#the way her eyelid rises with the thumb below it?

[swan2swan]

I know "Images you can hear" is a thing, but do you ever find images you can feel?

[littlemourningstarr]

Twin Ghosts

Halsin may have accepted the invitation to a night of bliss with Shadowheart and Astarion, but he wasn't prepared for the way the two seemed to be cut of a single stone, and how they would know exactly what to do to him to pull him apart, thought by thought.

Kinktober 2024, Day 19: "Threesome / Moresome"

Read below or on AO3!

Pairing: Halsin x Shadowheart x Astarion

Tags: Threesome - F/M/M, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, blow jobs, vaginal sex, kinktober, kinktober 2024

Halsin’s heart was beating almost wildly, against his chest, echoing throughout the cavities between his ribs. It was excitement, yes, yes it had to be, how couldn’t it be? When he was staring at what appeared to be the two most beautiful phantoms to ever haunt Faerŭn.

Shadowheart and Astarion eyed him from where they stood, under the moonlight. Glorious, twin like with their silver hair, sharp features. Pale skin that seemed to glimmer. Moonlight and starlight, personified.

Halsin braced his hand on the sturdy tree next to him, felt as if he could stare at them, transfixed, for the entire night. And, oak father preserve him, they knew. They glanced at each other, little smirks curving on their perfect lips.

“Feeling faint?” Astarion asked, finally moving, fluid and quick, he crossed the space until he was right up in Halsin’s warmth, a chilled hand pressing to his bare chest. Astarion felt like an ice shard- the touch had goosebumps rising along Halsin’s chest and arms. “Poor darling.”

Shadowheart moved next, choosing to take up the space at his free arm, wrapping herself around it, breasts pressed to his biceps, looking up at him with those hazel eyes that screamed of the wood, of forests and wildlife and freedom. “Sit down, Halsin, let us take care of you.”

Halsin was guided to the ground, back pressed to the tree. Before he could truly register he was no longer on his feet, Shadowheart was in his lap, a pleasing warmth and weight as she settled directly on his groin. Her eyes flashed something devilish.

“And I thought we’d indulge in some foreplay,” she teased, sliding her hands up along his chest, to his shoulders, “but it seems you won’t need that.”

Astarion clicked his tongue, settling down next to Halsin, fingers toying with his hair. “Shame. I had wanted to see if our big, terrifying bear could break my jaw.”

Halsin groaned, he couldn’t hold the sound back. He hadn’t- he’d expected to treat these two like royalty. He’d expected to lavish them with caresses from his hands, his tongue- to give them pleasure until they were delirious and grinning. The giving would have been enough for him.

He hadn’t expected his own pleasure to be treated as a forefront of the evening.

Shadowheart stripped off her shirt, still settled in his lap, leaving it forgotten on the ground. She leaned back a little, bared his breasts, looking at Halsin through dark lashes as he tried to take in every inch of milky skin, the petal-pink of her nipples. Gods, was her cunt the same pink?

He wanted to know, gods he’d give anything…

Astarion released Halsin’s hair, leaned into Shadowheart, one hand cupping one of her breasts, thumb and forefinger finding her nipple in an instant to pinch it gently, as he pressed his face into her neck. Halsin had to wonder how many nights shared had led the vampire to being able to touch Shadowheart with only the barest of glances as guidance. He knew it had to be many.

“Warm me up a little,” Shadowheart offered, eyelids fluttering as her nipple hardened under Astarion’s ministrations, “and you can have me, Halsin.”

As she spoke her hands drifted down to her pants, opening them, sliding them over the swell of her hips, down to her thighs. Astarion gave a little groan, and Halsin heard his softest whisper, I can smell you my dear. It sent a fire directly to his groin, to his cock that felt like it could burst already.

Halsin leaned forward, one hand cupping the breast Astarion wasn’t so sweetly torturing, the other sliding between Shadowheart’s thighs. Her cunt was a heat he hadn’t been braced for, as he rubbed his fingers along her lips. She sighed, as he closed his mouth around her nipple, rolling his tongue along it, fingers slipping past her lips, finding her pleasantly wet. He rubbed her clit slowly, felt her breath hitch, heard the lit of Astarion’s bemused laugh.

“Is she drenched, druid? Positively sopping? She should be, considering how she has gushed over you, while my head is between her legs.”

Halsin groaned, moved his mouth to the center of Shadowheart’s chest, looked up at her with large, soft eyes that smoldered and burned. She glanced down at him, stroked back his hair as if he was a pet.

“As if you don’t moan his name when my fingers are inside you, Astarion.”

The vampire laughed again, before he reached for Halsin, guided his head from between Shadowheart’s breasts. His hand gripped his chin, still ice but not unpleasant, as he leaned in, pressed his mouth eagerly to Halsin’s. Astarion’s lips were soft as spring grass, made Halsin feel dizzy as they moved with such a practiced ease, as if the vampire knew how Halsin had always dreamed of being kissed.

His tongue pressed into the druid’s mouth, as Halsin’s fingers stilled, simply pressed to Shadowheart’s cunt, his mind suddenly a blazing ice-fire of Astarion. The vampire tasted faintly metallic, a tinge of iron that had Halsin wondering if he had fed before this- or if there was simply always the underlying flavor of blood, to his lips.

A part of him hoped Astarion hadn’t. The thought of the man curled into his lap, mouth at Halsin’s neck, taking life from him that the druid could so freely give- it set a different sort of spark up his spine, not arousal but something that bloomed within his chest like flowers, akin to affection and yet so much more.

Astarion pulled back, looking at him with eyes that were softer than expected, the smallest, honest smile on his face. Then he leaned back enough, allowed Shadowheart to take his place, taste Halsin for herself.

She was the fire to Astarion’s frozen depths, seemed to kickstart Halsin’s mind back into thinking, as he began moving his fingers again, this time pushing at her entrance, one easing inside of her. Shadowheart moaned against his mouth, as he felt Astarion’s hand reach between them, nimble fingers finding their way into his pants with ease.

Halsin gasped, when the vampire grasped his cock, freed him into the night, which felt warm, balmy compared to Astarion’s touch. Yet Halsin welcomed it, welcomed the chill- it was distinctly Astarion and he had no desire to believe he was with anyone else.

Shadowheart pulled off Halsin’s mouth as he eased a second finger in, caught Astarion licking his lips from the corner of his eyes. The vampire squeezed his cock, before he pulled his hand away, hooking an arm around Shadowheart’s waist and pulling her from Halsin’s fingers and his lap. She went with a practiced ease, no resistance against wherever Astarion was taking her. It was trust, Halsin could see.

“I need to taste him,” Astarion said, his hand moving down Shadowheart’s body, between her thighs, stroking her clit in quick little movements that had her writhing in his hold. “And he needs to taste you.” Halsin swallowed thickly, managed out a husky please, that had both Astarion and Shadowheart smiling.

The task of stripping was a haphazard of limbs, clothing tossed away to be forgotten. Halsin stretched out on his back, naked in the grass- caught the way Shadowheart eyed his cock before she settled herself over his face. He grasped at her ass, the skin so soft, supple, as he lifted his head, pressed his mouth to her cunt. She sighed, Halsin’s tongue dragging over her entire slit, before laving slowly over her clit. Gods, she tasted so good, it had his cock throbbing.

He felt Astarion hands, on his thighs- was braced for the feeling of his fingers on his cock, but instead was greeted by his mouth, taking Halsin in fully, warmer than his skin but still slightly cool, somehow soft in ways that seemed impossible. Halsin groaned, pressed his face closer to Shadowheart’s cunt, his hips rocking up- and oh, Astarion took it, didn’t flinch or pull back as Halsin pushed to his throat.

Shadowheart ground down against him, breaths coming faster, little moans as Halsin speared his tongue into her. “Gods, he could make me come already,” she mused, her voice dreamy. Astarion’s mouth pulled off Halsin’s cock, the druid achingly aware of the night air enveloping him.

“Would you prefer to come on his tongue or his cock, my sweet?” Halsin didn’t let up, wanted to devour Shadowheart, as she rocked slightly, humming as she thought about the options.

And then she was pulling away, Halsin trying to chase her. She laughed, maneuvering down his body, taking Astarion’s hand and allowing him to steady her as she straddled Halsin. The druid sat up, needing to see, as she hovered over his cock, Astarion’s other hand on the small of her back.

She sank down, slowly, and Halsin reached for her, hands on her waist, holding her steady as she took him, her breath escaping. “Gods, he’s so big,” she whispered, and Halsin felt a flush rising, along his cheeks.

Astarion leaned in, pressed a kiss to Shadowheart’s shoulder. “I know. It’s… delightful.” Once Shadowheart was settled with him nestled inside her, she braced her hands on his shoulders, holding on as she rode him slowly. Astarion leaned in, one hand in Halsin’s hair, the other caressing Shadowheart’s ass, as he kissed the druid, forced his attention to split between the phantom on his cock and the wraith at his mouth.

“How does she feel?” Astarion asked, against his mouth. “Is she wet? Tight?” Halsin groaned a yes, before Astarion bit at his lip, poked it with a single fang and almost broke the skin.

When the vampire pulled from Halsin’s mouth he turned, sought out Shadowheart’s- kissed her just as tantalizingly, his tongue winding around hers, making her groan. Halsin felt the way she went tight, around him- and gods, he wanted to come already, deep inside her.

When Astarion released Shadowheart’s mouth, he moved back to Halsin, taking his mouth again, tasting like Shadowheart’s tongue, a faint sweetness from wine mixed with his irony taste. Shadowheart lifted herself faster, her nails digging little crescent moons into Halsin’s tanned skin, her body beginning to rhythmically clench around him, pull him in deeper.

And then Astarion was reaching between the two, getting his fingers on her clit- and it was only moments before she was tossing her head back, crying out with a blissed out smile on her face. She took Halsin deeper, the druid bucking to meet her movements, wanting to see her orgasm through. His own was right there, so close-

Astarion nipped his lip, did break the skin, and the sudden pulse of pain pushed him over the edge. He followed Shadowheart in a mess of euphoria, filling her as she mewled, biting her lip over the feeling of him emptying inside her.

Halsin couldn’t whine, when she finally rose from his cock- Astarion had his mouth far too occupied. But moments later the vampire was pried from his mouth, a hint of crimson that matched his eyes along his lips, as Shadowheart pushed him down, to lay out in the grass.

Halsin got a good look at him, finally. Skin so white it was snow, the faint hints of his veins along his most tender points. His cock had a gentle flush to it, was stone under silk, resting against his belly, begging for attention.

Yet Astarion ignored it, spreading his thighs, batting those silver lashes at Halsin. “Think you’ll be up to mast to take me by the time you’ve got me opened up?”

Halsin bared his teeth, felt an animal need to rise to the challenge, as Shadowheart was lifting one of his hands, taking two of his thick fingers into her mouth and sucking on them. Halsin reached out, placed a hand on Astarion’s thigh, stroking silken skin, swearing he was beginning to see in black and white, with the way the vampire’s skin glowed in the moonlight.

The night was going to be endless, Halsin was sure. He hoped by the end he was so blinded by their moon-and-starlight that he would never see again, except for the ghosts they left, inside his head.

[harrietwritesstuff]

I can't find the fluff snippet ;;

The overworked husband that is simply not fine anymore, the worried, protective wife, just the First Couple... how do you not worry about them? you can't

I finished it in the end, last night to try and occupy my brain - 2k words, just below the cut. A little soft, a little sad. ♡

“Oh sweetheart-”

He looks up at her dazedly and she swallows hard, his eyes bloodshot and unfocused. Her heart aches for him, for the way he clings so grimly, determinedly to consciousness and coherency - the gravelly voiceover to a video all he could manage this particular evening. She had watched from the sidelines by the door, counting each take he’d attempted, each video growing progressively slower, fainter - his features stripped of the little colour he had by the harsh lights. Eventually, he’d given up on the visual, letting his phone slip from his grip onto the desk, forcing himself through a voiceover instead, his eyes half closed, uttering the words from memory.

He blinks at her now, her presence not seeming to register somehow - as though he's faintly aware that perhaps all this is in his head. That she's not really there. Maks had sent for her; more a request than anything, and she’d been glad of it, the worry that stained his voice despite its steadiness had been the same worry that had stalked her own thoughts after the last three evening addresses. The chance to see him had leapt out at her, the chance to help him, to let him rest. She’d grabbed onto it with both hands, treasuring any excuse to see him, even this moment, shadowed by concern.

Now, Olena reaches out and gently rests her palm against his cheek, feeling him lean into her slightly. His breath comes as more of a slow rasp through his chest this time, a low whistling noise attached to it. She rubs her thumb gently against his cheekbone.

“You've done enough for today. Come on-” “Mmmn. No-” His denial is quiet though not surprising, the word a slow, eked out drawl. Olena frowns. Even if he was well, it's long past eleven at night; she'd struggle to even figure out if any of their international partners are even awake. There's nothing else he needs to do, despite his words, all the thoughts that circle endlessly in his head.

Regardless, she continues on. “You're not well.” “Mmfine-”

She almost bites down on her tongue, but as she looks at her husband, she cannot swallow her words, not this time. She knows he’d prefer to work through whatever ails him, to ignore it for as long as possible, but she won’t let him, not this time, not after almost a thousand days - of this office, of his tiny little bedroom, of the wailing sirens. She knows how little he’s been sleeping, how much the worry is wearing him out, no matter how many times he brushes off her concern and Maksym’s too - with a quiet ‘I’m fine.’

“Really, love. You’re not.” Her voice is gentle as she runs a hand through his hair.

“Just jetlag-”

For a moment, he reminds her of Kyrylo, the frown on his face his embittered response to being forced to confront his own frailty much like the same one her son wears at similar moments of annoyance. She can’t help but smile at him affectionately, pressing a kiss to his forehead. The low heat of fever brushes against her lips and she bites down a sigh, pulling away to offer out her hand. He takes it almost automatically, but makes no move to rise from his desk, content to sit with his hand in hers; as though it would be too much energy to do anything more.

“Come on-” she coaxes him gently up, waiting patiently as he finds his feet again, stretching out from his cramped position before the desk, scrabbling about loosely to pocket his phone. His movements are slow, almost clumsy and she feels a jolt of sympathy - for him to have held it together all day, throughout however many meetings or delegations, how much energy that alone must have taken.

Maksym doesn’t bat an eyelid, watching silently as Olena guides her husband across the office and over the threshold of his tiny room, closing the door behind them. She gently pushes him down onto the bed and tugs at the hem of his sweatshirt, encouraging him to lift his arms, almost as she might have done for their children when they were little.

“Mm. Very forward of you, Mrs Zelenska-”

She doesn’t laugh as his words devolve into coughing, sharp and grating. It leaves him breathless for a moment, his face screwed up in pain. Once it passes, he looks up at her, head on one side, his face so full of bare affection for her that suddenly, she is the one left breathless. Even in the softer light of this room, despite all the love he holds for her, exhaustion has left deep grooves in his face, his cheekbones more prominent than they used to be, his beard more grey. Her heart aches for him.

“Sorry-” He rubs hard at his eyes, leaving them red, watery.

He has nothing to apologise for; but that feels like a battle to be fought later. 

“Vova, love?”

“Mmhm?”

“Why don't you try and get some sleep?”

He nods vaguely, rubbing at his forehead, but makes no other move, as though suddenly everything is too much - the weight too heavy to carry any further. Olena quietly kneels, unlaces his boots, her slim fingers deftly untying the knots. She smiles faintly at the sight of his socks; a grey handknitted pair with blue and yellow stripes at the top, threadbare now at the heels - probably sent to him by someone months ago, now quietly treasured. She rubs lightly at the side of his ankle, an encouragement that he responds to on instinct, bringing his legs up as he turns onto his side, sliding down onto the bed, still fully clothed atop the covers, his face pressed into the thin pillow.

She presses a kiss to the top of his head, a small squeeze of his shoulder before leaving him be for the moment. She roots through his wardrobe, her goal to find a blanket or two, another pillow maybe. Her attention drifts across the row of black and green sweatshirts, a lone yellow hoodie at one end, a suit at the other, still hanging there- a persistent symbol of hope, of optimism. Without warning, tears spring forth - threatening to spill down her cheeks. She presses a hand to her mouth, turning away from Vova.

There are instances, moments- when this happens; when it overwhelms her.

Sometimes it's as simple as Kyrylo or Sasha mentioning offhand quietly that - papa looks tired, is he okay? Will he be safe? - because worry is not something that their children should have to carry; not like this. Other times it happens when she's surrounded by her own work, by her colleagues and friends - people she would never have met if not for this and she knows despite herself, her admiration for them and all the work they do - that she'd change knowing them in a heartbeat if she could go back to before. Sometimes, it's the insistent knowledge that this is their life now, and there is so much of it that she must be apart from him. That this is their life, and the moments they do share are so often shot through with grief or loss or mourning - for the past, their present, their people. She knows, at her heart; they are lucky in a way. They have one another no matter how far apart they are; they have their children and their family because there are some people who do not have that. The knowledge doesn't always make her own hurt easier to bear.

After a minute, she sucks in a shaky breath, filling her lungs until they burn, forcing the air back out in a rush as she rubs frantically at her eyes with the back of her hand. 

Blankets.

That's what she needs to find. She swallows, continues her search determinedly - the fruits of her labour revealing a thick, soft blanket folded away in a drawer, another at the top. She tucks them around her husband, watching fondly as he nestles into the warmth, wriggling deeper into the mattress.

“Thought you'd gone-” His words are drowsy, his eyelids heavy with sleep that he pushes against - each blink slower than the last as he peers at her in the lamplight, catching her hand in his. His palm is cold, and she can feel the small callouses at the base of his fingers, his skin rough.

“Never-” 

The word sticks in her mouth - It carries such a weight suddenly, unintended. That - she'll never leave him, no matter what. Still carefully gripping his hand, she kicks off her own shoes, and after a little manoeuvring, she manages to settle in with her back against the headboard, Vova curled beside her.

“Never-” She repeats it, softer- just for herself.

A little while later, Vova has drifted to sleep properly, snuffling quietly through the congestion in his chest and throat, cuddled into her side, his head in her lap. He’s so much softer here, smaller, so much more himself; just Vova, and not the President. She holds onto this moment with all her might, this slow quietness with no sharp edges.

The moment flickers, threatens to fade as the door swings open without warning, a small creak preceding any entrants. Olena frowns, one hand still on her husband’s shoulder, rubbing a slow, soothing pattern there. She opens her mouth to mutter some shred of annoyance, to ask whoever it is to leave.  Instead, she swallows it as she sees who it is - Maks, carrying a mug from the canteen.

She knows that he will not ask anything of her husband - just to rest, and for that, she loves him.

“Tea,” he mumbles softly, low enough not to disturb Vova, just loud enough for Olena to hear, the soft ‘thunk’ of the mug onto the bedside table. Steam rises from the hot tea, the liquid a strong, almost muddy brown.

“Painkillers-” he drops the sealed plastic packet beside the tea. “He mentioned a headache earlier. Two when he wakes- if he still needs them, then every four hours."

He leans over then, pockets Vova's phone from the bedside table.

“I'll pass this on, Andriy will cover tomorrow morning's meetings or calls. I'll be just outside if you need me.”

She nods mutely, a faint smile of thanks drifting across her face. What they'd do, any of them really - without Maks. Calm, solid, dependable. Always, somehow - knowing what's needed, before Vova does, before she's even thought of it herself. She watches his gaze flicker over Vova, his concern barely hidden, a hand minutely adjusting the blanket, then fiddling with the intensity of the lamplight until it's barely there - all three of them thrown into shadow. She catches his expression in the half-darkness, just for a moment before he steps away, his face so unguarded that it surprises her. 

Olena thinks about love - in all its forms. She thinks about Maksym, his tea and painkillers, his quiet, low voice, steadfast - always present.

“Thank you-”

He nods, says nothing as he gently places a hand on Vova's shoulder, just for a second or two, and then steps away. Her smile fades as Maks closes the door behind him with a soft click and she feels Vova move under her hand, shivering in his sleep, his hand grasping loosely, not finding purchase. She slips her hand into his.

“Sssh-” 

He stops shivering, a faint cough expelled on an exhale before he quietens again as her other hand runs through his hair, it's shorter now than it was before and softer - more grey. She feels the warm weight of him, the solidness of his body pressed against her and she is more thankful than she could ever say; for this moment.

He's beside her; that's all she needs, could ever want for now. Volodymyr sleeps on as the night deepens further, his weary bones too heavy this once to rise, to continue. Olena stays beside him; always, her hand in his.

[nightside-of-siberia]

You Ache For This

Pairing: Agatha x Reader Request: yes (by anon) Prompt: an experienced Agatha teaches inexperienced reader about sex, ft. oral, fingering, and a magic strap. Words: 359 Part: 4 of ?

Previous | AO3 | Next

A/N: this is the second of two chapters that I'm posting at the same time, so please make sure you've also read part 3.

A shiver rushes down your spine as blunt fingernails trace a path, light and intentional, across the skin of your thigh. “Are you particularly attached to this outfit of yours?” Agatha rasps, “or, do I have your permission to get,” a smug, smirking smile tugs at pale, curving lips as the tip of a thumb slips its way past the elastic currently digging its way into the top of your right thigh, “a little bit destructive?”

You bite down on your bottom lip, eyelids drooping until you’re peering through thin, patchy lashes at the body looming over your own. “What about you?” you ask, “you appear to be just as overdressed as I am for this encounter.”

“Oh?” pale lips purse as a dark brow rises, seems to summon a small, swirling series of purple-black coils of magic that all but dance their way around Agatha’s body until she’s wearing nothing but a proud, devilish smile and bright, laughing eyes, “am I?”

“That’s cheating,” you huff, though there’s no malice or annoyance to your words – you have, after all, just gotten exactly what you wanted.

Agatha offers up a hum as she tilts her head, bats her lashes down at you with an air of innocence that makes your skin tingle with anticipation. “I could always put them back on,” she offers sweetly.

Your stomach drops as a spark of alarm flares to life in your chest. “No!”

Laughter fills the air. “Good,” Agatha purrs, “’cause I happen to quite like the way this makes me feel, with you pressed up against me from below . . .”

You pout, do your best to affect an air of disappointment. “And here I was, thinking you wanted to undress me.”

Pale lips curl up into a toothy grin as Agatha leans in to press a kiss to your lips. “Oh, honey,” she drawls, dark hair tickling at the skin of your chest as warm, fragrant breaths dance their way across your lips, “two things can be true at once.”

You lift your chin, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth as you dare her to, “prove it, then.”

And she does.

[heylittleriotact]

It’s Wednesday. Have a smutty WIP.

Her eyelids lifted as she stirred from her slumber.

She shifted atop the plush mountain of down filled pillows she was cradled in, her fingers gliding over the richly textured damask comforter beneath her.

Her surroundings were no place she could put a name to, but they seemed distantly familiar. Perhaps it was the tall, stained glass bordered windows that went almost from ceiling to floor, the rich emerald green curtains that adorned them, or the unmistakable scent of wood polish, but this place rather reminded her of her family’s estate.

Darkness lay beyond the finely crafted windows and the room was illuminated with an assortment of expensive beeswax candles that smelled faintly of lavender.

She swung her feet off the bed and they met the warm floor. The hem of the thin satin slip she wore brushed over her thighs when she stood and padded over to the window to steal a glance at the city below.

She hadn’t heard his approach - perhaps she was too transfixed by the warm glow of the city to hear him - or perhaps his feet fell softer than ever.

Regardless, his silent arrival was announced by the sensation of his hands drifting over her abdomen, palms splayed against her as he drew her close to him.

His familiar aroma - invigorating but grounded in the barest hint of old oak casks - curled around her, mingling with the wood polish and the lavender, infusing the very air with a sense of comfort and belonging.

“Stargazing, my love?” He inquired, burying his nose in her hair and stroking her belly with his thumb. His hands felt delightfully warm through the insubstantial fabric she wore.

“Citygazing, actually.” She said. “I’ve always loved how warm and inviting all the little houses are, glowing orange into the black.” She leaned back into his touch, sheltered in the constancy of his form.

Safe.

She felt so very safe. So at peace. Her mind was quiet for a change, and all that existed was the two of them and the halcyon light of the city below.

Though along with the peace and comfort, she found that she felt other things too…

“Unh…” Astarion moaned softly as she rolled her hips against his groin, saying nothing as she did so.

She managed to get away with doing it once more before he pulled her flush against him with a low growl, one of his hands rising to find purchase on the smooth skin of her throat, his growing erection pressing against her through his breeches.

“Is there something you want, my treasure?” He whispered into her ear, the heat of his breath on her sensitive flesh forcing her to shudder as unmitigated pleasure erupted within her belly, molten hot in its insistence.

The sharp points of his nails pressed into her supple neck, and she ground herself against him for a third time, sighing as the tips of his claws dug in deeper in response, imparting the slightest amount of pressure against her windpipe as his other hand traveled down under the hem of her slip and his warm fingers dipped into the wetness he found there.

“So needy for me - you’re sopping wet already… but I must insist you use your words, love…” His middle and ring finger - nails cut short specifically for this purpose - trailed up her heat and found the bead of sensitive nerves at her apex. He circled the organ slowly… deliciously, and she shuddered again. “Tell me what you want…” He whispered again in a voice as sweet as sin and as dark as the night beyond the window. “What you need…”

“You…” She breathed, hips pushing forward into his touch - it was something, but she required more. “I need you…”

The pressure disappeared and she bit back a whine of frustration. She was spun around to face her beloved and experience the tantalizing lust that shadowed his perfect face.

His scarlet eyes glowed faintly as they swept over her face, taking in the hunger she knew dwelled within her own gaze and the way her tongue darted over her lips as she scrutinized him back, desperate to taste him: his lips, his skin… his very soul.

His hands whispered down her shoulders, tracing the shape of her arms, and he looked into her eyes, his beautiful mouth quirked in her favourite expression of flirtatious mirth.

“Show me…” he told her, “while I take a moment to look upon these warm little lights for myself...”

[let-me-love-you-loki]

Nowhere to Run--Ch. 55

Chapter 55

            It felt like the hallway stretched out in front of them as if it would never end. Jericho trailed behind Jack with his heart caught high in his throat and his head spinning. Somehow, Santana had gotten to the front and had raced down the cinderblock corridor. The sound of the door banging against the wall echoed like a gunshot. Jericho could feel the weight of his terror pressing against his ribs. Dark spots blinked in front of his eyes as he tried to focus on Kat’s head lolling against Jack Perry’s bicep.

