her arms tightly over his head, keeping his face buried between the two luscious pillows of her chest.

He could die and be reborn here again and again… and again.

“—on my face?”

The end of that sentence is the only part that makes it into his ears when Hircine's heartbeat is pounding wildly against his head. “Can you repeat that, love?” He speaks directly against her sternum.

She wiggles in his embrace as her skin heats up with embarrassment. So she said something scandalous… “Can you come on my face?” Her voice cracks at about six octaves by the end, turning to a squeak that is certainly only audible to cavvekans and one tit-obsessed vampire.

Astarion barks a laugh before pressing a kiss to her chest and pulling away. “Well if you insist, my darling pet. On the floor now, I'll paint a pretty picture on you.”

Crawling off of him in quick excitement and leaving behind his slick coated thigh, Hircine perches between his legs, awaiting her prize while sucking her lip between her teeth.

He could devour every bit of her, here and now.

It won't take Astarion long to reach his tipping point, but since he helped her reach euphoria, maybe she should return the favor… Not that he really cares for tit for tat between them.

Taking his cock in hand, he sees how she stills, her gaze hungering for what's to come. Edging closer to the end of the couch, Astarion wiggles it in her face. “Fuck me between Belbol and Iiyola.”

Her eyes grow wide in excitement, breathing stutters. “Can-Can I taste you first?”

With his other hand, Astarion caresses her jaw, slipping his thumb into the wet heat of her mouth to press down on her tongue briefly. “Of course you can, my sweet girl. You know I love it when you ask.” With that said, he reclines back on the couch.

Hesitant at first, Hircine takes him in her hands, bringing her lips to rest on the glans, slowly spreading her mouth open to engulf his cock, taking him all the way to the base.

His perfect girl, always eager to choke on his cock.

The flat of her tongue trails along the underside as she pulls back up, hollowing her cheeks. Astarion’s head drops against the couch with a breathy groan, straining already to not spend himself down her throat.

She must sense his closeness, quickly removing her mouth so an obscene string of spit and his precum threads his cock and her lips together.

How is he meant to maintain composure in the face of such a woman?

Now coated to perfection, Hircine brings her body higher, aligning her beautiful breasts with his aching member and embraces it in her heavenly soft warmth. She squeezes her tits together more firmly for some grip, sliding wetly up and down on his shaft. What a dream; Astarion could never ask for anything better.

It only takes a few passes until the urge is unbearable. His hips jerk upwards with a gasp as his control snaps. “I’m—Oh, gods!” Come erupts from his cock, spraying up onto Hircine’s face and breasts, which she continues to massage over his cock, extracting every last drop of spend from him like the greedy woman she is.

Knowing he gets sensitive following an orgasm, Hircine frees him from the succulent cradle of her breasts, inspecting the mess as come slides thickly down her tits.

Astarion tuts quietly, hating wastefulness. Fingers slide over one of her nipples, scooping up his spend to bring it to her lips which she opens dutifully for, sucking his fingers clean with a self-satisfied smirk on her face. “There’s a little something on your chest, pet. You should take care of it, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

She hums in agreement, raising her breasts to swipe her tongue along the top swell of them. They spill over in her small, yet capable hands as she licks up his mess.

Once done, Astarion plucks his shirt from the ground, wiping the rest of his spend from her face and anywhere her tongue couldn’t reach. “Fabulous job, love. Come here.” Ever keen to be in his arms, she dives into them, curling up against his chest and burying her face into his neck.

“Do you feel better now?” He murmurs against her hair, reveling in her body heat.

She nods. “Mm-hm.”

“Good. Next time your tits hurt, let me know immediately so I can give them relief. Just the thought of Belbol and Iiyola suffering in silence makes me ill. I can’t bear it.”

Her hand snakes down to his chest, pinching one of his nipples suddenly. His shocked yelp has Hircine giggling to herself. “I don’t think you need any reasons to give them relief, Husband.”

“True,” Astarion palms a breast in his hand, a soft smile on his face. “Of course, the same extends to you as well, pet. I’m always here for whatever you need.”

Her arms wrap around his neck, holding him close. “My perfect husband.”

“And my perfect wife.”

-belbol - gift -iiyola - treasure

[mixolya]

ᓚᘏᗢ — golden hours, golden hearts : chapter 006 !

the city of paris was still draped in the soft veil of dawn as you pulled yourself out of bed, the faint light of the early morning spilling through your curtains. you glanced at the clock. 6 am. not the most forgiving hour, but you were used to it by now.

you moved through your routine with practice efficiency, taking a quick shower before settling in front of the mirror. your hair was cooperative for once, falling into place as you brushed it. a touch of makeup followed, subtle, just enough to emphasize your features since they will do your makeup anyway.

the soft light of dawn spilled through the large windows of your loft, casting a warm glow over the sleek, modern decor. with a quick glance around the space, you double-checked that you hadn't forgotten anything before heading out the door.

your outfit was casual yet chic, your bag packed with all the essentials. satisfied, you slipped in your shoes and headed out the door.

paris was alive as always, even at this early hour. the hum of morning activity filled the air: delivery trucks unloading, café owners setting up tables, and the occasional chatter of early risers. the streets were a blend of familiar sounds, grounding you as you stepped into the waiting cab.

sliding into the backseat, you crossed your legs and gave your driver the address of the calvin klein studio. you weren't nervous - this wasn't your first high-profile shoot, after all. but, calvin klein was the first brand you worked with, so it's a little special.

as the cab moved through the bustling streets, you gazed out the window, taking in the familiar beauty of paris. a small smile tugged at your lips as you thought about the day ahead.

the calvin klein studio was sleek and understated, its modern design evidence to the brand's timeless aesthetic. you stepped out of the cab, your heels clicking against the pavement as you adjusted your jacket and walked through the glass door.

"y/n! so good to see you again," the assistant, aurora, greeted you warmly as soon as you entered. she looked effortlessly polished, holding a clipboard and radiating the kind of energy that kept things running smoothly.

"good morning," you replied with a smile. "i'm looking forward to today."

the assistant gestured for you to follow, her heels tapping rhythmically against the polished floors.

"today's concept is simple but powerful. clean, intimate, and very calvin klein," she explained as you walked. "we've selected pieces that will highlight the essence of the brand while focusing on the chemistry between you and your partner."

you hummed in acknowledgment, confident and collected as she continued.

this wasn't your first duo shoot, and the idea of working with another model didn't faze you. you were curious, of course, about who it would be, but your years of experience had taught you how to adapt to any situation.

"y/n, you're going to love these pieces," one of them said, gesturing to the rack of clothing. "minimalist, sleek, and classic CK."

your fingers brushed over the fabrics as you examined the options. soft neutrals, bold blacks, crisp whites. every detail exuded luxury and sophistication.

"perfect," you said, meeting their expectant gazes. "let's see what works best."

the team buzzed around, discussing pairings and accessories as you watched them with a calm, practiced eye. they knew their craft, and you trusted them to make the right calls.

once everything was sorted, aurora led you down another hallway to a quiet waiting room. the space was comfortable, designed to put any model at ease. a plush sofa sat in the center, with a table offering refreshments and light snacks.

"you can relax here until your partner arrives," she said, gesturing to the space. "shouldn't be too long now."

"got it. thank you," you replied, flashing her a smile.

as the door clicked shut behind her, you settled onto the sofa, your posture relaxed but composed. you let your thoughts wander for a moment, wondering who your duo might be. would it be someone you'd worked before? it isn't hyoma, for sure. or maybe a fresh face with a reputation that preceded them?

chapter 005 > here > chapter 007

taglist is open ! <3

back to golden hours, golden hearts

a/n: im sure yk what comes next man this is so boring if uk what happens next BRJHEKFOJIKR

taglist: @darling-dearesttt @saeslove @yuukigyatgyat @sof888a @beepbopzlorp @luvrrin @narcjsistx @catukin @megumismyhusband @morgyyyyyyy @levihanmyotp @kaz-0e @nensi @vaelils @loverryxx @kunascutie @bbladie @swagkittybear @alexiaray @kaidostwin @black-swan-blog27 @syarc0re @vayahatesu @yangx2isawhore @pinkfqiry @treeguzzler @shumeow-h @modxbea @90s-belladonna @rory-cakes @sapph1r3x @yuiearyi @pctterheadd @thecallofmedusa @whisperofae @belovedfedya @anqelkoz @yukari1k @dontmindtheevie @pookalicious-hq @pan-kojiwa

© mixolya 2025. do not copy, remake or edit any of my works.

[staylovesmiley]

Sometimes I hate the way my mind works. Makes it so hard to go through with my day like a normal person!

So, you are in a poly relationship with Skz. Tonight you are spending with Seungmin. And you feel somewhat bold! You ask him to try anal for the first time. You were toying with the idea in your mind for weeks so you had already bought various sizes and designs of butt plus. You bring them to him and ask him to prep you. You lay across his thighs, your black laced panties already soaked. He takes some time to spank your plump flesh when suddenly he rips the material (leaving the pieces on you because ain't no one have time to throw them away), he spits on his fingers and smears it to your pretty little hole. He uses his tongue occasionally to prep you better. A couple of minutes later he slowly inserts a finger, your weak voice moaning his name. After he is satisfied he tries another finger and there is when your fist tightens around his pants. Feeling you relaxing further, he opens the box of goodies you brought him earlier. Firstly he grabs the lube, pouring a good amount to your tight hole. His hand finds a diamond plug and gently lodges it in you. You whine, a noise between pleasure and pain. With the diamond in you he goes on to spank you again. When you are once again red and flustered, he pulls the little plug out, grabbing a slightly bigger one. Spiting on it he sinks it slowly to the perfect gap he already created. But, turns out this one is a vibrating one. After it's all the way in, he snatches the controller and starts to gently teasing you going from the lower mode to the hardest. You moan and try to stop yourself by biting down to the sheets. Somewhere down the line you feel him pulling it out and getting up. He places you to the bed, ass up and cheek in your pillow. You can hear him unclasp his belt and there is where the tip of his leaky dick is in you. Steady and while talking you sweetly through it, he starts pushing further and further in. Your pussy wet like you never felt before. With hazy eyes and sweat all over you, you see someone slowly walking to where you were layed almost unconscious. A familiar voice hits your ears and you feel a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"Lix.....?"

You just mumble

"I am here princess" He gets a hold of one of your hands "You look so pretty, baby. You can do it! Just breath and relax. And maybe tomorrow in our own night we could try this pretty tail you've bought too"

With Felix holding you and whispering sweet nothings in your ear, with your hair stuck around your face in various forms and your temperature almost feverish, with the pain driving you crazy transforming to pleasure like you've never experienced before, Seungmin now starts to fully thrust in and out your abused ass. The Aussie's hand now between your thighs drawing circles around your clothes up to the point you come undone with a loud scream and squirt, for what it feels, gallons.

"There you go, angel" The younger man whispers leaving a kiss upon your ass

Let me tell you this is the first thing I saw when I woke up and I literally had to do a double take- ngl anal isn’t exactly my thing to be on the receiving end of but I gotta commend your dedication for writing out a whole fic in my asks like seriously (also couldn’t help but think of the collision universe while reading thing since Star lives with Minnie and Lix- just food for thought to those who read the series lol)

[dulc3vida]

if there was one thing you loved to do with pope, it was sucking his dick.

it gave you purpose. you never felt more important than when you were on your knees, worshipping his cock. pope was always very vocal, telling you how to suck and stroke, when to spit, and praising you endlessly.

"ohhh fuck." pope gripped your hair, the braided pigtails serving as handlebars as he guided you up and down. right now, the two of you were occupying john b's room at the chateau. hanging out with sarah was always a good cover for sneaking around with pope. your parents were happy to leave you unsupervised with either one of the cameron siblings so you took advantage of sarah's friendship. you thanked god for sarah. it made moments like this possible.

pope's grip on your hair became tighter as he began using your mouth like a fleshlight. the obscene wet sounds of you moaning and gagging on his dick filled the room along with the chorus of his own moans. your face was wet with your saliva and it was starting to drip onto john b's sheets. "i'm- i'm..." pope sputtered as he forced your head down, holding it in place as he shot his cum all down your throat.

it sat warm in your belly and you almost didn't want to come back up for air. you did though and while pope layed back on the bed, chest heaving with each breath he took, you held his cock and finished the ritual by cleaning him up.

"pope! we kinda gotta problem." john b's voice accompanied a knock at the door.

"so deal with it." pope grumbled and tossed a pillow at the door.

"rafe's here." it was sarah this time. just the sound of his name and you felt the tug of the diamond encrusted leash and chain tightening around your neck and yanking you far away from pope. you got up while pope put himself away and you checked out the window. sure enough, rafe was stepping out of his truck and approaching the house.

you opened the door to the room and faced sarah, who looked at you amusedly. you hadn't even gotten to clean yourself up and the evidence of your infidelity was all over your face. "john b's stalling." she grabbed your hand and led you to the bathroom. there, she pulled out makeup wipes, lip balm and perfume.

"you don't care that i'm cheating on your brother?"

"he's cheating on you and doesn't feel bad about it. i just wish you were getting more from him."

sarah stuck a piece of gum between your lips and insisted on kissing you to make sure rafe wouldn't taste or smell anything.

"just to be safe, babe." she cupped your face with her hands and kissed you, basically forcing your lips open so she could taste you completely. sarah always took any opportunity she could to experiment with you. she was like her brother in that way, always taking. "mm..." she moaned a little. "perfect. come on."

"jesus sarah, what did i tell you about bringing her around here? you can slum it down here all you want but i don't want her around your little pogue friends." rafe hadn't been expecting to see you here. he was only instructed to come pick sarah up from john b's place by his dad. as far as he was concerned, you were doing some bible study bullshit as he called it.

the rest of the pogues gathered on the lawn to watch the scene, pope sitting and watching you intently. rafe didn't like this. rafe never liked anyone, let alone pope, thinking he could have what was his. rafe knows that pope was probably using whatever nerd charm he had to get in close with you, the virginal weirdo he called a girlfriend.

"c'mere." rafe wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you in deep for a kiss, pressing you against the front of his truck.

rafe always liked putting on a show. he moved his hands up your shirt, squeezing your tits before pulling away and opening your car door for you. pope watched the exchange, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. it was simple things, like watching rafe kiss you after you were just choking on his dick, that made it all worth it.

you got in the truck with sarah, only the two of you knowing everything you got up to on your little adventure to the cut.

@starfxkrinc been thinking about them and sarah alot lately (also rafesarah)

[luckyroll3]

Quid Pro Quo: Chapter 3

Masterlist and Summary

Warnings: This work of fiction is intended for 18+ audiences only. Includes explicit sexual content, graphic language, some violence, etc. Author chooses to not extensively tag in order to preserve some elements of storytelling.

Word Count: 8,357

You walk into the library, the scent of old books and brewed coffee mingling in the air, a comforting embrace to your senses. The sun filters through the high windows, casting a warm glow on the array of chairs and tables. You find Chan at your usual spot, his textbook open, papers scattered like fallen leaves around him. He looks up as you approach, a sheepish grin tugging at the corner of his lips, that hint of boyish charm that you’ve come to adore. 

"Hey," he greets, a hand running through his blonde hair, a bit more tame than usual today. 

“Hi.” You slide into the chair across from him, suppressing a smile. “You look like shit.” His face is slightly puffy and there are dark circles under his eyes.

"Thanks. I feel like shit.” Chan rubs the back of his neck. “So, uh, about my party the other night. I was pretty wasted and heard I may have said and done some inappropriate things. Just wanted to apologize if I crossed any lines with you." His brown eyes look genuinely concerned. You can't help but find it endearing.

“Did you actually make it through all 21 shots?”

“I’m not sure. I think so cause I've been nursing a hangover from hell for the past few days and piecing together my dignity.”  

You smirk. "From what I saw, you were nothing but a perfect gentleman. At least, to me." You lean forward, resting your chin on your palm. "But I can't vouch for anything that went down when you vanished up the stairs with that brunette."

