#tilt shift filter in use

[shatinn]

Starfield 25/?

[gf2bellamy]

mistake — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: spencer overhears you and derek talking and he misunderstands your conversation, causing him to distance himself from you. content warnings: mention of being held at gunpoint, biting lip + lip bleeding, spencer being cold a/n: this idea has been stuck in my head for so long !!! i hope you guys like it <33

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the breakroom as you stood by the counter, suppressing a yawn behind your hand.

Derek Morgan leaned casually against the counter, his coffee mug in hand, watching you. “You okay?” he asked, concern flickering in his tone despite the casual delivery. 

You glanced at him, offering a crooked smile. “If I had a dollar for every time someone asked me that today…” you trailed off, finishing your coffee preparation.

Moving aside to let Derek reach the machine, you took your first sip, savoring the warmth against your lips. “I’ve been saying the same thing all morning—I’m fine.” 

Morgan arched a skeptical brow, filling his mug. “You were held at gunpoint two days ago,” he pointed out, taking a sip of his coffee. 

You shrugged, attempting nonchalance. “And nothing happened. I’m fine,” you repeated firmly. 

“Tell that to Pretty Boy,” he said, his voice laced with a teasing edge. 

Confused, you turned to face him fully, eyebrows raised. “Why?” 

Derek chuckled, leaning against the counter as he studied your reaction. “He was driving everyone insane while you were in that house. Emily nearly bit his head off.” 

The image of Reid pacing anxiously, rattling off statistics and scenarios, flashed in your mind, and you couldn’t suppress a faint smile. “Hotch got me out. There’s nothing to worry about anymore.” 

At that moment, the sound of footsteps and muffled voices drifted from the hallway as other team members began filtering in, but Derek’s gaze stayed locked on you, serious now. “You know Reid would do anything for you, right?” 

You froze, his words hitting like a direct shot to your chest. The air in the room seemed to thicken, your grip tightening around your coffee cup.

“Yeah,” you mumbled after a moment, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Derek didn’t look away. “Good,” he said simply, though his tone suggested he wasn’t convinced you fully understood the weight of it. 

You took another sip of your coffee, your gaze fixed on the countertop as the warmth seeped through the ceramic into your hands.

The thought of Reid’s concern—his constant, almost obsessive worrying—made your chest ache. It was a strange sensation, both comforting and upsetting, like being wrapped in a blanket too tight to breathe.

“I don’t like it,” you muttered, the words slipping out before you could stop them. 

Morgan’s sharp ears caught it instantly. He raised an eyebrow, his posture shifting as his curiosity piqued. “What’s there not to like?” 

You hesitated, the words tangling in your throat. The memories flashed unbidden in your mind—situations where Reid had thrown himself into danger without hesitation, his only concern being you. The way he’d rushed headlong into harm’s way, ignoring all logic and training. The sleepless nights where you’d caught him pacing, the worry etched so deeply into his features that you couldn’t shake the guilt. 

“It worries me sometimes that…” you started, trailing off as your grip tightened around the mug. 

Morgan tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. “That…?” he prompted, his voice softer now, coaxing the rest of your thought. 

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat stubbornly refusing to go away. “That he cares too much,” you admitted finally, though the words felt heavier than you expected. “He’s put himself in danger for me before. More than once. And I don’t like making him worry. I…” You stopped yourself, realizing you were about to reveal too much. “I don’t know,” you finished lamely, shaking your head and taking another sip to avoid meeting Morgan’s gaze. 

Derek didn’t respond right away, his silence stretching just long enough to make you glance at him out of the corner of your eye. He was studying you. 

Derek opened his mouth, a reply forming on his lips, but before he could speak, Emily poked her head into the room.

“Hey, we’ve got a case,” she announced, disappearing just as quickly as she’d arrived. 

Relieved by the interruption, you exhaled quietly and gave Derek a quick smile. “Guess we’ll finish this later,” you said lightly, already moving toward the door before he could reply.