            “Move it,” Jack snapped as he practically shoved his way past Santana to get into the Inner Circle locker room. He raced across the room, dodging suitcases and chairs to get to the low sofa against the wall. Kat whimpered as he lowered her down, propping her head on the arm.

            Santana stepped out of the way to let Jericho in. The rest of the Inner Circle followed right behind, crowding into the small room. They moved out of the way to let him get to the sofa. His heart pounded in his ears as he studied the pale hue of Kat’s face. At least she was breathing. He could see her chest rise and fall slowly.

            “Sammy, get me a wet towel from the bathroom,” Jericho said as he sat on the edge of the sofa next to her hip. “Jake, go get Doc Sampson.”

            They barely hesitated before heading off on their individual errands. Water ran in the sink in the bathroom. Jake’s heavy footsteps echoed until they were inaudible.

***

            Jack found himself hovering at the end of the sofa, chewing on the edge of his thumb. Kat’s head rolled side to side as she let out faint whimpers of discomfort. Her brow furrowed as her eyelids fluttered. He watched, his skin crawling, as Jericho rested his palm on the curve of her stomach.

            Kat moved sluggishly until her fingers settled over Jericho’s. She drew in a deep, shaky breath that started a rush of color into her cheeks. “Chris?”

            “I’m right here,” Jericho said softly. He reached out as Sammy handed him a damp paper towel, then settled it gently on Kat’s forehead. Jack clenched his fists. “Do you want the lights off?”

            She sighed and put her free hand over the towel. “What happened?”

            Jack felt someone staring holes through his chest. When he looked up, he saw Sanatana glaring at him as if he wanted to shove him straight through the wall. The rage that simmered below the surface of Jack’s skin made him almost hope that Santana made a move. A fight would make him feel better.

            “The boys were being idiots,” Jericho replied. His thumb stroked gently over Kat’s belly. “Santana and Jack were picking a fight with each other, and you got in the middle of it. Worked yourself up yelling at the two of them and got dizzy.”

            For half a second, Jack felt his eyes go wide. He was surprised that Jericho hadn’t just thrown him under the bus over the whole thing.

            “If Jack hadn’t caught you, you’d have bashed your head on the floor.”

            What the fuck is he playing at? Jack thought caustically.

***

            “Is everyone okay?” I asked quietly. My mouth was dry, and it was hard to speak.

            Jericho’s faint laughter rolled over me like the warmth of a blanket. He stroked his palm in soft circles along my stomach. “You’re impossible, Kat,” he said, voice tinged with equal parts worry and happy exasperation. “Yes, everyone’s fine. Nothing happened. You put both of them in their place before anything happened.”

            “Good,” I grunted. “You’re all a bunch of children with your heads up your asses most of the time anyway.”

            He laughed again, louder and more full-bodied this time. “Whatever you say, Katarina.”

            I cracked open one eye and glared at him beneath my lashes. “Don’t start with me, Christopher.”

            Jericho leaned forward and kissed me softly. His nose nuzzled against mine. “You scared the absolute shit out of me.” My fingers wrapped around his as they settled against my belly. “I couldn’t get to you fast enough.”

            I reached up with the other hand and settled my palm against his cheek. The rough stubble scratched pleasantly against my skin. He was warm and close, the scent of Irish Spring filling the space between us. “I’m so sorry.”

            He kissed me again, lingering half a second longer than before. “I shouldn’t have let you talk me into coming back. You should be at home resting. We should be at home.” His lashes brushed against my cheek, followed by the heartbreaking sensation of teardrops. “I promised you that I would take care of you.”

            “You have,” I whispered back. “You do, Chris. It’s not your fault I’m more stubborn than a backwoods Tennessee mule.”

***

            It felt like someone had just punched Jack as hard as they could in the middle of his chest. He couldn’t breathe. His heart seemed to have stopped dead behind his ribs as his father’s voice echoed through his head. It was as if Luke Perry was standing right in front of him just like he’d used to, arms crossed over his chest and staring at him with a light in his eyes that was equal parts frustration and amusement.

            Jack was immediately flung backward in time. Without even trying, he conjured up an image of the Perry farm awash in bright summer sunshine. His father walking along the fence line in faded jeans and a pair of worn boots, baseball cap pulled low over his eyes as he watched horses meander through the clover fields. Kat sitting on the fence and swinging her bare feet playfully. Nighttime washing over everything as he tried to mediate a screaming match between Jack and Kat over some minor thing.

            “I swear to God,” Jack could hear his father say, “the two of you are ridiculous. Stupid. Idiotic. More stubborn than a backwoods Tennessee mule. And I’ve seen a good few of those that were easier to deal with!”

            The memory was so clear, so strong, so real that Jack felt dizzy. He stumbled back, his shoulders slamming against the wall. He gasped as he tried to drag air into his lungs. The sound echoed.

            Caught Kat’s attention.

***

            My head started to swim as I tried to sit up. It took a moment for my vision to clear enough to see Jack practically collapsed against the wall at the end of the sofa. His face was pale, dark eyes standing out.

            “Jack,” I whispered, my voice cracking. Fear lanced up my spine, dragging with it a worry that he wouldn’t answer. That he wouldn’t speak to me. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Jack?”

            He didn’t answer. It was as if he was lost in his own world somewhere. His dark eyes were unfocused, staring off into space. There was something about his face that made my heart fall into my stomach. In that moment, he wasn’t the angry Jack who’d yelled at me and called me a whore on the delivery bay. He looked… sad. Lonely. Vulnerable.

            He looked like the Jack who had once been my best friend.

            I glanced back at Jericho who was still sitting on the sofa next to my hip. There was a shadow of worry behind his blue eyes when he looked at me. His hand rubbed slow circles on my stomach, thumb brushing back and forth. His palm settled low on my belly, feeling for the push and stretch of our baby moving. It was something he’d taken to doing not long after the first kick. He did it absently, as if it was a talisman. A way to calm himself. To remind himself that we were real, that we were here. He took several slow breaths as he watched me. I felt his eyes searching my face.

            I looked at the set of his jaw and knew exactly what he was thinking. The last thing he wanted to do was leave me anywhere alone with Jack Perry.

            My hand settled over his, threading our fingers together. His warmth spread through me as I met his gaze. For just a moment everyone and everything in the room faded away. It was just the two of us. The three of us. My belly stretched and jumped as the little life inside me pressed against it. Jericho closed his eyes and leaned forward. His cheek settled on my chest, lips settled over my heart.

            “I can’t do this, Kat,” he whispered against my collarbone. “I can’t.”

            My free hand settled against the back of his head. The dark blond locks twirled around my fingers. The scent of his shampoo filled the space between us, mixing in with the calming aroma of Irish Spring. “Chris, it’s okay,” I replied soothingly. “Look at me. Look at me, please.”

            Jericho hesitated. Then, instead of looking up, he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me tight against him. His hands slipped beneath my back, drawing me up against his chest and tucking his face against the curve of my neck. My breath caught in my chest as I felt the first tear against my skin.

            “Oh, Chris…” Tears of my own burned up the back of my throat. I gathered him close and pressed a gentle kiss against his forehead. “Talk to me.”

            He was quiet, the tears still settling on my skin. I could feel my heart breaking deep inside my chest. It took a moment for me to realize he was whispering something. It was barely audible, a brush of breath against my neck.

            “Don’t ask me to do this,” he prayed. “I can’t leave you here without me. Not like this. Not right now. Not with him.”

            “Hey, you absolutely ricockulous man,” I said, surprised by the faint smile that spread over my lips. “You stupid, idiotic, moronic, wonderful, amazing man.”

            Jericho finally looked up at me, brows furrowed together. His eyes were glassy and red, and his mouth was curled in a confused frown. He stared at me as if he couldn’t understand why I was on the verge of laughter.

            “You aren’t going off on a tour of Siberia with only a smoke signal to contact me,” I replied, doing my best to keep the incredulous laughter from spilling out. “For Christ’s sake, you’ll be in the hallway. And I know you’ll be listening to every word.”

            “Katarina,” he said with a dark tone carrying beneath his voice.

            I tried so hard not to laugh. I forced my mouth into a serious frown. “Christopher.”

            For a moment Jericho and I stared at one another. I waited. He closed his eyes, scrubbed his fingers over his forehead and sighed.

            “The door stays open.” I watched him glare at Jack, knowing those words weren’t for me.

_____________

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LIGHT OF MY LIFE - M.MAYFIELD ❥

♡ pairings & aus : fem!reader x max mayfield, college au.

♡ summary: college isn’t for everyone. it isn’t for you, but it IS for your girlfriend maxine, who longs to have you back in her dorm with you in her arms instead of being drowned with schoolwork. so, you decide to surprise her in the sweet afternoon of fall.

♡ warnings: fluff, it’s really all just domestic love <3

♡ a/n: this fic reminds me of @snowflakeicicles and her love for max, so here you go gorgeous girl !!

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She’s engulfed in the darkness of her dorm, the pen that lay between her fingers dancing on the yellow pages of her notebook. Her eyebrows quirk with engrossment, eyelids flickering, mimicking the cheap lamp that lit up the corner of her room. Pen clacking against her book, she heaves, her eyelashes kissing softly as she combs through her crimson hair, nimble fingers aching from the mindless repeated action. Her eyes dart to the clock on her wall. The little hand’s on the two, and Max knows that she should’ve been asleep, but the flickering of the lamp and the sea of schoolwork she’s drowning in is enough to keep her awake. 

Plus, she misses you, so that’s shattering her sleep schedule, too. She misses you so bad it’s almost sickening- her heart ached every time you crossed her mind, your bright smile and sweet voice making her heart twist. College was eating her alive, but she loved it- and she couldn’t just leave. Her tuition was through the roof, and she was happy (despite the pile of work she was facing) and you’d slaughter her if she ever even thought about quitting. 

Closing her book shut softly, Max tosses it onto her desk next to her, sinking further into the peeled sheets of her bed, lulling herself to sleep with quiet hums and the rubbing of her thumb against her palms. It’s what you would do when you slept with her and she was having trouble falling asleep, or she was anxious- and it always helped her. Her eyes fluttered closed as she fell into a light slumber, her thumb still grazing over her hand gently. 

Golden rays of sunshine pierce through the girl’s open blinds early the following morning, lustrous ribbons of light shining on her fair skin. She stirs in her rest, moaning lightly at her past self who forgot to close the curtains. The redhead rises, her mascara collecting under her already darkened under eyes as she steps on the rug below her, footsteps stuttering. She makes her way to her window and pushes it open, the autumn breeze sending tranquil chills down her spine. 

On the complete opposite side of Hawkins, you awoke, the thought of your girlfriend being one of the first to enter your mind as you prepared for the day. You were longing to see her. It had been months- she had been shut up in her dorm, rarely calling or coming to visit due to the amount of work and stress she had on her shoulders. 

Saying that you just missed her was a grave understatement. You longed to see her, you needed to- you missed her touch, her smile, her pretty voice- you missed all of her. So, you jumped up and cooked (more like microwaved) yourself breakfast, residue spilling everywhere as you danced around your apartment to the sweet singing of Stevie Wonder, distant bird chirping doubling as his accompaniment. You throw on an outfit and make your way to Family Video to one, bother Steve and Robin per usual, and two, to grab a movie for you and Max to watch at her dorm. 

Steve and Robin greet you with open arms, helping you pick out the perfect film to watch with your girlfriend. Your heart was pulsing with excitement as the door chimed when you walked out after thanking them, two different movies filling your palms as you put them in the passenger seat, preparing to make your next stop. 

Max loved sunflowers- they made her smile from ear to ear whenever she received them, as if they were an instant mood booster, so you were on a mission to grab some for her. They were a little bit harder to find than usual, but once you did find them, you set them gently in the backseat of your car along with a little note attached. 

Your drive was hectic, the traffic of downtown Indiana making you honk the horn at angry drivers who swerved from lane to lane, but you kept your composure despite it all. 

When you finally made it to Max’s dorm, you knocked softly at her door, rocking back on your feet naturally. She had been sitting in her bed for hours prior to your arrival, unable to even get up out of it because she was so tired. But something was telling her to answer the knocking at her door, so she rose from her comfortable spot, unlocking the door with a click. 

You looked up.

She looked at you. 

Her whole world came to a stop. 

Her jaw fell slack at the sight of you, an awkward smile tugging at your lips, the flowers and movies clutched in either of your hands. You waved with your flower-accented one, “Hi, Maxie.”

“Y/N, oh my gosh…hi.” She speaks softly, like her words may hurt you, and she waves you inside, plopping back on her bed as her feet swing happily back and forth. You shut the door behind yourself and seat yourself across from her, looking into her cloudy blue eyes. She looks tired, drained- her makeup from what seems like days ago spotting her face and eyes, clad in nothing but a big ‘ole t-shirt and pretty, orange panties. She’s got on long socks that trail from her feet to the middle of her calves, cute little flowers plastered all on them. 

Despite her tired state, she looks perfect. 

Max eyes the flowers that sit in your palms, “Those for me?” 

You hum in response, handing them to her. She coos over them with a smile, “They’re so pretty. Thank you so much, baby.” 

She’s so pretty, the way her whole face lights up when you hand her the sunflowers. She sniffs at them, her eyes batting closed, “Did you get these from-?”

“Yup,” you nodded proudly, “Just how you like ‘em.”

Her expression softens, her bottom lip turning downward. She places the flowers on her bedside table, then looks at you with open arms, “C’mere you.” 

You’re grinning so hard that your cheeks ache as you lay on her chest, your head turning to look up at her. 

“Missed you so bad, holy shit, it’s crazy,” she murmurs against your forehead before planting a kiss there, “School’s got me sprialing, I’ve gotta have my essay in by tomorrow and I’m still on the first paragraph.”

You both exchange giggles as you rub her hand that rests on your own chest, “‘S okay, Maxie, you’ll get through it. Y’know, I’ve missed you so much, so I figured I’d swing by and spend some time with my girl. You know, to give you a break.” 

She’s so overjoyed with your presence that she peppers light kisses all over your face, making you squirm beneath her touch. Max can’t help it- now that you’re here, in her arms to be precise, she doesn’t plan on letting you go, and you could really blame her?

Her kisses come to a stop as she looks down at you, a blush blossoming against her cheeks, “You know you’re the light of my life, right? I never get tired of seeing you.” 

You feel like you might cry. Looking up at your girlfriend, you smile hard, “Really?”

“Really.”

She strokes your hair, and there’s something about her gentle touch that causes you to feel sleepy- and as she holds you, you can’t help but rest in her embrace, her soft strokes further coaxing you bat your eyes sleepily in her arms. Lord knows she needs the rest too, so she rests her head on the woodwork behind her, eyes closing slowly. 

And she doesn’t feel it at first, but when she does, she peers down at her hands to see you softly rubbing at her palm, a sweet smile etched on your face. 

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

We talk about how vampy would be soft when y/ns sleepy but omg imagine how she’d be when he’s sleepy every once in while 😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔 so soft and cuddley and warm w him 😔

“Are you sleepy?”

Harry’s voice pipes up stubbornly from where he’s snuggled against Y/N’s chest, his arms clinging around her torso as he lays between her parted legs, head cushioned by her plush chest. “No.”

Despite the bluntness in his response, Y/N can read through his dry tone as easily as she’d look through glass. His accent is sloppier and more sluggish than usual, and the pitch of his voice has tuned down to a drowsy drawl, which he can’t hide no matter how hard he tries. His eyes are cracked open, but his lashes droop closed every few seconds for longer than acceptable, only to snap back open with defiance when his brain realizes his impulses are failing him.

It’s evident that he’s struggling to keep his eyelids from melting shut completely, and the way the lean muscles of his bare back rise and fall rhythmically is a dead giveaway that he’s slowly succumbing to exhaustion, alongside the fact that the weight of his body has become heavier and heavier as he sinks deeper into the sofa below.

Y/N delights herself with threading her fingers through his tousled curls, twirling them around each digit and tugging lightly, listening in carefully as her boyfriend hums in drunken agreement as a result of her mellow doting. She scratches at his scalp delicately, gluing her lips between his slightly furrowed brows, feeling the creases between them dissolve below her skin. Her other hand perches across the back of his shoulder blades, massaging the area tenderly, gradually unknotting any tension that is keeping him from giving into sleep.

Harry may be the most hardheaded person she has ever met, but even he can’t resist the surrender that comes with being babied by someone you have an attachment to.

Y/N’s voice swims through the air like a lullaby, dainty and fragile, as if not to disturb the hazy membrane forming across the surface of his muted eyes. “Just get some rest, H. I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

“I’m fine.” He insists, adamant against forfeiting any time he has with her by allowing himself to fall unconscious.

If he goes to sleep, she’ll likely follow soon after, and by the time they wake up, who knows how many hours will have listed by without his knowledge. He just wants to soak up every ounce of her company he can, and if he relents under her warm touch and pillowy chest, he relents that quality time he’s become so dependent on.

“And stop rocking me. That’s not gonna work, I’m not five.”

“You certainly behave like you are.” Y/N huffs, shaking her head at his rebellious antics. “You’re gonna get all cranky and bitter if you don’t get some sleep.”

“I’m already cranky and bitter. It’s my default.”

“Exactly. And frankly, I’m not too keen on seeing what happens when you reach the danger zone.”

The immortal squeezes her hips playfully with his large palms, a weak smile stringing across his lips. “You’ve already seen it. You see it pretty regularly during sex, considering you love being an annoying brat.”

“Even half-asleep, you’re still unbearable.”

“Mm.” Harry hugs her tighter, a light shiver coiling down his spine as she traces her name onto the naked skin of his back. “Keeps me young.”

“Just go to bed, baby.” Y/N tucks a few curls back from his forehead, kissing the newly-exposed area with a type of care only she can ever provide. She thumbs over the slopes of his sharp cheekbones, following the curves up to his eyelids and rubbing over them in soothing circles, holding out hope that the pacifying motions will sway him in her favor. “Please.”

The sincerity and concern behind her tone makes Harry’s insides liquify into lovesick goo. He finally caves, his answer begrudging and relieved all at once. “Fine. Only for a bit.”

“Thank you.” His girlfriend kisses the tip of his cold nose sweetly, which results in a comforting heat erupting along every fiber of his being. “Just wanna make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”

Harry bumps his nose against her chin in return, his forehead plopping against her jaw as he begins fading away almost immediately. Now that he’s let his guard down, he’s coming to the realization of just how much he needs this. “Promise me you’ll wake me up if you need anything.”

“Promise.”

“And don’t go drawing any dicks on my face or next time you ask me to choke you, I won’t stop.”

“Fair enough.”

[yanderenightmare]

Can you write some more about nice guy jock kiri? Please and thank you. Have a good day!

yandere ! KIRISHIMA EIJIRO - RED RIOT

goodiebag WARNINGS: nsfw, dubcon/noncon, suggestive language, manipulation, coercion

THAT ESCALATED QUICKLY

He said she could pick the movie this time.

He said she could pick out any movie at all. Whatever she wanted, they were going to watch. Yet in the time she’d spent making lunch, Kirishima sprawled lazily in her bed, browsing half-mindedly, eyes sliding from viewing the screen to looking at her round grabbable ass dancing as she padded about the small kitchen, begging for him to come pinch as she put the stir-fry in bowls and walked over to plot herself down next to the muscly block of man, he’d already picked a movie, far away from something she’d choose, though when eyeing what puppy-dog look he gave her, she couldn't very well say no.

Kirishima has always been clingy. She wouldn't like to call it suffocating, or controlling, though it does border on the word. But she cannot blame him for being handsy and suggestive when they’re alone, in her apartment, in her bed. He’s always been needy, always touching her, so very big-hearted and forward, easily distracted, easily discarding of tasks in favor of doing what new activity calls for his attention, like a dog.

She was becoming quite used to his confident nature, how hap-hazardously he would go about touching her, kissing and licking at her the way he so often went about doing, so much so it was strange to think that they hadn't ever actually slept together.

They had been dating for a couple weeks, and Kirishima was clear about his intentions and aspirations and wants and needs from the start, being a very open honest person, but she couldn't help but feel as though he was pushing her, nudging her, guilt-tripping her with candid words of how horny he was because of her, how frustrated he was, how frigid, how it was effecting his schoolwork, how good a boyfriend he was for waiting, for being patient and tolerant, how she couldn't blame him for wanting something in return, even though that something was a thing she wasn't ready to give him.

It would be wrong if she said he didn't respect her wishes, because he had, albeit begrudgingly. Each time she invited him over, or... he invited himself over,  when he became rowdy, it would always take a good amount of bargaining and persuasion on her side, which was always met with even more coaxing and encouragement from him. How he would message his hand into the inside of her thigh, and she would push ever so gently to keep him at bay until he finally laid off, the mood stiff and awkward as he left her apartment to walk to his own place, alone, with a rejected boner he would have to take care of alone, then go to sleep alone, and wake up alone. He had still respected her wish in the end, or... maybe not respected, but at least accepted it.

She hadn't picked out the movie, and it being something she hadn't really invested very much thought into, she didn't try and stop him from nuzzling into her neck, kissing and sucking on the tender flesh found there. She allowed him to lift her shirt up to rub circles into her stomach with his warm roughened hand, let him grab and grope and mold her breast through the fabric of her bra, let him swing his leg over her body, to lock her position beneath him and his brawny heavy frame as he cuddled into her.

She could already feel the stiff bulge bump into her thigh, tried to forgive him for always riling himself up when he knows what her answer’s going to be, knows how she isn't ready to give him what he wants. Hearing his breathing picking up, becoming rugged and raspy, hot against her neck as he tried humping into her, having rolled and positioned and handled both their bodies so he could lie between her thighs, face mushed into the soft skin of her neck, nipping at her collarbones , spiky hair poking into the underside of her chin, hands abrasive when squeezing at the flesh of her ass and thighs, gripping them to lock around his torso, venturing to grab at her waist and breasts, becoming more and more frenzied, more and more rugged, forgetting his strength, forgetting her protests, getting more and more carried away.

She jolted once she felt his fingers hook into the band of her panties, having slipped up her skirt and spidered playfully up her thigh. She grabbed his arms loosely, small hands obviously not able to wrap around the thickness of his muscles, though applying what strength she deemed necessary to make him take her seriously, lightly digging her fingernails into his skin. “Uhm, Kiri-” She squeaked unsurely, breaching the shapeless noisy silence of heavy breathing and rugged groans and building growls that had filled the room, movie still quietly playing in the background, white noise completely ignored by the burning of her ears.

“Come on, let me feel.” He purred into her ear, giving her lobe a nibble. 

“Uhm, I don't think-” She shoved at him, balls of her feet digging into the mattress, trying to sit up.

He laid his weight down on her, immobilizing her movement, keeping her under him. “Come on...” He drawled, voice rumbling. “Please?” Mumbling into her skin, knowing how it always makes her giggle from the tickle by the light scruff on his chin, knowing it makes her sweet and pliable. “Pretty please? It’ll feel good, I promise.” 

He didn't really wait for any response, his face mushed into her neck, seeming cute as he pleaded but also acting as a great trap, his hand succeeded in pushing her panties aside, warm worn fingers, foreignly larger cuddled with the sensitivity kept there. His breath shuddered, lips spreading into a toothy grin against her neck, so wide she could feel it. 

“Aww.” He moaned. “That’s so warm and wet.” She cringed, but hadn't the time to tell him to stop, hadn't the time to decide that she valued her limits more than maintaining the good vibe, and then she hadn't the mind to really think about it at all, too preoccupied with wrapping her thoughts around the fact that Eijiro had just pushed one thick knuckled finger inside her, roughly at that, pumped it in, stuffed her with it, with an equally chaffed thumb-pad laying heavy pressure down into her little beading clit.

It would probably have felt awful, the brutish boyish clumsy inconsiderate rubbing, but having him dry-hump into her for the better half of the entire movie made for a little messy spill between her thighs, perfectly ready to make whatever rough movement he gave seem like God’s touch, enough to have her moan at once.

“Does that feel good?” He asked, cocky undertone almost completely smoked out by livid lust, his arousal so very clear in his voice as he removed his weight when feeling her body melt and comply to what his hand was giving her of bliss. His large muscly frame rising to kneel between her legs, having her thighs hiked up and spread atop of his, forehead resting against hers. She bobbed her head in a series of quick sporadic nods, teeth biting harshly into her lip as she watched with a bowed head his finger disappear in and out the vulnerable sensitivity found between her spread thighs, the smell of beer on his heavy hot breaths fan over her face before he kissed her head. “You wanna cum?” She gave a moan, indicating an unspoken yes as he rubbed his thumb over and over her tender pearl, pushing another one of his long fingers inside her, making her gasp out a moan, mewing as he curled and scissored the two digits inside her, making her inevitable unraveling arrive much quicker.

He wiped his sticky hand on his pant leg with a small smug smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth, watching as her head fell back to rest against the pillow again, beginning to unbutton his jeans. 

The sound of him sliding down his zipper pulled her focus back, eyelids fluttering open just in time to watch him pull his throbbing hard erection out with a sigh. And though the red-head had gone about the reveal in an unceremonious manner, whether it was out of lack of showmanship or Kirishima deeming it unnecessary, it didn't really matter to the virgin beneath him. She took one look and she wasn’t able to look away. A surprising black bush drew her focus at first, what more the two easter-eggs that seemed to be nestling there, but not before long her eyes felt the need to follow what bulging pumping purple vein ran up the underside of the thickness, almost like a spine, or a pin that reached up to a red-blushed head, glossed like a candy-apple, with a slit running though it and a spill of pre-cum dripping down to disappear in the dark forest below.

She could swear it sized up to her whole arm’s-length.

Her eyebrows knitted as she continued eyeing the hard pole, watching it bob with strength, straining against his stomach, standing proudly on it’s own as he lifted his shirt off his arms and shoulders, throwing it to the floor, revealing what mouthwatering washboard rock-hard abs he kept beneath. 

His hand once again reached out, this time to grab her wrist, guiding her shaking hand back to his thick member, watching her hesitate to wrap her delicate little fingers around his length once he squeezed her wrist too hard in impatience, seeing her bite her lip at the feel of the almost rubbery-smooth texture of his length in her palm, warm to the touch. His larger hand wrapped around her smaller one, guiding the movement as he started pumping up and down.

He groaned, head hung and resting atop her shoulder where he knelt with her sitting form in his lap, red eyes with wide pupils locked on watching her small hand loosely holding onto him, his cock looking so unbelievably huge in her tiny grasp, like some beast, where the more he thought about it and the more he looked, it was big compared to all of her, he could only imagine what she was thinking as she eyed his length with that cute childish level of curiosity and sweet tinge of virgin anxiety. She needed to bite her lip to prevent it from trembling, wanting to squeeze her thighs shut when they too became unruly, wanting to protect what was kept between them.