Chan's eyes widen for a moment before he bursts out laughing. The sound is deep and rich, echoing off the bookshelves. "I’m not even sure what happened with her. I think she gave me head? Maybe more? I don’t fucking know. I haven’t had that much to drink in a while," he quips, still grinning. “And thank you again for the gift. I started reading Desperation.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“It is, actually. It was very thoughtful.” He locks eyes with you for a brief moment before looking down at his notebook. "Should we get started?"

The session unfolds with the usual rhythm—your explanations punctuated by his quick understanding. Yet, today feels different. His gaze lingers as you explain a complex equation, making your cheeks warm. When you catch his eye, he quickly looks away. You sense his gaze lingering longer than necessary, eyes tracing the curve of your jaw, the fall of your hair. Each time you catch him, the air thickens, charged with an unspoken question.

"What?!" you finally ask when his brown eyes meet yours once more, teasingly assessing. 

"Nothing," Chan says, but his tone carries a note of mischief, a flirtatious edge that's hard to ignore. He leans back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, his shirt stretching taut against his pecs. 

“There’s nothing on my face?”

"What? No, I’m just... looking at you. I mean, listening. To the math stuff," Chan stammers.

You raise an eyebrow. "Uh huh, riiiiight,” you reply unconvinced. “Well, pay attention to the numbers, not me."

“You’re much prettier than numbers though.” A playful lopsided grin tugs at the corner of his mouth.

"Focus, Channie," you tease, trying to keep the atmosphere light. "We have work to do."

"Alright, alright," he concedes, turning his attention back to the equations on the pages spread out before him.

As the clock ticks toward the end of your session, you pack up your things, feeling the weight of his stare like a physical touch. "My place or yours for tomorrow?" you ask.

"Actually," Chan replies, closing his textbook with a soft thud, "mind if we do it at my place? Roommates will be out. We'll have the house to ourselves. Less eyes and ears than at your dorm."

Your pulse quickens at the thought; your next session is the one you’ve been anticipating, the final session. You nod, trying to keep your voice even. "Sure, sounds good."

"Great," he says, standing up with a stretch that showcases the lines of his body. His shirt shifts up a few inches when he brings his hands over his head, exposing the delicate v-line cut descending towards his crotch area. "It's a date then."

"Not a date," you correct, with a side eye in his direction.

"Riiiiiight," he echoes your earlier skepticism, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "See you tomorrow."

As you leave the library, his words linger in your mind.

****

You step into Chan's house, the scent of spices and laughter greeting you as if they were old friends beckoning you inside. The sight of his roommates gathered around the dining table, plates heaped with food, catches you off guard. You expected an empty house, privacy – not a lively dinner party.

"Hey," he says, dimples appearing as he grins apologetically. "Slight change of plans. The guys decided to stay in tonight. Hope you don't mind?"

“I guess not,” you say as you step inside. 

They greet you with friendly smiles and boisterous laughter, insisting that you join them for dinner.

"Hey. Sit! Eat!!" Felix calls out, waving a fork in your direction. 

"Come on, we've got plenty to share," Hyunjin says, gesturing to the heaping plates of food.

Chan guides you to a chair, his hand lingering on the small of your back. As you sit, he slides in next to you, his thigh brushing yours under the table. He leans in close, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. "Sorry about the surprise audience," he murmurs.

The meal is a riot of flavors and laughter. They're just as charming and funny as Chan, humor dancing in their eyes, and you find yourself pulled into their warmth like a moth to flame.

“Astrophysics, huh?” Minho asks. “I didn’t think that was a real career. I’ve only heard about it in movies. Never actually met one.”

You laugh, about to respond when you feel Chan's hand on your knee. Your breath catches as his fingers trace lazy circles on your skin.

“Uhm, yeah. There aren’t many of us, but we exist. Our university is actually one of the top schools for astrophysics and astrobiology research.” The boys all nod, super interested.

When they learn about your interest in black holes, they start to talk about the movie Interstellar. You try to concentrate on the banter, but Chan’s discrete touch under the table steals away your focus, igniting a fire within you that you struggle to keep hidden. 

The conversation soon turns to you and Chan. 

"So, you're the one who's got Chan actually cracking a book," Hyunjin teases.

“Yeah Chan, what's gotten into you?" Minho jokes, elbowing him playfully. "You actually care about passing now?"

Chan's hand inches higher, and you struggle to keep your expression neutral as the conversation flows around you. 

“I’ve always cared about passing. I just never had to study before. You do know I have a 3.925 GPA right? I’m not just a pretty face…” He blows a kiss at Minho who pretends to catch it and put it in his pocket. “... that’s Hyunjin,” Chan continues with a smirk.

“Hey! I got good grades!” Hyunjin says, offended. 

“You’re an art major; of course you ‘got good grades’,” Minho teases. Hyunjin balls up his napkin and throws it at Minho.

"Seriously though," Felix addresses you, "we've never seen Chan work this hard in any class. You must be some kind of miracle worker."

You chuckle, trying to keep your composure as Chan's hand moves into your underwear. You’re now rethinking your decision to wear a skirt.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," you manage. "His motivation is purely self-preservation.” You take a deep breath when you feel his fingers enter you. "Hmmm…,” the sound emerges unexpectedly from your throat as you try to refocus on your words. “Actually, it's more like Chan doesn't want to fail and get kicked out. I'm just here to make sure he doesn't."

You take a sip of water, the cool liquid doing little to quell the heat from Chan's relentless exploration. 

"Sure, sure," Hyunjin teases, winking at you. "And how have you managed to resist his charms?”

You gasp softly against the glass as Chan removes his fingers. You watch flabbergasted as he places those same fingers in his mouth, followed by a devastating grin as he forks his last piece of lasagna. 

“Most women can't last a day around Chan without falling for him," Felix adds. 

Minho nods as he sits back, “I personally don’t get it.”

“Oh please. We all know that Chan is hot,” Hyunjin says. 

“Speak for yourself,” Minho deadpans.

You open your mouth, not sure how to answer, when Chan suddenly stands. "Alright, enough with the interrogation," he announces. "We've got studying to do." He grips your hand, tugging you gently away from the table. 

“Thanks for dinner,” you call over your shoulder. 

Chan leads you upstairs to the sanctuary of his bedroom. The door clicks shut behind you, muffling the residual laughter from the dining room. He locks the door then turns to face you, the playful glint in his eye yielding to sincerity.

"About my roommates..." He begins, running a hand through his tousled hair. "I'm sorry if they made you uncomfortable."

You shake your head, dismissing his concern. "It's fine, Chan.”

“Do you still want to continue with the next lesson here?”

"Of course," you reply, your heart pounding in anticipation.

"We can head to your dorm…” You shake your head no. “Alright then." He takes a deep breath, his demeanor shifting into something more serious, more instructional. He perches on the edge of his cluttered desk. "So, the mechanics of sex," he starts, locking eyes with you. His voice is low, intimate as if sharing a secret meant only for you. "It's important to understand that women don’t often cum during sex, and many guys... well, they won't make it a priority. They don’t care."

“Is that true for you?”

“It depends. Sometimes I just want to fuck; when I get off, I’m good and I’m not worried about anything or anyone else. Other times, I take it as a personal challenge to make the women I’m with cum. It’s why I have the reputation I do.” He smirks. 

You lean against the door, absorbing every word, feeling the weight of their truth. Chan's honesty is disarming, and you can't help but wonder at the contradiction he poses: a man known for fleeting pleasures teaching you the importance of personal satisfaction.

"So this is something you might have to prioritize for yourself if your partner doesn't. Make sure you communicate what you need," he continues, "because your pleasure matters too." 

His gaze holds yours, unwavering, the air between you charged. And in this quiet room, with the world shut out, you feel the slow burn of discovery begin to smolder within you, stoked by the words of a man who defies his own reputation.

The soft croon of an R&B ballad fills the room as Chan's hands glide over your skin. His fingers trail along your collarbone, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "I'm going to undress you now," he murmurs. "Tell me if you want me to stop."

His lips find your neck, peppering soft kisses as he slowly unbuttons your shirt. You shiver at the sensation, your hands instinctively moving to his waist.

"You can touch me too," Chan encourages between kisses. "Explore what feels good."

Your own hands explore the planes of his body, feeling his muscles flex under your touch. A groan escapes him when your fingers drift lower, caressing him through the thin fabric still separating your bodies. Your fingers hesitantly slide under his shirt, tracing the planes of his abs. 

Chan hums approvingly against your skin. He tugs down the zipper of your skirt with a deliberate tenderness that makes your breath hitch, as his lips then move to your collarbone, kissing and sucking tenderly. His hands gently slide the fabric of the skirt over your ass before letting it fall to the ground with a whisper. Then he repeats the action with your underwear. With each touch, you feel the walls around you dissolve, leaving nothing but the intimacy of this shared space.

Each new inch of exposed skin receives his devoted attention—soft kisses, whispered words of desire, the heat of his mouth as he worships you. And you feel the results dripping between your legs. His mouth kisses the side of your hip, then your lower belly, a nipple, and stops just above your chest.

"Your turn," he murmurs against your collarbone, guiding your fingers to the hem of his shirt. You peel the fabric up and away, revealing the contours of his athletic build—a landscape of muscle and skin that beckons your exploration. The deep dimples in his cheeks flash as he grins, his usual cocky demeanor softened by this sensual dance of give and take.

Once both of you are fully undressed, Chan gently guides you onto the bed, his strong arms supporting your weight as he lowers you onto the soft sheets. Lying back on the bed, the world narrows down to the heat of his body pressing into yours. He takes a moment to grab a condom from the nightstand. The crinkle of the wrapper sounds like thunder in the quiet room as he carefully sheathes himself, locking eyes with you to gauge your comfort every step of the way. He hovers above you, eyes drinking you in, dimples flashing as his lips curl into a smile.

"Ready?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. You nod, unable to find your own words as desire pools in your core. His lips find yours in a slow, sensual kiss.

"We'll take this nice and slow," he murmurs, his breath hot against your cheek. His fingers trail downward, skimming over your body. He parts your legs, slipping a finger into your moist warmth. “Good,” he whispers. “You’re nice and wet. This is why the foreplay is so important.” He slots his body in between your legs, positioning the tip of his dick at your entrance. "Remember, communication is key. Tell me what feels good, what doesn't."

You nod. Slowly, he enters you, his movements deliberate and controlled. This is no rushed conquest; it's a lesson of connection, and you're his willing pupil.

When he comes up against a bit of resistance, he says softly, “This might hurt a little. If it’s too much, tell me to stop.” He pushes through with slightly more force, causing you to grunt. He brings his lips to yours and kisses you through the pain as he enters you fully, his cock buried deep within you. 

"You okay?" he checks in, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You nod, slightly overwhelmed by the feel and the intimacy of the moment. "Yeah, I'm good."

He begins to talk you through various positions, demonstrating each one with a practiced ease. With every shift and change, you learn something new about your own body, and how it responds to him.

"Let's try something else," he breathes out as he shifts your bodies into a new position—one where you can see the intensity in his gaze, feel the full depth of him within you. And then another change, his movements guided by whispered instructions that lace through the music and settle into the rhythm of your heart.

Above you, Chan moves with controlled precision, showing you the contrast between slow, purposeful thrusts and a faster, more urgent tempo. The difference is stark, awakening sensations inside you that you hadn't known existed. Your focus tunnels in on the sound of your mingled breaths, the pressure building within you, and Chan's unwavering attention.

As time passes, your surroundings fade away until all that exists is the two of you, moving together in perfect harmony. The only sounds are the rhythm of your breathing and the quiet rustle of the sheets beneath you, careful not to alert his roommates to your activities.

Even after he finds his own release, he doesn't falter in his dedication to you; he's determined to bring you to an orgasm. "Focus on your pleasure," he whispers into your ear, his voice soothing. His fingers move to your clit, teasing, rubbing, pinching.

His whispers become a mantra in your ear, telling you how close you are, urging you on with words meant to embolden rather than seduce—yet they accomplish both.

With each thrust and each touch of his fingers against your clit, you feel the heat building inside you, spreading like wildfire throughout your body. Your hips buck against him uncontrollably as you chase your release. 

"You're so close," Chan murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. "Just let go."

You can feel it now, that intense physical build up. Every nerve ending is on fire as Chan works his magic on your body. And then finally, with one last burst of energy, you shatter into a million pieces.

Your entire body tenses as waves of electricity wash over you, making you tremble and gasp for breath. It's an explosion of sensations that leaves you feeling completely satisfied and utterly spent. Chan whispers praises in your ear as he watches your face contort in pleasure, his own eyes slowly closing with satisfaction.

As the intensity starts to fade and reality comes crashing back in, Chan gently pulls out of you and collapses beside you on the bed. The two of you lay there for a few moments, catching your breaths.

In the aftermath, flushed and panting softly, the room feels impossibly large and yet entirely intimate. Chan's gaze lingers on you, a look so intense it nearly overshadows the physical pleasure. It's almost as if he's trying to forge a deeper connection with you, one that transcends the boundaries you’ve set. You tell yourself it's all part of the lesson, but the warmth in his eyes challenges the very notion of detachment he's always embraced. But you remind yourself that this is just an educational experience, and you try to focus on the sensations rather than the emotions they evoke.

"Okay?" His voice is a tender rumble.

"More than okay," you admit, finding truth in the vulnerability of this moment—and wondering if this is just another layer of Chan's enigmatic persona or a glimpse into a desire for something deeper.

The room is still as Chan's arms envelop you in a gentle embrace, his breath warm against the damp skin of your neck. He kisses the tender spot just below your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. You're cocooned in a post-orgasmic haze, muscles languid and mind blissfully adrift.

"Talk to me," he murmurs. His lips brush your ear, voice low and husky. "So, how do you feel?"

You take a moment to gather your thoughts, the warmth of his body seeping into yours. "It was... intense. Different than I expected," you admit, as he traces idle patterns on your arm. "There were moments of discomfort, but also amazing pleasure I've never felt before."

You take a deep breath and describe the sensations that coursed through your body, the rush of heat, the clench of pleasure, and the way his gaze seemed to pierce right through you. The intimacy of the moment is unnerving yet exhilarating.

Chan hums, his fingers trailing along your spine. "That's normal. It gets better with practice. Less discomfort, more pleasure," he murmurs, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder. "What were you thinking about during?"

You laugh softly. "Honestly? I was trying to remember all your damn instructions. And... wondering if this is how it always feels."

As you speak, Chan wraps his strong arms around you, pulling you close as he listens intently. His lips brush against your neck, shoulders, and back, leaving a trail of soft, tender kisses.

His chuckle reverberates through you. "Every time is different. But that's part of the fun."

The conversation shifts, meandering into lighter topics — anecdotes from classes, shared jokes, the odd habits of his roommates, mutual friends, ridiculous campus rumors. Laughter soon replaces the heavy silence, light and carefree. You talk about everything and nothing. You're surprised at how easy it is to just be with Chan, to share stories, talk, laugh. An hour passes in what feels like minutes.

Suddenly, Chan's hand slides down your hip. "Want to try again? Round two?" he asks. His voice is playful, but his eyes are earnest, seeking your consent. 

You nod, curiosity piqued by this new dynamic. 

"This time, you can be on top. It'll give you more control."

"Okay, show me." You straddle him gingerly.

Chan rolls on another condom before guiding you over his erect cock, his hands steady on your hips. You breathe out slowly as you slide down his length, taking him all the way into you.  

"Move however feels good," he instructs. "Experiment with different angles until you feel a tingling. That’s how you’ll know you’ve got the right position."

You shift and shimmy on him, cataloguing the differences in each position. When you feel like a buzzer keeps getting pressed, you settle into that position and focus on duplicating the feeling over and over again. 

"Good, just like that," he encourages quietly as he steadies your hips, guiding you to find the pace that draws moans from your lips. 

As you continue to move, Chan's eyes lock onto yours. The intensity of his gaze is almost overwhelming. You've never felt so exposed, so vulnerable, yet so powerful at the same time. It's one of the most intimate experiences you've ever had.