It only made his cock throb even harder.

“I- fuck-” He grunted, thrusting shallowly up into her hand by angling his hips up, looking down upon her enticing pretty silken dew-kissed heat, his finger greedily reaching to touch the tender entrance only to hear her whimper out a small whine at once when his rough digits brazenly made contact. “You’re so shy, it’s adorable.” 

The loosely given hand-job felt good around his priorly ignored arousal, what with how sensitive he was, but was missing what her pussy was welcomingly dripping with. 

He lowered himself, hand grabbing his base to steady the attack, yet was declined by her placing her own hand in front of the poor unsuspecting virgin tightness. “Uhm, Kiri- I-”

He shushed at her, prying her hand easily away, replacing it with his own, rubbing those electrical patterns he did before into her pretty budding pearl. “No, no, Baby. Come on. Pretty please, it’ll feel so good, I’ll be gentle okay? It’ll be good, I promise.” He swirled his thumb over her clit, an act far from gentle, though sending those sharp involuntary spikes of pleasure into her core, giving to something pooling in her stomach, something warm and sticky and heavier than before, almost burdening with how it strained in the muscles of her thighs, making her shake beneath the man’s mere thumb. “I love you, Baby, don't you want us to take the next step?”

“Uhm...” She gasped as he abused the sensitivity under his course strength.

“Thank you, Baby.” He purred, lips carved into a smile fit for devouring, planting kisses down her face and into her neck, his cock pushing into the velvet folds.

But she backed up, balls of her feet pushing into the mattress, her palms doing the same, but Kirishima had other plans, none of them including letting her up.

“Kiri, no-” She pushed lightly at his chest then, as she’d done before, trying to soothe and smooth over the feathers she’d ruffled, trying ever so gently in those small soft caresses to apologize for having riled him up so.

But seems this time he wouldn't have that either, her hands cupped and pulled rather dismissively out of the way, dominated by his own and how he intertwined his digits, raking them in with her dainty ones, locking their hands, or rather securing hers, before pushing them flat into the sheets beside her, giving him full access to what lied beneath him without her bothersome fists getting in his way. “Come on, Babe... stop being a little tease...” Her hands slipped their confinements in his as he rather needed them to manage her body, felt that twitching itch to grab and grope and tug and pull at all her doughy flesh. She gasped as he groped a mans handful of her ass, bumping his bare cock into her, rubbing it up and over her pussy, bobbing between their stomachs.

His face was still so adamant on nibbling at the flesh of her collar, leaving what she knew to be ugly swelling purple stains that turned into those vile green and yellow marks looking like fungus blooming on her skin. “I’m sorry-” It was all too much to have his warm skin pressed against her, his naked hardness, all of him, his rough hands, his brutish needle-sharp teeth, that thing that poked at her, humped into her where he’d made a sticky wet hot mess, with her underwear put somewhere out of sight and most definitely out of reach. “I’m not ready to-” Her hands tried softly but with increasing effort at getting him off, trying to get her discomfort across to the seemingly clueless baboon who was handling her body to his own selfish ends on top of her. 

“It’s fine.” His voice was heated, soft despite trodding over her own, as he tried calming her down, again with his hands tugging at her wrists and pushing the annoying things away from him, again so he could lie himself down on top of her. “We’ll try something-” His efforts at soothing her weren’t appreciated by the girl beneath as she continued pushing, bordering on thrashing beneath the giant red-head.

“Kiri, stop. ” There was an edge to her voice this time, an edge he didn’t appreciate.

Large hand wrapped their fingers around her wrist and crushed it with a strength she couldn't hope to match, a dark chuckle following, rumbling just beside her ear alongside a small smile carving his lips at the cute pop of bones followed by her whimper. “Stop being so difficult, Babe.” He chastised, voice dismissive and completely unbothered by her spiked struggles, treating her reluctance like it was nothing but a minor inconvenience he could simply swat away like a fly. “I know you’ll like it, you just need to-”

“I don’t need to do anything!” She cried now, adorable small whines as she tried prying her hand out of his hold. “Get off me!”

“Kinda feels like you’re trying to piss me off here.” His tone darkened, and so did the look in his eyes, and though she was just short of bawling with the lump  of hopelessness and fear caught stuck in her throat, the adrenaline gave her such a rush of confidence as her leg finally managed to shuffle under his, allowing her to knee him right in that swelled thick slug he was so transfixed on appeasing.

And though she managed briefly to slip out from beneath him, it was no victory, and she felt that ounce of triumph that fluttered in her heart snuff out at the feel of his brawny taunt and rock hard arms wrap around her torso, hoisting her off the ground, only to throw her right back where she’d been laying not moments ago.

“Please, Eijirou, please, you're scaring me, stop.” She kicked now, flopping beneath him like a fish hauled up on a boat, tried prying her hands out of his grasp yet couldn't stop him from holding her down, rolling her on her stomach while he pulled off his uniform necktie, bending her arms behind her back and tightening the noose around her wrists, pulling the tail between them to secure the knot tightly, before rolling her back with her hands being crushed beneath her.

Her face reappeared tear-slicked and panicked. “There we go, all pretty and perfect for me.” He lightly tapped her face as he stuffed her mouth with the panties he fished back up from his pockets, settling between her legs again as she whined through the make-shift gag.

Rough course hand, like sandpaper, like rock, slid down between her thighs, slowly in their venture, pushing and kneading into the softness, hungry as they groped and pushed her open, wrapped her around his torso so he could slap his rock-solid cock onto her vulnerable little opening.

“Let me paint a picture for you, Babe.” He started, catching her attention. 

Her eyes so unbelievably wide as she looked up at him through the thick hazy ominous darkness of the room, a darkness that once seemed so cozy now so overwhelming, the sun having gone down, the TV turned to black, the lights left off and the only glimmer coming from the streetlights and the dim white glow of the moon shining in through her window, leaving Kirishima’s sharp teeth to hang above her and how they seemed to drip, eerie shadows cast upon his face, eyes red and hazy, drooped to slits, drunk and cocky as he continued rubbing his cockhead up through the lips of her pussy ever so causally, like she wasn’t bound and bawling beneath him. 

“So listen up and listen carefully. Can you do that, Babe?” 

She felt cold suddenly, chilled to her core by his tone, reduced to shivering beneath his confident touch, shuddering where she laid, chest pushed upward above the support her arms gave, head drawing in the dune of her pillow, thighs lifted to straddle her boyfriend’s waist, his hand keeping her there by curling his thumb into the underside of her knee. 

“The way I see it, you have two options.” He leaned in, voice sturdy but soft like a straight-jacket. “Either you be my good girl and give me what’s mine.” Tone swooping low into a growl. “Or...” 

His hands moved steadily as they began unbuttoning her shirt from the bottom up, planting a kiss on the newly exposed skin of her tummy, just short of her belly-button. The light scruff of his chin tickling the thin skin it rubbed against as he continued licking and nibbling on the flesh the more it was exposed to him. 

“You run along to your friends, tell them what a bad bad guy I am. They ask for proof, but silly little you have no proof to give.” He chuckled, warm breath breezed on the peach-fuzz of her chest as he kept sucking his marks into her, hands fingering the last of her buttons. “People love me, Buttercup, so let me ask you this...” The crimson spikes of his hair stuck into the underside of her chin as he licked up her throat, kissed her jaw and bit at her earlobe, whispering. “Who’s side you think they gonna take?” Humming as he watched another fat tear run down her cheek. “You go to the teachers, they ask for proof, something you still don’t have because there is none. And even if they did believe you... no saying they’d do anything about it. I’m destined to be a billboard hero. Do you really think they’ll throw all that away on some ditz from general studies?” Question after question, answer after answer, each one another stab and twist of the rusty blade in her hope. “Think again.” With her shirt open she witnessed him morph his hand into sharp rock, a jagged finger burrowing beneath the bridge of her bra and cutting the thick fabric loose, now fully exposed to his mouthful of teeth and slobbering tongue. “Hate to break it to you, but that’s not how the world works, Sweetheart.” 

She closed her eyes, clamped them shut, but it only helped her feel all his entitled actions even more, how he moved, rightfully, regardlessly, without regret or remorse. She swore she could feel him pulsating against her, his cock pumping against her swollen clit, where she could argue that the rip of him tearing apart her skirt was the loudest noise she’d ever heard in her life. 

“And perhaps it ends there, but I know you. You continue, trying to make anyone believe you, eventually ending up in management for crazy obsessed fanatic fangirls -of which I have many- or you give up.” His mouth enclosed her nipple, tongue swirling around the bud, fingers tweaking the other breast with boyish greediness. “Either way, you end up missing. With no friends to bother coming to find you, thinking that your delusional ass offed yourself, when in reality...” 

Large hand curling around her neck, squeezing as he rose to look down at her, rock his hips to allow his cock more friction, sliding up and down between her thighs, bobbing against her stomach, thrumming and spilling thick whiteness, dripping and smearing onto her skin. 

“You’re right back here with me.” 

Her heart skipped, seemed to stop, everything seemed to stop. His words hung poised, forgetting how to drop, like dust settling, lingering about the air as she looked up at him, thinking he looked like the onset of hell, like a demon, his hair like horns, his eyes like hellfire, and those teeth, those sharp unforgiving teeth. 

“You see, if you don’t give, I will take.” He juggled her head with the tight grip he had on her jaw, playing with her as his other hand swept through her delicate sensitive folds, made her cringe, try and shimmy away, all to his disgusting amusement shown in the snaggletooth that hooked over his lip as he smirked a grim curled line. “And right now it looks to me like I might just have to show you just how defenseless you are to stop me.” His digits wiggled inside her, and she whined into her panties as she sucked on them, her eyes clinging to the dangerous heat simmering inside his. “Aww see? You’re already getting so wet. Your body sure knows who it belongs to, I’m sure you will too, very soon.”

[nctsworld]

the yuletide boyfriend

✩‌ yangyang ‌x‌ ‌reader‌ ‌|‌ fluff | angst | smut | friends to lovers | ‌college au | 9k

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ your one wish this year is to not be single during the holidays. yangyang, as your best friend, takes it upon himself to be your temporary boyfriend. soon enough, both parties begin to wish this new arrangement could last beyond the holidays. // part of the x-mas in ncity collection WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ implied ‌anxiety attack (during the first part of dec 24th – skip if need to), smut, mutual m*sturbation, couch s*x, angst, miscommunication, swearing RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ mature TAGLIST ⇾ @infnteen​ 

AUTHOR’S NOTE ⇾ this is my longest fic to date and also... might be my worst b/c i feel like the angst plot points don’t really make sense... but i hope y’all still enjoy!!! 

⇾ gif created by me, please don’t share or repost without credit!

NOVEMBER 30th

“So, anything special on your wishlist this year?”

Your best friend, Yangyang, asks you as you two sit next to each other on one of the many plush lounge couches in the Psychology building. It’s the usual lunch spot where you meet with him during your break between lectures.

The Psych building held much sentimental value for both of you because you met in Psych 101 during first year. Fast-forward three years later, neither of you expected to be the close friends that you are today.  

Chewing your sandwich, you ponder on his question for a bit. Through the transparent glass walls leading to outside, you see the trickle of students heading towards the building since class is about to start for the noon round of lectures. A couple, you assume by the tight hand-holding and nose kissing, giggles as they enter the building, glued to one another by the hip.

“Not really.” You drop your head downward to your lunch container, smiling to yourself. “I’m honestly just happy to have Mark in my life, especially at this point in the year.”

Yangyang nods in accordance and smiles too, understanding the story behind your sentiment.

The boyfriends you’ve had since first year have always broken up with you before the holidays, right before the end of November. Since you only became close during second year, Yangyang’s been around for two out of three of your cursed holiday break-ups.

To have Mark, your latest boyfriend, be with you and it being already December tomorrow, it was truly a blessing for you and a silver lining that maybe this was the year to break the curse. Yangyang was grateful too, wanting you to have the utmost happiness.    

You take another bite of your sandwich and tilt your chin toward the ramen eater.

“You?”

Yangyang slurps a few more noodles before he answers.

“I mean, the new Playstation would be nice,” he hums, mouth full.

Pointing the tip of your sandwich, you joke, “I’ll get it for you, but only if we share custody over it.”

“Mm-mm,” he shakes his head during a mid-slurp. “You know I can’t promise that.”

Both of you laugh in unison, living in the calm before the oncoming storm.

DECEMBER 5th

The E-Sports club for the university is hosting a party tonight and because Yangyang’s on one of the professional teams, he asked a few weeks ago if you and Mark wanted to attend. Of course you accepted; Mark also had some friends in the club.

However, when you text Yangyang in the afternoon, stating a change of mind, he knows something’s off.

Half an hour before the party starts, Yangyang decides to visit you. Thankfully you both lived on campus, but even if you lived across town, he’d still bus out to see how you were doing. He does it all the time to visit his family, anyway.  

In the living room, the two sudden knocks at your door startle you. Peering through the peephole, you see the usual sight of your best friend, his lips curled upward and thumbs tucked in his pockets as he rocks on the balls of his feet.

It feels like an eternity for him when you unlock your door. The hinges squeal as you open it hesitatingly, your face barely appearing through the agape crack.

Immediately, his smile dissolves. Your face is drained and blood-shot eyes avoiding his own confront him.

Yangyang has only seen you cry twice in the three years he’s known you:

Once, when you were freaking the fuck out over potentially failing a course (but, on the upside, you ended up passing the final to save your grade).

The second time was at his house for a family dinner, when his mom accidentally added too much hot chili sauce to her homemade beef noodle soup (let’s just say you weren’t the only one crying that night).

Those were tears of dread and physical discomfort.

But this… this was crying he’s never seen from you before. His chest collapses inward, fearful of the reason behind your tears.  

His voice shakes as he asks, “What happened? Are you okay?”

Neither of you are major huggers and only exchange them on the rare occasion.

However, this situation screams the necessity of it, so Yangyang lunges towards you, the collision swinging the door out of the way. His arms embrace you like a large, warm blanket. Comforting and safe.  

Despite the affection, emptiness has taken over your body. Tonight, you’re a dead, empty shell of who you normally are.

You feel weak to the bone, but you muster up enough energy to scarcely raise your arms over his back to return the hug. Your eyes are dry from all the crying you’ve done all day, but apparently you have more tears left in you to spare.

Your eyelids snap shut and your jaw clenches.  

“Mark broke up with me.”

Your words are muffled into his shoulder, but Yangyang hears it crystal clear.  

You break down, sobbing out of control over the statement.

As aforementioned, Yangyang’s been around for your last two, now three, break-ups. Sure, he’s aware of how grumpy and distant you can get, but you never cried in front of him. You made an effort to never have him see you at your lowest point.

And yet, here you are, drowning him in your misery. Guilt washes over you for drenching his bomber jacket, but Yangyang couldn’t give two shits. His arms squeeze tighter while he rubs your back tenderly.

After several minutes pass and your waterworks abate, you peel away from him. You sniffle and rub your nose with the back of your hand.

“Sorry about cancelling last minute.”

“Hey, no need to apologize,” he whispers soothingly.

“I’m just… so fucking frustrated.”

With fatigued eyes, you drag yourself back inside your apartment. Yangyang discreetly closes the door behind him and hurriedly uses his feet to push off his shoes. As he does so, your mouth begins to run off while you slowly pace around aimlessly.  

“Fucking done with boyfriends, especially when they think it’s so fucking awesome to keep breaking up with me right before the holidays.”

He kicks off his last stubborn shoe and catches you raking your hands through your hair, pulling it back firmly. Your lips are trembling, along with your entire frame.  

“Like I get that I’m horrible and needy and emotional—”

His mouth opens, wanting to cut in to disagree with you with all his heart, but he clamps it back shut and swallows, allowing you to blow your steam off.

“—but can’t they wait until the fucking new year? I don’t know, or maybe just don’t date me in the first place! I don’t know, I don’t fucking know anymore. I’m just cursed, Yangyang...”

You flop down onto the couch and sink into the ocean of shiny pleather, shutting your eyes and trying to stop crying for the nth time. The deep sting behind your eyelids pain you, but it pains Yangyang more to watch the events unfolding ahead of him.  

Unsure of what to say, Yangyang walks around the room. His gaze falls on your laptop screen and he frowns at the mostly bare Word document that stares back at him:  

“WISHLIST:   -KEEP ONE (1) FUCKING BOYFRIEND DURING THE CHRISTMAS SEASON!!!!!!!! GOD FUCKING SDKMFLDS”

There are a few more lines below it with more profanities and keyboard smashing. He quickly darts away, a pang of guilt striking for invading your privacy.

Then, he turns to you on the couch again. You’re now covering your eyes with your forearm, pressing your lips together. His chest twists and his throat is arid as a desert.

You’re in shambles and he’s dying to pick up the shattered pieces of you, wants to glue you back together. On a regular basis, Yangyang’s a talking machine and can talk your ear off for hours, but right now, he doesn’t know what to say to you in your current state. He second-guesses himself, wonders if he’s even that great of a friend if he can’t comfort you in your worst times.

Blowing out a long sigh and removing your arm, you speak aloud, “You should get going to the party.”

Like awakening from a deep slumber, you rise up sluggishly and sit up on the couch, slouched over. The other figure in the room steps closer to you.  

“Sorry about your jacket, by the way,” you say. Your body is still, but your glazed eyes move to the dark spot on the middle of his shoulder. He glances at it and shrugs.  

“It’s better like this anyway,” he says with a gentle smile, and the tight knot in his heart softens at the flicker of your own smile, albeit a small one. Unfortunately, it fades in a few seconds. “I don’t want to leave you like this, though.”

You stare at the used, crumpled balls of tissues scattered on the living room table. Some also ended up on the floor. Break-ups are shit and 98% inevitable, but you know you’ll eventually get over it. You always do.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

He raises an eyebrow, as if asking, “Are you sure?” The lack of a worded reply causes you to notice the question written on his face.  

“Go,” you plead with a feeble laugh. “Have fun for me.”

Both of you head towards your front door again. Crossing your arms, you lean your head against the door frame and attempt a smile for your best friend.

“Thanks again for checking up on me.”

Yangyang nods with a half-smile, half-pout, “Of course.”

You give him a departing wave prior to sealing your door.

Usually, Yangyang would bus from your place to the student union building, where the party is being held. Instead, he zippers up his jacket and stuffs his fists into his pockets, opting to bear the early winter chill to walk his thoughts off. His blazing self-doubt burns at first, but he overcomes it by focusing on ideas to fix your accursed dating rut instead.  

Halfway through the walk, a light bulb moment occurs. A plan begins to brew on the surface of his mind and he thinks on it for the rest of the week.  

DECEMBER 11th

It’s been almost a week since you last saw Yangyang.

Finals started already, so classes were done for the semester and thus, your lunch meet-ups halted too. On top of that, since you were simultaneously moping and studying, you hadn’t really texted him much, nor had he, besides the occasional check-up text on how studying was going and random memes. Yangyang knew you preferred time alone to heal and he respected that.  

He also thought six days was enough time to get yourself back on your feet.  

Yangyang’s at your front door once again, but this time with two bowls of his mom’s beef noodle soup in tow.  

“Long time, no see,” you greet. Your tone is chipper, but your eyes look heavy, which could be partially from studying, Yangyang thinks. His smile deepens, content that you seem a lot better than the last time he visited.

“Delivery for two,” he raises the bag in his hand.

“And if I told you I already ate dinner?” you playfully retort.

The boyish man shrugs defeatedly, “Then I’ll tell my mom you hate her cooking—”

“You didn’t say it was your mom’s, Yangyang. Oh, my God,” you gasp, half-mockingly. You rush to grab the bags out of his hand and stroll towards your tiny kitchen. “Start off with that next time.”

As you remove the containers from the bag and onto the granite countertop, Yangyang shuts the door and takes his shoes off.  

“So, I’m gonna be upfront and say that I may have come here with a proposal.”

“Changed your mind about the shared custody of the Playstation?”

“I’m still considering that one.” Finally in his socks, he slings his backpack off his shoulder and plops it onto the couch along with his jacket. He stands next to you by the counter. “But it’s on the same page as that. Remember that day we were talking about wishlists?”

“Mm-hmm,” you hum as you rip off the lid of one of the bowls. Blatant wisps fly upward and you inhale the savoury aroma, followed by a heavenly sigh.  

“Last time I was here… I might’ve seen what you wrote on your laptop.”

Your expression immediately changes into full-on cringe. You bring a palm over to your face.

“Oh, God. Let’s not talk about that. That was just weepy, lonely me talking.”

Yangyang pops off the lid for his bowl and steps into your kitchen, rummaging through your drawers for chopsticks. “So you’re telling me you don’t want a boyfriend for Christmas?”

Your hand flies off your face. Eyes widening, you spew, “Do you have a boyfriend in your pocket, ready for me to have?”

In your open hand, he places a pair of chopsticks into it. “Well, actually, I was thinking—”

Sternly, you point the chopsticks at him. “Don’t you dare set me up with your friends.”

He counters and points his at you, “Even better than that.”

With your interest piqued, you slide yourself onto the counter stool and mix the noodles around, anticipating to hear Yangyang’s fantastic plan. Your friend sits on the other stool, facing you. He pauses for a second, taking a deep breath.  

“Why don’t I be your boyfriend for the holidays?”

You freeze, and the noodles’ drips above your bowl are deafening to both individuals. Laughing awkwardly, you break your frozen state to drop your chopsticks and turn your head to look at him.

Sputtering, you say, “What?”

Unnerved, his mouth pinches to one side, thinking maybe he shouldn’t have even said anything in the first place. This was stupid, so stupid, but it’s out in the open and Yangyang already dug his grave—he may as well lay in it.  

“Well, for one, it’s something on your wishlist that I can easily get,” he pauses mid-sentence, glancing upward in thought. “Well, really, fill? Is that a better way to put it?”

He continues, eyes back on you, “And two, I’m not setting you up with a stranger or someone you wouldn’t be comfortable with. I assume you know me well enough that you’re comfortable around me?”

Yangyang lifts an upturned palm and raises an eyebrow, waiting for a response to his assumption. Petulantly, you shake your head playfully and stick out your tongue at him.  

Rubbing the back of his neck, his gaze drops down to the floor for his last point. His voice lowers.

“And, I don’t know, we’d just hang out like we usually do during that time, except we’d do more couple-y things.”

Realizing the implication of his words, he widens his eyes. “I mean, we'll do whatever you’re comfortable with, obviously. We don’t have to do any of the physical stuff—”

You burst into a giggle at his rambling and hold a hand out, cutting him off. “Okay, Yang. I get it.”  

Yangyang watches your next moves carefully. You’re peering off to one side and picking at the tips of your fingers. After a minute that feels like forever, you nod slowly.

“I guess you have a point. We are sorta like a couple already.”

Your best friend sighs in relief, grinning that you’re not outright rejecting the idea.

“So,” you meet his eyes and bunch a shoulder up towards your ear. “We’ll just be a couple until what, New Year’s?”

“Yeah, sure,” he shrugs indifferently. “Whatever you want. It’s your Christmas wish.”

You chuckle and shake your head in disbelief that you two are actually making an agreement for Yangyang to be your temporary, holiday boyfriend.

Honestly, it’s a little crazy... but maybe it’s the perfect thing to get your mind off of Mark and the handful of holiday exes hanging above your head.

“Okay, since my last final is on the 21st, let’s start ‘dating’ then and we’ll play everything by ear, see how it goes.”

Yangyang bobs his head eagerly. “Sounds good, soon-to-be girlfriend.”

He sticks a hand out for you to shake. You take it firmly, sealing the deal and flashing him a grin.

“Soon-to-be boyfriend.”  

Although the night goes on like usual between the two of you, you couldn’t deny how ecstatic you are to finally have a boyfriend during the holidays, even if it was technically your best friend as a stand-in.

DECEMBER 21st

Tonight’s your first date with Yangyang.

That sounds weird to say, you admit to yourself, but it’s the truth.

After you stroll out of your last final of the semester, Yangyang’s waiting for you inside near the main exit of the building with several layers on, including his hoodie over his head and a knitted scarf underneath. His attention leaves his phone and he stuffs it into pocket as he notices you heading over.  

“Hey, girlfriend,” he welcomes you, beaming.

You snicker at the unfamiliar label. You wonder if you’re going to get used to this, even if it’s only for two weeks.  

“Hey, boyfriend,” you grin harder as the word falls from your lips, trying your best not to outright burst into laughter. “Where we heading off to?”

Although you said both of you could play the dating by ear, Yangyang’s been keen on scheduling plans for the upcoming days. You told him he didn’t have to, however, he insisted by saying that he wouldn’t only be a horrible boyfriend, but a horrible friend if he couldn’t make the next weeks fun for you.

Yangyang was anything but a horrible friend, and the fact that he was willing to be your holiday boyfriend to make you happy proved it further. Nevertheless, you gladly let him take the reins.

“I was thinking the movies tonight? See the latest Marvel film?”

Concurring to the idea, you scurry towards the bus stop and are movie-theatre bound to the nearest one off-campus. Arriving at the theatre, Yangyang and you buy your tickets and a popcorn to share, then head into the respective auditorium where the movie is playing. Since the movie’s been running for a couple of weeks, the auditorium is fairly empty, giving you two the chance to snag perfect middle seats with nobody else is in the row.  

Up to this point, aside from the name-dropping of boyfriend and girlfriend, this feels less like a date and more like any other hang-out with him. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing awkward.

But that changes during a third of the movie.

You’re both so immersed by the screen that neither party notices the other’s hand when both of you reach for the popcorn in Yangyang’s lap at the same time.  

A jolt runs through as your hands brush together. The duo’s eyes tear away from the screen and flit to the action happening in real-time. The touch lingers for several moments.  

“Sorry,” you quickly mumble, drawing your hand back slightly, but still hovering over the popcorn.    

“Uhm,” Yangyang licks his lips and visibly gulps under the screen’s bright glare.

He whispers, his voice almost cracking, “As your boyfriend, can I hold your hand?”

Okay, this is just your best friend, acting as your temporary boyfriend, asking to hold your hand. No big deal, no big deal at all.

Yet, the thunderous knocking in your ears, louder than the explosions blasting through the theatre’s speakers, suggests otherwise.

You don’t even register it, but you’re already nodding in response. Your breathing slows to the rate of Yangyang’s hand inching over. At the anticipated contact, you gasp softly. His smooth fingers clasp over yours. Since the arm rest in the middle of you is positioned upward, there’s no obtrusion and you relax, letting your hands mingle in between the empty space.

Without looking at one another, both of you smile bashfully to yourselves as you try to continue to focus on the screen.

After a while, because you aren’t exactly holding hands, you spread your fingers, hastily doing so because you don’t want him to think you’re breaking the interaction, and twist your palm to properly interlock hands with him. You give Yangyang’s hand a warm, gentle squeeze. He does the same and even strokes his thumb against your skin.

Talk about playing everything by ear. Who knew you’d be hand in hand on the first date?

You attempt to not think much on it, but Yangyang’s hand in yours feels... so right, like your hand was made for this, for his to hold. Like you should’ve done this way sooner.

And if Yangyang’s thoughts could be heard, he’s thinking the same.

Despite the mutual fear of sweaty palms, neither of you desire to let go, so much that you not only hold hands during the rest of the movie, but throughout the bus ride back to campus and all the way until he escorts you to your front door.

With a certain charge in the atmosphere, you exchange sweet good-byes. That night, after the culmination of stress from finals and your worries of your holiday exes, you finally have a peaceful sleep, looking forward to your date with Yangyang tomorrow.

DECEMBER 22nd

“Babe, how do I look?”

“Very pretty, honey.” A bundled up Yangyang winks at you from behind his phone.

The second date is an evening at a Christmas light festival at a botanical garden on the outskirts of town. The lights illuminate so strongly; there was a glowing dome-like hue over the location that seemed to reach the dark sky as you got off the bus.

When stepping foot into the garden, all the encompassing lights mesmerize you. Lights on the various greenery, lights as decorative art pieces, lights lining the pathways. Different shades of colours and shapes engulf the massive area.

Yangyang’s currently in the middle of taking your photo near an arch tangled with dark blue, gold, and white bulbs. All night long, you’ve been mockingly using endearing terms, but, despite the frigid air, your cheeks heat up over something else he just said.

“You think I’m pretty?” you genuinely ask, breaking your pose.  

He lowers his phone a bit, his jaw dangling.

“Uh, I mean,” he giggles awkwardly, nodding softly. “Yeah.”

Yangyang never told you, but he initially sat near you in Psych 101 because he thought you were the most stunning girl in the class. And sure, he was a little disappointed at the time to find out you had a boyfriend, but that didn’t mean you two couldn’t still be friends. Other than the first few weeks he had a crush on you, he’s never thought of you as more than a friend.  

But those feelings are resurfacing, hitting him in the chest like a bag of bricks, due to moments like this one—you’re batting your eyelids, gaze straying elsewhere, and adorably chewing on your lower lip.  

“And you’re not just saying that as my holiday boyfriend?”

Pouting to one side, he shakes his head cutely. “Mm-mm.”

On the flipside, the beginning with Yangyang for you was strictly platonic. You were dating Haechan at the time you met him. When Haechan broke up with you later that fall, you kept a distance from dating for a while, heartbroken from the high school love gone sour. During that period, you never told him, but you did run through the possibility of dating Yangyang since you got along so well... until you met Jaemin earlier the next semester, who stole your heart. Ever since then, you’ve never seen Yangyang under that light again.

Despite that, you can’t deny how attractive he is, and now that you’re single and technically dating him, you embrace the fact with open arms.  

Beaming as bright as the lights, you tug him by the end of his puffer jacket’s sleeve to bring him closer to you.

“C’mon, handsome, let’s take some pictures together.” Prickles rise under Yangyang’s cheeks from the off-hand compliment.  

Holding your phone up in the air at about an arm’s length away, the side of your heads touch to prepare for a few selfies. When you finish capturing them, Yangyang’s hovering over your shoulder as you scroll through to glance through the photos.

“We look good together,” you comment. “Don’t you think?”

In sync, your heads turn to meet each other. Your eyes waver from the blatant clouds of your breaths and over to his lips. The clouds become rapid bursts as you begin to lean forward. So does Yangyang.

“Do you guys want a picture together?” someone suddenly asks. The abrupt voice drags you both apart instantly, crushing the moment into pieces.

“Sure,” you peep, fumbling to hand your phone over to the stranger.

Posing, Yangyang’s hand rests around the middle of your back, which is the norm when you take pictures with him, but he pulls you in snugly. You smile even wider, relishing in the new-level of intimacy and allow yourself to be truly content among his presence.

“You guys are such a cute couple,” the stranger gushes while they return your phone prior to walking away.

“I guess we are, huh, babe?” you jut your tongue out in jest at him. This time, you indulge in the endearing term without a sliver of mockery.  

Yangyang copies you, jutting his tongue out further than yours, and seizes your hand to continue the tour around the gleaming garden.

The almost-kiss isn’t mentioned for the rest of the night, nor is it acted upon, but both individuals dwell on the near occurrence before sleep that evening, staring longingly at their bedroom ceiling.

DECEMBER 23rd

For the third date, you find yourselves at the campus’ dedicated ice rink arena to partake in ice skating.

You’ve skated a few times in the past, but you’re by no means a pro. On the other hand, this is apparently Yangyang’s first time, and he’s already skating circles around you.

“Show off,” you grumble as he does another lap past you. Your gloved hands are splayed out in front of you, careful not to fall flat on your face.

Turning on his blades, he rebounds over to you.

“Sorry,” he pants. His raised cheeks glow an adorable shade of pink. “This is really fun when you get the hang of it.”

Yangyang intertwines his fingers with yours before you can say anything. “C’mon, take my hand.”  

At first, it was sweet to skate alongside your holiday boyfriend, notwithstanding the few times you almost trip. As the minutes pass, you think you’re getting the hang of it, but suddenly, Yangyang unleashes your hand and glides ahead of you, abandoning you to slide at a swift pace that is definitely out of your comfort zone.  

“Yangyang, what the fuck?!” you screech, completely disregarding the handful of surrounding parents with their kids, the former sending daggers your direction. Your ankles struggle to make a T-shape to stop, but the struggling only somehow makes you move faster.  

As he spins to face you, now skating backwards with ease, he says, “See, you got the hang of it-oomph—”

Air’s struck from his lungs when you crash into his body. Thankfully, Yangyang skids his blades harshly against the ice and is able to steady and support you within his arms.

“You little fucker,” you gripe, lightly punching him in the arm.

He chuckles blithely, “Sorry, but it was kinda funny, you gotta admit.”

You breathe a large huff, which makes you note how your hair is falling over your face after the catastrophe. You’re about to lift your hand to rearrange the strands, but Yangyang beats you to it and is in the midst of tucking them behind your ear.

The knocking in your ears reappears with a vengeance and the physical source of the knocking is thrashing violently against your chest.

Your scorching breaths fuse in the refrigerated rink as Yangyang eliminates the inches of space between, his plush mouth ultimately converging with yours.

You have to constantly remind yourself to breathe under Yangyang’s intensity, and remind yourself that you’re in a public space and shouldn’t be making out like this.

But everyone’s skating around the couple, daring to not disrupt the affectionate display.

God, you don’t know when was the last time you’ve been kissed like this. Have you ever even experienced a kiss that was a fraction of this? Yangyang daintily cups your cheeks like you’re glass, but his lips press ruggedly into yours, inflaming your entirety and melting any existence of your figurative fragility.  

You ignore the echo in the back of your mind that reminds you he’s your temporary boyfriend.

The Talk will inevitably occur, but your future self could deal with it. Presently, you’re too caught up, drowning in Yangyang’s embrace.

DECEMBER 24th

On Christmas Eve, Yangyang decides to bring you to an outdoor Christmas market.

Understandably, since it’s the day before Christmas, the place is absolutely packed. For the first fifteen minutes or so, it’s joyous being immersed in the Christmas spirit with the assorted little shops and their respective products. You’re holding Yangyang’s hand tightly, pointing and half-shouting over the bustle about the items that catch your eye.

Unfortunately, someone accidentally bumps against your arms and your hand is gone from his.

Swivelling your head, searching through the crowd, it occurs to you that you officially lost Yangyang.

Your feet come to a halt as your hand attempts to dig into your jacket pocket to pluck your phone out, but the moving crowd forces you to constantly follow the stream.

You yell for him, but words can’t materialize. Your windpipe tightens. Your breath is becoming shallower and shallower. Blood pulses in your ears alarmingly, blocking out the clamour from around you. Your mind’s running everywhere without control.

Where is your boyfriend?

No, scratch that, he’s not your actual boyfriend—where is your best friend?

Did he leave you? He would never.

Right?

But what happens when all of this is over? Will you still have your best friend?

You’ve avoided The Talk long enough, but you didn’t expect to catch feelings for him. Not like this.  

Maybe you’re just destined to be alone.

Is this how it feels to actually lose him?

Tears fight your vision. You hear a faint call of your name, but you can’t urge yourself to turn around, sinking only further into the sea of anonymity. You’re just a face in a crowd, all alone, with no one who cares—

Yangyang grasps you by the arm and maneuvers you aside to a less busy area behind one of the vendor stands.

“Oh, God, thought I lost you there—”

You cut him off, hugging him with all your might and stuff your face in his chest cushioned by the downy layers of his winter jacket. Yangyang immediately drapes his arms securely around you, reading your uneasiness.  

“Hey, I got you. I got you,” he soothes, running a hand through your hair. “God, not my best idea. Sorry for bringing you here.”

You shake your head, wordlessly informing him that it’s okay. You’re just glad to be with him again.

“Wanna go home?”

You nod solemnly, and Yangyang zips you out of there in minutes with his arm tucked by your side,  ensuring he doesn’t lose you in the crowd again.

Fortunately, the jitters mostly disappear when you arrive at your place in the late afternoon. You’re in the middle of rummaging through your keys to unlock your door.

“Sorry I didn’t have anything else planned for today,” he mumbles, leaning with folded arms against the wall.

“Did you...” You insert the correct key and turn the lock, clicking the door open. Your gaze lifts to match his. “Did you wanna maybe have dinner with me tonight? I was thinking of ordering pizza in.”

The grin that reaches his eyes is a sufficient answer for you.

“Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” He hangs his arm around your shoulder and plants a kiss atop your head.

After chomping down pizza and playing a few rounds of Super Smash Bros. on Yangyang’s Switch, you peer over to him on your living room couch while he’s figuring out which character he should play next.  

The little mental voice in the back of your mind prods you, reminding that you should really, really have The Talk soon. The Talk that you swept under the rug at the start by saying you’d play everything by ear.

Four dates later, and the thought of this ending scares the living daylights out of you. This not only including the interim relationship, but the dire possibility of the friendship itself too. Is it possible to go back to how you were, flipping it off like a light switch?

But the internal voice is smothered as you’re drawn to his pouting lips in thought. His pouting, oh-so kissable lips. Following the ice skating kiss yesterday, you only shared a good-bye kiss when he dropped you off. Since then, you’ve been itching to have his lips on yours again.

Yangyang eventually detects your lack of focus and finds you gawking at his mouth. Your gaze dashes to his eyes, blinking innocently, but then his eyes flicker to your mouth.

The tension in the room snaps. You two carefully throw the Switch controllers off to one side and attach yourselves together. Unlike the crashing of your bodies at the ice rink, this one is purposeful. Deliberated, as his forehead presses into yours and his tender caress carries your cheek. Your body plummets backwards until Yangyang pins you completely into the couch.

Initially, the lip-locking is gentle and mild. Your fingers lay in the vicinity of his angular visage and sturdy upper frame, in contrast to his hand curling around your waist in a light squeeze.

Soon, hands traverse to other regions—his back, your thigh, his stomach, your ass. Each touch seeking, craving, whining. Tongues slinking and dancing with appetite. Your bodies buzz for more.

Open-mouthed kisses transition from the damp lips to each other’s necks. The touches dig deeper, thriving with hunger. Your back bows, body curving into his. Grinding ensues and his robust desire is blatant against your own pulsing passion.

“You don’t happen to have any condoms on you, do you?” you groan upwards to the ceiling.

He retracts from your neck to swing his head side to side, grumbling a “Sorry, we can stop...” yet you interrupt his apology by cupping his covered length. The guttural groan he exhales into your lips makes you shiver with pleasure.

“Doesn’t mean we still can’t have fun with our hands...” you say slyly.

“Fuck yeah,” he rasps, smirking, before diving in again to taste your mouth.

Clothes are stripped with the assistance of each other, leaving you with only your bra on while Yangyang opts to be completely bare. He tops your body in the same position once more.

On the couch arm rest, your head is perched with his hand clutching the space next to it for leverage. Both figures are too scatter-brained to delve into the exquisite nudity of one another, hands flying desperately to your respective arousals.

Your pretty fingers wrap around his possession almost exactly when he dips two digits into your warmth. In unison, two sharp, quiet gasps pierce the room.

“Shit, you’re so wet,” he hisses observantly. You’re so overwhelmed by the bliss that you can’t assemble any sort of response.

Your mouth’s parted to one side, chest soaring with each plunge. Through his clouded vision, he ambles over your curves and lines and yearns to see your breasts, but he respects your choice of keeping it on and opts to ambush the expanse with kisses. Your chest is launched further into his mouth and Yangyang assumes you’re enjoying this.

Fearing friction burn, you drop him from your grip momentarily, swiping a few licks over your palm. When your hand pumps him again, now drenched with saliva, grunts reverberate against your skin.  

“Yangyang?” you whimper, causing his face to pull away from the temple of your body.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I’m-I’m close.” And he can attest to it; the contractions around him are increasing, harshly squeezing his fingers.    

“Same,” he pants.

Your best friend flicks his wrist with ignition, securing your waves of elation. You attempt to do the same, but it’s difficult when he’s also sloppily thrusting himself into your fist, so you simply clench your grasp harder. His features pinch and choppy moans dribble as he yields to his climax, gushing himself over your stomach.  

Still sucking in lungfuls of air, Yangyang kisses you tenderly before removing himself to clean up the mess he made.

Following the clean-up, while putting on your clothes, Yangyang expresses how he should get going since it’s getting late.

“Did you wanna stay the night?” you pipe up.

His mind races, debating on whether to leave or not, anxious to blur the lines of your relationship even further.

Sure, he’s your temporary boyfriend, thus staying over at your place shouldn’t mean anything. But this agreement is ending next week, and he’s questioning if you two can stay just friends after this, knowing that he’s going to want more. Yangyang has had a taste of the what if, and it’s now irrevocable.

He wants you all for himself. Selfishly, but deeply.

For the sake of keeping this a great thing for you, he shoves his thoughts aside. This is all about you and for your benefit, anyhow.

“Uh, sure, I can take the couch like I always—”

“Yangyang, you just put your fingers inside of me,” you snicker, snagging him by the hand to your bedroom. “C’mon.”

The rest of the night is relatively chaste with some kisses and touches here and there. Eventually, you fall asleep facing each other with your fingers interlocked, excited for the big day tomorrow.

DECEMBER 25th

Normally on Christmas, Yangyang and you spend it with your respective families, but coincidentally, both of your families, your parents being retired and all, ended up vacationing this year, leaving the two of you to spend it with each other.

After getting up around noon, Yangyang heads to his place to grab his gift. He takes longer than you expected because, as it turns out, he also went home to grab baking goods he bought beforehand since he wants to make butter cookies with you today.

The cookies end up fine, but the mess is another story. Besides the chaos on the counter, your faces and aprons are splotched with flour (you swear he started it, but he disagrees and stands his ground that you’re the perpetrator). With a damp cloth, Yangyang aids you to clean, but not forgetting to wipe your face and giving you pecks over your cheeks and nose.  

The baking and aftermath occupies most of the afternoon, so dinner comes in the form of fancy, romantic instant ramen for two. Afterwards, you two sit in your living room and start to exchange gifts.  

Yangyang hands his over to you first. From the size of the gift and the crumpled, oddly-shaped wrapping, you already can guess it’s a stuffed plushie of a cute animal to add to your never ending collection. You hug it tightly with a large smile.

“It’s so cute, thank you!” you squeal, but you change your expression in an instant to a serious pout. “But you can’t steal this one like you did with my Ice Bear plushie.”

“Hey, I didn’t steal Ice Bear, I just forgot to give him back.” You roll your eyes sarcastically and he laughs. “I’ll bring him over tomorrow, if it makes you feel better.”  

Then, when it’s your turn, you head into your bedroom and come out with a large, white shopping bag. His eyebrows raise, unsure of what could warrant a gift this size.

“For being my holiday boyfriend,” you grin, placing the bag in front of his feet.  

Despite the hugest smile on your face, his heart sinks at the label for a second, but he blinks and wills himself to look inside the bag.

His eyes shoot open, so much that you’re scared you might have to stuff them back into his sockets.

Yangyang slips the box out of the bag with precision and stares at it speechlessly.

It’s the new Playstation.

He shifts his eyes toward you. You’re swaying on the couch, pleased by his reaction.  

“Your parents paid for most of it, so I can’t take all the credit.” Sticking a finger in the air, you add, “You just gotta promise to share custody with me though—”

A hand behind your head yanks you into a deep kiss. He’s not the only one left speechless on the couch. He places the top of his head against yours.

“You’re crazy, but I love—” He quickly catches himself from saying something he might regret. “—I love it so much, thank you. Now I feel bad for getting you only the stuffed animal...”

You shake your head softly, brushing your thumb against his cheekbone.

“Thank you for everything.” Your eyes twinkle. “I couldn’t have asked to spend the holidays with anyone else.”

Carefully, like a newborn baby, he safely situates the boxed Playstation to one side and nabs your lips with his again. The scene feels like repeat of last night as your bodies wrestle passionately on the couch.

“Not to be presumptuous,” he mutters between the kisses upon your neck. Your eyelids flutter at the sensation. “But I also grabbed condoms from my place when I stopped by.”

His words sends the two of you leaping towards your bedroom. Under the dim lighting, you fall into the bed as Yangyang pares your layers off, one by one. With each peel, his lips roam the revealing bare skin. You swear he has kissed you from your literal head to toe when you’re fully nude in front of him.

Your companion drags his shirt over his head, throws it off to your floor, and immediately targets in onto your nub with his mouth, finally satiating his craving from last night.

Fingers thread into his hair and over his flexed back. His tongue swirls and his teeth lightly tug on your perkiness, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. And he still isn’t even inside you yet.

After leaving love upon your other bosom, Yangyang fumbles with the condom, forgetting which way it should go on. Giggling, you perch yourself onto your elbows and assist him. Rolling it over his possession, you recline yourself back and spread your legs for him.

Pensively, he sticks his tongue out as he adjusts himself between your sex, easing himself into you, and upon the full impact, you meet his gaze head-on. His stare makes you feel vulnerable and exposed beyond the physical plane.  

But, unlike the others you have been with, you trust him with everything, like you always have, and be free with him. Losing your inhibitions and submitting to your whims, you entangle and become one with Yangyang.  

Behind his hazy vision, Yangyang’s simply thinking how beautiful you are, how he can’t imagine anyone else under his touch but you, how he is willing to give up anything to make you smile.

Well, in this case, he’s willing to give up anything to make you pleased.

However, it doesn’t seem like he needs to do much because you’re howling his name and clinging onto his skin and the sheets in a frenzy, like you’re about to die of exhaustion.

You perish a few times under him before he finally reaches his little death himself, convulsing into the sheath.

When air’s replenished into your bodies, you rest on his chest under your blanket. Glancing up at him, you move some of his tousled hair off his sleek forehead.

“Merry Christmas, Yangyang,” you whisper, snuggling him with a satisfied smile.

“Merry Christmas, babe,” he whispers back, giving you one last peck before you both drift into a deep slumber together.  

DECEMBER 26th

Last night took so much out of the both of you, you don’t get out of bed until about the middle of the afternoon. Yangyang doesn’t have anything planned for today since it’s Boxing Day, since the crowds might be crazy wherever you go, so it’s officially a chill, rest day for you both.

When you step out of the shower in fresh clothes, from behind the couch, you watch Yangyang gaming on his Switch.

The little voice in your head looms, prompting that now is the time to have The Talk, and speaks up on your behalf.

“Do we have to end things next week?” you croak.

You see Yangyang’s shoulders stiffen, then he pauses the game and turns around to face you. His gaze follows you as you step closer to the couch, opting to stand.  

“Uhm.” His Adam’s apple bobs and he shrugs. “It’s up to you, it’s your—”

“Yangyang, that’s not what I’m asking. I’m asking what you think, how do you feel?”

His lips press together and he’s staring at the floor. You can tell the gears are moving, but you can’t read his expression clearly.

“I’m down for whatever you want to do,” he says slowly, eyes still averting yours.

That’s a I’m-your-best-friend answer, you deduce. Not a I-want-to-be-your-actual-boyfriend answer.  

He adds, stuttering, “I mean, I wouldn’t mind doing this a little longer if that’s what you want—”

Your face scrunches in annoyance. “Did you just sign up to be my short-term boyfriend so you can fill my empty heart?”

His eyebrows crease with confusion. “I mean, I never want to see you unhappy.”

“So it’s pity dating then?” you lash, raising your voice.

“No, I—” Yangyang bites down on his tongue, almost letting the one word slip out again. He blows out a lengthy sigh and runs a hand through his hair. “I care about you, so much. I’d do anything to make you happy.”

You’re defining his words as an affirmation of friendship and as an underlying rejection of your love.

You need to know for certain.

“Do you love me, Yangyang?” you blurt. “As more than a friend?”

This is it, Yangyang thinks. This is your chance to let her know how you feel.

But the distress written on your face makes him wonder if he should even go through with it, and it’s intensifying with every passing moment that he’s not speaking.  

If only he knew your distress was deepening because you took his hesitance as absolute rejection.  

Your heart is breaking because of him, and he technically wasn’t even yours to begin with.

You smack your lips together and gulp a few times, trying to make the huge knot in your throat disappear.

“You know what, maybe let’s just forget this arrangement and leave it all behind and forget about the sex and—”

“You wanna stop this?” he utters quietly.

The word “this” hangs heavy in the air. This, carrying the weight of not only being the temporary agreement, but also your friendship.

“Yeah,” you whisper, tears beginning to blur your eyes. “I think I do.”

DECEMBER 28th

Two days have passed since you last saw Yangyang.

That day before he left, Yangyang, feeling guilty for how events unfolded, wanted to give back the Playstation, but you insisted for him to keep it. In spite of everything, it was a Christmas gift to him from you and his parents.

But both of you weren’t sure if the shared custody promise was going to be held up.  

In hopes that things would eventually get better and heal itself, Yangyang thought it’d be best to leave you alone for a while, like how he usually did.

And maybe he was right to do so, but this time is different.

Because he’s on the other end of the stick now; he’s the one who broke your heart.  

Under regular circumstances, whenever you needed space, he was always ready to be there by your side.

But Yangyang’s uncertain if you’re going to let him comfort you this time.  

And you’re uncertain if you even want him to.

DECEMBER 30th

Today, Yangyang finally makes the move to get in touch with you, texting you to call him, but you don’t, so he leaves a voicemail later in the evening.

“There’s a New Year’s party I’m going to tomorrow,” he starts off, then spews the specific details.

There’s a pause and you hear shuffling in the background. You assume he’s pacing around.

“I know you ended our agreement, but I wouldn’t mind fulfilling my end since New Year’s is the last day tomorrow. I’d be really glad if you came to the party with me, whether it be as my friend or my girlfriend.”

Another pause.

On the other end, Yangyang rubs his palm over his face, considering whether or not he should say it. If you picked up the phone call, he was going to do it anyway, but this just felt improper. He wants to say it when he knows you’re listening in real-time, so he ends off the message with:

“I miss you. So much.”

DECEMBER 31st

It’s 8:40PM. Before Yangyang buses out to the party, he’s back at your front door for one more shot. His fist taps at your door, cognizant that you wouldn’t be elsewhere since your other friends are out of town for the holidays. Despite that, you don’t come to the door. Nevertheless, he speaks to you through the wooden barrier.

“Hey, I know you want to be left alone, but I just wanted to see if you changed your mind about the party.”

Still no answer. He lets out a sigh and prays the following will incite a reaction from you.  

“About the question that you asked me that night...”

He closes his eyes and allows his mouth to carry him.

“I do. I do love you. As both my best friend and more. I’m sorry if I hurt you that night by not saying anything, but I love you so much and I think we should give us a shot.”

Still no answer. Yangyang continues.

“Look, I know it’s scary and crazy to date your best friend. I’m scared too, but you know what? I’m okay with being scared. I’ve watched you gone through those assholes over the last few years and maybe you’re scared I’ll end up like one of them, but unlike them, I don’t think you’re horrible or needy or emotional—you’re beautiful, intelligent, and strong for putting up with all those fuckers.”

He leans his forehead gently against the door.

“And even if we ever do break up, and this is a big if because I’ll always try my hardest with you to make it work, I’ll still be your friend. I promise. You won’t lose me ‘cause I need you in my life. I gotta keep my end up for the custody of the Playstation, right?”

A smile breaks over his face from his joke, but still. Radio silence.  

“Can you at least say something?” he begs.

After a few minutes, realizing he needs to probably give you more time to be left alone, he departs and heads to the party.

Originally, you actually were planning on attending the party to see Yangyang to make-up with him.

Unfortunately, out of all the days you had to take a late afternoon nap, it had to be today.

And you overslept. Big time. 

At 10:55PM, you scramble awake, realizing you’re absolutely late to the event. Since the party’s downtown, you know calling an Uber or Lyft there would be fast, but tonight’s the worst night for any share riding service and there aren’t any available drivers. Thus, you have to manage with busing there.

It’s 11:40PM when you finally reach downtown, but the bus can’t take you all the way to the core centre where the party is; hordes of people are out on the streets and traffic is dreadful. God, you’re going to be cutting it close to midnight, but you make a run for it.

You’re grateful the party is on the second floor of a small building because you slide in right through the entrance at 11:58PM. You rush to call Yangyang’s phone, hoping he’ll pick up as you try to find him in the scattered groups of people.

You begin to holler for him in hopes he can hear you, but the countdown is happening, drowning out your voice. Thirty seconds left until the clock strikes for the new year.

When his number finally goes to voicemail, you redial his number. Suddenly, a hand grasps you by the wrist.

Yangyang looks at you, dumbfounded.

“When did you get here?”  

The harmonious chanting around you floods your surroundings.

“Ten, nine, eight...”

Getting closer to him, you practically scream into Yangyang’s face, trusting he’ll hear what you’re about to say.

“I know Christmas is over, but I want to change my wish.”

“Seven, six, five...”

“I know you might not feel the same and I know things might not work out.”

“Four, three, two...”