"That's it," he encourages, his voice strained. "You're doing great."

With a confidence boost from his encouraging smile, you pick up the pace. Chan's fingers press into your flesh with deliberate intent. "Keep going," he coaches, "feel how you control the movement? How you can take what you need?"

As you find your rhythm, your world narrows to the locked gaze between you. Chan's brown eyes are an endless well of emotion, pulling you deeper into the sensation and connection. As you start to reach your peak, he whispers sweet, romantic, dirty words that make you blush. His whispers dance around the room—affirmations of beauty, of desire, of something dangerously close to affection.

When your orgasm hits and you gasp his name, the tenderness in his eyes catches you off guard.

"Beautiful," he breathes, his fingers brushing delicately across your skin. "Absolutely breathtaking."

As the realization dawns on you that the lighthearted joke from the other night might have been rooted in genuine emotion, you feel a mix of exhilaration and trepidation.

Afterward, entwined in the sheets and each other, Chan's fingers idly play with your hair. His voice is a soft buzz against your ear as he murmurs, "You're welcome to stay the night… if you want."

You hesitate, as reality crashes back. This closeness is addictive, but dangerous. This isn't real, you remind yourself. It's just educational. You can't afford to blur lines already smudged by these intimate lessons. 

You shake your head quickly. "Thanks for the offer, but I should go," you say, sitting up. "Early class tomorrow." 

Chan nods, his expression mostly unreadable. "Okay," he says with no hint of disappointment, only respect. “I’ll walk you home.”

After getting dressed, you and Chan walk silently, side by side, back to your dorm. The night air is cool against your flushed skin; it’s a stark contrast to the warmth of Chan's hand that lightly grazes yours as you move. At the entrance, you turn to face him.

"Thank you, Chan. For everything. You've been... great. Thank you for being so kind to me, making me feel safe and comfortable. You’re a true gentleman." Your voice wavers as you wrap your arms around his torso, pulling him into a hug. You feel his arms tighten around your back. Your lips brush his cheek, leaving a feather-light kiss. 

As you pull away, something flickers in his eyes, but it's gone before you can identify it.

“No problem. Have a good night.”

"Goodnight," you whisper as he turns to walk away, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jeans. You sigh and use your student ID to gain access to the building. Your thoughts are already drifting to the upcoming anniversary date with Changbin. 

Back in the solitude of your room, you clutch your phone, heart racing as you type a message to Changbin. Excitement bubbles inside you.

You:

Can't wait to celebrate with you this weekend.

Cuddle Binnie:

Neither can I, babe. 

****

You step into the opulent suite, and the view steals your breath away. The salty breeze caresses your skin as you step onto the large balcony. The endless ocean stretches out before you, the horizon kissing the sky in a perfect line. A small jacuzzi bubbles invitingly off to the side. Changbin's arms wrap around you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder. 

"Happy anniversary," he whispers, and the sincerity in his voice swathes around your heart like a silk scarf. He presses a gentle kiss to your neck.

You turn in his embrace, taking in his warm smile and the way his eyes crinkle at the corners. "Changbin, this is... incredible. I can't believe you did all this." When Changbin had mentioned a weekend getaway to celebrate, the last thing you’d imagined was a luxurious suite at a five-star hotel. 

He grins, clearly pleased with your reaction. "Only the best for you. Now, how about we get ready for dinner? I've got reservations at that fancy seafood place you've been wanting to try.”

Dinner is incredible. Each course is more decadent than the last, and Changbin watches you with an intensity that makes every bite feel like a caress. 

You find yourself employing some of the subtle flirting techniques you've learned. A lingering touch here, a coy glance there, a game of footsie under the table. Changbin seems to be drinking it all in, his eyes darkening with desire. You place your hand in his lap, using your thumb to gently brush along the outline of his cock.

"You're killing me here," he whispers, leaning in close, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Maybe we should skip dessert and head back to the hotel?" he suggests, his breath warm against your ear.

You giggle, knowing exactly what he’s implying and feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. "Patience, babe. We've got all weekend,” you tease. “But did you see the bourbon bread pudding with vanilla ice cream and caramel sauce? We’re definitely NOT skipping dessert."

He laughs and gives you a soft kiss. "I already ordered it for you," he confesses against your lips.

You’re so touched by this thoughtful gesture, you can’t help but deepen the kiss, holding his head in place with both hands.

“See,” you whisper between kisses. “This is why you're my favorite.” You resume the passionate exchange. 

After dinner, you stroll hand-in-hand along the moonlit beach. The sound of waves lapping at the shore provides a soothing backdrop to your conversation. The sand is cool and comforting under your bare feet. 

"Did I tell you how stunning you look tonight?" Changbin grins, his eyes sparkling as he glances at you. 

"Only about a dozen times," you tease, giving his hand a playful squeeze. "But who's counting?" You continue walking silently for a few minutes, nearing closer to the hotel. 

You feel your phone vibrate in the pocket of your dress, slicing through the calm. You hand Changbin your heels before retrieving it. It’s a message from Chan. Your stomach does a flip as you open it. 

Chan:

Good luck tonight. 

Hope it’s everything you wanted and imagined.

You deserve it. 

You stare at it, a flicker of conflict crossing your mind before you quickly slip the phone back into your pocket without responding. This moment is about you and Changbin—no one else.

Changbin notices your momentary distraction. “Everything okay?”

You nod. “Yeah, it’s just Chan. But nothing important,” you reassure him. You wrap your arms tightly around his and rest your head on his large biceps as you continue your walk to the hotel. 

Back in the sanctity of your suite, the door clicks shut, sealing away the world. The soft glow of moonlight illuminates the room as Changbin gently leads you to the plush king-sized bed.

Changbin's touch is soft, his kisses painting strokes of affection along your skin. As he slowly undresses you, his fingers brushing against your skin with each delicate movement, you find yourself enveloped in a cocoon of passion and desire. You can't help but compare his touches to Chan's. But then Changbin looks into your eyes with such love and tenderness that all thoughts of Chan fade away. 

"Are you sure you’re ready?" His voice is a husky murmur against your ear.

You nod, pulling him close. "I've never been more sure of anything." You fall back onto the bed, pulling him on top of you. “I want you,” you whisper. 

Changbin grins, desire burning in his gaze. "I want you too, baby." He captures your mouth in a fiery kiss. Then his lips trail down your neck to your chest. 

Changbin's mouth finds your breast, sucking a nipple between his lips. You gasp, your fingers raking through his hair. He gives you one quick kiss in the center of your chest before leaning back with a soft sigh. He takes in the sight of your naked body beneath him. His eyes roam hungrily over every inch of you, causing a shiver to run down your spine. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs.

His eyes never leave yours as he stands and undresses, first pulling his sweater over his head, then stepping out of his slacks and underwear. He finally breaks eye contact to walk to his bag. You can’t help but bite your bottom lip as you watch his brawny physique walk away, his muscles twitching just beneath the skin of his broad back. Your eyes settle on his plump ass, your favorite part of his body. He retrieves a box of condoms from the side pocket and walks back to the bed. 

“I’ve had this for over 6 months,” he says with a laugh as he opens the box.

“I’m sorry for keeping you waiting,” you say, covering your face bashfully. “Just know it wasn’t you, it was me.” 

“No need to apologize. I was happy to wait for you to be ready, babe.” He removed a single sleek black square packet, carefully ripping it open. The condom glides smoothly onto his eager erection as you watch him with anticipation.  

Your outstretched arms beckon him towards you as you whisper, “Come here.” He takes your hand, enthusiastically following your instructions as you pull him back to you. As he climbs over you, you place a hand on his chest, feeling the rapid thumping of his heart against your palm. His cock presses insistently against your thigh.

He leans down to kiss you, tenderly at first, before letting his desire take over. Then he reaches down, positioning himself at your entrance with deliberate care. He locks his eyes on yours and you nod. He enters you slowly, inch by inch, groaning as your tight heat envelops him. A sharp gasp escapes your lips as you feel yourself stretched by his undeniable girth. Finally, after a year, the two of you have come together in a union of soulful intimacy.

He pauses to allow you time to adjust to him. “Are you good?” he asks softly. 

“So good,” you whisper. 

“Good.” He brings his lips back to yours. “Keep telling me what you like, ok?” You nod.

Changbin moves with a grace that might be unexpected based on his large, muscular frame, each motion a testament to his attentiveness. He explores you slowly, worshipfully, mapping every sigh and shiver that escapes your lips. His thrusts are sure and steady, hitting all the right spots, drawing out every sensation. He’s gentle, caring, always checking in to make sure you’re comfortable. He kisses your neck and whispers encouragements in your ear. It’s everything you imagined and more.

As he increases the pace, his fingertips sink into the flesh of your thigh as he holds your leg up against his body, adding another layer of pleasure to the intense full-body sensation washing over you. “You feel amazing,” he whispers. 

You wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his hips, pulling him closer, deeper, as you match his rhythm. You're getting used to this newfound control and power over his body, as he moans your name over and over again. It sends shivers down your spine every time he says it. A feeling of being seen and desired floods through you as he gazes at you with nothing but lust, and you think also love, in his eyes. Every inch of your skin tingles under his touch, his breath against it.

"Changbin," you moan his name as he continues to thrust into you with teasing kisses.

In this moment, there is no doubt in your mind that this is where you belong – in Changbin's arms, with his love surrounding you. As his name falls from your lips again and again, he brings you to the peak of pleasure before following closely behind.

When the explosion hits, it consumes you both.

Your name falls from Changbin's lips like a prayer as he clutches onto the sheets with white-knuckled hands. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, stilling inside of you as he tries to catch his breath while holding on to this moment forever.

Finally, you feel him grin against your skin. “Wow,” he pants out. “Totally worth the wait.”

You dare not move or breathe too much for fear of losing this bubble of intimacy around the two of you. As if reading your mind, Changbin cuddles you tightly. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead before he rests his head against your chest, still catching his breath. Your fingers trail lightly along his back, and you feel a deep sense of contentment wash over you.  

This moment, being with Changbin like this, feels right in a way you've never experienced before. There's a new intimacy between you now, one that goes beyond just the physical. You've connected on a much deeper level.

Changbin lifts his head to look at you, pure adoration in his eyes. "I love you," he says softly, brushing his thumb over your cheek.

You freeze for a second, the weight of those three words hitting you. It’s the first time he’s said them. Your heart clenches as you stare into his vulnerable, hopeful gaze.

"I love you too," you whisper back. A brilliant smile brightens his face at your words. 

The memories of the night you met flood back. It was at a crowded party at his frat house. When one of his drunken brothers made a lewd comment about you and touched you inappropriately, he swiftly intervened and tossed the offender across the room. In that moment, something clicked for you; you were drawn to this hulking beefcake with the charming smile and kind eyes who defended your honor without even knowing your name. You’d never been attracted to anyone in the way you were to him. 

After an hour, he eases off of you to head to the bathroom to discard the condom. When he returns, he’s carrying a champagne bottle that has been chilling since you checked in earlier that night. He pops the cork, then hops back into bed.

“To us,” he cheers softly, bringing the bottle to his lips for a sip before passing it to you. 

“To us,” you echo. The two of you share the champagne, talk, and make out for the next hour or so, until the bubbles have gone to your head, and you fall asleep in his arms. 

The next morning, you wake still wrapped in Changbin. One arm is draped over your hip, the other is beneath your neck with his hand resting on your chest. When he feels you stir, he pulls you closer to his body, eliminating any space between the two of you. You can also feel his erection pressing into your back. 

“Good morning, beautiful,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. 

“Morning.” You place your hands on top of his and pull his embrace even tighter.

“You sleep okay?”

“I did. You?”

“Yeah. But I always sleep well when I’m next to you.” He nuzzles against your neck. “Last night was….”

“Amazing,” you finish for him. 

He laughs. “Yes, amazing.”

“I’m kicking myself for forcing us to wait for so long. I’m sorry.”

“No, the anticipation made it so much more worth it." His fingers find their way to your chin, turning your head towards him so he can kiss you softly. “And I loved how you knew exactly what you wanted and didn’t want, and communicated that without hesitation or shame. Very rare for women our age. You’ve been in complete control of your needs and desires since we’ve met and honestly, I find it fucking sexy. Resulted in a lot of cold showers for me, but still…”

“And your frat brothers referring to me as the ‘Virgin Mary’?” you ask teasingly.

Changbin laughs loudly. “Yes. How’d you hear about that?”

“Chan,” you say softly. “When he learned I was your celibate girlfriend, he put two and two together.”

“I should have told you. But you know it’s just locker room talk, right? I would never let them disrespect you. I would break their legs before they ever got the sentence out.”

“I know and I don’t really care,” you say with a chuckle as you rub his arm gently. Now that Chan’s name has been brought up, you feel that maybe you should say something about the lessons. “Hey Bin,” you start, unsure of what exactly you will say. “I need to tell you something.”

“You can tell me anything. Is it about Chan?”

“Uhm, yeah.”

“It’s okay, I already know.”

“You do?” you ask curiously.

“Yeah, it’s pretty obvious. You really like him and the two of you have gotten very close.”

“We have gotten super close,” you say quietly, trying to decide if now might be the best time to tell Changbin exactly how close you’ve gotten to Chan. 

“It’s fine. I really like Chan too. He’s a great guy. I don’t mind if your new best friend is a guy.”

“Okay. But…,” you start to say.

“Shhhhh,” he breathes against your neck as you feel his hand slide down your belly to your clit. He begins to stroke it softly. “Enough about Chan. I don’t want to think about him when I’m fucking you.” You moan as he slips several fingers into you. “It is okay if I fuck you again, right?” He pumps his fingers in and out of you. 

“You can fuck me whenever you want,” you say breathlessly. “I’m yours, Bin.” You turn your head to capture his lips in a searing kiss. 

He removes his fingers from you and reaches over your body to grab a condom. Once it’s on, he lifts your top leg over and back across his hip and maneuvers behind you until he’s positioned his cock at your entrance. You gasp as he slides in. This position of you both lying on your sides, your back against his chest, allows you to feel every bit of him as the tip of his cock grazes against every inch of sensitive flesh around your g-spot. 

Changbin begins to thrust slowly at first, his hips meeting yours, the friction sending shivers up your spine. He kisses your shoulder blade and whispers, "I didn’t know I’d love being inside you this much," causing you to shudder with pleasure. You can feel the fullness of him stretching you in ways that are new, and it feels incredible.

As he picks up speed, his hot breath tickles the back of your neck. "I want to taste you," he growls into your ear before lightly nipping at your lobe. His tongue darts out to trace along the contours of your neck. Then without warning, he sinks his teeth in gently making you gasp. He alternates between biting and sucking the sensitive area. The sensation is unbelievable as it sends shockwaves through your body. You lift your head slightly, offering him more access to your neck.

His hands grab yours and interlaces with your fingers as his thrusts become more forceful, as he gets deeper and deeper into you. You move one of his hands down to your clit and he begins to teasingly trace circles around it. The room fills with the sounds of your bodies colliding and your collective moans and gasps.

Your walls begin to clench around him as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to another climax. Every sensation seems amplified under his skilled touch – from the way he sucks on your neck to the way his fingers dance on your clit.

You arch your back, pressing your ass back against him in invitation. He takes it and plunges even deeper, hitting a spot inside you that sends you spiraling out of control. He groans into your neck, a low primal sound that vibrates through him and excites you even more.

"Fuck, Bin," you moan as you feel yourself about to come undone.

Changbin's thrusts become more urgent and less controlled, his hips meeting your ass in a frenzied rhythm. He releases his grip on your neck and presses his cheek against yours, his breathing ragged as he nears his own release.

With one final thrust, he pushes you both over the edge and you cry out as waves of pleasure crash through you. Your walls clench around him tightly, milking every last drop from him.