”But I wish to date you past New Year’s until whenever, however long we last.”

“One...”

“I love you, Yangyang—”

The one you love snatches you by the waist and your cheek, stealing your lips at the last millisecond before midnight.

“Happy New Year!”

A wave of noisemakers, clappers, and hollering erupt around the room. After it dies down a bit, Yangyang shocks you with a scolding.

“Why didn’t you say anything when I came over?!”

Confusion rushes over you. You realize he probably came by when you were sleeping. 

“You came over?!”

“Yeah, I confessed my love for you.”

“Wait,” you blink blankly, unsure if you heard him correctly. “Your love?”

“Yeah,” he nods, giving you his cheesy, adorable smile.  “I love you.”

“As more than a friend?” you clarify.

“Babe,” Yangyang’s thumb caresses your cheek. “I don’t think I could ever go back to wanting less with you.”

Your lips tremble with relief as your gaze melts in his.

“And, anyway, who else am I going to share the Playstation with?”

“Well, I mean, you do have Hendery, Xiaojun, Winwin...” you start to count his infinite list of friends on your fingers.  

“Yeah, but I need you so I can constantly beat your cute little butt at games.”

“You do not constantly beat my cute little butt at games, I’ll have you know that I beat you at—”  

Yangyang shuts you up with another kiss, the one of many for the rest of the night.

JANUARY 2nd

It’s your second morning at Yangyang’s place. You’ve only done it a few times now, but you realize that waking up in his arms is one of the greatest feelings in the world, second only to his kisses.  

In his bed, spooning you from behind, he grumbles into the nape of your neck, “Morning, girlfriend.”  

Half-awake, you mumble back, “Morning, boyfriend,” and sink deeper into the curve of his body.

Content, you finally broke your string of cursed holiday break-ups for good.  

And all it took was to be with the one who was in front of you all this time.

[thicccsimp]

The Lesson

Summary: Bucky helps coach you through a lesson in domination with Steve as your eager volunteer.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader & Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 2,850

Warnings: 18+ Smut. Explicit Sexual Content. Dom/Sub Dynamics. Pet Names. Oral Sex (F Receiving). Oral Sex (M Receiving). Unprotected Vaginal Sex. Slight Possessiveness. Praise Kink. Cumshot.

A/N: This was based on a dream I had a while back that I just haven't been able to get out of my mind, so I've now put it to words for you all to hopefully enjoy! 

I’d also like to give a huge thank you to @providencia-journal for betaing this piece for me and giving me her much needed domme perspective so my subby ass could make sure this actually made sense. Any and all mistakes are completely my own. 

As always, I’d appreciate any feedback y’all would like to give me. Please feel free to like, comment, and reblog if you feel inclined to.

Tiny Tag Gang: @pepsicup @wakingbeauty @lifeofrileyp @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog​ @tuiccim

You look down, mouth agape as you take in the sight of the Captain America, on his knees for you. This isn’t a situation you ever thought you’d find yourself in, you’ve always been submissive, you’ve always been the one taking orders, not giving them. 

“C’mon Kitten.. You can do this. Look at how badly he needs you.” Bucky's smooth, husky voice whispers in your ear, his hot breath tickling the shell of your ear. 

You look back over your shoulder at him, gnawing on your bottom lip nervously. His warm calloused hand comes to caress your cheek for a moment before turning your face back to Steve, still waiting in front of you with wide eager eyes, his cock standing at full attention, weeping precum as it twitches of its own accord. 

You take a deep breath before reaching out, grabbing a fist full of Steve’s hair and pulling his head to crane back, a needy whine comes spilling out of his lips and it’s so sinful in your ears it sends a shiver up and down your spine. “I’m going to need you to listen to my words very carefully Stevie.. I will not be repeating myself. Do you understand?” 

Steve nods as much as your grasp in his hair allows him, looking up at you with lustful hooded eyes. Bucky clears his throat, pulling your gaze to him, he gives you a subtle shake of his head before tapping on his ear. You knit your eyebrows together for a moment, trying to comprehend his silent directions when it clicks. You tighten your grip on Steve’s hair, your words come out stern with a hint of derision, “What was that? I can’t hear you.”

Steve groans, his tongue darting out to lick his lips, “Yes ma’am. I understand.” 

“That’s better. Now you’re going to lay down on your back on the floor, and I’m going to take that pretty little face of yours for a ride and I’m not going to stop until I’ve had enough. Now I want your hands behind your head, I wouldn’t want you tempted to touch yourself. After all, this is all about my pleasure. Not yours. Maybe if you do a good enough job, I might actually let you cum.” Your voice is smooth like velvet and shockingly firm, you almost don’t believe it’s really coming out of your own mouth. 

“Yes ma’am.” Steve manages to croak out, his voice dry and hoarse with need. He quickly lays down on his back, his hands laced behind his head obediently. You can't help but admire the way it makes the muscles in his arms ripple, you never had considered how sexy it would be to see such a strong powerful man, on the floor at your will, needy for your touch. You come to stand with a foot planted on both sides of his head, you bring yourself to straddle his face, your knees pressing firmly into his arms, pinning them roughly to the ground below, you watch as his eyes roll back slightly at the pressure. You suddenly press your core down hard against his face, grinding your pussy against his eager mouth. 

“Fuck.. Yes.. Just like that Stevie.” You praise as you feel his tongue needily lapping against your swollen bud, occasionally trailing down to delve as deep as he can into your entrance. 

Bucky comes around from behind you and plants himself firm in front of you, his cock obviously straining against his jeans. He stares down at you, his pupils nearly swallowing his beautiful blue irises whole as he drinks in the view of his girl taking her pleasure from his best friend's mouth because he told her to. He reaches to his belt, undoing it steadily before pulling his pants down just enough to release his cock from it’s confines. 

You eagerly lean forward, wanting to feel Bucky's hard cock in your mouth, as your weight shifts you feel your knees digging deeper into Steve’s arms. He lets out a moan from deep in his chest and you feel it vibrate against your clit, your eyelids flutter and your jaw slackens at the sensation. You reach a hand out to grab Bucky's cock, but he quickly side steps just out of your reach, you can’t help but let out a small whine of frustration. He tsks his tongue at you as he shakes his head, his warm hand coming up before he slowly starts to stroke himself as he watches you. “Sorry Kitten. No reward for you until you complete your lesson with Stevie.” 

You open your mouth to protest but Bucky cuts you off before your first word even hits your tongue by shoving in two of his cold vibranium fingers. “Ah ah. No attitude. Only a yes sir,” he firmly reminds you, “If you’re frustrated, take it out on him. Don’t forget your place with me.” You try desperately to keep your eyes on his as he speaks but you can’t help but let them fall on his cock as he languidly strokes himself. He pulls his fingers from your mouth and you fight the urge to roll your eyes before letting a meek “yes sir” fall from your lips. You cast your eyes down at Steve between your legs, still eating your pussy like a man starved, you can’t help but grab a fist full of his hair and grind down harder against his mouth while your other hand comes up to tweak your sensitive nipples. You begin to buck your hips roughly against Steve’s face, feeling your release grow closer with every desperate moan that comes flooding from his mouth. You feel the tension in your stomach tightening until it feels like it’s about to burst, “C’mon Stevie.. I’m so close.. I know you can do better,” you pant out. You feel his lips wrap around your aching bud once again and he starts harshly sucking, that’s just the little bit more you had needed. Your head falls back as your eyes flutter shut and moans come pouring from your lips; your eyes shoot back open when you feel a hand grasp your jaw firmly, angling your head up to meet his eyes. 

“Eyes on me when you cum,” Bucky commands, pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth as he watches you come undone. You can’t help but to grind down a bit harder, prolonging your climax for as long as you can while you stare up into Bucky's eyes, the desire behind them nearly making your mouth water. After a moment when your heart stops pounding in your ears, Bucky releases your jaw and you finally rise from Steve’s face. He lets out a slight hiss as the pressure of your weight against his arms finally vanishes. You look down at him for a moment, admiring how flushed his face is and how your arousal glistens on his skin. His lustful eager eyes meet yours, and you just know he’s waiting for your next command. 

“Back on your knees,” you order, your voice steady and firm. Steve quickly pulls himself back up and onto his knees, his hands instinctively clasping together behind his back. You take a step closer towards him, reaching out your hand to lightly grab his chin, tilting his face up toward you as you run your thumb lightly over his lips. “Well since you did such a good job with this pretty little mouth of yours, I’m going to give you a reward Stevie. I’m going to fuck myself on your cock, while you kneel here and take it. Doesn’t that sound good, Stevie?” You coo at him, your core clenching around nothing when you see the way his eyes roll back at the praise and very thought of being inside you. You bring your eyes from Steve’s to Bucky’s for a moment, who is still standing off to the side a bit, lazily pleasuring himself to the scene unfolding before him, he gives you a small nod of approval before you drop your eyes back to Steve’s. 

“Yes ma’am, that sounds amazing. Thank you ma’am,” the words flow from his mouth obediently, the husky tone behind them indicating just how desperately he wants you. 

“Such a good boy, Stevie. So grateful for whatever I give you,” you praise him before giving him a light slap to his cheek, relishing in the moan that he lets out. You turn your back from him and drop down to your hands and knees, you back yourself up until you can feel his cock pressing against your entrance. You look over your shoulder at him, “Keep those hands behind your back, you better brace yourself and just take it,” you direct him before backing yourself fully onto his cock without further warning. Your walls flutter around him as you adjust to the new sensation of him inside you, Steve bites down on his bottom lip in response as he groans, his hands flexing in and out of fists behind his back. 

You begin to slowly rock back and forth, fucking yourself on his cock, being sure to take your time and feel every inch of him. You can hear Steve’s moans beginning to turn to whines, silently pleading with you to move faster. You cast your eyes over your shoulder once again, never ceasing the slow and steady rhythm of your hips rocking back into his, “What’s the matter Stevie? Do you want more?” You tease, slowing yourself even more, watching his face contort with a mixture of pleasure and restraint. 

“Yes ma’am.. Please. I need more. I need you to move faster,” his voice comes out strained and desperate as his hooded eyes stare longingly into your own. 

“Okay Stevie. Whatever my good boy needs, he’ll get. But you better not cum before I do, trust me you don’t want to test me on this,” you reply back soothingly, but your words gaining a sharp edge to them towards the end to punctuate how serious you are. Steve nods his head, eager to please and needy for more, without hesitation you begin slamming your hips back into his with reckless abandon. The pace you set is fast, deep, and unrelenting as you begin to lose yourself as you use his cock to chase your own release.

The sound of clothes rustling pulls your attention back to reality as you look up to see that Bucky has stripped down in front of you, stroking himself a bit more forcefully now. His signature smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he looks down at you with hunger obvious in his eyes. “You’re doing so well, Kitten. You almost have me wondering if this is really your first time domming someone like this,” he muses, as his eyes wander your body, watching you fuck yourself on Steve’s cock like he’s nothing more than a glorified sex toy. You shudder a bit at the praise, beginning to crave the domination that Bucky has forced you to dish out instead of receive, you open your mouth to respond only for Steve’s voice to cut you off. 

“Ma’am… Ma’am I’m going to… I’m going to cum s-soon,” he stutters out, his eyes squeezed shut right as he fights to hold his release back. You whip your head around to look back at him and nearly lose all your resolve when you see the sinful expression on his face, you bite down on your bottom lip for a moment to ground yourself before snapping your hips harshly to be pressed flush against his. 

“Then you better reach around and make sure I finish before you do,” you nearly growl out at him. You almost are shocked at the voice that came out of you, you’ve never heard yourself sound so demanding before, though you didn’t have too long to contemplate it before Steve’s arm wrapped under your hip. It took him no time at all to find your throbbing nub and begin to rub firm circles onto it with his slightly calloused thumb, you moan loudly as you throw your head back as the coil in your abdomen grows exponentially tighter, “Yes Stevie. Just like that.” 

You go to start gliding yourself on his cock again when you feel a firm, cool hand on your shoulder. Your eyes flutter open and you stare up at Bucky who’s planted firmly on his knees in front of you, his vibranium hand on your shoulder, keeping you in place with your hips flush to Steve’s, his perfect cock teasingly close to your face. Bucky reaches his other hand out and cups your chin, tilting your head up towards him, “Good job, Kitten. You finished your lesson. I think it’s time I give you your reward.” Bucky coos at you before bringing his attention to Steve, buried balls deep inside you but not moving a muscle, even his hurried circles on your clit have stopped as he now looks to Bucky for instruction as his chest rapidly rises and falls. 

“Hands back behind your back,” Bucky barks at Steve who immediately straightens up and clasps his hands behind his back once again. Bucky drops his eyes back to your face he’s still gently cradling in his hand, “Did you have fun trying to be like your Sir, Kitten? You really seemed like you were enjoying yourself. Almost a little too much… I just want to remind you, Kitten, you may own him, but I own you.” Bucky says, his voice thick with arousal and possessiveness. You feel yourself clench around Steve’s cock at Bucky’s words, and can feel Steve’s entire body shudder in reply, you open your mouth to answer him but Bucky quickly makes use of the opportunity and shoves his cock deep into your mouth. You can’t help but gag and sputter at the sudden intrusion into your throat as you try to adjust to the new sensation of being so full in two of your holes. “Shhh.. No need to say anything. It’s time for me to have my fun now,” Bucky hushes you before grabbing two fistfuls of hair on either side of your head. He begins to roughly guide you back and forth, your entire body rocking with the movement. Bucky sets a brutal pace, fucking you on both of their cocks as he moves your body back and forth effortlessly, treating you like a doll he can use as he pleases. 

Your eyes begin to water as you try to remind yourself to breathe through your nose, but the thought gets lost with every other jarring thrust from Bucky. Your knees start to ache as you’re bounced between the two men wildly but the pain only adds to the pleasure that’s buzzing through every inch of your body. Your walls begin to flutter around Steve as you feel yourself approaching the edge of ecstasy, your throat contracts and vibrates around Bucky as you moan, utterly blissed out from being so filled by the two super soldiers. It only takes a few more rough pumps from Bucky to send you toppling over the edge. You feel yourself clamp down around Steve as you give into the pleasure bursting all over your body, your moans come out like choked whimpers as Bucky continues to pound into your throat with no signs of slowing. Steve lets out a deep groan from inside his throat before choking out the words, “I-I’m.. I’m going to c-cum.”

“Pull out.” Bucky snarls at his friend, while continuing to chase his own release, “No one cums in her but me.” 

Steve obediently responds and pulls out of you completely, you let out another muffled cry at the sudden loss. You hear Steve mutter a few breathy curses before you feel his hot spend land in thick ropes across your lower back and the swell of your ass. Your vision starts to swim as you lose yourself in the overwhelming bliss that surges through your body like electricity. Bucky continues to fuck into your mouth wildly, his hips begin to falter a bit and you know he’s getting close. You moan out the best you can, encouraging him to finish, the vibrations are the last bit that help push him over into his own release. You feel his cock twitch in your throat as he lets out a primal moan and swears under his breath as you feel his hot cum coating your throat. He gives your mouth a few more sloppy pumps before pulling out from your mouth. 

You gasp for air as you also try to swallow down the last bits of his seed that threaten to leak from your mouth along with all your saliva. You look up at Bucky, your face covered in smeared makeup and tears, “Thank you Sir,” your voice is rough and raw but filled with pure infatuation.

Bucky stoops down beside you and holds your face gingerly in his hands as he admires your beautifully blissed out face, “Of course, Kitten. You earned it.”

[ionianstar]

A little Lukanette vignette I guess

*****

"How do you feel?" Alya's hand covered Marinette's as they sat in a corner of the bar. They'd decided to head out for an impromptu girls night. Juleka and Rose had disappeared, probably for Juleka's sake. She was always an easily overwhelmed girl.

Marinette smiled, if somewhat sadly.

"I'm okay. It's been a long time anyway. And I don't regret anything." She forced her voice to remain strong. She picked up the glass of rum and coke on the table and took a hearty swig.

Alya gave her hand a squeeze and retreated.

A loud set of greeting was heard from the entrance and Marinette thought she heard Rose's telltale squeak in the commotion. She shrugged it off and pulled her phone from her pocket and the screen lit up, a message displayed on it.

Luka

Are you alright?

Marinette felt her throat close at the words and she quietly cleared it, taking another sip of her drink.

Her friends knew about her and Adrien, how they'd split up almost a year ago. Alya and Juleka however, knew the inside details as to the why. The arguments, the manipulation, the hurt, all the ugly things the two year relationship brought.

And they could see the toll it took on their friend.

Marinette felt tears prick at her eyes and inhaled, determined not to ruin the eyeliner Juleka had excitedly applied before their arrival. She had even worn her shorts and let her hair down. Marinette refused to let herself wallow, at least for tonight.

"Hey Luka! Hey, Adrien." Alya's change in tone was detected only by Marinette because she was so close and the music was blessedly loud.

Marinette felt her heart drop into her stomach and turn.

She forced herself to look up at the two boys and plastered a smile onto her face. She knew she couldn't form words yet so she raised her half-empty glass to them in greeting, downing the other half in 3 pleading gulps. Alya talked good-naturedly with both as Marinette stuck her hands into her purse and pulled out her wallet. She opened it and flitted about in it, checking for her spending money, and then her emergency money. Satisfied with her spending funds, she snapped it shut and smiled at the trio, avoiding looking at Adrien for too long.

"I'll be back. Just going for a drink."

She slid off the stool and wiggled her way to the center of the bar. An easy feat for a cute girl in shorts on a Saturday night. The bartender looked at her expectantly, if somewhat surprised.

"1 rum punch, please. More rum than punch." She smiled at him and he nodded, returning a smirk of his own.

"Something tells me you don't want to remember tonight, if you're asking for extra rum." She heard Luka's voice before he leaned over her shoulder, smelling of lavender and one of Juleka's perfumes that she couldn't name but knew nonetheless. Marinette huffed a laugh and turned he head to meet his gaze.

"I truly don't. For one reason alone." She spoke into his ear and could see the suppressed shiver go through his body.

Marinette logged the reaction away selfishly.

A glass was placed down in front of her and she whipped her head around to the bartender again, reaching for her purse.

"I got it." Luka handed over the bill before she had the chance to snap open her bag. He took the drink and stepped back, offering a hand to her.

She cocked an eyebrow at him, the bass of the music thudding in her chest, even as a smirk played on her lips.

Luka's eyes didn't leave her as he took a sip from the drink, tonge and lips curling over the straw in a way that made Marinette flush and tingle all over.

She took his hand and she let him guide them back to Alya and Adrien.

At the sight of him, Marinette felt the bile rise in her throat and she stumbled, forcing Luka to whip his head around and stop walking.

She could do this, she could sit at the table and talk, she could smile and laugh with them all, with him, because she didn't hate him. She didn't resent him. She didn't, she couldn't.

She cared too much about him.

But tonight, for some reason, she couldn't bear to look at him.

She opened her mouth to speak, to stop Luka from walking back, to stop herself from bolting, to stop Alya from looking over, but the words dissolved in ber throat.

She couldn't.

Not tonight.

Marinette blinked and then her vision was blocked by a glass of peachy coloured liquid held in black polished fingers. She looked up from the hand and Luka's lips were pulled to a side, a tiny knowing smirk.

She closed her mouth around the thin straw and met Luka's eyes. They widened only slightly. Marinette logged away that reaction as well.

He jerked his chin behind her, to the carpark outside the bar.

Distance was what she needed.

She turned, not letting go of his hand as they wove through the small crowd. They exited the bar and as the music faded away, Marinette felt her ears adjust and her body cool in the quiet night air.

They walked aimlessly to the other end of the car park, towards a bench half hidden under the shade of a large tree. Luka sat and tugged on her hand. She looked at him and then at his lap and then at his face again. His expression was the same, open half smirk. She was free to choose where to sit and he wouldn't judge her for it.

Marinette remembered the shiver and sat slowly in his lap. He released her hand, only to settle his own on her back.

He was letting her lead the way.

She alwys knew he was a gentleman. And he would never pressure anyone into anything, especially not her.

She let herself lean onto his shoulder, her nose just below his pulse. The hand on her back began moving in large, soothing circles.

She sighed into the action, closing her eyes.

Flashes of golden hair and green eyes made her snap open her eyes and the tiniest of growls escaped her throat. Luka wordlessly moved the drink towards her mouth and she took another two gulps, relishing the burn in her chest.

"Never knew you were one to growl." Luka's voice was quiet and deep and soothing in all the right ways. And Marinette let herself enjoy it, even as she snorted at his teasing.

He lifted the glass to his own mouth and took a swig, ignoring the straw.

The glass had enough for one more person and he offered it to her. Marinette took it and knocked it back.

She caught his mild surprise in her periphery and drank that in too.

She set the glass down a safe distance on the bench and turned her face to Luka. He was the picture of relaxation, even with her in his lap.

She was in his lap.

Marinette let the buzz in her bones guide her to back the bar completely and plant a thigh on either side of his hips. Luka's face showed more than mild surprise, even as his hands instictively settled on her hips. They were warm, almost as warm as her chest in the aftermath of the drink.

"Luka." She didn't mean to breathe his name like that.

"Yes, Marinette?" Her name sounded far more sinful than it should've rolling off his tongue.

"I am telling you now that I am not drunk, or tipsy." She began, her hands splayed on his chest and sliding slowly upwards.

"Mhm." His response rumbled beneath her fingers and she felt something in her clench.

"And that I do want to remember this in the morning." She continued, fingers skimming his collarbones and brushing at his throat.

Another rumbling response and Marinette felt herself leaning into the heat of him.

"And I am telling you, right now, that I really want you to kiss me." Her voice was barely a whisper but she knew he heard her because he slotted his mouth against hers as soon as her hand had tangled in the hair at nape of his neck.

Kissing Luka wasn't explosive or worldshattering. Rather, it was slow, meaningful, sensual. His thumbs brushed very lightly against her bare waist under her shirt and she shuddered.

He moaned, a soft, breathy thing against her lips and she tugged lightly on his hair in response.

That released a far louder, far deeper noise in his chest and Marinette drank it in. His tongue poked at her lips gently, and she obliged him.

What she didn't expect was the small stud on it as it touched the roof of her mouth and Marinette heard herself whine. His hips shifted up into hers and her hand went white knuckled on his shoulder. Her chest was pressed against his and his heart thudded against hers as she pulled away. He chased her lips with soft kisses, clearly not wanting to be done but respectful of her retreat.

She rested her forehead against his and breathed. He had his eyes closed and his hands had settled on her hips once again, outside of her shirt as they had been first. They stayed like that for a short while, breathing in each other's scent and commiting the taste of the other to memory.

"You are not a rebound. You are not a replacement. You are not a place holder. I don't exactly know what you are but you are none of those." Marinette kept her eyes closed and let her hands rest on his jaw.

"I want to be with you. I want to try with you. But I do not want to hurt you." She felt tears prick behind her eyelids and she willed them away to protect her eyeliner.

"Thank you for being honest." Luka whispered and placed the softest of kisses to her lips.

"You set the pace. I will follow your lead. I am here for you, in whatever capacity you want me to be." He spoke against her lips and she leaned back to peer into his eyes. He was smiling that easy smile she loved.

She returned the smile and leaned back in for a kiss.

[scuttling]

Patient

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid/Latina OFC Sophie Cortes Word Count: 8,691 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Daddy Kink, Daddy Training, Dom/sub, Oral Sex, Spanking, Oral Fixation, Office Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Unprotected Sex, Protected Sex, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Rimming, Double Penetration, Subspace, Aftercare Summary: One month after the events of ‘Perfect’, Aaron has some very big plans for Spencer and Sophie—and a few things don’t go according to plan. Collection: Part 3 of 5 of Present, Perfect, Patient, Promise, Pretend series Note: This is a previously published work from A03, just moving it over to tumblr. Link to A03 or read below! Spencer and Sophie are about to head to the break room together for tea when her desk phone rings. He reaches his hand out for her cup, earns a mouthed thank you and a smile, and she answers as he walks away.

When he walks back with their tea, she has a look on her face. It’s one he recognizes easily, after a month of being her daddy, a look that tells him it was Aaron on the phone. He smiles softly, sets her mug down on the desk. “You okay?” She nods slowly.

“Hotch wants us in his office.”

“Ooh, sounds like it’s time for a spankin’, girl,” Morgan teases, and Sophie rolls her eyes lightly.

“Reid’s coming too. You think he’d spank me in front of him?”

It’s kind of a funny question, because he has, on more than one occasion. Spencer has spanked her, too. It makes her flushed, whiny, needy, gorgeous—just thinking about it makes him hot under the collar.

“Come on, we better go up,” he says, guiding her to the stairs. If anyone has noticed him being a little more assertive with her lately, they haven’t mentioned it, and that kind of surprises him.

Adding him to their relationship hasn’t exactly been kept secret—they don’t make an effort to hide the fact that they all leave together sometimes, or arrive together, go to lunch together—but nothing has been explicitly confirmed with the team. Still, he kind of expected them to notice the change in him. He feels changed, a little more confident, a little less awkward in his own skin, but so far, nothing. He’s still just the same old Reid when they’re here.

When they’re not here, though…

They enter the office, and Spencer closes the door behind him. Aaron gets out of his chair, walks over to them, plants a warm, firm kiss on his lips, then Sophie’s.

“Mmm. Are we being rewarded?” Sophie asks, eyelids heavy. He wonders what Aaron said to her on the phone to get her so softened up already. “If so, I don’t know what I did.” Aaron chuckles.

“You can think of it as a pre-reward, because I’m going to tell you to do something, and I know you’re going to do it. Do you know how I know?”

“How, daddy?”

“Because you’re our good girl, and you’ll do anything you’re told, and because you're our horny girl, and I’m going to let you come after.” Spencer looks over at him, must look as turned on as he feels, because Aaron smirks a little. “I’m going to let you come, too. You’re going to do what I tell you, aren’t you, Spencer? You like that.”

Ever since the weekend he trained Spencer to be Sophie’s daddy, Aaron has been slipping in some subtle commands for Spencer as well, and he can’t deny the way his body reacts to the sound of his voice, the stern set of his eyes. He likes it both ways, likes feeling submissive and making Sophie feel submissive. He even looked it up on the internet, and he’s definitely not alone.

“Yes,” he replies, and he feels his voice is a little weak. Sophie takes his hand; Aaron crosses his arms.

“Try again. Yes, what?” Sophie looks up at him, chews her lip, and he takes a shaky breath. This part is new.

“Yes, daddy.”

It’s a good thing the blinds are closed, because Sophie kind of loses it, pulls the both of them toward her and kisses Spencer and then Aaron and paws eagerly at his clothes.

“This is so hot, can I suck you off? Please, daddy, I’ll be quick.” Her eyes are big when she looks up at him, and he sighs, like giving her what she wants is a hassle. Spencer hasn’t quite mastered the art of not eagerly letting her do whatever she asks, but he’s working on it.

“Okay, but you have to be quiet. I know you’re a loud, needy slut when you’re on your knees for daddy.” She nods quickly, and Spencer comes up behind her, covers her hands where they fumble with Aaron’s belt.

“Easy, baby. Let me help you.” He unclasps Aaron’s belt, looking up at him with undoubtedly hooded eyes, then unzips his pants, pushes them down a little. Aaron presses his lips together like he’s trying not to moan; it makes him feel like he’s being good and bad, and it’s a feeling he likes. “Can I suck, too, daddy?”

Aaron does moan at that. Spencer considers that a win.

“Yes, gorgeous boy. You’ll take turns: ten seconds each until I come.” Sophie is breathing so hard between them, and kind of trembling, and Aaron touches her face. “Calm down, love. I don’t want you hurting yourself.”

“Yes, daddy.” She swallows hard. “Can I start?” she asks them both, and they nod together. She squeezes her eyes shut briefly, slides to her knees, and moans softly as soon as her mouth is on him. In ten seconds, Aaron puts his hands carefully in her hair, guides her off.

“Spencer’s turn.” Fuck, this is so hot. He drops to his knees beside her, looks up at Aaron, and sucks tight; Aaron’s hands clench white against his desk. “Time’s up,” he rasps after ten of the fastest seconds of Spencer’s life, and when he pulls back, Sophie is on him immediately, hand on his balls, taking him deeper.

That’s not really fair, because she’s had more practice. He’ll have to find a way to catch up.

She doesn’t need to be told to stop, this time, and she puts her hand in his hair as he takes his turn, making him moan around Aaron’s cock. A slightly rougher hand grips him, tilts his head back so he slides off.

“Quietly, if you want to be daddy’s good boy,” he murmurs, and Spencer nods. He wants that more than anything. “Start over.” He sucks at the head, gets him extra wet, and bobs until he thinks it’s time; he pulls off with a lick, and Sophie leans in to lick as well, and they curl their tongues around him together even though that’s not the rule. Aaron doesn't seem to mind, tips his head back and clutches at his desk for support. “Oh, fuck. Jesus.” Sophie’s tongue touches his when she licks a stripe up the side of Aaron’s cock, and it takes all of his willpower not to come in his pants.

“Okay, my turn,” she says, breathlessly, and he pulls back to let her suck him down, stroking quickly; it’s clear he’s close, his hips moving slowly, because he knows she doesn’t like that too fast, and Spencer feels greedy, wants the come in his mouth.

“My turn,” he says, and she releases him with a sigh but bends down to suck on his balls while Spencer takes him in.

That’s enough for Aaron, and he comes with a muffled groan, flooding his mouth in a way that’s almost overwhelming, but he swallows, gasping when it’s over. Sophie kisses him dirty and deep, her tongue probing inside his mouth like she’s looking for a taste, and then she gives up and licks the head of Aaron’s dick until it’s too much for him and he guides her off.

They are all left panting, and Sophie pulls Spencer against her, nuzzles his throat.

“Can I suck Spencer, daddy?” she asks in a small, needy voice, and he groans softly. Aaron fixes his clothes, scrubs a hand through his hair.

“Yes, you can, my perfect little come slut. You’re unhappy because Spencer got to swallow for daddy, aren’t you?” She bites her bottom lip, and her eyes are wet as she nods. Spencer pulls her in for a hug, rubs her lips with his thumb. “You’re going to have to learn to share, sweetheart. I know it’s hard.”

“It’s so hard, daddy.” Aaron crouches down to their level, touches them both gently.

“I know, baby girl. I’ll let you suck him, but first, bend over the desk.” She practically scrambles into Spencer’s lap at his deep, stern command, whimpers quietly.

“What did I do?”

“I was trying to give you two instructions and you pounced on me. You were greedy and impatient because you wanted to suck daddy’s cock so badly. You’re going to get four spanks from each of us.” She looks at Spencer, squirms in his lap, and he kisses her softly.

“You heard daddy. Over the desk.” She takes a deep breath and Aaron stands, helps her up, guides her to the desk so her arms are stretched across it and her ass is out for them. Spencer rises to his feet, and Aaron pulls him closer, kisses him hard.

“Take down her pants. She was very naughty, and she needs to really feel these ones.” Spencer takes a rough breath, nods, and unbuttons her jeans, slides them down her thighs; she’s wearing a thong, so that can stay. Daddy’s rules. “Good boy. Kiss me.”

His mind goes blank. Even after sucking Aaron’s cock and swallowing his come, the thing that makes Spencer the weakest is hearing him say kiss me. That’s very interesting.

His heart rate picks up, and he flushes, pulls him close, kisses him deeply. Aaron’s lips are softer than his words, almost reverent as they move against his, and Spencer feels lightheaded when it’s over. “Perfect, shy boy,” Aaron murmurs, and he takes one of Spencer’s hands. “You first. A little harder than last time.”

“Yes, daddy,” he breathes, and the hand not holding Aaron’s comes up to smack her ass, making her lurch forward and whimper softly. Aaron leans in to whisper in her ear, and she wiggles at his words.

“Again, baby,” Aaron tells him, looking back, and he spanks her again; her head comes up like she wants to moan, and she’s panting, but Aaron shushes her, pushes up her shirt and runs his hand soothingly over her back.  “Good girl, just two more and then Spencer will come kiss you. You love his kisses.” He looks back at him, nods, and this time when he hits her, Sophie’s hips move afterward, like she’s looking for friction against the desk. It’s incredibly arousing. “One more, horny girl. You know you can’t get off like this, but you try anyway because you’re so fucking desperate.”

“Desperate, daddy,” she repeats, voice quivering, and after his final blow, she groans softly, sighs. He’s not sure why she sounds relieved; Aaron is only going to spank her harder. “Kisses, daddy?” she rasps, and Aaron lets go of his hand; the other hand is stinging, and he walks around the desk, presses it to Sophie’s hot cheek while he brings her close for a kiss. She sighs again.

“Four more, baby girl. You can take it, you’re my tough girl,” Aaron says, and he smacks her; Spencer watches her face carefully, marvels at how pain and pleasure are equally reflected in her eyes, her mouth. He presses his lips to hers again and she looks up at him like he’s her salvation; it’s enough to make him moan, press against his erection, and Aaron notices. He wonders if that means he’s in trouble. He didn’t ask to touch himself.

Aaron looks at him for a moment, then lifts Sophie by her hips, lays her more on the desk, so her feet are off the floor and she’s closer to Spencer. He licks his lips.

“Take out your cock,” he instructs, and Spencer does, fingers eager and clumsy as they unzip his fly. “Suck, baby girl.” Sophie shudders and scoots forward, takes him in hand, starts sucking like she’s never going to get the chance again. His eyes snap closed and he exhales deeply, palms pressing against the desk. “Stop.” She releases him, panting, and Aaron spanks her; her head sags, and Spencer leans down for a kiss.

“Good girl, you’re doing so good. Your mouth feels so good. Just two more and you’re done, perfect girl.” She nods weakly, her body shaking, and Spencer looks to Aaron.

“Time to suck, baby.”

He puts his hand around the shaft, brings his dick to her lips, and she covers his fingers with her own, sucks a little less enthusiastically—but for Sophie, that doesn’t really mean much. Her mouth is so wet, and he bets her pussy is too; he hopes she’s not so in trouble that she doesn’t get to come, because he really wants to make her come… But only if daddy lets him.

“Stop,” Aaron directs. She doesn’t, and that worries him a little. He holds a hand up for Aaron, pulls out gently, pries her fingers off, and crouches down so he can see her face. He presses his palms to her cheeks.

“Baby girl, you didn’t listen. Have you had enough?” Her eyes are a little teary, but she shakes her head no.

“I’m daddy’s tough girl. I can take it.” He sighs, kisses her mouth a couple times, presses his forehead to hers. When he pulls back, she bites her lip, squeezes her eyes shut, and Aaron spanks her twice in succession.

Her relief at being done is visible, her tense body melting against the desk, and she reaches for Spencer’s hips, but he puts his hand on her arm, stills her. “You did so good baby, so perfect, but you need to ask daddy before you finish sucking, okay? Make sure it’s okay.” She nods, and Aaron comes over to them, kneels down to kiss her, touch her, praise her.

“Spencer is right baby, you did so good for us. We’re so proud of you. You can suck Spencer until he comes in your perfect, pretty mouth, and I’m going to rub your pussy. Remember to be quiet, and I’ll get you off.”

“Yes daddy, thank you daddy,” she says, rushed, and Spencer presses himself against her lips in reward.

She groans softly when Aaron reaches back to touch her, but she’s quiet, good; he lets himself get lost in the feeling, no longer worried about following rules, or making sure she follows the rules, and he comes within seconds. His orgasm is so good, deep, all-consuming, that he just stands there and catches his breath for a minute, and Sophie continues moaning around him while Aaron strokes his fingers inside her panties.

“Amazing boy,” Aaron says, voice low, and Spencer shudders where he stands. “So good to your little girl, and so good for your daddy. So obedient and smart and pretty.” His eyes close involuntarily, and he wets his lips. These words sound so good coming out of his mouth, directed at him, that it makes him hazy. Happy. And a little horny. “Kiss her, baby, if you can—if you two aren’t such a mess you can barely think.”

He kind of is, and he knows she is, but he likes kissing her when she’s barely coherent, so he pulls out of her mouth, cups her face in his hands, and kisses her, catching her moans and whimpers with his lips. “So perfect, Sophie, so good for us. Now come for us. Come for daddy’s fingers, okay?”

“Yeah, I can come for you.” She presses up against Aaron’s arm where it lays across her ass, and Spencer thinks maybe she likes the feel of him against the stinging redness. He leans in, puts his hands on both of her sore cheeks, rubs them softly, spreads them a little, and she sighs, pleased. “Spencer. Daddy.” Aaron glances up, looks at Spencer with a soft expression, then takes one of his hands off of her ass and guides him to her pussy, has him put one fingertip against her opening. Sophie comes the first time he pushes it inside.

She is so good, and quiet, and Aaron helps her off the desk and pulls up her pants, hugs and kisses her softly, while Spencer fixes himself up—between his clothes, his hair, and the undoubtedly foggy look in his eyes, he feels like a fucked out, rumpled mess. He gets hugs and kisses too, when he’s done, and Aaron soothes them, helps them through the blankness he caused so they can function again.

Spencer and Sophie both lean against Aaron’s body where he leans against the desk; he doesn’t look fuzzy like they do, but he does look very pleased with himself, and maybe a little like his mind was blown.

“So. Do you want to hear why I called you up here, now, horny little things?” he asks, holding them both close. They nod together. “I have to work a little later than you tonight, but not much. I have rules for while I’m not there. I want you two to go home, and take a very good shower, and get into some pajamas, and watch tv until I get there. You can make out or otherwise do whatever you like, but you may not come until I get home.” He kisses them each on the mouth once more. “I’ll bring dinner. Understood?”

“Yes, daddy,” Spencer says, licking his lips.

“Yes daddy, no coming,” Sophie recites, and she takes Spencer’s hand. “Back to work, daddy?”

“Back to work, baby. Smart and beautiful girl.” She gets another kiss. “Smart and gorgeous boy,” he tells Spencer, and he gets a kiss too. “Text me when you make it home, I probably won’t see you before you leave.”

“Okay, love you, daddy,” Sophie says, and Spencer follows her to the door, but she stops, puts a hand to her mouth and looks back at Aaron. “The fucking door is unlocked.” Aaron stands up straight, no longer relaxed as he had been, and he walks toward them. Sophie looks up at Spencer and swallows hard.

“Who closed the door?” Aaron asks, and Spencer swallows too. Aaron’s eyes are very hard and his jaw is clenched, and Spencer suddenly feels very, very small.

“I did,” he answers.

“Try again. I did, what, Spencer?”

Fuuuck.

“I did, daddy.” Aaron crosses his arms—looking extremely hot, for the record, like too hot for Spencer by tenfold—and then sighs very deeply.

“Okay. You obviously know you need to be more careful. I don’t need to tell you what could have gone wrong.”

He really doesn’t, because about a million things are running through Spencer’s head, and they all lead down a very bad road of joblessness, homelessness, Aaron-and-Sophie-lessness, and general mortification. He’s glad he’s not being made to feel worse than he already does.

“I will let you choose how you would like to be disciplined, since it’s your first time; it doesn’t have to be spanking, that’s just what Sophie prefers. She can explain your options later.” He uncrosses his arms, runs a hand through his hair. “Really, it’s my fault for not going over the rule again. What’s the rule, Sophie?”

“If you close the door, lock it, every time,” Sophie says quietly, squeezing his hand.

“Right. What’s the rule, Spencer?”

“If you close the door, lock it, every time.”

“Good. I’m not angry, so please don’t be upset.” He kisses them both. “I have a meeting at 3, so I need to get ready. Take care of each other,” he instructs softy, touching both of their faces, and they head downstairs.

Sophie remembers to let go of his hand, or he would have held it all the way to her desk.

“Was that a partner performance evaluation?” Prentiss asks when they sit, unlock their desktops. “I didn’t know Hotch was doing those already, it’s only May.”

“Just squeezing them in when he can, I guess,” Sophie answers. Spencer’s glad, because he still feels kind of low, doesn’t really feel like talking. She kicks at his foot lightly under the desk, a tap he thinks means ‘I’m here.’ Take care of each other. “Yours will be next week, I think he said.”

“Good to know we don’t have to dress up or anything. You look like a college kid and Reid looks like he just rolled out of bed,” Morgan teases, and he freezes for a second. He thought he fixed the blowjob hair. Sophie scoffs.

“He does not. I think he looks really cute today.” Another tap.

“Of course he does,” Prentiss says kindly. “So, how did you do?” He looks up at Sophie, and she smiles, takes a sip of her certainly lukewarm tea, taps his foot again.

“Very satisfactory.” The rest of the work day drags on, and Spencer looks sad about the door thing, so Sophie really wants to make him feel better. She starts by letting him drive to the apartment, and choosing the cheesiest 80s ballads to sing in the car on the way there. When she sings Keep on Loving You by REO Speedwagon as dramatically as possible, he smiles like she’s his favorite thing in the universe, and her heart feels so very full.

When they make it home, she gets them in the door, and then kisses him soft and slow, drags him playfully to the bathroom by his tie. He laughs, and puts his hands on her hips to stop her so he can kiss her properly again. “Hey,” she says gently when their kiss breaks, touching his face. “I really enjoyed myself earlier. Forgetting to lock the door, that’s okay. I did it too, once.”

“Oh, were you in the middle of a kinky threesome with your pants down?” he asks sarcastically, and she rolls her eyes.

“No, but I had Aaron’s head up my skirt and my tits out, so it still probably would have been frowned upon to have an audience.” He laughs softly, and she runs her hands down his body, pulls open his belt. “I don’t want you to feel bad, that’s all. It was an accident, it happened, it’s over. I get you all to myself for a couple hours,” she says, trying for coy, “and that’s never happened before, so I kind of wanted to enjoy it. You?”

“Yeah, I want to enjoy it,” he agrees, takes her face in his hands for a kiss. His lips always feel so good, like they’re caressing her wherever they are, and she sighs happily. “But remember, no coming,” he adds, voice low, and she gives him an appraising look.

“Is that my daddy talking? ‘Cause I want to know how bratty I can be.”

“I’ll be whatever you want me to be,” he murmurs, pulling her t-shirt over her head, and she guides him down for a deep, steamy kiss.

“In that case, I just want Spencer.” She unbuttons his pants, loosens his tie, and they finish undressing each other pretty quickly for two people who aren’t actually going to have sex. When they step under the hot waterfall of the shower, they kiss and touch a little more, and she moans against his arm when he reaches down to touch her between her legs. “What happened to no coming?” she breathes, and he grins a bit wickedly.

“From what I’ve seen, you’re pretty good at not coming. Almost as good as you are at coming. Maybe I want to tease you a little.”

“If you really want to tease me, put your dick in me and don’t let me come on it.” He licks his lips, looks calculating, and she holds up her finger. “No, stop, I’m just kidding. Do not do that. I might cry.”

“What I’m hearing is, not tonight, Spencer,” he emphasizes. “That sounds like something your daddy might do, though, sometime.” She squeezes her legs together, loves when he refers to himself as daddy, even if she likes playing with Spencer as he is as well. Her pussy is complicated.

“Yes, definitely. For now, though, there’s something I wanted to talk about.” He looks at her, so serious, and she touches his face. “When daddy says to take a very good shower, that usually means anal, of some sort, so. Since he told us both to shower… is that going to be okay with you? Because if it’s not, that’s a grenade I’m happy to fall on for you, so to speak.” She sees him process that, and he flushes pink.

“Yeah, yeah. That’s okay with me. I’ve never seen him do it to you, but you like it? It doesn’t hurt?” He cups her cheek, her wet hair, so gentle.

“Well, what’s okay for me may not be okay for everyone, but yes, I like it, and no, it doesn’t hurt. Aaron is so good; he takes his time and makes it feel so good that even his cock isn’t too much. And he goes slow. It’s not like porn, you know? That stuff is made for and by people who fuck, not people who get fucked.”

“Yeah, I get that. I want to, I—I want to.”

“It’s not a guarantee or anything, if he’s not feeling it, but I wanted to let you know just in case. And for the record, I think it would be really sexy to watch him come in you.” Just the thought makes her super horny, and she can tell it makes him lose his mind, so she guides him down for a kiss so she can get her tongue in his mouth. They kiss for a long time, and when Spencer pushes her up against the glass door of the shower and it rattles in the track, she moans. “Fuck, I’m so horny. If I didn’t get spanked already today I’d get off and say fuck the consequences.”

“I think it would be worth it, to feel you come on my cock,” he pants, grabbing her ass, and she holds his shoulders tightly, moves so that his knee is in the perfect spot for her to rub against. When she starts, he groans, squeezes her tighter. It still kind of hurts, which feels really good. “Baby girl, you’re killing me.”

“Just a little taste,” she begs, grinding her pussy on him, and he lets her for a minute before stopping her with forceful hands on her hips.

“Okay, okay. I don’t want you to get in trouble. Let's get cleaned up so when he gets home we’ve been good and we get what we want.” She knows he’s not daddy right now, but he’s being so sweet, and taking care of her, that she feels herself falling, a little bit. She swallows, nods.

“Okay. Thank you.” They kiss, but they don’t let themselves get distracted; they clean up well and dry off and get into pajamas—Spencer’s wearing boxers, and they’re each wearing one of Aaron’s t-shirts, because he’s not the only one who gets to be a fucking tease—and they’re on the couch making out when he makes a soft noise like he’s remembered something.

“You’re supposed to tell me how I can be punished.”

“Disciplined,” she corrects, gently. “Aaron doesn’t like to think of it as punishment, but discipline. If you call it punishment, he won’t do it. But anyway. You could be spanked, like me, or tied up and not allowed to touch him—that’s too much for me, I cried. Aaron does not like to see me cry.”

“I wouldn’t either, baby. You’re too sweet, you don’t deserve to cry. You only deserve good things.” She thanks him, kisses him softly, tenderly, climbs into his lap.

“You could also have him deny you an orgasm for a while by like, literally pretending you aren’t there. We tried it and I cried again, but don’t let me scare you. You might like it.”

“Soft, sappy girl,” he says with a half smile, and she wants to kiss it off of him.

“Yeah, what can I say? I'm just as emotionally needy as I am physically. Fair warning.”

“I think I’m up to the challenge,” he says, looking serious, and he brings her close for another sweet kiss that turns more heated as she presses closer, winds her arms around his neck. “Sophie,” he sighs between kisses, and she weaves fingers in his hair.

“I want you.” Her brain is clouded by lust, and while it’s not the dizzying pleasure of being dominated by her daddies, it's something more, she can feel it. “I want you just as you are, funny and sweet and shy and the smartest guy in the room no matter what room you’re in. I love all that about you.” His hips move under her, she can feel how hard he is, and she moves too, grinds down, kisses him.

“I love you,” he pants, and her hips still, because despite all the sweet and sexy and frankly filthy things he’s said to her in the last month, it’s the first time he’s said that. “It’s okay if you don’t love me back—”

“Oh, shut up. I love you.” She climbs off his lap and tugs his boxers down, and she slowly sinks onto his cock with the help of his careful hands; she wraps her arms around him, puts her mouth on his as she starts to move. He pulls back to speak, and she kisses him hard. “Spencer, I swear if you talk to me about rules I’m going to murder you.”

“But no coming,” he reminds her with a groan as she bounces hard, her chest heaving. His arms are around her waist, snaked up her back, and she can’t believe plain old sex can feel this good.

“We’ll get a pass, I promise. I promise.” She pushes a hand through his hair, kisses him more gently than before. “I love you, let me fuck you. I know you just wanna be good, but let me fuck you.”

“Fuck, Sophie.” His hips slam up hard, and she swears it’s over, but he slows back down again and she sighs, like a part of her still cares about the rules, doesn’t want them to be naughty. It’s not a minute later that Aaron walks through the door, bags in hand, and Spencer groans. “Oh, thank god.”

“What’s going on here?” he asks calmly, putting the bags on the counter and taking off his tie, and fuck, that’s just what she needed to help her finish this stupid, loving, deeply hot sex she impulsively started. She comes, her hips moving fast and her pussy clenching around him, and Spencer moans and presses his face against her shoulder, holding her body tight and coming inside her.

Aaron comes up behind her, shoves a thumb in her mouth, possessive, and she sucks it slow and then pants when it’s gone, “he said he loves me.”

He drops to the couch beside them, runs his hands over the both of them while they calm down, and then he presses his lips to theirs. He rests his forehead against Spencer’s, sweat be damned, and Spencer says, “I love you, too.”

He and Aaron kiss, and Aaron says it back, and Sophie feels kind of bad that they can’t have the same sex just yet, but she’s also not moving unless someone makes her.

“We love one man with impeccable timing,” she says when they come up for air, “because technically you said we couldn’t come until you got home, and you were very much home when your impatient little things had their happy love orgasms.”

“You can have this one on the technicality, but just because I’m happy too,” Aaron says, touching her lips. “But don’t think that means you can challenge daddy ever again, little girl, because you’ll learn quickly that it’s not in your best interest.” That sends a shiver of daddy-specific pleasure up her spine, and Spencer’s too, apparently, because he whines.

“Are you gonna fuck my ass?” Spencer asks Aaron, and Sophie laughs, because they’ve finally found the thing that makes him sound dumb, and turns out it’s just love and lots of good sex. Hilarious. They have dinner shortly after Aaron arrives at home, since Spencer and Sophie aren’t exactly desperately turned on like he’d planned, but what happened was better than he had planned, anyway, so he’s not upset in the slightest.

After dinner—which they sit through looking so sweet and innocent, as if he didn’t walk in to see them fucking in his clothes—everyone gets naked and piles onto the bed for kisses and cuddles. Aaron is in the middle of the love fest, and his heart is so full of love for them it almost hurts.

He never would have thought he’d get to have any of it, let alone all of it.

It’s Sophie who starts it—go figure—by curling her leg around his hip while they kiss, and Aaron softly but firmly tells Spencer to get the lube, which makes them both anxious and squirmy. He squeezes her cheek, gives himself a little more room to work with, and then presses a wet finger against her ass, pushes it in slowly until she gasps. He’s only gone about an inch, but that’s all it takes for her to start moaning, because she fucking loves this.

“Oh, daddy. Please, daddy.” She clings to his shoulders and hitches her leg up higher, and Spencer watches carefully as he pulls his finger out, adds more lube, pushes it in further. “Fuck, yes, daddy.”

“Be patient, sweet girl. You know this takes a while.” He thrusts his finger in and out a handful of times, and Spencer shushes her when she starts begging for more. It’d be enough to make him hard, if he hadn’t already been as soon as he walked through the door.

When she is used to the feeling of one, of how deep he can get it, he pulls out his finger, lubes up another, and slowly inches them in. She feels like silk inside, hot and smooth and perfect, and he holds her tight so she won’t try to buck into the thrusts of his hand, just in case.

“Oh, god,” Spencer groans as he watches him open her up, as he pushes just a little deeper, as he stretches her just a little further. “Can I try, daddy?” he asks, low, and Sophie moans at the idea.

“Yes, perfect boy, but you must follow the rules. Slow and easy, very gentle. Can you promise me?”

“I promise, daddy,” he says, looking so gorgeous and serious, and Aaron removes his fingers and slicks up two of Spencer’s, kisses Sophie’s skin when he slowly sinks them inside. “Oh, fuck.”

“Mmm, daddy. Spencer. Oh, please,” Sophie mewls, bringing up a hand to tug at Aaron’s hair. “Feels so good, daddy. You’re so amazing, daddy.”

“It’s Spencer now, baby,” he says softly, pushing her hair back from her face, and she leans in to kiss him.

“I know, but everything Spencer knows, daddy taught him, and it feels so good.” Aaron closes his eyes, exhales softly. She’s so perfect, and being so patient, and he loves her so much.

“Yes, baby. I taught him because I knew he’d be so good to you, baby girl, and look at him. He’s opening up your ass so carefully because he loves you.” Spencer pulls his fingers out and slicks up a third, and he’s gentle with her, moves his fingers in and out but also side to side, spreading them apart a little. She moans, clings to him, and he reaches down a hand to press himself inside her pussy, pumping slow. A little extra pleasure never hurt anyone, especially when having three long fingers working at their ass.

“Oh, god, yes, daddy.” She doesn’t move, because she’s a good girl and she knows to be still for Spencer, but he can tell she wants to, wants to force his cock deeper inside, then Spencer’s fingers. “Daddy, I’m ready.”

“I don’t think so,” he says carefully, doesn’t want to upset her. “Almost, but not just yet. Let Spencer’s fingers do their job, so his big cock doesn’t hurt you.” They both groan at that—maybe Spencer didn’t think Aaron would let him? But if he wants fucked so badly he’d like to try to soften him up a little first—and Aaron moves carefully inside her. “I’ll let you take us both together if you can be very good and still for me.”

That turns her dial up to 11, and she starts blabbering, and every other word is daddy: “Yes daddy, please daddy, thank you daddy. I’ll be good, daddy, I want you both daddy, I can take it daddy.”