As Changbin pulls away from you, removing his cock, panting and sweating, you turn to face him. You run your hands through his damp hair, tangling your fingers in his soft waves before moving them down to caress his cherub-like cheeks. Your lips brush against his nose before gently pressing against his plump lips. He eagerly responds by deepening the kiss, pulling you closer and exploring your mouth with his tongue. The intensity of the moment leaves you both breathless and craving more.

You finally come up for air when your stomach growls loudly. Changbin laughs against your lips. 

“Let’s get you some food,” he whispers before reaching for the phone and calling room service.

The weekend unfolds like a dream, a cascade of moments where time loses meaning. It passes in a blissful haze of tangled sheets, sensual explorations, tender caresses, room service, and intimate conversations. You learn the language of each other's bodies. You spend hours wrapped up in each other’s arms. With Changbin, there's no need for lessons or instructions; it's a dance you both know instinctively.

Early Sunday morning, the horizon still dark, you’re both naked in the hot tub, the water warm and soothing against your skin. You’re straddling Changbin with your foreheads pressed together, your hands clasped behind his neck and him gripping your waist gently as you slowly ride him. Your hips are moving back and forth; each time you feel his cock graze your g-spot, you gasp against his lips. The two of you stare amorously into each other’s eyes.

In this moment, it feels like time has stood still. It's just the two of you, lost in each other's eyes and bodies. There's no need for words; everything is conveyed through the way you move against each other and the way you hold onto one another.

Changbin breaks the silence first, his voice low as he speaks. “I love you,” he whispers against your lips. 

You press your lips softly against his before asking. “When did you know?”

“Hmmm?” he says, in between his own gasps.

“When did you know you loved me?”

“From the moment I saw you.” He says quietly. “Spring semester, my sophomore year. I walked into the rec room at the frat house and there you were, sitting at the table tutoring one of my frat brothers. You were wearing purple jeans and your black, cropped Spiderman t-shirt and you laughed loudly at some stupid thing my frat bro had said before promptly putting him in his place with a smack to the back of his head. I sat on the couch for the next hour pretending to read my biology textbook while I watched you. I thought you were the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.” 

You kissed him again then pulled back. “And you didn’t talk to me for months after that, until the night of that frat party?”

“I was too chicken shit to. I asked him about you after the tutoring session. He said you were a cool chick and an amazing tutor, but didn’t know if you were involved with anyone. I figured that someone as amazing as you probably had all sorts of guys chasing you, if you weren’t already in a relationship. I don’t know what came over me the night of the party. I guess I was just tired of waiting. How about you? When did you know?”

“I’ve known I loved you since our third date,” you whispered. 

“Astronomy night at the planetarium?” he asked with a smile.

“Yes.” You thought back to that night. As you both lay on the blanket, gazing up at the stars and talking about life, you knew he was different from anyone else you had ever dated. You’d never met anyone like him. And then he leaned over to kiss you, so sweet and gentle. When he sensed your hesitation after that first kiss, he reassured you that the pace of the relationship was entirely up to you, and he would never leave unless you wanted him to. “The way you reassured me… From that point on, I knew I was completely and irrevocably yours.”

You feel his strong hands slide up your back as he pulls you closer to him and your lips reconnect. You wrap your arms tightly around his neck and deepen the kiss even further, pouring all of your desire into it.

As you continue to ride him in the hot tub, the water creating a gentle ripple around you both, every touch becomes more electrifying than the last. You pick up the pace as you feel Changbin start to thrust upwards. The water starts to slosh around the two of you and the sound of the jets fades into the background. His lips move away from yours to explore your jawline and neck, leaving soft kisses and gentle nips along the way. Then his head dips lower so that he can lick and suck softly on one of your nipples, making you moan loudly. 

Changbin moves his hands to your ass and lets out a low growl against your skin before standing up suddenly. He carries you out of the tub effortlessly, then presses you against the glass door that separates the balcony from the room. He resumes thrusting up into you as your body slams against the door. You wrap your legs tightly around him to help secure yourself. 

The cool air from the balcony caresses your heated skin as Changbin relentlessly pounds into you. The contrasting temperatures only heighten the sensations, making every nerve ending in your body come alive. Your breaths are ragged as you cling to each other, bodies melded together.

Changbin's deep moans of pleasure reverberate through your bones, colliding with your own cries of ecstasy as you both approach the edge of climax together. You tilt your head back, pressing it into the glass, as Changbin kisses and sucks and bites on your neck. You smile at the thought of him adding more bruises to the collection that had already formed the day before, marking you as his. He clearly has a thing for biting. 

Changbin's hips slam into yours with a force that makes the glass door shake. His pace is relentless, as if he can’t get enough of you. His lips find yours again, his tongue delving deep into your mouth, mimicking the primal rhythm of his hips. His hands move back to your ass cheeks, squeezing them roughly as he grunts with each thrust.

"God, I love you," he groans against your lips, his voice ragged with desire. "Can't get enough of this ass, baby."

You grind your pelvis against his. The friction between your bodies creates a delicious friction against your clit. 

“Ah. Mmmm. Aaaah.” The little moans escape your lips, echoing throughout the balcony, as you feel the familiar build up. Suddenly the orgasm rips through you. “Oh my gawd,” you whisper into his mouth. 

Changbin fucks you furiously through your climax. With each hard thrust, he brings you even higher, until it feels like you're about to shatter apart again. When your second orgasm hits, your body turns to jelly. His fingers dig into your skin as he growls low in his throat, indicating that he’s finally close. 

His breathing is uneven, and his grip on your ass tightens as he buries himself to the hilt one last time before groaning out his own release. Every muscle in his body trembles with the force of his orgasm. He leans his forehead against yours, gasping for air, as your heartbeats start to slow down. “’Oh my gawd’ is right!” he whispers, causing you both to laugh breathlessly between gasps for air. 

After a few moments, he lifts you off the door and carries you back to the hot tub, gently lowering you both into the water. You cling to each other, bodies entwined, as the water swirls around you. The sun is starting to rise, casting a soft pink glow over the city skyline.

"I love you too," you whisper, kissing his cheek before resting your head on his shoulder. "Never let go of me, okay?" you add, your voice quivering with emotion.

Changbin wraps his arms around your back. "Never," he whispers back, the passion in his voice undeniable. "I'll never let go of you, baby. I'm yours; all of me. Forever." 

Eventually, the two of you make it back to the bed and your last few hours pass in a blur of bliss interspersed with more sex, lazy cuddling, and napping. The reality of check-out hits you later that afternoon, and you’re both hesitant to leave. As you head back to campus, Changbin’s hand covering yours as he drives, a sense of fulfillment accompanies you. 

Back in your dorm room, you finally remember Chan’s text. 

You:

Everything was perfect. 

Thanks to you.

Your gratitude is genuine, for Chan played his part in your journey. But as you send the message, it's Changbin's face that fills your mind—the warmth of his embrace, the depth of his gaze. Right now, you're floating on cloud nine, replaying every magical moment with Changbin in your mind.

[whor3ing]

𝑩𝒆𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 | 𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝑺𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐

Chris Sturniolo!bf x f!reader

WARNINGS : phone sex, FaceTime, tapping it on the screen, established relationship, lots of dirty talk, mutual masturbation, mentions of breeding! mentions of spitting (in mouth) usage of “slut”

╭────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────╮

IN WHICH.. after a rough day and missing Chris while he’s away, What starts as playful teasing to cheer you up, quickly turns intense. Chris guides you through the heat of the moment, making the distance between you feel like nothing.

╰────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────╯

second tumblr post! word count : 4k ♡

Any day without Chris' arms around you late at night felt like something was missing, similar to the last piece to a nearly finished puzzle, the one that had made everything click into place.

You'd gotten used to his warmth, the way his body seemed to fit against yours so perfectly, the steady beat of his heart slowly lulling you to sleep every night without fail. Being in his arms made you feel safe, loved, and wanted. With each breath, each beat of his heart, you felt your mind grow quiet and your body relax, as if each hum of his heart was him whispering "i love you' over and over.

You knew him going on this brand deal trip had been a good idea for the channel, and you knew that it had already been planned months in advance, but missing him was hard, and missing him was painful. It was only supposed to be a few days now, but each one seemed to drag on longer than the last and it made you relentlessly question if the clock was against you, if time moved slower than it actually did.

Just the night before he had left, his arms had been curled around you and you had been resting on top of his chest, his fingers combing through your hair. Everything had been perfect, everything had felt complete. But tonight, you were alone, and it felt like the quiet of the room echoed louder than it should.

Your day at work had been a full-on nightmare—endless tasks, long hours, all of it seemed to last forever. Every email you had sent felt as if it was another weight added onto your shoulders, and every conversation felt like it had drained every ounce of energy from you. Even now, the fluorescent lights of the office still lingered in your eyes, making your head throb with a dull ache.

Usually, you would come home to Chris, the soft sound of his voice greeting you, followed by his arms pulling you into a warm embrace. He would hold you close, put on a random film and snuggle into you, his hands always wandering to your thighs. He would rub his palms on them, cursing at how soft your skin was while smiling at you, and with that, he would lean in to kiss your forehead as you would drift off.

But tonight was different. The apartment was cold without him, the sheets of your shared bed empty and frigid.

With a sigh, you pick up your phone, swiping up to enter your password.

Your thumb hovers over Chris' name in your contacts; needing to hear his voice, needing him to somehow fill the empty space in your chest, the same emptiness lingering throughout the entire apartment.

Without thinking too much, you press call.

The phone rings only twice before Chris picks up and upon the first word he speaks, you can hear the smile in his voice, immediately warm and familiar.

"Hey, sweetheart, wasn't expecting you to call so early, what's up?"

Sinking into your bed, you let out a heavy sigh, letting your gaze drift upward to the ceiling fan, its quiet hum the only other noise in your quiet apartment.

"Hey," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper, the word catching in your throat. You clear your throat, trying to dislodge the lump that's formed there, and continue, "I needed to hear your voice, I miss you."

As the words leave your lips, you feel a slight tremble in your voice, something that your boyfriend, Chris would never dare to let slide.

There's a pause on the other end, and when he speaks again, his tone is softer, full of concern. "I miss you too, you alright, baby?"

You nod, even though he can’t see it, your eyes fluttering shut as you take in his warm voice. "Just… it’s been a rough day," you admit, curling into your blanket. "I can’t stop thinking about you, Chris. It’s so hard without you here."

You hear him chuckle from the other side of the phone, his voice still soft and concerned, "I wish I could be there with you right now. You know I’d make it all better, right?"

"I know," you murmur, your lips pursing. "I just miss everything about you. I miss your arms around me, I miss your smell."

He lets out a light, teasing laugh, cutting out slightly over the phone as he inhales afterward. "My smell, huh? Really, ma? You miss the way I smell?" He chuckles his laugh sweet, "You sure it’s not just my cologne you’re missing?"

You shake your head as he talks, sitting up and propping your back against your headboard, a smile finding its way onto your face. "No," you say pausing as you try to sound serious, "It's you. It's just you."

You smile as Chris lets out another laugh, his voice playful, "Well, well, aren’t you the romantic." He pauses, letting out another soft giggle. "You must really be going crazy without me, huh? Can’t even sleep without my scent on your pillow."

Without thinking you laugh, slapping your hand down onto your comforter as you giggle, "Shut up, it's not funny!"

"It’s a little funny," he teases, his voice husky. "There's that laugh I love," he murmurs.

His words settle in your chest, and a warmth spreading through you. "You’re ridiculous," the smile tugging at your lips as you talk. "But I missed you, I missed you so much."

"I know, baby, I miss you too," he murmurs, chuckling. "Maybe I should become a therapist, I should start charging you for daily sessions with how fast I brought that smile back."

You roll your eyes as you let out another small laugh, raising an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? What's the payment plan like? Not sure I can afford daily, maybe weekly."

"Depends," Chris pauses and there's a silence on the other end of the phone.

After a few seconds, a low chuckle leaves his lips. "You offering cash, or are we talking.. other forms of payment?"

You smile, licking your lips and leaning your head back to rest against the headboard. "Wow, so nasty of you to be talking like this when your brothers are god knows where."

You hear rustling for a moment over the phone before you hear Chris chuckle again, the sound absolutely adorable. "I may be a little dirty, but I'm still a gentleman," He whispers, his voice like velvet even despite the crackles of the air in the background as he speaks.

You can almost hear the heat in his voice and it burns you even through all of the distance, leaving tingles on your body as he continues, "Matt and Nick went out, some stupid costume store for a video idea. They're going to be gone for a while, and I have to admit, I'm kind of glad."

His voice drops to a low, husky tone, sending shivers down your spine. "I was thinking about you baby, and I couldn't focus on anything else."

You feel a warm blush rise to your cheeks as you hear his words through the phone, your pulse beating faster, so loud you can nearly hear it through your ears. "What were you thinking about?" You ask curiously, soft grin reaches your face and your hands begin to toy with themselves as you lay the phone on your lap to listen.

"I was thinking about how your breath hitches when I do that thing with my tongue, and how your fingers would dig into my back when I do that thing with my hands."

"How your back arches when I fuck you," He pauses, his voice exasperated. "When I tell you to keep looking me in the eyes while you take my cock in that dripping pussy of yours."

His words leave you breathless and full of desire. You can feel your face burning with heat, your nipples hardening against the fabric of your top with every word he speaks, as if his words are urging you to want him even more than you already do.

"Chris..." You whisper, his name barely audible over the sound of your own ragged breathing.

"Yeah, baby?"

"I want you," you finally manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I want you so bad, Chris."

"I want you, let me see you, baby," You hear him lick his lips, his breathing just as loud as yours. Turn on your camera, can I see your pretty face?"

You smile, pressing the familiar FaceTime button, and as the camera flickers to life, you adjust yourself to fit in frame, the soft light from your room casting a glow over your features, putting them on full display for him.

Chris' camera flutters to life soon after, you see him in the corner of the screen.

The first thing you notice is his hair, tousled and messy as if he's been running his fingers through it out of habit. The soft lights of his hotel room and the sunset outside of his window catch faint golden undertones onto his skin, making him look like an absolute dream.

His jawline catches the light when he shifts slightly to look closer at you, the shadow of his stubble visible to you as a grin forms at the corners of his mouth, a grin that's just for you.

He looks absolutely perfect, in fact, you weren't even sure how a person could manage to look that good during every second of the day until you had met him.

The most amazing part? He was all yours.

His voice pulls you back to reality, warm and teasing. "See something you like, or are you just gonna keep staring, baby?"

You roll your eyes, though the blush creeping up your neck betrays you. "Oh, please," you tease. "You’re the one who wanted to see me."

Chris leans a little closer to his screen, his piercing blue eyes sharpening as he takes you all in. His eyes travel over your frame, lingering for a moment before his lips part slightly, his voice dropping just a bit. "I mean, can you blame me? Look at you."

His eyes trail over you slowly, and then he pauses, his lips curling into a smirk. "Wait a second... Is that my shirt?"

You glance down, your fingers instinctively brushing over the soft fabric, the only thing you were wearing a side from your underwear, "What if it is?" you ask, arching a brow, trying to sound casual despite the sudden flutter of your pulse in your chest.

His laughter comes easy, warm and deep. "You’re unbelievable," he mutters, but there’s something softer behind his tone. "I was wondering where that went."

Relaxing a bit, Chris leans back slightly, running a hand through his hair, but his gaze never leaves you. When he speaks again his voice is soft but teasing, "You know, you wearing my shirt like that? It's not fair."

"Fair?" you repeat, tilting your head with a playful smile. "What’s not fair about it?"

Chris sighs, tugging at his hair,"The fact that I’m sitting here wishing I could take it off you myself."

"Maybe if you were here, I’d let you," you murmur, your eyes locked onto his.

"Don’t tease me like that, baby." You watch as his tongue licks around his lips, his eyes laced with desire, "You know I’d do it in a heartbeat."

"Who’s teasing?" you reply softly, your fingers toying with the hem of the shirt. There’s a moment of silence, charged with electricity, before you meet his gaze again. "What if I took it off right now?"