“Fuck. I think she’s ready, daddy, can you check?” Spencer asks, and Aaron smiles. He is such a good boy.

“Yes, baby, let me check and then you can put your cock inside her and feel how tight she is there.” Spencer slips his fingers out, and she whines at the loss, but Aaron slicks his fingers up carefully and pushes them inside her, grinding them and spreading them apart to make sure she is okay with the stretch. She only moans, claws at his back, and he is so turned on, so ready to come inside her it’s unreal. “Okay, sweet girl, your ass is ready. Tell us if you hurt or it’s uncomfortable, and let us know if you’ve had enough. Grab a condom, Spencer.”

“Yes, daddy, I’ll tell you, I promise. Thank you.” They kiss, and Spencer puts the condom on and gets it very slippery, and he leans in to nuzzle against her neck, and Aaron holds her while he presses inside. Sophie starts panting, vibrating in his arms like she wants to move but knows she’s been asked to keep still. “Fuck, yes, oh my god. I need this. Please.”

“Easy, baby,” Spencer says, holding her hip. “You’ve got us, we’re here. Just follow daddy’s rule and be still and we’ll make you come hard.” She nods, frantic, and they move inside her, slowly, taking turns thrusting inside her perfect, tight body.

“Perfect, needy girl. Such a needy slut for us, you want both cocks inside you, fucking you together.”

“Yes, daddy, oh my god. Yes. Needy slut, I’m getting fucked just like a needy slut,” she rambles, holding onto him, reaching back for Spencer. “Spencer, I’m being a good girl, are you proud?” she asks, breathless, and Aaron groans, puts his hands on Spencer so he’ll stop moving, and then thrusts inside her a few times, coming hot and deep. Sophie moans long, and Spencer rubs his hands over her breasts.

“Yes, Sophie, so proud, you’re doing so good. Do you feel daddy’s come? Does it feel so good?”

“So good, it feels so good. Wait until you feel it. Even with a condom, it feels so good when daddy comes.”

Aaron feels lost for a moment, overwhelmed, like they don’t even need him, but then Spencer starts thrusting again, and Sophie clutches at Aaron, puts her mouth against his shoulder and moans and whines, and he remembers how special this is, the three of them, how good. How they all need each other for it to work.

“I love you, daddy. I need you, daddy,” Sophie murmurs like she can tell what he’s feeling, and he touches her face, kisses her deeply, lovingly. He reaches for Spencer, too, caresses his cheek.

“Good boy Spencer, keep fucking. She loves feeling you there. Your turn is next, but remember, you’ll have to be patient.” Spencer closes his eyes, his breathing heavy.

“Yes, daddy. I want you inside me. I’ll be patient.” He squeezes Sophie’s breasts, thrusts a little quicker, like he’s getting close. “Feeling good?” he asks against her neck, and she nods, hums.

“Yes, please come in me. You feel so good, I wanna move, I wanna come.”

“You’re gonna come, baby. You can move a little; I’ll rub your clit,” Aaron promises, and he reaches down between them, slides his fingers over her where she’s swollen. “You’re so messy, baby, between the three of us. You’re getting pumped full of come tonight, dirty, horny girl.”

“Oh, yes daddy. I’m a mess, full of come, still desperate for more.” Spencer grunts, holds her still, and snaps his hips against her, pressing deep and spilling inside the condom, and Sophie all but screams, comes, writhing between them. “God, oh god, fuck, Aaron, Spencer, fuck.”

“Fuck, Sophie, yeah. Keep coming,” Spencer pants, pumping inside even though he’s spent, and he wrings several more groans and shivers out of her before she leans back against him, sighing, satisfied. They both pull out, and Aaron hugs her close between them, because he knows she’ll feel empty and get a little sad, and he’d like to prevent that if possible.

“Beautiful, perfect, good girl,” he coos, and he rubs Spencer’s back, keeps him pressed against her. “You did so good for us, you were so full, and now you’re empty, but we’re right here. We’re still here and we’re not going anywhere.”

“Not going anywhere,” Spencer reiterates, rubbing Aaron’s arm. “So proud of you, letting us both come inside, coming so long and hard for us. You’re our perfect baby girl.” She hums, rubs against them like a pleased cat.

“I’d do anything for you, anything.” They continue to touch her and each other, give her lots of skin contact, and when she’s fully herself again they take her to the bathroom to clean her up.

Aaron pulls the comforter off the bed, because it’s a sticky mess, and they pile back on, kissing and touching softly. Spencer is in the middle, and Aaron grabs two handfuls of his ass, squeezes, making him moan.

“Are you ready to start, sweet boy? Do you want daddy’s fingers?” Spencer presses his teeth into his bottom lip, breathes hard.

“Yes, daddy. Please, daddy.” Aaron rewards him with kisses, pulls a pillow down and guides him onto his stomach. Sophie curls around his head and brushes her fingers through his hair.

“You’re going to feel so good, daddy will make you feel only good just like you did for me, I promise,” she says, and Aaron spreads Spencer’s legs, leans between them to lick gently at his hole; Spencer curses, rubs against the bed, and Sophie laughs softly. “Oh yeah. There’s that, too.”

Aaron smiles, because Spencer is going to be a gorgeous fucking mess when all is said and done, and that’s kind of what he’s been waiting for.

“Do you like that, Spencer? Tell daddy. Do you like my tongue?”

“Oh, god, yes daddy,” Spencer groans, and he leans in and licks again; Spencer’s fingers fist in the sheets. “Feels so good, daddy, thank you daddy.”

“You’re welcome, gorgeous boy. You’ve been so good for me, I wanted to treat you to something special.” He flicks his tongue quickly a dozen times, then presses the tip of it past the barrier, and Spencer arches his back, moans loudly. Sophie is getting flushed just watching him, and she smooths back his hair, murmurs sweet words just for him. “Spencer, I want you to do something for me. I want you to lick Sophie’s pussy while I continue. Sophie, open your legs for him.” She whines, but does as she’s told, and Spencer pulls her closer, buries his face in her and eats her just the way she likes. He’s had plenty of practice, by now.

She curls fingers in his hair, and Aaron dives back in, licking and probing with his tongue until he is wet and soft and moaning against Sophie’s clit.

“Oh, you’re a slut for it, Spencer, eating pussy and having your ass eaten too. Horny, desperate boy for daddy. Are you leaking onto the sheets?”

“Yes, daddy,” he pants, pulling away from Sophie, and she rubs his shoulders soothingly. “Yes, I’m a slut, daddy, making such a mess of myself. My dick is wet and my face is, too.”  Aaron closes his eyes, exhales deeply. This may be a little more than he bargained for.

“Of course, dirty boy. When you eat Sophie’s pussy, you do it right, make her wiggle and whimper. You love it, getting messy, filthy.” He presses his tongue inside again, and Spencer whines.

“Fuck, yes, daddy. Filthy.” He rests his head against Sophie’s thigh for a moment and then licks at her, holding her hips, moaning while Aaron moves his tongue inside him. “Daddy, fingers, please. It feels too good,” he shudders, and Aaron doesn’t want him to come just yet, so he pulls back, leans up on his knees and finds the lube.

“Okay, since you’re such a good boy, I’ll open you up for daddy’s cock now. Do you think you can take me?” Sophie whines, either at his words or Spencer’s tongue, he’s not quite sure.

“I can take you, daddy, yes, daddy. You can hold me down, and, and…” Aaron slides a wet finger in easily, and he thinks Spencer’s mind goes a little blank. It takes him a moment to finish his thought. “And, and fuck me, daddy.”

“Oh, I’m going to, sweet boy. I’ll hold down your arms and pump into your tight, perfect ass and make you come on my cock, gorgeous boy.” Spencer moves his hips a little, rubbing his dick against the bed, and Aaron presses a palm to his lower back. “Be still, baby. You have to be patient for me or I’m going to stop.”

“Yes daddy, please don’t stop, I’ll be patient. Don’t stop,” he begs, and Aaron lubes up a second finger and slides them inside together, and Spencer trembles, whimpers.

“Put that mouth to good use and make Sophie come, filthy boy,” he instructs, and Sophie whines, rolls her hips against nothing.

“I don’t need it, daddy, it’s okay,” she pants, but Spencer knows better, shifts up to suck hard at her clit.

“Baby girl. Who is giving the orders tonight?” She moans, grinds against Spencer’s mouth.

“You, daddy.”

“Only me?” he asks, looking into her eyes as he thrusts his fingers into Spencer, and she shivers, bites her lip.

“Only you, daddy.”

“So what’s going to happen?” Spencer moans into her pussy, rolls his hips around for friction, and Aaron adds another finger, stretching him, breathing out slowly because he’s getting a little too excited at having them both at his complete mercy.

“I’m going to come, daddy.” She groans deeply, tugs at Spencer’s hair, and Aaron smiles. He knows it looks dirty.

“That’s right, baby. Can you come for me now? So I can fuck Spencer?”

“Yes, daddy.” She presses against Spencer, pinches her nipple, and whimpers, shudders, tries to squeeze her legs together as she comes. “Oh, fuck.” She bucks her hips a few extra times for good measure, then sags back against the pillows, her chest heaving. Spencer sighs, kisses her thigh, rubs her hips where his hands were rough. Aaron pulls out his fingers, crawls up to kiss both of his perfect partners.

“I love you both. So incredible for me, so good. Spencer,” he whispers into his ear, pushing back his hair, “are you ready to be fucked by your daddy?” He is sweaty, flushed, gorgeous, a complete mess, and he nods quickly.

“I’m ready, daddy.” Aaron kisses his soft, slack mouth.

“Good boy. Sophie, come lay down. Spencer’s going to put his cock in you so he has a place to come.” She runs her hands through her hair—she is also sweaty, flushed, wrecked, and so beautiful—and looks at him with desperation in her eyes.

“Daddy, I don’t know if I can.”

“You can, baby. Just be still and let daddy do all the work. You can come if you want, but you don’t have to. We’re just using your pussy for clean up, baby girl.”

He loves the look in her eyes when she gives in, slides down the bed, when Spencer hovers over her, shaking, and presses inside. She wraps her arms and legs around him, holds him close, kisses him, and Aaron crowds in behind them and rolls on a condom, slicks it up, and guides himself into Spencer’s ass.

Spencer moans so loudly and deeply that Aaron feels it in his bones, and his hands fist into the sheets again, and Aaron thrusts inside, slow and steady and long, the tight heat around his cock threatening to end things before he’s ready. He drapes himself over Spencer’s back, pumps shorter, shallow, kisses his shoulders.

“Good boy for me, Spencer. Daddy feels so good inside you, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, daddy. So big and... and careful, daddy, thank you, daddy.” Aaron licks his lips, covers Spencer’s arms with his own, applying a little pressure, and fucks slow, rolling his hips, grinding against him. “Yes, that feels so good, oh, god.”

“I know, baby. Sweet, slutty boy. So hot and tight for daddy. This is daddy’s ass, isn’t it?”

“Yes, daddy’s ass,” Spencer murmurs, his hips stuttering a little, making Sophie grab his back. “Only daddy has been in this ass, and only daddy will be.” Aaron exhales hot against his skin, and he leans up, because he has to come, can’t wait anymore. He has to make it good while he lasts.

“That’s right, my sweet, shy boy,” he groans, hands on Spencer’s hips, and he fucks him fast, but not rough, not hard.

“Oh, yeah, fuck, daddy, yes,” he whines, rocking back into Aaron’s thrusts, forward into Sophie, and she whimpers beneath him. “Yes, daddy, come inside me, daddy. Need you to, want you to.”

“I’m going to come, baby, hold on for me. Almost.” He fucks a little harder, can see Spencer wants it, as he works his body fast in time with Aaron’s hips. “Slutty, needy boy, messy and dirty and desperate and perfect. I love you, sweet boy.”

“Yes, fuck, daddy, needy, dirty, desperate. I love you.” He lifts a hand, covers Aaron’s on his hip, and Aaron can feel Spencer’s whole body tighten from inside when he comes, grunting, spilling into Sophie. She sighs, pulls him close, and Aaron folds forward and comes too, pressing deep, running hands over Spencer’s shoulders and neck.

He pulls out so they can get into a more comfortable position, spoons him, wraps his arms around his body and holds him tight, kissing everywhere he can reach. Sophie presses against his front, softly kisses his lips, his cheeks, and he just breathes between them.

After Spencer has calmed down a little, Sophie slides down his body to nuzzle against one of Aaron’s hands, and he lifts it, strokes her face, presses his finger to her lips so she can suck on it. He rests his cheek on Spencer’s arm, wonders how in the fuck the universe decided he deserved this.

Sophie’s sucking slows, then stops, and it’s clear she’s fallen asleep. Spencer swallows hard, clears his throat, and tips his head back for a kiss.

“Hi there, baby. You did so perfect for me, felt so good. My good boy.” He hums, and Aaron kisses him again. “You okay? What can I do for you?”

“Um. Water, please? And then, I can help you with her in the shower. I’m sure she’ll feel gross when she wakes up.” Aaron squeezes him tighter, brushes his lips over his shoulder.

“I can wash you both up, you don’t need to help. When you submit, daddy takes care of you.” He rubs his hip, massages his ass gently. “Did you like it better than being a daddy?”

“I like both,” he rasps. “They make me feel so different, it’s hard to compare.”

“I’m happy to hear that, baby. I like when you do both, too. I’m going to get you that water, and then we’ll wake her up and shower, okay, perfect boy?”

“Yes, daddy.” Aaron nods, gets out of bed.

“Oh, and Spencer?” He turns his head, soft and sleepy and pliant, so cute. “I hope you enjoyed coming tonight, because you’re going to be disciplined tomorrow, and it might be a very long time before I let you get off again.”

He groans, and Aaron grins.

[fatefulfaerie]

Enshrined

A happy August birthday to @livthefangorl !! I hope you like it!

When Link pulled back on the reins of his chocolate-brown horse, he already knew Zelda was asleep behind him, her chest rising and falling gently against his back, her arms loosely around his waist, and her breaths cooing alongside the crickets and cicadas that languished in the night time.

“Zelda,” he prompted, looking over his shoulder. “We’re here.”

He would have let her sleep if he hadn’t promised to wake her when they arrived.

“Zelda,” he repeated. Evidently he would need to do more than a verbal prompt.

Holding her drooped shoulders up with his arm, he slowly and carefully turned around on the horse, so that he sat on the saddle facing Zelda. Keeping one hand on her shoulder, he placed another on her cheek.

“Zelda.”

“Hm,” she sported a soft smile.

“We’re here, we made it.”

Emerald pierced through the fog, eyelids flitting like the wings of a hummingbird.

“So soon?”

Link’s smile was genuine and so were his nods, the former knight chuckling.

“You must have really been out because it definitely was not a quick trip.”

“Sorry you had to manage it alone,” Zelda said. “I didn’t think I would sleep that much.”

“You’re still catching up from holding the calamity for a hundred years.” Link said before pecking her lips. “And I wasn’t alone. You kept my heart warm, like you always do.”

Zelda blushed and averted her gaze. The sun beamed in the night.

At least, that’s how Link saw Zelda’s smile.

They held hands after climbing up the ruined and moss-covered bricks of stone, soon strolling through the forgotten temple and not even batting an eye at the decayed guardians.

After Link and Zelda defeated Calamity Ganon in the burnt grass of Hyrule field, none of the Guardians reactivated, none shone with the cursed magenta light that made Zelda hate the color pink. The decayed guardians were now truly decayed.

The peace that the resulting silence brought with that truth was the most romantic thing in the land.

Zelda hugged Link’s arm and their stroll slowed slightly, her head leaning on his shoulder.

“It must be hard to believe,” Zelda said. “This being the last shrine and all. You’ve done so many.”

Zelda could feel Link’s shrug.

“It’s all kind of a blur, scouring the land for the shrines, but...it does feel strange not having shrines out there I have yet to do.”     

“A good strange?” Zelda asked. Link smiled.

“Yeah,” he replied. “A good strange.”

The curling orange lights could be seen from a mile away. It was nothing new to either Zelda nor Link, as the latter had done a hundred and nineteen of these, thirty of which with his most beloved companion at his side.

He found that the ones he did with Zelda were the most enjoyable of all.

Zelda still had a giddy excitement when they neared the shrine, dislodging herself from the way she held Link and chasing the shrine as if it were going somewhere.

Of course it didn’t. It was planted firmly in the ancient stones of the forgotten temple, with the largest statue of the goddess Hylia they had ever seen gazing down upon them with a smile that anyone else would describe and lifelike and kind. Link had gotten in the habit of biting his tongue whenever someone talked about their strong faith in the goddess Hylia and how she was the most benevolent of all, no matter how much he wanted to say that their “benevolent” goddess let hundreds of people die before finding the time to award Princess Zelda with her long-deserved sealing power. Sometimes Link thought Zelda was the goddess Hylia, and sometimes he thought that goddess Hylia had abandoned them long ago, if she had even existed existed in the first place.

“Link?”

He hadn’t even realized he was staring up at the gargantuan statue, the way it loomed, the way it mocked their life of doom, still and always laughing.

Perhaps Link was being a bit harsh.

“Coming,” he said, dislodging the Sheikah Slate from the belt on his hip. Link and Zelda could afford to forget about the past, the goddess that betrayed them, the calamity that divided them, the kingdom that doubted them. They had each other in the here and now and nothing was more precious.

Link tapped the slate to the pedestal and, just like normal, the chime chimed and the blue light lighted, changing from a sunset glow to a cloud-free sky in the blink of an eye.

The shrine entrance opened, unfolded before them and soon, welcomed them in to descend into the last depth of untouched technology.

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

When they emerged from the shrine, Zelda had a Great Flameblade strapped to her back and Link had the very last spirit orb in his soul. It was an agreement between them that they would switch off who gets what when it comes to opening chests. This time it was Zelda’s turn, but Link looked concerned, and it didn’t get past Zelda.

“You’re gonna set a forest on fire,” he said before Zelda could ask. She put her hands on her hips. 

“If I do, it would be accidental.” She said haughtily. “We both know that I’m not the one who commits arson on purpose.”

“It’s called collateral damage,” Link said. “Sometimes when you blow up a Bokoblin camp, things get a little heated. Besides, we put out the fire before it reached the stable. No one got hurt.”

“Will you be introducing me as ‘no one’ to other people now?”

“What?”

“Yes, this here is my girlfriend,” Zelda said mockingly, imitating Link’s voice poorly. She only deepened it a tad and her royal accent of a hundred years prior seemed unerasable. “She has pretty green eyes and short, blonde hair and her name is No One.”

“Where did you get hurt?”

“I burnt my arm.”

“You did not.”

“Yeah huh.” She rolled up her blue and white sleeve and pointed at her right forearm. “Right here.”

Link’s expression dulled.

“That’s a sunburn, Zelda,” he said dryly. But she knew that.

“Still a burn,” she said with a smirk, big pleading eyes asking for sympathy from Link. He tried to hold his smile, but it broke through in twitches. He finally chuckled as he bowed his head, looking back up with bright, blue eyes completely enamored with the woman in front of him.

Link took Zelda’s hand and brought her now exposed forearm to his lips, pressing a soft, prolonged kiss to the small of her wrist. Not once did he dare break eye contact.

“Better?” Link asked.

“Immensely,” Zelda said weakly. Two months since he rescued her from the calamity and small, unexpected romantic gestures like that still swept her off her feet.

But it wasn’t long before they walked around the shrine, finding the “gift” the last monk had talked about, it apparently taking the form of three different chests.

“I guess we take turns,” Link suggested. 

He walked forward to the right-most chest, soon pulling out a simple green tunic that would expose his shoulders if not worn with the dark tan undershirt that accompanied it, the sleeves of which stopping just below the elbows.

Link didn’t even notice that Zelda was opening the left-most chest as he tried his new tunic on for size, only focusing on the fit that turned out to be oddly perfect.

“Link,” Zelda said.

He turned his head as he picked up the blue champions tunic he had tossed to the floor.

Zelda kept her silence as she ran her thumb up and a down a piece of green cloth, her gaze downward and contemplative.

“This is no ordinary treasure,” she said, almost to herself.

“What do you mean?” Link said with a couple steps forward.

“The past heroes,” she started. “The illustrations in the books...they used to dress like this. The green tunic, the pointed cap...”

She paused for a moment before looking over, offering the cloth to Link.

“All of this is meant for you,” she continued. “I...I don’t know how...I mean we’ve both voiced our doubts in the goddess but maybe...”

Zelda was surprised when Link shook his head.

“Then I can’t accept it,” he said. “I can’t accept such a superficial gift from her when she refused for so long to give you what you deserved. It’s not right.”

Zelda pursed her lips and nodded slowly, lowering the arm that offered the pointed cap. 

Link watched in silence as she went to the last chest. She let out a soft chuckle, picking up brown shorts.

“As much as I want to see your legs in these, I understand,” she said, folding the cap and the shorts together. “Perhaps these belong here, enshrined with the rest of the past.”

Link agreed by nodding silently, before changing back into the blue champions tunic that felt so much more comfortable, so much more settling, so much more right.

He took Zelda’s hand afterwards, ready to leave the legends behind them.

“Let’s go home.”

[eroselless]

hopelessly devoted [2]

Pairing : Sebastian Stan x reader │regency au

Summary : When Y/N Brighton finds herself suddenly married to a strange older man, she thinks her life is completely derailed. Wha happens when she starts to get close to him?

Warnings : smut, lil bit of angst, fluffiness

Word Count : 3.2k

Notes : Y'all I kinda suck at dialogue, so I'm sorry if it sounds weird lol. Also I'm sorry it's a little late, I was trying to aim for Sunday morning but oh well. This will also be the last part of this lil mini series. I had lots of fun writing it. Hope you guys like it! Also just a little last note, this is my first time writing a full smut sequence (cuz I am very much I experienced, if you catch my drift) so apologies if it’s not the best :)

here's what I listened to while I wrote :)

find part 1 here!

It was in the very early hours of the morning when Y/N shot up from her sleep. Her brain was buzzing from a dream she couldn’t quite remember. She had awoken with a gasp, the feeling of falling bringing her out from her deep slumber. The night was still dark, the moon slowly making its way back under the horizon. She rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand, stars sparkling behind her closed eyelids.

The house was in such complete silence, you could hear a pin drop. Y/N sat there, for a moment in the dark. It had been three days since the party with Sebastian. As much as she tried to open up to him, it was nearly impossible as he continued to retreat into his office, asking not to be disturbed. Leaning back on her pillows, she stared at the empty side of her bed. Reaching over, she smoothed her hand over the untouched sheet as if to try to imagine how warm it would be if her husband had slept there.

“He’s probably sound asleep in his room, his dreams far away from me.” She sighed, swinging her legs out from under the covers and stepping out of bed. She pulled a thin robe over her nightgown, shivering slightly at the cold fabric. She grabbed a lit candelabra, holding it gently as she made her way down to the kitchens. She only realized she had forgotten her slippers when her feet had touched the cold tiles of the kitchens. Placing the candle on the counter, she opened the fridge and took out a small glass jar of milk. She sat down in front of the candle, staring into the dancing flame.

Sebastian was cold under his sheets, not having retired to his bed long ago. He tossed and turned, huffing as he sat up in frustration. Sleep seemed to evade him in every way possible. He made his way down to the kitchen, not having bothered to put on a shirt. As he neared the doorway, he realized his bride was sitting there quietly, her cheek leaning into her left hand. Her hair was pulled back, a braid adorning her hair. Her back was to him as he walked in.

“Can’t sleep either?” He said once he was close enough. Y/N jumped a little, choking slightly on the milk she was drinking. She cleared her throat once she had swallowed and nodded at him.

“I thought maybe milk would help but,” She shrugged and made a face. Sebastian chuckled and took an identical bottle of milk out of the fridge.

“It might help if it was warm, I think.” He started and flicked on the oven. He placed a pan on the stove, emptying the bottle into it. “I can warm yours up too if you want.” Y/N nodded shyly, getting up and walking to hand him the bottle. They stood there, watching the milk slowly come to a bubble. The awkwardness was almost palpable, each eyeing the other’s movements.

Once the milk had warmed up he poured it into cups, handing one to her. He sat down next to her, much closer than he had ever been. They drank their milk in silence.

Y/N cradled the cup in her hands, watching the last of the milk swirl around at the bottom. Sebastian watched her, examining the dark circles under her eyes. Maybe her head was as full as his was. He wanted to speak, to let her know that he didn’t mean to pull away from her. That he really wanted to open his heart to but couldn’t. He couldn’t let himself. Strands of her hair had fallen out of the loose braid, falling in front of her face. He reached over, tucking it behind her ear. His fingers grazed the side of her face, feeling the smoothness of her cheek. He moved his hand, his thumb on the side of her face, fingers gently wrapping around the back of her neck. He tried to push the guilt away, tried to mute it as he felt her lean into his hand. Her eyes were hooded, the light of the candle slowly starting to fade as they inched closer. He could feel her slow breath as his lips came nearer to hers. He was so close.

With a swift move of his free arm, he knocked over the glass bottle, sending it falling to the tile floor. He jumped away from her, startled by the noise. He quickly rose from his chair, looking around the room for a broom. From the corner of his eye, he watched as Y/N stood from her chair slowly. Her head was down as she picked up the empty cups and put them in the sink. The moment was gone. He shook his head.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” He said, throwing away the pieces of glass. She really didn’t know what he meant. Did he mean he shouldn’t have accidentally knocked over the bottle? Or did he mean he shouldn’t have gotten so close to kissing her?

“It’s fine, it was just a little accident.” She mumbled, still not knowing what he was referring to. He put the broom back in its place and made his way out of the dark kitchen. He looked back at her as she stood silently by the sink. He nodded to her and whispered a small g’night before fading into the darkness and leaving her alone. Her eyes filled with tears as he slipped from her fingers once again.

It was in the late afternoon when she saw him next. She had sat down for a light snack after dinner, looking out the big windows of the dining room. The sun was making its way down the sky but was almost completely hidden behind thickening clouds. The whole day felt gloomy despite the ray of the sun that fought to peek out. Her husband had been quiet during dinner, dismissing himself the second he had eaten the last morsel of food from his plate. He wasn’t that hungry, he said. Where she sat, she watched as he made his way into the gardens.

Sebastian sighed as he sat down on the stone bench on the edge of the gardens. He looked forward, towards the darkening sky. From the library to the party to the warm glasses of milk the night before. His desire to have her close was rising but the guilt inside him kept him away. How could she feel happiness here? Away from her old life, away from the people she loved? He couldn’t help those words from echoing in his head. Even though he had been helping her family, giving them what they needed to eliminate their debts, he felt guilty for marrying her. He had taken her chances of a happy future away.