Chris’s breath hitches audibly, his confidence momentarily faltering as his eyes darken. "Don’t say that if you don’t mean it," he murmurs, his voice low and rough.

Adrenaline and desire course through you as you slowly lift the hem of the shirt, just enough to tease him, right below your breasts, allowing them to peek out, just a little bit. His reaction is immediate—his eyes are glued to the screen, his jaw falling open as he takes in the sight of you. .

"Your turn," you say softly, smiling as you tease him. Your hands reach up to rub at your tits, the hem just covering your nipples.

Within an instant, Chris shuffles slightly letting the camera fall to the side of the bed. You hear the sound of fabric sliding against his skin and a moment later, he picks up the phone resting it on top of his stomach, one of his arms behind his head as he props it up to see you rubbing your tits for him.

Suddenly, he angles the camera even further down, revealing a very obvious bulge in his boxers. His boxers are tight against his cock and you feel yourself nearly drool as the outline of his hard dick is directly on display in front of you, straining against the fabric.

You watch as his fingers trail over the waistband of his boxers, teasing you just as much as you’ve been teasing him. He’s still staring at you, waiting for your next move.

Your hands move instinctively, pulling your shirt off, your tits falling out from underneath his shirt. You reach over, letting it fall to the side of the bed as you arch your back slightly, giving him a better view, as your fingertips trail across your bare chest. His eyes seem to devour you from the screen, and you know he’s getting just as impatient as you are.

You drag your fingers down your body, feeling the slight shiver of anticipation in your fingertips. The way his eyes stay locked on you makes your pulse race faster, a part of you already craving him even more. You glance, making sure he’s watching as your hand moves lower, slipping down to rub against your thighs, just as he would if he were with you.

His breath hitches as you continue rubbing yourself, the sound of his voice a low growl in your ears, even with the static from the call.

"God, you're so fucking beautiful."

His breath is hoarse as you see his hand slide down his body, down his abs as he rubs them for you through the phone, just as you would.

"I want you to take those panties off, please baby. Let me see all of you."

His words stir something deep inside you, and without thinking twice, you push your pants down, dragging them past your thighs, over your hips. Your heart races as you make sure he’s watching, feeling the weight of his gaze as you slowly expose yourself to him, piece by piece, just like a puzzle.

His eyes glisten as he watches you take them off, his mouth open, full of drool as you open your legs for him, placing the camera directly in front of your pussy.

"God, fuck. You're so fucking wet."

His words send shivers down your spine as you feel your body heat up, the anticipation of what's to come making your heart race. You watch him on the screen, his hand still rubbing his abs, his eyes locked on the camera pointed at your pussy.

"I want you to touch yourself, show me how much you want me," he murmurs as his hands slide further down his body. He smiles, angling the camera right below his bulge as he begins to rub on his v-line.

With instinct, your right hand slides up your body slowly. Your hands slide against your thighs, your stomach, all the way up to your mouth where you silently spit into your hand.

Your hand slides back down your body, your fingertips brushing against your needy clit, so wet and so wanting.

"Wish I was there, my god.. I would spit in that beautiful mouth and make you use that to rub yourself," he murmurs. Your eyes stay trained on his and on his body as he slides his boxers down, his cock springing out from under them.

His words are like a drug to you, making you even more aroused. You moan into the phone, your breath coming in short gasps. Your eyes follow his cock as he spits onto his hand in the same way, his hand sliding to hold the base of his cock.

With a small chuckle, he positions his phone to be right below it. You can see how big he is, how thick he is. He smiles, leaning his cock forward gently to tap it directly onto the camera.

The head of his cock hits the camera with a loud thud three times, you can hear how hard he is.

"Do you like what you see, baby?" he asks, his voice low and seductive as his cock stands straight up, his fingers beginning to slowly stroke against his rigid shaft.

“Do you like it when I slap this dick on this camera for you, just like how I should be slapping it against your clit while I make you cum for me with my fingers.”

He continues to tease you, slowly stroking his cock as he talks dirty to you. "I bet you wish you were here with me, don't you? Feeling my hot cum on your tongue."

His words cause you to rub your clit even faster, your hands diving into your wet folds as you watch him stroke himself.

He leans in closer to the camera, his cock just inches from the lens.

"Mmm, you're such a dirty girl, aren't you?"

He moans, biting on his lips as he watches you pleasure yourself to him. "You love watching me jerk off over the phone for you, don't you?"

He gives a slight thrust of his hips, his cock twitching in his hand. "I bet you'd love to taste it, wouldn't you? To have my cock in your mouth, down your throat, choking on it as I fuck your face."

You moan, murmuring yes a thousand times as you rub your puffy wet pussy for him, your breath hitching every second with just how good he makes you feel.

"Take your fingers and slide them into your wet pussy, baby," he moans out, his hand working magic on his cock as he strokes it even faster for you.

You can see so much precum, so much of his spit running down the sides of it with every stroke he makes. You can't help but wish that it was your spit, that his precum was deep down your throat, and looking at him, that's all you can think about.

You wish you could run your tongue against the shaft of his dick, you wish his hand could be replaced with yours. You wish it was your mouth he was fucking into instead of his hand, wishing that it was your pussy making him feel that divine.

He groans as he sees you slide your fingers inside of your pussy, smiling with his tongue over his teeth as he sees you begin to finger yourself.

You moan softly, arching your back as you push your fingers deeper into your wetness. You glance down at the phone, watching his eyes follow your every move. You can see the lust in his gaze, the desire to be with you right now.

"Oh fuck," he breathes, his voice thick with need. "I wish I was there with you."

The tip of his cock swells, his shaft hard and rigid, just aching for you, and his hand immediately picks up the pace on his cock as he imagines that your fingers inside of you is his cock instead, fucking you so deep.

"I want to fuck you so bad," he whispers, voice strained with desire. "I want to feel your tight pussy wrapped around my cock, milking me dry."

He groans, his hips thrusting forward as if he could push his cock through the screen and into you, if only it were that simple.

"I want to breed you," he whispers, his voice thick with desire as he pumps his cock with his hand, stroking it so good for you. "I want to fill your pretty pussy with my cum and make a baby with you."

“tell me you want that”

You gasp, your fingers only moving faster at the mention of having his cum inside of you, spilling out onto your thighs. "Oh god, yes Chris, I want you to breed me.” you moan, slipping your fingers out of your warmth to rub at your swollen clit again in large circles.

You can hear him taking deep breaths on the other end of the line, trying to control his voice from faltering as he rapidly strokes his cock for you. "I wish I was there with you," he says again, his voice strained.

"I would cum inside you, I would cum in you and then I would finger that pussy and rub it all over that wet clit," he moans in the middle of his talking, his voice coming out as if it was meant to be a whine.

You can feel your orgasm building, your fingers moving faster and faster on your clit as you moan louder. You moan, reaching your other hand down to finger yourself at the same exact time, "Oh god, I'm going to come, Chris please come with me," you gasp, your voice breaking.

It's as if you can almost feel him with you, his hands on your thighs holding them for you as he watches you come undone.

“No, slut. Hold it for me,” he coos suddenly.

You gasp out exasperated, your mouth quivering as you slow down your pace, trying to hold yourself together. You want to come so bad for Chris, you want to soak your sheets and scream out his name.

But he won’t let you.

You look at him pleadingly, he can see you so exposed so vulnerable as you look at him, pleading with your eyes.

“Aw, does my baby want to cum for me?” Chris’ voice is soft, as he spits into his hand, his hand slimy and wet as he slides it back onto his cock, rubbing it so fast for you.

You can hear him grunt as he urges you to continue, “I didn’t tell you to slow down. Rub that pussy, now.”

Obeying, your hands find your clit again and you rub your wetness in circles, his eyes never leaving you, moving from your cunt to your face to your tits and back again.

Your legs shake as your movements urge you closer to release, your pussy clenching, begging for his cock inside of you.

Chris nods at you, his voice whiney, “Oh fuck, ma. Oh god, put your fingers back in there for me.”

You whimper as your fingers enter you once again. Staring at his cock, you imagine that instead, it’s him entering you. Chris fucking your pussy so good, Chris in front of you pounding you into the bed.

He lets out a moan, his cock making you salivate and his noises driving you insane with how badly you crave him.

Within an instant, Chris can’t seem to hold himself anymore and instead of denying you like he loves, he’s too close to make you beg anymore.

"Come for me baby," he groans, struggling to keep his eyes open to look at you. "Come all over your pretty hands for me, yes.. God yes."

“Please, Chris,” you whimper, your voice pleading, desperate to come with him, “I need you… I need to feel you.."

"Show me how much you need me, do it slut," he moans, stroking faster. "Show me baby, let me watch you."

Chris leans forward, his lips parted as he breathes your name, his hand still gripping the phone tightly, positioning it so he can see you, and you can see him.

You move your fingers faster, harder, needing that release more than anything else. You hear him do the same, his hand moving faster, each stroke pushing him closer to his ownrelease.

"Come on, baby," he urges, his voice a low growl. "Let go for me. I want to see you fall apart, tell me you want my come.”

“I want you to come, Chris. Please come for me,” you murmur as your body starts to convulse.

You feel your whole body tense with his words, your back arching as the pleasure rips through you, your hands nearly dropping the phone as you finally come for him.

You're lost in the moment, unable to think, unable to do anything but gasp for air, your hand still between your legs as your body quivers, waiting and watching for Chris to come for you.

As promised, Chris follows right behind you, his moans louder than before, and you can hear the sound of him finishing, his voice raw with release and raw with pleasure. You watch as his come drips from the tip of his cock, begging to be licked up.

On the other end of the screen, Chris collapses back onto his bed, laying fully down, his face flushed and his hair messy, his cum all over his stomach.

"Well… that was definitely worth the wait," he murmurs, his voice warm and affectionate. "God, I wish I could kiss you, baby."

You smile to yourself, your heart fluttering at his words. "I wish you could too, Chris," you whisper back, "Come back soon, I'm dying without you here."

"Just a few more days, my love. I promise." He smiles, messing with his hair as he smiles at you. "And when I get back, I’ll take you out, wherever you want to go. Maybe a fancy dinner… or," he pauses, giving you a sly grin, "we could go somewhere more fun, like an amusement park. Y'know, so I can win you a giant teddy bear."

You can’t help but laugh at the image of him winning you a stuffed animal, and you playfully roll your eyes. "An amusement park? Really?" you tease, "You’re gonna win me a stuffed bear?"

"Yeah, absolutely. I’ll win you the biggest one, just so you can carry it around everywhere and make everyone jealous." His smile widens, a grin too big for his face. "And then, we’ll ride all the roller coasters, just to make sure you’re holding onto me the whole time."

He chuckles, throwing his head back at his own remarks.

He makes a soft kiss sound as he continues,"hey, I’m just trying to make sure you don’t fly off the ride. Somebody’s gotta keep you safe, right?" You roll your eyes, smiling at how adorable he is.

"And I think you’d be holding onto me for more reasons than just the ride."

You raise an eyebrow, your heart racing a little as you grin back at him. "Is that so?" you tease a serious undertone to your voice. "Well, maybe I’ll just hold on tight to you then, but only if you win me that bear."

"I'm gonna win you the biggest damn bear you've ever seen."

i love my cutie endings, thank you so much for reading!

as always sorry for any writing mistakes!

if anyone has any requests and likes my style of writing, please please lmk! I have lot of free time and am trying to come up with more ideas for scenarios ♡

.ೃ࿐ rafe fic "gods & monsters" otw! probably this weekend

[rosedustdreams]

walker and you being best friends, you get asked out by another actor and he’s super jealous after you go on the date

More Than Best Friends?

Walker Scobell had been your best friend for as long as you could remember. From the day you both met on set, the two of you had clicked instantly, sharing inside jokes, and late night FaceTime calls that left you both in tears from laughter. Everyone on the Percy Jackson set joked that you two were inseparable.

But lately, something felt… different.

It started when one of the newer actors on the show, Dylan, asked you out. Dylan was charming, funny, and undeniably attractive. When he approached you after a day of filming, casually asking if you’d want to grab dinner sometime, you were caught off guard but couldn’t help smiling.

“Uh, sure, that sounds fun!” you’d said, trying not to sound too nervous.

But out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Walker watching the whole interaction. His usually easygoing expression had shifted to something unreadable, and he quickly excused himself from the group.

You brushed it off, figuring he was just tired from a long day.

The next few days were… weird. Walker wasn’t texting you as much, and on set, he seemed quieter. You’d try to joke with him like you always did, but his laughs felt forced.

Finally, your date with Dylan arrived. You had a great time he was sweet and a total gentleman. He even walked you back to your trailer after the date, giving you a warm smile before saying goodnight. But as you stepped inside, you were surprised to see Walker sitting on your couch, scrolling through his phone like he owned the place.

“Walker?” you said, closing the door behind you. “What are you doing here?”

He looked up, his expression a mix of casual and annoyed. “Oh, you know, just waiting for my best friend to get back from her date with Dylan the Perfect.”

You raised an eyebrow, kicking off your shoes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Walker set his phone down, crossing his arms. “Nothing. Just thought you might want to talk about how amazing he is. Did he tell you about his perfect smile and how many followers he has on Instagram?”

You blinked, taken aback. “Whoa, what’s with the attitude?”

“I don’t have an attitude,” he said, though his tone betrayed him.

“Yes, you do. What’s going on?” you asked, sitting down next to him.

Walker avoided your gaze, staring at the wall instead. “I just don’t get it,” he finally said. “You’ve got all these guys lining up for you, and you go for him? What, because he’s tall and has great hair?”

“Walker, what are you talking about? Dylan’s nice,” you said, confused.

“Yeah, he’s nice. So what?” Walker snapped, finally looking at you. “You could do so much better.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Better? Like who?”

Walker hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know… maybe someone who’s actually been there for you. Someone who knows you better than anyone else. Someone who—” He stopped himself, looking away again.

You stared at him, the pieces slowly falling into place. “Wait… are you jealous?”

His silence was all the confirmation you needed.

“Oh my God, Walker,” you said, a small smile forming on your lips. “You’re totally jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” he mumbled, though the redness creeping up his neck said otherwise.

“Walker…” you said gently, leaning closer. “Why didn’t you just tell me how you feel?”

He finally looked at you, his blue eyes full of vulnerability. “Because I didn’t want to ruin what we have. You’re my best friend, and if you didn’t feel the same way, I’d rather keep it to myself than lose you.”

Your heart melted. “Walker, you’re an idiot,” you said with a laugh.

“Thanks,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Super reassuring.”

“No, I mean…” You took a deep breath. “You don’t have to be jealous of Dylan. I only said yes because I didn’t think you were interested. But… I’ve kind of had feelings for you for a while now.”

Walker’s eyes widened. “You… you do?”

You nodded, smiling. “Yeah. I mean, who else would put up with me stealing all their snacks and sending them terrible memes at 3 a.m.?”

Walker let out a laugh, the tension finally breaking. “Okay, fair point.”

There was a moment of silence before he grinned. “So… does this mean I can officially tell Dylan to back off?”

You laughed, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Yes, Walker. You can tell Dylan to back off.”

And just like that, your best friend became something more.

A/N: please more request definitely my fav even though i say that all about all of them.

Tags: @izzystylinson, @sophand4n4, @kaiwrites092, @shellsarepretty, @cheoriemoawa

[fairytaleendingss]

I really like the way you write James ❤️ no specific request but would love to see a fluffy James x reader

Love-Struck

Summary: You and James can’t keep your hands off each other after a few too many drinks with your friends at a party.

CW: Alcohol consumption, reader having hair long enough to tie up.

Pairing: James Potter x fem!reader

Sorry that this one is kind of short. Tbh fluff isn’t my strong suit. I’m more used to writing angst or hurt/comfort. But hopefully this satisfies your need for soft!James (I love him too). Also sorry that it took so long to get to. Enjoy!

—

You couldn’t contain your giggling as you stumbled through the doorway of your apartment, James having missed the keyhole three times while trying to unlock the door.

You eventually made it in, tripping over yourselves as you clung to his arm and refused to separate, as though the two of you had been glued together.

It was a cool night out and James’ cheeks were flushed from the cold wind. His glasses sat askew on his nose and a few dark curls had fallen loose around his forehead.

He looked so precious, you just wanted to throw your arms around him. And so you did.

With a heave, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down towards you in a sloppy kiss. His large hands came to rest across your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. He tasted like tequila and you were sure you probably did too.

He pulled away after a moment, smiling goofily as his eyes traced over you face, as if he was trying to make note of every single one of your features so as not to forget them.

You grinned back, brushing a strand of hair that had escaped from your ponytail, behind your ear.

“What was that for?” He questioned. His voice was raspy and the scent of alcohol clung to his breath.

“I just love you,” you told him, your slurred words laced with an intense affection. You couldn’t express it enough. Even after 2 years of dating and six months living together, you heart still raced every time you looked at him, your stomach filling with butterflies and your entire being swam with a feeling of elation you couldn’t quite put words to. He just had a profound effect on you, like you shared two halves of the same soul or something equally sappy.

You used to roll your eyes at people who said things like that. At couples who were so obsessed with each other they couldn’t bear to be apart for even a moment. But now, looking up at James, you understood.

He grinned even wider if that was possible, leaning forward to place a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“I love you too.”

There was a pause.

“I’m going to marry you, you know?”

Your heart swelled.

“Really?”

“Yeah! I knew it from our first date, actually. You’re the love of my life.”

You pulled him forward once more, your lips connecting like two pieces of a puzzle. You didn’t care that you were both still tipsy from Sirius’ party or that it was well past midnight or that you were standing in the open doorway of your apartment, exposed for the world to see. Right then and there, you were the only two people in the entire world. You and your love for each other was all that existed, all that mattered.

You were pulled apart by the sound of a throat clearing from behind you.

You turned to see Mrs Riley, your elderly neighbour, standing in the hallway dressed in a pale pink bath robe.

“Excuse me loves, this is very sweet and all but it’s two in the morning and you’re being rather loud.”

You turned to look at her wide eyed.

“Sorry,” you muttered bashfully. “We’ll go inside now.”

“Thank you. That would be much appreciated.”

With that, she turned and hobbled back into her apartment, muttering something under her breath about “silly love-struck kids.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle as you turned back towards James. You could tell that he was trying hard to suppress laughter of his own.

Love-struck, you thought, was the perfect way to describe it.

He pulled you in once more, this time only for a soft peck.

“On that note, I think it’s time for bed.”

You nodded. “I think so too.”

And with that, you pulled the door closed, taking hold of your boyfriend’s hand and letting him guide you towards the bedroom.

You smiled to yourself. If this was what it was going to be like for the rest of your life, you’d gladly be love-struck forever.

[mcmeerkat1]

𝑻𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑾𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔

So i have been reading all these inserts featuring the MTMTE crew and i couldn't help but want to explore it in my own way. I wanted to mention that @wifetomegatron inspired me to actually sit down and write something. It only felt right to mention you as my little oneshot was inspired by little bits and pieces of your own writing and i didn't want to be that person to use your work to inspire my own without a shout out lmfao Anyways, as always y'all, 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚 First Contact AU ~ Where they have established earth as a new home (Rodimus x self insert)

This was stupid. 

I brushed out the wrinkles of the sheer black fabric that made up my supposed more formal top. It was nice in a sense. A v-cut neckline, flows with every movement, and most importantly pairs with blue jeans. Yeah, your not catching me dead wearing a skirt.

My leg anxiously bounced as i took in the small bar. The lights were dim and the room was filled with mindless chatter. It was a nice place. A rustic feel with a modern twist. It felt homey compared to the more distinguished settlements. A place where I definitely didn’t belong. 

“Oh come on Mia lighten up” Hailey chuckled from her spot beside me, gently nudging me with her arm I rolled my eyes. This wasn’t just stupid. It was ridiculous

“How can I lighten up if my nerves on a whole new level of high?” I retorted, taking a sip of my water. The blonde shook her head at my comment. She offered a friendly smile and shrugged “Yeah but you have also never gone on a date before. Its probably just the shock of the fact you even matched with someone. Especially if its with one of those….uh” “Cybertronians?” “Yes!”

I groaned and pinched the bridge of my nose. “It scares me that you convinced me to do this and you don't even remember what they are called”

I loved Hailey with all my heart…but she made me want to double check my own sanity.

She let out a huff, “Oh shut up. It's a mouthful” Sometimes I wonder how she even convinced me to make a profile on that damn app. I was very keen on the idea of living my life with my glorious army of black cats but life has other plans.

I made a profile and what do you know, I matched. Not going to lie, he looks great based on his profile. But its hard to imagine someone like him with me. Not because I'm human and he is a Cybertronian. I don't need that pity. Its just…I don't know. There is something there that I can't name. Something that nags at me and says I should just drop this all and return home. If that were the case then why am i still sitting here? One of life's greatest mysteries ....OK and maybe I was curious. “MIA!!”

I jumped at my friends sudden harsh whisper as she grabbed my arm “What?! You can’t just do that without an explanation!” I scowled as i tried to steady my racing heart. Why must i scare so easily? Hailey rolled her eyes and pointed to the entrance of the bar. And at that moment, time seemed to slow. This was really happening. “Oh hey, he really does match your hair” she laughed softly, gently ruffling my fiery curls

I pushed her hand away and attempted to fix it. Although my eyes never left the stranger... or i guess he wasn’t really a stranger I never really considered the stigma that was the difference between silk and metal. Both shine in their own individual ways but they are not the same…no. If i were to see a attractive guy, my eyes would immediately be drawn to how nicely they are dressed. A crisp suit that hugs their body in every right way. A compression shirt that reflects their long hours in the gym to craft the perfect physique. Oh to dream. But when it came to Cybertronians, you didn’t consider the same things. I can see that now. He stood well over 6 feet with a body that could make any girl go crazy. Lean frame with metal armor that sculpted him an athletic build. Could I even call it that? And those eyes. Bright blue optics that glowed in the darkness of the bar. It was alluring and made my heart almost stop. He was confident with the way he held himself. He was human in his own way. Blue on hazel. He never broke that contact. He knew his worth, no doubt. I just didn’t know if i could meet that same level…. I was so starstruck that I didn't even notice that Hailey had abandoned me. No wonder it was so quiet. The Cybertronian walked up to the bar and leaned against the counter with a sigh, casting a lazy smile in my direction. “Its Mia, right?” I nodded, giving him a smile of my own “Yeah”

We fell into a comfortable silence as we sat there, listening to the patrons of the bar having a good time. It was a unique blend of humans and Cybertronians. The beautiful part was that we didn’t even bat a eye. They entered our world with bang yet seemed to capture our hearts in a matter of months. This was their home now too. “Forgive me if I pronounce it wrong, and your Rodimus?” He chuckled softly at that, raising a eyebrow at the comment “Didn’t sound like you had trouble saying it sweetheart. But to answer your question, that's me. Oh brother I could feel my face heating up at the comment. This was going to be a long night.

[ex0rin]

Jack Quaid as Boimler | Strange New Worlds: Those Old Scientists

[spamtoon]

i would take their poison

Sketch + Line Art for those Clicking Under the Cut(tm) (archival purposes honestly)

[homoquartz]

this post is not gonna be well put together but i am having feelings

mean girls is trending right now because the musical movie just came out and i feel insane. idk why i do, it was stupid of me to think that most people Got It, no one ever gets it, it was always about the memes and the aesthetic.

the first mean girls movie was based on a nonfiction book called queen bees and wannabes. it interviewed and discussed the social hierarchy system in teen girl friendships. how they hold each other to these insane standards of heternormative femininity out of sheer terror that they won't meet those standards themselves. the way they leverage their relationships for some small degree of power in a world designed to strip them of it, even if it drags other girls down.

the "you can only wear your hair in a ponytail once a week and on wednesdays we wear pink" speech was not an original creation for the script. it's a QUOTE from a real teenage girl. those were REAL RULES.

then the musical came, and it was one step removed from the intended messaging of the film. OG mean girls was not perfect (and was extremely racist), but it said what needed said. the musical leaned on the comedy more, but still left a heartfelt undertone, and still critiqued the systems in place. of course no piece of media is going to be perfect, but it was about the conversation.

then this new movie comes out and it is washed over in the veneer of white hollywood feminism so thick you can't see anymore. the problematic aspects of the original movie are taken out to avoid "offending" when the offense was the point. it becomes toothless, it becomes some other thing entirely. they changed karen's line "i expect to run the world in shoes i cannot walk in" to "watch me as i run the world in shoes i cannot walk in." because choice feminism is in vogue, suddenly this character whose entire point is that she doesn't think deeply about WHY she does anything is suddenly hip to the fact that the world is against her.

i think of sokka losing his misogyny arc in the new atla. i think of the Heathers remake casting the bitchy, identical heathers as queer and hollywood-fat outcasts. as if the story, the meaning, the allegory is hidden in the sets and the jokes and the music. it's a whole new thing now, and it's a thing that means nothing in particular.

the plastics should not wear jeans. they should not have curves. their queerness should be suppressed, painful. their sexuality is not a slay, it's the only thing they think they have of value. the santa dance isn't sexy, it's shocking, it's mortifying - they are children.

they're not mean because "we are all mean." they are mean because they are girls in a world that brutalizes them and crushes them into a standardized shape. they are mean because the world is mean to them. they are mean because it gives them some power back. they are mean because it's the only weapon they have.

the landscape of femininity today has shifted to camera-ready makeup at the age of 10, stringent performative hygiene standards, and avoiding being caught on film while having a genuine emotion. the consumerism, the fatphobia, the racism, the classism, the homophobia remain. We could have had a conversation about that.

[meownotgood]

pillars. / viktor x gn!reader, fluff and angst, lots of angst actually, implied childhood friends, confession kisses, mentions of death, one singular czech pet name, kissing viktor's moles, takes place during s1 act 2, so technically no s2 spoilers but some things are implied. word count: 7.9k

read on ao3

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"You look exhausted," You hum, your voice thick with fatigue in unison, "Don't you think you should rest?" 

Viktor takes a breath deep and slow enough to hear, his hands briefly faltering as he twirls a small, bronze magnifying glass with his fingers, but he doesn't reply, nor does he turn away from his notes. 

The lab is cool, quiet — aside from the distant hum of various pressure valves and idle machinery. The Hexcore thrums. Runic engravings litter each complex, geometric surface. Viktor rests his balled-up hand on his face, bony knuckles pressing into his cheek. With his inkpen, he messily scrawls something into his notebook. Low, blue light illuminates the cluttered room and his workspace. Each side of the Hexcore pulses when you approach behind him, twirling to its own complex, ominous rhythm. Acknowledging you, somewhat. 

Viktor inhales sharply, and shakes his head frustratedly, crossing out what he'd just written with jittery, forceful motions. 

It wouldn't be the first time you've found him here, like this, mulling over some sort of invention or idea when most of the city is already asleep. Falling into a focused routine is merely second nature. And normally, you wouldn't protest. 

When you were much, much younger, staying awake as long as you could felt fun. Helping Viktor cram studying for exams in between finishing an invention the night before Progress Day became a yearly occurrence. In the weeks before finalizing blueprints for the Hexgates, you'd almost forgotten when either of you had last seen the sun. It's just that this routine has been far more absorbing, far more taxing — and the repercussions are painted clearly on Viktor's shadowed face. 

He looks drained. Worn. Like if he tried to stand, if he wasn't leaning against his desk and absorbed in his research, the weight of his own exhaustion might make him crumble and collapse. The ends of his hair stick out in messy, curled strands, from where he's anxiously twirled them around his fingers. 

You hate the dark bags that have made their home under his eyes. You feel a knot in your gut as you watch Viktor's hands; shaky, and imprecise. Flipping through the pages of his notebook to search for something. Tracing a sentence with the end of his inkpen, only for his gaze to flicker back to the start when the words failed to register. 

You sigh. Forcing a smile, even though he can't see it, you take another stumbling step forwards. Your arms wrap around his thin figure loosely, and your weight settles gently yet firmly against his hunched back, in something of a tender, evocative hug. 

Viktor shifts, his grip tightens on his pen when it almost slips. You nuzzle into the perfect, head-shaped space at the crook of his neck, breathing him in — flooding your senses with a coffee-warm richness, with the scent of ash and sweat and lingering sparks. 

His gaze softens like melted honey. As if the simple press of your body to his returned pieces to himself he'd thought he lost. Brows unpinching, your heat at his neck spreads across him in waves, contradicting the collected edge kept in his tone. 

"I'm not yet tired," Viktor lies, trying his hardest not to lean into your embrace. "I'd like to analyze this for a few moments longer. This page is," He shakes his head. "Incomplete. If I could find the key to what induces some form of response, then-" 

As if on queue, the Hexcore sparks with energy, twirling faster, glowing with luminous constellations. Viktor swiftly moves to jot something down, but as fast as the Hexcore reacted, it's just as quick to return to normalcy. 

He mutters something under his breath, slightly jostling you from his shoulders when he leans forwards in focus. 

"I swear," You're grumbling; you rest your chin on the hard edge of his shoulder, glancing between the Hexcore and his notes with passive interest. "You've always been like this." 

"Like what?" Viktor flips through his notebook once more. "Stubborn, I'm assuming?" 

"Stubborn, yes. Smart. Terribly ambitious." You reach up, until you're able to place a few taps onto his forehead with the end of your finger. Viktor barely seems to notice. He adds onto an almost-full page by messily writing in the margins. 

"I know how hard it is for you to stop those gears in that brain of yours. Once they're going, it's impossible to get them to stop." 

"Mm. And you know how important this pursuit is in particular, yes?" 

He reaches for a notched turn dial on the opposite side of his desk, connected to the Hexcore by a series of braided wires and support poles. Your gaze follows his hands — gripping carefully, with delicate, calloused fingers. There's a distinct pause. A moment of palpable tension, as you both instinctively hold your breath. 

Viktor twists the dial. Once, twice. 

The Hexcore gives off a few miniscule, pitiful sparks, like a God's first attempt at a lightning storm. And he expels a long, drowsy, disappointed sigh. 

"I do," You murmur, sympathetic. 

Viktor grinds his jaw, hard enough to feel it aching, but even through his fierce familiarity with self-induced destruction, even though he isn't deserving of this, he can't hope to hold onto the ragged bites of stress in his veins. Not when you're so warm, when the feeling you ignite in his chest with your voice alone is so terribly soft. He has missed this. 

"But I also know," You're continuing, "Every time you get close to a breakthrough, once you let yourself rest," Viktor's head nods sleepily, struggling not to fall, and you playfully tap your index finger to the end of his nose. 

"That's when you find it." 

Part of him wishes he could keep himself from listening. Of course, as strongly as he wants to be better and more efficient, because taking a break is like admitting defeat, and defeat is worse than accepting he might've reached the end of his line — he knows you're right.��

Placing the cap on his pen, he leaves it in the middle of his notebook, closes the pages to save his spot before hastily, reluctantly pushing it aside. 

You grin. You slowly shift up, and Viktor feels your arms sliding from his shoulders, your weight leaving his body. For a second, he thinks you might move, believes you'll leave and feels a sharp grind between his ribs at the thought. Instead, you place your palms on his rigid shoulders, and you squeeze. 

His lashes flutter, eyes partially rolling into his skull. His head grows dizzy, like he'd been spun. Frustration melts out of him as warmth and light take its place, shining from your touch like the kiss of stars and the rays of the sun. Bright and lovely; galaxies weaving themselves into his tired muscles. 

Relaxing, he can't help but lean back, dropping his head against your waiting chest. 

"I saw Jayce before I left this morning," You're murmuring. It's in one ear, and out the other at first. You lean in, speaking close to him this time, to make sure you've been heard. Your voice shudders through him, warm like candle wax. "Says he hasn't seen you sleep in days." 