He turned towards the house as he heard footsteps walking towards him, rustling in the grass. He sucked in a breath as Y/N sat down next to him on the bench. She looked over at him, pressing closer as she leaned on her arm. They sat in silence, enjoying the cool air. It’s going to start raining soon, she thought.

There was something else in the air. There was a looming question, now that I'm here, what do I do now? Y/N could feel herself try to push a question out, anything to make him see her. Even though she was sat down next to him, why couldn’t they speak anymore? Why did he pull away from her whenever he got too close?

“Do you hate me?” She asked. Sebastian blinked. “Of course not.” He replied, confusion dripping from the question.

“Do I embarrass you?” She egged on, thinking back to the one moment in public, on the dance floor. He shook his head.

“Then why do you pull away when we are close?” She said. Frustration began to settle in him. He didn’t want to explain himself. Of course she didn’t embarrass him, but how could he explain to her the riddles that went on in his head? He stood up, shaking his head. He stepped in front of her, wanting to leave.

“No, no,” She cried, pushing herself up from her spot on the bench. “I can’t do this anymore!” She grabbed his hands, tears sparkling in her eyes.

He roughly pulled his hands away, making a move toward the house. The rain had slowly started to fall around them.

“Sebastian stop,” she begged, reaching for his arm again.

“This time you don’t get to walk away.” His eyes stayed focused on the grass below their feet, refusing to meet her eyes. He stayed frozen in place.

“Answer my question, why is it that whenever we get a chance alone, you pull away?” She protested. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to rid them of tears. His mouth felt dry as he tried to speak.

“I c-can’t” Her grip didn’t lessen on his arm. She was waiting. He looked back at her, tears falling from their eyes. Even here, with her eyes tinted red she still looked beautiful.

“I can’t bring myself to give in to the fire that’s burning in me. I can’t look at you and deny that there is love in me for you.” He spilled out. “I can’t help but feel as if I robbed you from any happiness that you could’ve had.” Y/N felt her heart beat louder in her chest.

“Every time I see you smile, I cannot help but feel sorrow grow in my chest because I can only ever imagine making you smile that way.” The pain in Y/N’s seemed to fade, growing into an adoration as he confessed. For weeks they had gone from sneaking longing glances at each other and pining for each other in secret.

“If you let me, I could be the happiest,” She began, bringing his hand to her chest. “I could be the happiest, here, with you.”

“My heart, it beats for you.” They stood there, their eyes locked on the other. And there, under the gloom and the rain, there was a different feeling in the pit of their stomachs. That warm fuzzy, euphoric feeling. Love.

He pressed his lips to her in a flurry of passion. He pulled his hand from her, holding the sides of her face. The walls built around each of them came crumbling down as they found themselves finally letting go. The saltiness of their tears was being slowly washed away by the rain, the pain falling away.

Sebastian pulled away from the kiss, resting his head on Y/N’s forehead. They were breathless, taking in the moment. Y/N leaned into his touch, smiling and pressing her cold nose against his cheek. Even though the storm was tearing around them, there was peace.

Y/N walked behind Sebastian as they made their way out of the rain and into their home. They slowly reached the top of the stairs, freezing upon coming face to face with their individual doors. Neither of them wanted to separate from the other, they stood in silence for a few seconds. Y/N watched as Sebastian looked between her and the door and then back at her.

“Will you need any help with your clothing?” she dared ask. Her voice was just above a whisper and for a second she questioned whether or not he had heard her. He felt his breath stop as he met her eyes.

“I suppose I will.” he said calmly. With that he guided her into his room.

She had only ever glanced into it a handful of times but had never even stepped foot in it. He had beautiful sage green decor with accents of gold. His bed sheets were a deep green and his curtains an even deeper green to keep the light from coming. They were pulled open to reveal the gloom coming from outside. It was similar to the size of her room yet there was a different vibe to it. The lights were lit, providing a soft and alluring vibe to the room. She was in awe of how elegant his room was, contrasting his serious exterior. Sebastian watched her, looking on with adoration.

She was pulled out of her daze as he stepped in front of her. She felt her cheeks warm up as he softly grabbed her hands in his. She peered up at him nervously, through her lashes. She pulled her hands away, bringing them to the buttons of his shirt. He watched as she carefully unbuttoned each one, admiring his tan skin as she got a wider and wider view of his chest.

Sebastian felt his heart flutter as her eyes traveled over the expanse of his pectorals. Her fingers danced over the faint chest hair and then over his shoulders as she fully peeled the sopping shirt from him. She trailed her fingers over his arms, taking one in her hands. She admired the veins that slightly popped up from under the skin as she traced them with the tips of her nails. He let out a shaky sigh as he pulled away from her.

A sense of lust began to grow in the air as he moved behind her. His breath danced on the back of her neck as he began to undo the knots of her dress. He pulled gently at the string, loosening it and taking it from her. She shivered under his touch, relishing in the lingering feeling of his fingertips on her back. She was left in her undergarments, feeling the cold air around her. She felt vulnerable. She had to still a laugh in her throat, what a metaphor for their current situation.

She then felt the rest of the clothes drop to the floor. She was now completely bare, her back fully exposed to Sebastian. She stepped out of the pool of clothes that were at her feet and slowly turned to face him. Reaching up, she gently pulled the pin from her hair. It cascaded down over her shoulders, still damp from the rain. Sebastian held in a gasp. Even though they had been living in the same house for weeks, he had never seen her with her hair down. Not completely. It was always up in a sort of way, but never lingering over her face like this. He kept his eyes up, trying not to look down at the swells of her breasts. He didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable. He felt butterflies flutter in his stomach when her eyes broke away from his and he felt her hands make their way to the buckle of his pants. He took a deep breath in as he felt his member stir within the confines of his undergarments. She pulled his pants and all from his hips and let them join her clothes on the floor below.

They were both bare. Standing in silence, in the cool air of Sebastian’s room.

“Tell me you want to stop and we can.” He whispered. Y/N’s eyes met his, twinkling in the dim light. “I don’t want to.” she said, inching forward.

With that, Sebastian pulled her in. His thumb caressed her bottom lip before placing his full lips over hers. This kiss was unlike the one they had shared in the rain. That one, though filled with passion, had timidness to it. He had been holding back ever so slightly. She felt him push against her until she felt something hit the back of her knees and she fell onto the bed.

It was then when she felt self conscious. She was frozen on the bed with her hair sprawled out underneath her like a halo. Sebastian towered over her, looking at her with an almost innocent tint in his eyes. On instinct, her hands went to cover her breast and her legs bent, hiding her womanhood. He shook his head, pulling her hand away gently.

“Please don’t hide from me. You're so beautiful.”

He leaned over, pressing a single kiss on her throat. He looked up at her, as if to ask for permission to continue. Y/N nodded before he leaned over her again. He pressed his hands on the mattress, holding himself up as he trailed his lips down the valley between her breasts. She could feel her heartbeat start picking up and soon she was feeling it between her legs. She felt herself grow wetter as he suckled on her nipple, tweaking the other one with his fingers. Her chest heaved as she felt his fingers travel just below her navel. He pressed his finger there before moving his mouth down her torso. She let out a low moan, tingles erupting in the depths of her stomach. She felt her legs shake nervously as his mouth inched lower.

She uttered a sharp gasp as he suctioned his lips on her clit, circling it with his tongue. He worked his fingers in her, pushing them knuckle deep. Y/N subconsciously bucked her hips, wanting to soothe the red hot burning that was building up inside her. Her hands fisted the bedsheet until her knuckles were white. She reached her climax with a pop as Sebastian rode it out, hand still moving gently against her. He climbed on top of her as she pulled his lips towards hers, not caring that she could taste herself on his tongue. He placed a hand under each of her knees, slotting himself between them. His arms were pressed into the mattress on either side of her head.

“Slowly.” He said as he lined himself with her entrance.

He groaned as he bottomed out. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, feeling a sting between her legs. Y/N squirmed under him, trying her best to breathe steadily. Her fingers gripped tightly onto the tender skin of his back. A high pitched moan came from her lips as he reached between them to press his fingers against her little bundle of nerves.

“Seb —”

He nudged her hands from his back and interlaced their fingers, pinning her hands above her head. She rolled her head into his mouth panting. His jaw went slack, his lips just hovering over hers.

Y/N felt her eyes roll to the back of her head as Sebastian pulled one of her knees up to her chest, hitting a different angle inside of her. A heat began to spread through her body. Her words got stuck behind her throat as she felt herself come undone under him. A moan fell from her lips as she came once again.

At the feeling of her walls fluttering around him, Sebastian felt a coil inside him break as he came inside her walls. His head fell to her shoulder as they both rode down from their highs. Y/N let out a breath as he let his full body fall on her. It was comforting despite feeling slightly crushed under him. It felt nice. She pressed her lips to his shoulder, smiling as she felt him kiss her neck lovingly. A smile graced her lips as he rolled off her, wrapping her in his arms from behind. They laid there, letting sleep fall over them. Tomorrow would be different, a good kind different. It was only up from here.

tags:

@lharrietg @carleywhittaker @tonystankschild @headheartbellarke @baebee35 @lady-loki-ren @soap-bubble-nebula @chipilerendi @thekleonablog @gloryekaterina @pspice639

[wesimpforxiao]

Say My Name and I’ll Be There:  8.4; Lantern Rite 3

X-Xiao...kissed me...?  You still couldn't wrap your head around what just happened, even after he seemed to move on from the topic and sit back down on the viewing rock, his eyes casting a wonderous gaze at the lights that floated above the two of you.  You were unaware that his and your eyes had flashed their signature glow when he placed a kiss between your brows, signaling the official sealing of your bond with the adeptus.

So it's sealed, Xiao made the conscious effort to keep his eyes on the lanterns while he thought to himself.  Her pain should subside now.  He could still hear the faint bustling of Liyue Harbor to the right of the cliff, and his lips twitched into a miniscule frown for a split second.  I won't be able to hear her play music anymore.  His gaze flit to you, still recuperating from his touch and a deep shade of crimson.

"Aren't you going to sit?"  His words sliced through the silent air much like his blade.  

"U-uh, yes!"  You squeaked, putting a bit of space between your bodies in the process, mostly because of embarrassment.  "So, um...the lanterns...do you like them?"  Your fidgeted with the hem of your shirt.

"They...are not half-bad," he begrudgingly admitted.  When you sent him a glance, you noted the pink that painted the tips of his ears as he avoided looking your way.  

"I'm glad I got to see you today," you smiled and returned your gaze to the sky.  A comfortable silence befell you two, while the crickets began to sing and the fireflies assisted in lighting the hill alongside the lanterns.  It was peaceful.  Even after the lights of the lanterns dimmed and could no longer be seen in the air, the two of you sat overlooking the harbor.  

"When will you be leaving?"

"At the end of the week, at the latest.  We might be leaving tomorrow--er, I guess it's technically today now--but Childe hasn't said anything yet."  You caught a glimpse of what you assumed to be dejection in his eyes, and tussled his hair.

"What are you doing? I'm not a child," he dodged you before your hand could mess his hair up even more.  His eyes narrowed at you with suspicion, not quite knowing what you were getting at.

"You looked sad, so I thought I should cheer you up," you answered cheekily, much to his bemusement.

"I do not understand how patronizing me is supposed to 'cheer' me up," he watched your hand come up and run through his hair much gentler this time.

"I'd rather get you to banter with me than look like that."  You had thought he would pull away again, but much to your surprise he held still--and even seemed to lean in slightly as if he enjoyed the gesture.  "Can I play with your hair, Xiao?"

"Why bother asking when you're already doing it?" He half-complained before getting up and sitting in front of you so his back leaned against your shins and his head lay onto the spots above your knees.  He made a show of false disinterest as per usual, but he ended his little charade with a slim smile as he looked up at your embarrassed expression.

He's never been this open, you struggled to comprehend his gestures while your hands re-embedded themselves in his locks.  I’m blessed to see his smile.  He watched you closely, observing the small waves of happiness, excitement, shock and embarrassment wash over your face.  He observed the gentle nature in your eyes, and the content smile you'd return to him when you occasionally worked up the courage to meet his gaze halfway.  

Eventually, you felt his shoulders relax and he allowed himself to put his full weight against you, his eyes hesitantly fluttering closed soon after.  If a kiss to the eyelids was a sign of placing trust in one another, this had to be the ultimate display of trust coming from the adeptus.  He never slept when you were adventuring with Aether--or at least, you never caught him batting an eye.  Always said something like 'You have no respect for the ways of the adepti,' or 'Sleep is for mortals.'

And yet here you were, stuck between him and the rock you sat on, as his breathing turned slow and shallow, his face relaxing to that of a rare vulnerability of a long-lost innocence both of you thought he no longer had.  It was clear he reveled in your touch as you traced circles along his scalp and lulled him to sleep with the soft familiar hum of your moonsong.  Even after the lights of the stars were the only ones illuminating your dark surroundings, you continued to hold him.

The yaksha's dreams were light and fleeting, much like his natural agility in combat.  Dreaming was rare, but when it happened, it seldom excluded the voices of bygone gods and wraiths.  What was once an image of the human he came to love was now a void of indescribable darkness that loomed ever closer to his restrained soul.  Threats of instilling terror, misfortune, and death upon you reached his ears, and the tension around his chest tightened until he found it difficult to breathe.  

When he felt like he was drowning, being swallowed by the fear of losing you, hurting you, causing you pain--

You felt Xiao tense against you and peered down at him to find his eyebrows furrowed together and the corner of his lips twitching.  Is he having a nightmare?  You observed him for a moment, nearly jumping out of your skin when he--quite literally--began to growl much like an agitated animal.  His eyes were still squeezed shut, albeit tighter than before, and his nails dug themselves into his skin like he was struggling to ground himself.  The feral look on his face made your jaw tighten.

Once you recovered from having the daylights scared out of you, one of your hands left his hair and traced his temple in a circular motion.  "It's okay, I'm here."

Xiao jolted awake, one of his hands shooting up to grab your wrist in a tight grip as if he had thought he was about to be attacked.  His eyelids flew open just as quickly, his breathing an unsteady pant and his blurry vision finally coming to focus on the shadow of the concerned human that loomed over his body.  His grip loosened when he realized it was you, and his thumb rubbed the spot where his nails had broken skin with a guilty look in his eyes.

"Are you okay?"  He had moved so quickly, you weren't even aware that he had scratched you.  You rotated your hand so that you could hold his, giving him a reassuring smile when he squeezed back.  His gaze hardened as he lifted his head and broke eye contact.

"It was nothing." He was wide awake now, not being able to bear another one of those stupid dreams.  He didn't need that right now; he just wanted to bask in your presence and forget about his worries.  But that intense fear of his selfishness bringing harm to you loomed at the back of his mind as he glanced over to you.

Can I really indulge in such humanistic behaviors and put you in danger?  

"Xiao?  What's wrong?"  There was that look again; it wasn't his usual indifferent expression, but one that revealed a heavy burden of anxiety in the depths of his pupils.

Can I allow myself to be vulnerable with you, without a guilty conscience?  Zhongli even said himself that you would be in danger of his karma even after the bond is sealed...So why did he do it?  Why did he admit his feelings while knowing it would cause you pain in the long run?  Did human emotions cause him to think irrationally and make a brash decision?  Is that what they do?

"...Xiao?"

"Rise."  The adeptus swallowed the heavy lump in his throat and wrapped an arm around you until the surrounding world warped unsteadily.  The feeling nearly made you vomit, but just as quickly as the world spun, it stopped and your feet were on steady ground again.  

"Huh?"  You caught your bearings and took a moment to recognize your surroundings.  The two of you were in a small bedroom, with the moonlight falling through the window.  "Is this Wangshu Inn?  I-I can't...Childe said I can't be here--"

"Humans need sleep to function properly.  You can't sleep outside."  He shot you a stern look when you opened your mouth to protest further, and you couldn't help but think he was trying to push you away again.

This time, he was doing it a bit differently.  

"Where will you sleep?"  You gestured around the small room that had only one bed.

"I have business to attend to.  I'll be back by sunrise."

You took a deep breath and took the plunge.  "You can't run away from your fears, Xiao."  The yaksha froze, one of his eyebrows twitching in response.  "That's what you're doing right now, isn't it?"

"Mortals do not understand the burdens adepti--"  A raised brow got the words stuck in his throat.  The bond is sealed, is it not?  How can she see right through me?

"I asked you to trust me, Xiao.  Don't burden yourself so much.  I can take some of the weight off your shoulders; all you have to do is let me."

A human helping an adeptus with his burden? It shouldn't be that way.  What could you even do for me?  The weight on my shoulders would crush you.  He wanted to mutter the words, but it was clear they would fall on deaf ears at the moment.  He desperately wanted to disappear from the room for your own protection against his karmic debt, and he would've, but...I don't want to leave just yet.

The yaksha positioned himself so that he leaned against the door while you got under the fluffy covers that lay on the bed.  It had to be two in the morning by now, surely, your human mind must be exhausted.  He could go without sleep after that awful dream earlier...

"Xiao?"  Your half-whisper travelled through the dark room.  "Can you, um...Will you...Could you maybe lay next to me?"

It took a moment for your words to be processed.  Join her in bed?  Why?  "I'm naturally inclined to stand watch.  Go to sleep." A meek and disappointed 'okay' from the bed drew a reluctant sigh from his lips, but you had already drifted off.  It didn’t take long for the air in the room to grow unusually cold, and the familiar groans accompanying your nightmares to be heard.

................

"I won't let you take him!"  Your cry dropped the temperature of the throne room below zero, and your captor laughed at the pitiful display of power.  Despite your show of bravado, you were trembling before her.

"I know what you've been thinking," the archon's lips spread into a thin, daring smile.  "Heed my words, Mezzetin, you are still and always will be under my control."  The amusement didn't reach her eyes.

"Stay away!"  A warning shot of solid ice grazed the Tsaritsa's cheek, to which her eyes narrowed after recovering from what you assumed was shock.  Shock that you actually touched her.  "If you dare to touch him, I'll--"

"You'll what?"  She tested with a raised brow, motioning for Scaramouche to bring out the messy gift of a bloodied, unconscious--or dead--yaksha.  He threw him at your feet.

"No!"

Your eyelids shot open, nose inhaling a deep, slow breath when your consciousness returned to the room in Wangshu Inn.  Light flooded through the windows and illuminated your surroundings, and you could hear the local wildlife singing in the tree branches directly outside the window.

It seems like you also had an unconscious fear eating away at you, just like Xiao.  But something about that nightmare was off...why did she look at you like that?  The shock on her face...Was that your unconscious view of her, or was it something more?  Surely she couldn't have actually been in your dream.  The mere idea of it sent a chill down your spine.

And what was with this qingxin flower-scented pillow? It was nice and toasty, and--Oh my gods, why is it moving?!

"X-Xiao?!"  Your gaze dropped to your arms, which were wrapped tightly around his abdomen.  Your head shot up only to hit his lower jaw, drawing groans from both of you.  I'm cuddling him?! What the hell?!

"You wanted me here," he muttered shyly while rubbing the spot you had just collided with.  "You weren't sleeping well."

"But...But I thought you declined!"  Despite your obvious distress, your grip around him didn't loosen, and he didn't make it a goal to move, either.  He tensed when you returned to your original spot with your face buried at the crook of his neck.  Your disturbing dream was long-forgotten now that you had this to worry about.

"You're telling me you don't remember dragging me under the covers?"

"EH?!"  Your face burned hot with embarrassment and you raised your head to look at him in horror.  This time, your grip around him loosened.  I sleep walk?  I don’t remember ever having that habit.  What else have I done?!  "Did I really do that?"

"Hmph."  The slightest twitch at the corner of his lips.  He was laughing at you.  Foolish.  Of course you didn't.

"You're so mean!" You gawked and reburied your face once you caught onto his amusement, his arm hesitantly slinking across you in response.  You'd never been so close to him before.  It was difficult to calm yourself from being so up-close and personal with him so early in the morning; the way his toned stomach rose and fell as he breathed, his breath tickling your ear; how muscular his arm felt on top of you...Ooooh, this was too much to deal with after just waking up--Archons, what're you even thinking this early in the morning?!

Xiao thought it was odd how often your ears turned a bright shade of red, but he never brought it up.  He had a feeling if he pointed it out you would just turn a deeper shade and evade giving a straight answer.  Maybe Zhongli or Aether could help him understand this weird human display...

...................

"Good morning, Zhongli! Aether! Paimon!"  Your excited wave to the trio grabbed their attention as they walked through the main street of Liyue.  "Sorry about, er, running away last night!"  

"You're looking better," Paimon commented while a relieved Aether returned your greeting.  "What's got your spirit up?"

"Hm?"  Your fingers twitched.  "Oh, uh, well..."  You looked to Xiao for an easy getaway.  "I found him, so..."

"I found you," the adeptus corrected, arms crossing across his chest as he avoided your gaze.  

"Did you see the Mingxiao lantern?  It exploded! It was so cool!"  When you shook your head 'no,' Aether busily filled you in with graphic details of the largest plaustrite lantern in twenty years.

Xiao's avoiding eye contact, and you are brimming with happiness while sneaking glances at him...Zhongli observed you two extra carefully, taking note of every minute movement you were making.  I see.  The bond may or may not have sealed, but I am almost certain another event came to pass last night.  These are the symptoms humans call 'afterglow,' are they not?

Zhongli cleared his throat and interrupted the animated conversation.  "It is not a Liyue specialty, but why don't I treat you all to a meal of red bean rice?"

"Red bean rice? What's that?"  Aether scrunched his eyebrows together when he didn’t recognize the name of the dish.  It was a given he would be the one to pay for it all, so he was conditioned into automatically accepting the matter.  It no longer surprised him that Zhongli would offer to pay despite lacking mora.

"Oh! Paimon knows this one!" The floating mascot hurriedly whirled around with stars in her eyes at the thought of food.  "It's traditionally an Inazuman dish, but it is served on special occasions like weddings, birthdays, and--"

"What's the occasion?" It was your turn to send Zhongli a quizzical look, but Xiao looked disinterested in the conversation.  "I don't remember any of our birthdays coming up, and we definitely don't have any weddings, either."

Zhongli thought it was the most obvious thing in the world, and he faced you with a straight expression.  "In honor of your consummation, of course."

"WHAT?!"  You nearly choked on nothing, while Aether and Paimon's jaws practically dropped to the floor.  Today's morning air seemed to heat up quite a bit, aha...

"W-wait, Zhongli! You can't just blurt that out!" Paimon frantically waved her hands out in front of her.  "People don't talk about that in public! It's inappro--"

"Wow, um," Aether awkwardly scratched the back of his head and released a nervous laugh.  "This isn't really something I thought I'd have to hear about."  He shyly averted his eyes to avoid your flabbergasted gawking.

"Wait! That's not...That didn't...!"  You failed to blurt the words out as your cheeks heated up more and more.  Oh boy, it was getting especially hot in the sun, wasn't it?  "We didn't!"  Your head whipped to Xiao, and you urged him on.  "Say something!"

"I-is this true, Xiao?"  Despite Aether's awkwardness, it was clear as day that he and Paimon just had to have confirmation to quell their disbelief and recover from the shock of Zhongli's bluntness.  "Did you guys...?"

"We slept together, yes."

"XIAO!"  Your shriek of horror caught the attention and annoyance of the strangers walking past the group as they were cleaning up from the Lantern Rite.  Feeling all eyes on you, your shrunk in on yourself, face burning with even more embarrassment.  The way he said it! Without so much as a smidge of hesitation!  This humiliation was too much; honestly, you’d prefer if you could crawl into a hole and hide right now.  "He didn't mean it like that!" You whisper-yelled at the trio, who all held smug, knowing expressions that weren’t too far off from that Albedo-fellow you met.  "Will you stop?! We just slept next to each other, that's it! I swear!"  You sent a slight glare in Xiao's direction.

"Oh-ho?" The all-too familiar sneer of a harbinger brought you a small sense of relief now that the attention shifted away from you.  "That's it, ojou-chan?"  Childe's cocky grin prompted you to roll your eyes.  Finally, some color's returned to your cheeks.  And that constant grimace of pain is absent, too...So their bond must be sealed; her Majesty will be pleased.

"Stay away from her!  Aether!"  Paimon gestured for the boy to pull his sword, and he did.  Xiao simultaneously sidestepped ahead of you, his face distorting into a scowl.  Zhongli, on the other hand remained still, his eyes the coldest you've ever seen.

"Relax.  I'm not here to fight," Childe chided. He remained as relaxed and unconcerned as ever despite Aether pointing the edge of the blade at his throat.  This man faced death with a smile-

"That's what you said last time, and you proceeded to attack us anyway," the traveler growled.  

"That's in the past."  Childe's eyes flit to Zhongli for a moment.  Ah, so he still hasn't told them?  Does the yaksha know, then?  He caught the uneasy side glance Xiao gave his master.  He does.  This’ll be interesting.  His gaze shifted to you.  "You disobeyed orders last night, Mezzetin."

"Mezzetin?"  Paimon's face twisted unhappily.  "What kind of dumb pet name is that?"

"Step closer, and I'll use force," warned the yaksha, who didn't conjure his weapon to avoid the prying eyes of Liyue's citizens.  Not that it would make a difference, anyway; people were already casting side glances at Aether's sword.

"No, you wouldn't.  Not here," the harbinger called his bluff, and didn't remove his gaze from you.  "So, I take it your time here was well-spent?  Good.  We'll be leaving tomorrow."

You took a half-step forward.  "Tomorrow? But--"

"I'm afraid I have business to discuss with you," Zhongli finally broke his silence, and the atmosphere grew tense when Childe's gaze sharpened in response.  "It may delay your leave."

"Oh?  Whatever do you want to discuss with me, Mr. Zhongli?"  The atmosphere grew heavier until it felt like the entire group was suffocating, Childe's icy smile sending chills down your spine.  He wore his usual friendly façade, but that just made it all the more worrisome as his eyes were vacant and calculating.  

"Uh-oh," Paimon squeaked, and disappeared.

"I'm sorry, dear friends, but I will have to take a rain check on our little celebration."

"We weren't even celebrating anything!"  Heat rose to your cheeks until the archon sent you an admonishing look that told you it really wasn't the time for your chirps.  He was practically emanating anger, hot and boiling to the point where you couldn't bear to stand there any longer.  It was like being in a boiling pot of water.

"Come."  Xiao snapped you out of your daze and encouraged you and Aether to follow him.  "They have matters to discuss."