"In one day," Viktor corrects, rather matter-of-fact for someone who's busy melting into you like his limbs are boneless. "Technically, about twenty- no, twenty two hours. More or less. Honestly… hardly worth the over-exaggeration." 

"Vik," You scoff playfully, breath fanning warmly on his skin. "You're doing it again." 

Your palms move. They drift from his shoulders to his arms, fingertips gently toying with his sleeves in a foolish attempt to touch his skin. He tilts his head all the way back, and cracks his weary eyes open to look at you. 

"And what is it I'm doing?" 

"Saying things that make me worry about you. And then expecting me not to." 

"I am not-" 

Right then, before he can speak, your hands return to his now-tensed shoulders; they combat the ache in his chest and the tightness in his throat when they roll his muscles. His chest thrums with a soothing gentleness, rich and saccharine, difficult to swallow down. 

"You are worried about me?" Viktor questions, sighing slightly when your hands work out a particularly old, tightened knot. "I have not seen you in… who knows how many days. I have lost count." 

Your mouth forms a hard line. 

"I- I know," You're answering, hands drifting down smoothly, as if they're carried on waves. They find where his tie is neatly fastened around his collar, grasping the diamond and pulling to loosen it. "I've been trying not to get in your way. Everything is just- Jayce is a counselor now, and you're busy with a thousand different things. I'm not going to interrupt your work with my stupid-" 

"Our work." Viktor's tone is resolute. It holds you, grounds you against the raging winds in your mind that threaten to pull at your pieces. "Hextech was furthered by your contributions. Do not forget that." 

You swallow, but it does little to chase away the dryness in your throat. In a hasty, abrupt motion, your palm grasps Viktor's shoulder, this time twisting his chair to make him face you. He eyes you with surprise for a moment, his tired gaze tender and weak enough to light the shrapnel in your stomach. 

"Viktor." Your head tilts, affectionate. You reach up, and brush away the messy strands of hair that cover his pretty face and tickle his forehead. "This research, this dream of yours, it's-" 

"It is a necessary risk." 

Gaze wide, you freeze up. Viktor exhales sharply, glances away from you to focus on something in the distance instead — messy shelves of discarded machinery, inventions you once worked on together, etched with your signature and his — because the way you're looking at him has an ache prodding at his heart, sharp and thorned.  

"Finalizing this thesis would simply be the beginning," Viktor continues, passionate, gradually starting to talk with his hands. "Think of the lives we could save, of the good we could prosper from this sort of technology. Enough to improve the Undercity for the better, to provide rationale for the potential dangers. I understand you are worried- but this is our life's work we are talking about. If we were to determine the true limits of Hextech, it would make our efforts worth it, in spite of… even if…" 

He stops, trails off. Glances up, and decides he might've said too much. You understand. You have always understood where all of this is going. 

The lives he could change would be worth the price, even if he was to throw away his. 

Tattered threads tear from within you — unspoken, buried deep. You've become well acquainted with the taste of denial. Sharp on your tongue, thick in your throat to meld with the bile. It sits on your lips as words better left unspoken. Eats away at your skin and your flesh and your core, settles in your limbs and at the tips of your useless fingers. Reverberates, until the ringing in your ears begins to sound like him. 

Piltover feels so distant, with the idle noise of the lab filling the room. Miles away, even though you're right in its heart. Nothing has ever been fair. It cast you aside, it was never your home. He was. 

All you've received for ages now are fake sentiments, vague reassurances. Reminders of how terribly futile your ambitions have proven to be. Every sun has to set, every star will burn out — but fuck, you don't want him to burn. 

Your mind is dizzy. Each thought spins, tipped faster and faster. Light pounds from behind your eyelids, and your stomach churns, making you nauseous. The lines blur between Viktor's figure, the floor, and the dull aura of the Hexcore, beginning to overlap everything together. 

You aren't present, or perhaps you're wishing to be anywhere but here. Curled beneath the covers, hiding under your bed like you did when you were a child, running to the furthest, broken edge of the universe so you wouldn't have to imagine him slipping through your fingertips; Viktor draws you back, grasping your chin oh-so gently. He tilts you towards him, puts your focus on him to push the rest of the world into the background. 

"Though, I suppose there is no harm in stopping for the night," Viktor reasons, his tone a soft murmur, devastatingly gentle. "I have missed you. I believe I may have neglected to make myself clear." 

And for a brief reprieve, there isn't anything sweeter. Nothing this fatal. 

His arm braces behind him, elbow resting on the edge of the desk. You follow through when he gently keeps you in place, steady on his direction; you're a compass, and he's Polaris. Your gazes don't separate, magnetized together like a hex crystal to iron. 

For a moment, he forms a small pout, in a way that would have you grinning if the circumstances were different. His expression ripens, becomes soft. Almost guilty. A plea and an apology and some form of a confession, muddled into one dangerous, indecipherable nebula. 

"You sure?" You're muttering, trying to keep your tone upbeat, regardless. "Your project looks like it's itching to fly away." 

"Eh," Viktor shrugs, he allows his thumb to brush over your cheek. "I'm sure it can wait. It understands I have more important things to focus on." 

His touch makes you ache. Guides your sorrow to entwine with his, digs in deep to grasp at your chest with such devastating familiarity. 

It's an excruciating reminder of how much you have craved this. How badly it hurts, to feel Viktor's hand tremble as he touches you, slightly unsure, when you wish he wouldn't be. Exhaustion is wound so deeply into his system, you'd think he was born with it. He brushes his palm from your cheek to your jaw, caressing idly, in an absent, lazy motion. And it frustrates you, because you know you'll soon be lost, wishing you could feel his touch again. 

Every pound of your heart reminds you of everything — of the brushes of fingers, when passing tools and pens at the work table. Hands solidly grabbing one another to steady anxieties, to offer familiar reminders. Nights spent categorizing constellations, while in your eyes, Viktor's radiance burned brighter than any distant galaxy. 

Gentle touches pressed to weary limbs. Tightening machinery, releasing the gears on a brace. An arm offered to help him stand. Instinctually standing beside him, at the side that might need you. Fingertips exploring the notches of a spine, traveling rivers of veins, mapping out star-shaped clusters of freckles. 

Tired moments much like this, but instead of protests and strives against fate, there were lovely brushes of whispers. Twin dips in the same bed, murmurs of, I'm here, you can go back to sleep. Touches that wished for themselves to be something more, something lasting. Though they knew they'd evaporate by morning. 

It's far too late to still rely on daydreams. 

You let the haze die out, tracing the edges of his hard knuckles as an apology before you clumsily push his hand from your cheek. Standing up straight, the lab seeming more cold and quiet and empty than ever, you choose to put distance in between yourself, and your lost love. 

"Sorry. I shouldn't-" Breathe, you've got to remind yourself to breathe. Air catches in your lungs, sharp and dizzy, and you quickly shake your head. "Viktor, I-" 

Gods, Viktor shouldn't have to choose between you and his ambition. He shouldn't need to place his own body in the middle of making a difference, and saving himself. There's still so much you haven't done, haven't said. The life you both dreamed of and fought for is crumbling, he still has so much he was meant to accomplish, and yet — 

A hand grabs your wrist with surprising force, to keep you from taking another step back. 

Viktor's brows pinch. "Do not tell me you're thinking of leaving." 

Oh. Your gaze finally travels up from your feet, and he looks hurt; his voice barely manages to avoid cracking around the edges. His fingers dig into your wrist sharply, desperately. 

Viktor's jaw tightens, his firm grip causing veins to show in his wrist. Your shoulders slump, and you exhale. 

"I'll walk home with you. You shouldn't sleep here, it's bad for your-" 

"No, no you will not," Viktor interrupts, exasperation echoed through his tone, pain and worry laced through the lines of his palms to compel them to shake. "Tell me why you are refusing to stay. It's been weeks without change, why must you run off the moment I attempt to make time for you? I doubt you have any idea how much this torments me." 

Weeks of avoidance, days upon days where he'd watch you disappear too soon. Viktor would turn, he'd say something to the empty air because he expected you to be there, but you would be gone, absent from the lab or the hallways or the dorm you once shared. Bitter sentimentality, the hurt you forgot to take with you, is all that would linger in his bones. 

Just how far are you willing to run — in vain, until your legs might snap — to pretend you won't lose the only thing you have left, your friend, your partner, to imagine you might escape the certainty of his conclusion? 

Your gaze is flighty. It carries raindrops, flutters on soft wings, between him and the intricate, statuette angles of his face. Between the ground and the desk, and the glowing Hexcore. He has rarely seen you so unsettled. When your emotions run high, you hide them from him; unsuccessfully, he might add. Your wrist flexes beneath his palm as he feels your hand clench, and unclench. 

Little by little, you're tugging his heart from between his ribs. Tearing it apart like petals pulled, like the games you used to get lost in when you both were kids; you love him, you love him not —

"I can't stay. I wasn't- I shouldn't have tried to come back to the lab in the first place," You answer, dejected. His grip only tightens on your wrist when you pull. "Viktor, please." 

"Answer me. I need you to say something," Viktor grits out, voice getting louder, his shoulders tensed with frustration. "What is the cause of this- this fracture in between us?" 

Your arm drops. Your bottom lip quivers, and your breath gets caught in your lungs. The expression on your face is more sore than he's ever seen it, painful enough to kill, bordering on bursting into tears. 

And then, your voice quiets. "I don't want to watch you die." 

The Hexcore gives off a low, rumbling sound. The lab becomes quiet enough to hear the individual ticks of machinery gears. 

Viktor's grip loosens on your wrist, only slightly. He doesn't speak, he can't listen to his heart or his head when he's placed between the persistent thrumming of both. You aren't looking at him. Regret dawns on your face, then sadness, then something he can't recognize when you turn your head away. Fatigue curls into his system, and settles amongst everything else: the guilt, the anticipation. The raw, forceful tenderness. 

It's a reminder that you're right. 

The passing of each slow second seems to exist for just the two of you. Dragging on and on. Barely helping him to find any answers. If only there was more time. 

Words could never be enough, burying your emotions like lodging a knife way deep in your chest isn't working. Your partner was made to burn bright, to exist as an act of defiance itself. To dedicate his mind and his body and his bruised hands to progress, no matter the obstacles or limitations, the past grievances or untold emotions. 

So many moments were never adequately spent. Days and weeks across years taunted you, moments spent as friends and colleagues, despite half of you belonging to him. 

You just needed one push, one thrust into the light to stop you from holding back, because you knew you risked ruining everything. But if Viktor continues, if the Hexcore grows more and more dangerous, if the council continues to require more of him, and what you haven't spoken about becomes true — there won't be anything left to ruin.

And as he watches you collapse, firm on the outside but weak on the inside, turning back to him because you have to, not because you want to, Viktor finally understands. 

He knows this body is… wilting. 

Decaying; he can feel every ounce of newfound weakness in his limbs, knows he's a servant to his own existence as it waits for him to waste away. Many from the Undercity are much less fortunate. He is grateful you are stronger than him. 

More pressingly, he is acutely, abruptly aware of how little time he's spent with you — it runs as fierce in his chest as the hourglass-shaped reminders of the short span he has left. You used to be inseparable, you shared the same dreams. Your talks weren't limited to melancholy utterances of, Have you eaten yet? and, Is your leg okay? and, I never see you anymore, will this time be the last? 

How he's chosen to treat himself are small deaths, in a way. Promises to join you later that led to nothing, nights of exhaustion framed by mornings of fading in and out. He's followed his own guide to avoidance, the steps were simply laid out differently. He's grown sick of it, truly. And deep down, or perhaps on the surface, he is so, terribly exhausted. 

Swallowing thickly, you remain frozen in place, waiting for him to give up, for his hand to slip from your wrist. When it does, you continue to linger. Your heart pounds loud in your ears. Little glances at him greet you with his face downcast, his shoulders slumped. 

You sigh — and you decide this can't be it, or perhaps you're just not ready. You draw yourself dangerously close, to trail your knuckles down Viktor's sharp jaw as a weak apology. 

If there's one thing he isn't accustomed to, it's throwing logic to the wind. Viktor tries to think of this like his notes, attempts to categorize and interpret these emotions. He imagines there's diagrams and logs in his own swirly handwriting, outlines that would guide him to precisely what he needs to do. 

None of it works, of course. It's a terribly juvenile line of thinking. And he's rarely one to give into impulsivity, but you make it so difficult to think, to focus. 

His breathing is already quickening and sharpening, creating pockets of light in his weak lungs, even through the reminders of his own mortality's shadow. Nothing is more important than the feeling you cradle in his chest, bright and fate-defying. 

It would not be like him to accept this. To fade out with a hundred contributions unfinished, a thousand words unspoken. Confessions meant to fall from his voice like meteor showers, fears and regrets with no way to form on his tongue. The thought alone leaves him troubled, choked. His jaw tightens in frustration, only relaxing when the ghost of your fingertips guides him to. 

Low light frames you, the features of your face troubled; oh, he can hardly remember the last time he's seen your smile. But he remembers, knows it to be beautiful. The slight softening his gaze undergoes as it flickers across you is utterly familiar — you pointed it out, once. 

Your eyes overfill with warmth, they melt like amber. Your pupils widen like big, lovesick moons. His head can't help but spin; there's so much he never realized, when you did.

His hands like to absently search for something to fiddle with when he needs to think. His fingers have a habit of tapping against something methodically: his desk, the spine of his notebook, his own forehead. The mark above his mouth follows his lips, when they tip into a smile. He's doing it now, surely. Softening in your afterimage. Gaze warm, honeyed, hopeful. 

No, he isn't sure if his fate can be changed; he's treading close, but he isn't dying yet. The Hexcore is unresponsive to every stimulus he's attempted, but his research is far from complete. There are mountains of quandaries he isn't sure he can fix, pitfalls remaining just out of his control. All but one, all but this. This is something he could do, something he can change. 

You almost speak. Almost give some useless, parting words when his tired, gentle eyes drift back to yours, two ships on the same sea. He's inquisitive, hesitant, his brows creased together in thought and with conviction. The mere sight of him — hair a mess, skin pallid, ignites a thousand feelings and worries in your gut; a lighter tossed to a puddle of gasoline. 

It's something Viktor picks up on. 

You look pained. Unsure of yourself, from the way your eyes can't quite meet his own, from how your hand slips away from his cheek, as everything in you threatens to disappear. Weary, as you gaze at him like you've already lost him. 

You've forgotten how to read him, he realizes. Caught up on what you might lose, the both of you have forgotten what you could have. Viktor's heart feels like it might burst, with enough force to make the sun's implosion look weak, and you don't understand, he'd have to show you. 

He takes it as a sign. Grasps the last chance you've extended to him, and runs with it as fast as he can. 

His name dies on your mouth, before you have the chance to speak it. Echoes haunt your soul when his palm finds your cheek, solid, sure; Viktor pulls you in hard, threads of distance easily closed, and he presses his lips to yours with an intensity that feels vividly visceral. 

It won't fix what's already been done. This isn't a promise, falling short between being reassurance and becoming a goodbye. It isn't the way he would want to confess, if fate was kind enough to give him a choice. 

But Gods, logic and reason, worry and mortality are all melting into nothing. Fading and fizzing into the sky, budding and beginning anew in his lungs — because for so long, he has needed this, needed you. As fiercely as dead parchment longs to be burned. 

Your body immediately goes tense in surprise. Your arms awkwardly hover in place, until Viktor's head tilts, following the gentle aria, his palm brushing from your jaw to your cheek to hold you close — as though you're still prone to vanishing, if he were to let go. Like this is the beginning of too many firsts, and even more lasts. This kiss is worthy of savoring. 

So, you do. You let your eyes flutter closed. You shift forwards with a shaky step, practically stumbling into him. 

It's sweeter than you ever could have pictured. The subtle roughness to his chapped lips. The slight tickle of his breath, when you pull apart for long enough to hesitate, but not enough to gain the wisdom to stop. 

Soft kisses draw you further, closer. A hand holds his cheek, a palm braces to his shoulder. Careful to use little force, to avoid any accidental hurt. 

Viktor follows, leans back, has you bending closer as you get caught in his butterfly effect; blue light bathes you, and the Hexcore shifts, utterly radiant. There's a moment of separation, a brief second where your eyes barely get to flutter open. A pause that promises to be your last opportunity for regret. Greedy and urgent, brutally eager, Viktor drags you back in, keeping you caught in his penumbra. Coaxing you to cage him in — to kiss him like you mean it. 

The taste of you is vivid, perfect, intense, rich; you make charged electricity glitter down his spine when your fingers curl into the soft, chestnut tresses of his hair. Grasping, pulling, leaving it even messier than it already was before. 

Your lips part, your breath forms an intoxicating meld with his. And he is only foolishly, stupidly human. Made of flesh and bright dreams, etched with soft skin and fervent desires. Too weak, desperate, and caught in your echo to contemplate anything but the way his own name sounds — the V is a soft vibration, the completion of the consonants makes it sound like reverence — when it's breathed into his mouth. 

Hazily, he feels your palm press, shoving gently to his chest, pushing his back against the desk in a clumsy effort to bring yourself closer. His chair shifts slightly from the movement, rusted wheels grating the tile. Your palm finds its place between his lower back and the desk's firm edge, bracing some of his weight, and acting as a buffer, keeping him from pressing against it. 

Viktor melts underneath you, breathes a soft noise into your mouth that begs you not to stop — as if you could. As if you haven't wanted this in an unquantifiable amount of ways, across an infinitum of discarded daydreams. You're left to steal gasps in between, clinging onto quickened sighs that rival the struggle of keeping your head above water, as wild waves crash over your skull. 

Out of breath, he blindly fumbles to find your shoulder; pushes gently, silently asks you for a moment of reprieve. 

You draw back immediately. You're unable to stop yourself from shuddering when he softly breathes your name. Familiar accent curling around the syllables, giving them life and importance like your name was made for him to say. To whisper, to covet, to plead. 

"Lásko," Viktor coos, as his eyes grow heavy. Glinting, with a spark of zeal that tells you to stop holding back. 

You're well acquainted with the warm, softhearted nickname. You know it to be something Viktor taught you himself, between gentle explorations of the few things you didn't already know about one another, when your late-night curiosity and desire to learn led you to, Oh, and what name would you use for someone special? 

His jaw grits; his next words, murmured in his mother tongue, resemble a sharp, possessive swear. His head tilts with yours when you lean closer — but you shift, falling in to let your lips find his neck. 

The kisses you place there are hurried, desperate; like rays of light, as if you don't have time. Obediently, he stifles a whimper, and allows his head to fall back. It leaves plenty of room for your wandering hands to crinkle and press aside his shirt collar, and you place your lips on the firm, jutting curve of his collarbone. 

You find the twin moles on his neck tendon, blessing a kiss there, near desperate enough to bruise. You follow them like a treasure map, to kiss the perfectly-placed mole above his mouth. Your palms cup his face faintly. Then, you sweetly kiss the mark on his opposite cheek, your lips warm, laced with fervent sparks. 

Viktor shudders, he feels lighting race up his spine and split him open like a scythe. He's been avoiding his own declining reflection for weeks upon months now, but he doesn't need to remember much of himself to still know exactly where you're kissing, like the back of his hand. 

The ghost of your lips just above his mouth, and then to the apple of his cheek send a thick, syrup-sweet realization reeling through him. His moles. It reminds him of fingertips playfully tapping his face. Of soft comments and pretty compliments, portraits of his own image that he'd never forgotten because they were from you. 

When you hear the hitch in his breath, he swears he feels you smile against him. He's certain, once you shift back down to his neck, to repeat the process all over again. Placing messy kisses onto his soft skin, worshiping the intricacies he would've never thought were admirable. Memorizing each placement as though it's deliberate, like making a map of the night sky's constellations. And Viktor swallows, shakes, softens. 

Blindly, you search for where his hand has been kept at your side. You grasp it, and pursue the natural interlacing of fingers: yours fitting perfectly between the gaps of his. 

Trying not to shudder, failing when your breath fans against the right-angle corner of his jaw, he guides his free hand to trace the small of your back. His fingertips are gentle, hesitant. Careful brushes akin to a study, an exploration. 

With a dizzy mind and even more muddled thoughts, he doesn't expect when you support your weight by placing your knee on his stool, between his legs — when you lean in close and fast and hard, crashing your lips against his once more. One kiss isn't enough, so you kiss him again; you let yourself be pulled in on his current, and he forgoes breathing to drink you in instead. 

Your body arches into his touch, curves when his palm presses flat to your back, attempting to feel as much of you as possible. You want to be pliable beneath his warm hands like clay, because at least being molded would leave an imprint. You'd have something to remember what this meant, what his touch felt like. 

Seconds and minutes bleed into one another. You can barely tell where he begins, and you end. Two halves of the same anatomy, you can feel the thrum of his inherent light beneath your breastbone. 

The Hexcore watches. Pulses, hard enough to make pens begin to roll across the desk. To topple a precarious stack of diagrams, which sends a few papers fluttering to the ground, to make the steel marbles of a Newton's cradle clumsily clink together. 

Neither of you notice. The response Viktor's been searching for spikes just beyond his reach. You make him feel weightless, as though the fragility of his own vessel is more of an afterthought, until he could be ripped into fragments and you would be there to put him back together. Viktor's palm holds the back of your neck, his head tilts with yours, and you kiss. Falling into one another, only unfalling to breathe. Your atoms melt into his particles, blossoming a blur between your two shapes. Your heart pounds with his, to a rhythm so exact they could be mistaken for the same singular beat. 

Finally pulling away requires a mountain's worth of strength and effort. You only do so because you've got Viktor's back pressed hard against the desk, and he's practically about to fall off his chair. 

You both needed to breathe. It takes several moments for your head to stop spinning. You can barely focus on anything, but the bruising of your lips and the skip of your heartbeat. Stumbling back, sliding from his chair to offer him more room, you cup his jaw in both palms. Soft and blissfully tender, as though this is what they were made to hold. 

Viktor sighs hard, gasping heavily. His skin is slightly flushed, still warm to the touch. His gaze stays on you, basking in your afterglow. You're used to him flinching away. A slight hesitation always laces through his fingers when you try to grab his hand. His muscles tense on instinct whenever your arm wraps around him, braced to help support his weight. 

But this time, your palms hold his face, your thumbs brush his skin, and he melts into your touch, unburdened. Gaze fluttery, expression relaxed. Giving in at last, after countless ages of starvation. 

The low light of the lab, and the soft glow of the Hexcore's rune matrix — quiet, now — frame his face in outlines of shadow and hues of cerulean. Shades of blue meld with the honeycomb of his eyes, dulling the color. Clouds over a fading sun. 

He hears the slight shake in your breath first, before he feels a tiny droplet hit his cheek; and you're leaning forward, trying to hide. Eyes shut tight, as you rest your forehead against his. 

"Sorry, I-" Viktor murmurs, weak and faint. So quiet, you almost fail to hear. "I know this does not… fix things." 

Oh. He hasn't seen you cry since you were both kids. 

Viktor remembers clumsily trying to comfort you, making a crude somewhat-flower-pinwheel out of scrap metal as a gift, because he thought it wouldn't fix everything, but it might make things a little bit easier. For a time, anyway. 

Reality is often a cold, cruel overseer. Remembering how to breathe again brings sharp pain into his lungs, it returns an ache to his tired shoulders and his strained leg. His vision comes back into focus, his future returns to taunt him but this time, something is different. 

He feels a spark. A newfound wave of ambition. The radiant golden hour, before a bright, final breakthrough. 

"It's fine," You breathe, weak and fragile, with a meager shrug of your shoulders that says you are anything but. "I didn't expect it to." 

Viktor grasps your chin, gently shifting you back to give him space to look at you. His thumb brushes a stray droplet from your cheek. He tuts: a soft, teasing, tch sound. "Ah, but for a time, the world nearly felt miles away. Did it not?" 

His gaze is hopeful, almost nervous. Trying to gauge any slight shift in your reaction. Thankfully, his voice seems to swiftly bring you back to life. You laugh a bit, wiping the remainder of tears away with the back of your hand; there's the smile he's always admired. 

"Like we were melting into each other," You admit, a little shy, tenderly wistful. Your heart unfurls in your chest like a bright, pretty blossom. It's fitting for the both of you to recollect, to try and analyze the intricacies of every situation. "It was…" 

You're pausing, trying to find the right description, as you rest your arms around his shoulders in something of a half-hug. It was lovely? Captivating? Addicting? 

You shake your head. You're glancing away, because even remembering kissing him is enough to make your heart pound, enough to tempt you to pull him in again. Viktor tilts you back towards him, his finger lightly tapping your jaw. 

"Hm- Breathtaking?" He muses, "Better than you could have dreamed?" 

The brief lilt of confidence he embodies, words smooth as they're carried on his accent, pleasantly reminds you of when he was younger. Far too composed, and eager to prove himself. He follows it through, coaxing you forwards with a palm to your side. You're gentle; most of your weight, you support yourself, until Viktor pulls you down, patiently and decidedly guiding you to settle against his lap. 

"You know," You're cooing, head tilted, "That sounds an awful lot like a confession." 

You can see each subtle heave of Viktor's chest, expanding with every long breath he takes in. It's a tight fit. His stool is barely wide enough to accommodate himself, let alone you. His brace presses into the back of your leg just slightly: jutting metal, protruding bolts. The spread of his thighs leaves you with a small amount of space, but still forces your body to press awfully close to his. 

You're in the perfect position to witness every detail of his face. His tired eyes, the curve of his jaw, the slant of his nose. His thick brows pinch slightly, forming a faux pout, and you reach up. You brush your thumb from his temple to his brow, relishing in the instant softening of his expression. 

"Perhaps it is one. Or, actually-" Viktor hums, inquisitive. "It contains the potential to be one, if I decided to elaborate." 

"Oh? Enlighten me." 

A pause. Viktor bites the inside of his cheek as he ruminates, and your fingertips push fluffy strands of hair from his face to tuck behind his ears. 

"For so long, I… ached to be close to you." His tone is calm, temperate. It twists a shiver up your spine, cool and heaven-sent. His palm trails and caresses your face; a lesson in restraint, as he tries to stop himself from pulling you in once more. "It was a pipe dream. I assumed I was… too late." 

"I thought- I was sure you didn't-" Your shoulders grow tense and the bridge of your nose knots up, you twirl a strand of his hair around your finger and pull it away to admire the resounding curl. "Since when?" 

Viktor exhales. "We have been effectively inseparable since the day we met, I am certain you still remember when the Undercity kids would laugh and- and make jabs at my obvious crush. But, you are searching for something specific. In that case, there is one instance." 

This time, you don't have to ask him to elaborate. 

A palm tracing down the column of your neck, idle yet admiring, Viktor takes one more steady, deep breath. "It was the Progress Day after we had finalized the Hexgates. The council's afterparty was… stifling. I was fortunate to have convinced you to attend. You wore such gorgeous attire. Jayce commented, stated I was unable to take my eyes off of you. I denied it. In hindsight, it was more than obvious." 

The party was hardly your usual scene. Viktor was always the one who wound up convincing you to attend every Progress Day. 

He'd mention you should vouch for your contributions, try to mingle. You were fine with dressing up for an hour or two, but all of the drinking and fraternizing — you found the presentations about new technology to be interesting, but everything to happen afterwards was tiring, to put it bluntly. 

The occasion then was more special than most, though. There was a difference in the way Viktor asked you, sounding hopeful and stress-bound. It seemed important to him, and so it was doubly precious to you. 

"I joined you on the balcony, once I was able to shake the flocks of investors." Viktor continues, thinking, thumbing through all of the details, "You'd been saving a cocktail for me all night, if you remember. Something made with rum- apple cider, I believe." 

Viktor recalls overhearing several of your conversations. Your excitement to show off what you invented together was palpable. You made the room shine, he thinks. He watched you go on and on, when you thought he wasn't listening, assuming he was busy with his own consultations. Viktor zoned out of them, truly. Once the day's festivities are over, the rich folk of Piltover are more interested in finances than progress. 

Your words were so kind. Viktor is amazing, have you met him yet? Every sponsor and socialite would know your partner to be intelligent, inventive, incredible. He doesn't compare. It's funny, how Viktor saw the same qualities in you. 

For most of the night, you were separated; Viktor was busy with the swarm of fancy patrons, all of Piltover's finest hoping to get the latest gossip on what the partner to the Man of Progress would come up with next. Luckily, the both of you chose the same hideaway to try and escape the crowd. 

"I had been waiting for such a moment- to speak with you. You offered me your congratulations. Complimented me, on my performance of the short speech you helped me to memorize. And… so clearly, I remember you said, 'I'm so proud, Viktor. But I knew you could do this.'" 

I knew you could. No underestimations, never a doubt in his potential. You believed in him, even when no-one else did. When there weren't eager investors and a fawning council, just you and him, the suffocating smog of the Undercity, and his foolish dreams. Within the gaps in between, your praises sung as loud, unbidden, echoing strums. 

He supposes he's going to have to ask again for your faith, just one more time. 

Viktor's gaze stays focused down, for a moment. Contemplative, emotional. 

"I almost kissed you right then." He glances up to you, finally. "But-" He hums, then sighs, "There were benefactors still lingering just beyond the balcony, some of which already decided to inquire extensively about my personal life. I would have hated for our first kiss to incite such a scene." 

Viktor admires the tender kindling of gentleness on your face. Slightly pained, despite the hints of softness. It's his cue to find your cheek, to hold you close and oh-so softly like he did from the start; the cliff before the waterfall, his first step in to drown with you. 

Nothing will ever return to simplicity. But Viktor refuses to regret this, decides he should face it head on. Every building conflict, these budding emotions, the remnants of how your lips felt on his; tenderly unforgettable, a crucial step that he refuses to forget. 

You can feel the slight tremble to his fingers, the calluses on his palm — 

"Vik-" 

"I need to have your trust." 

Your eyes widen. 

"Viktor," You're starting again, "You already do- you always have. I don't want you to hesitate, you can-" 

"No, no, the Hexcore," Viktor corrects. He takes a quick glance between you, and the shifting runes of his project's surface. Glowing and fluctuating, a marvel even when it is dormant. "There is much I have not yet told the council. Nor Jayce, nor you." 

A newfound flicker of conviction blazes behind his sun-bound eyes. A brightened enthusiasm to solve any puzzle he's presented with, a key twisted into a door that he never thought would open. 

Your gaze is curious, attentive, then clearly conflicted, and he feels his jaw start to tighten. In spite, he continues, speaks with his entire chest, even though his hands tremor at the thought, and his voice is much too soft and broken and he hates the sound it makes when it's breaking — 

"You are the one thing I cannot lose." Viktor holds your face lovingly, captures you in a statue-like state of devotion, as he fights against the gnawing roughness at the back of his throat. "I believe I can solve this, but I need to know that to any end, you will follow. Please." 

It's something he's already sure of, against the faint threads of doubt in his mind. Of course you would, if he was the one to ask. The both of you are knit together as endlessly as the lines that connect the constellations, he just needs to hear you say it. 

You offer him a weakened smile, your touch brushing the curve of his face like fingertips would caress the arch of a flower's petal. "Do what you think is right. I trust you." 

Viktor softens. 

There's bittersweet catharsis in finally admitting the truth, along with an endless chasm threatening to swallow him whole — and for now, for the rest of the night, at least, he wants nothing more than to fall in with you. 

"My love," He murmurs; he draws you close, with the pull of the sea to the moon. He dares to press one more faint kiss to your cheek, despite knowing how infinitely difficult it will be to pull away. "My inspiration," A kiss to the opposite cheek, then. "My little spark." 

The lab remains quiet, dark, save for the low hum, and the glowing orbit of the Hexcore. Viktor leans his head against your chest, relaxes further once you begin gently toying with his hair. And finally, fully, he allows his heavy eyes to close.