Derek watched you leave, his expression unreadable, before standing and following at his own pace. 

You entered the briefing room, greeted by the sight of Garcia standing at the front, beaming as usual. Her bright pink outfit, complete with colorful accessories, added an air of cheerfulness to the otherwise somber atmosphere. 

“Hi, you two,” Garcia chirped, her voice full of warmth as you and Derek walked in. 

“Hey, Garcia,” you said with a small smile, settling into your usual seat at the table. Derek took the chair directly in front of you, glancing at his phone. 

Moments later, Spencer entered the room. Your eyes instinctively flicked to him, your lips parting to greet him, but he didn’t look your way.

Instead, he avoided your gaze entirely, his expression carefully neutral as he chose a seat farther away—one that was decidedly not next to you. 

You blinked, surprised. Confusion prickled at your thoughts as you watched him pretend to bury himself in the case file that Garcia handed him.

Normally, Spencer greeted you with an enthusiastic smile or a quiet, thoughtful comment. This coldness was unlike him. 

Your eyes shifted to Derek, silently seeking an explanation. He met your gaze, one eyebrow raised, but said nothing. 

“Here you go,” Garcia whispered, slipping a file into your hands. She leaned closer, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “Did you two argue?” 

“What? No,” you whispered back quickly, shaking your head. 

But as the team slowly trickled into the room, it became clear you weren’t the only one noticing the strange tension.

One by one, each team member did a double-take when they saw Spencer’s choice of seat. Everyone knew the two of you were close.

Sitting next to each other during briefings was practically tradition. 

Yet there he was, pointedly looking at his file as if he hadn’t broken that unspoken rule. 

You tried not to let it show, but your heart sank a little as you flipped open your own file. The questions swirled in your mind: Was it something you said? Something you did? 

For the rest of the meeting, you forced yourself to focus on the case, determined to push the nagging thoughts aside. But every now and then, your eyes drifted toward him, hoping for a hint of what was wrong. 

And every time, Spencer Reid refused to meet your gaze. 

Once Garcia finished explaining the details of the case and the team had hashed out the initial plan, Hotch’s voice brought the meeting to a close.

“Wheels up in 20,” he said, and everyone began gathering their things. 

You hesitated, lingering in your seat as the others started filing out of the room. Your eyes flickered toward Spencer, silently willing him to look your way, to give some kind of indication that everything was okay.

But he didn’t. 

Instead, he moved quickly, clutching his file tightly as he left the room in a rush. His long strides carried him away before you could even think of stopping him. You bit your lip, frustration and confusion bubbling up as you watched him disappear down the hall. 

Shaking it off, you grabbed your things and followed the rest of the team, trying to focus on the case rather than the knot of uncertainty twisting in your chest. 

By the time you boarded the jet, you weren’t surprised anymore when you saw Spencer seated far away from his usual spot next to you. He was already absorbed in his file, his profile turned slightly away, making it clear he wasn’t about to acknowledge you. 

Your heart sank a little, but you forced yourself not to dwell on it. Instead, you slid into your regular seat, pulling out your file to prepare for the mission. If Spencer wanted to play distant, you’d let him—for now. 

Emily settled into the seat across from you, her eyes scanning your face with curiosity. You tried to ignore her, keeping your focus on the pages in front of you, but her gaze burned into you. 

Minutes passed, the hum of the jet engine filling the silence, but Emily didn’t look away. Finally, you sighed, snapping the file shut as you met her stare. 

“Emily,” you said, your tone equal parts exasperated and pleading. 

“What’s going on?” she asked, her voice low but insistent. 

“Nothing,” you replied too quickly, shaking your head. “It��s fine.” 

“Don’t give me that.” Emily leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “You and Spencer haven’t looked at each other once since this morning. That’s not normal. Did something happen?” 

You hesitated, your lips pressing into a thin line as you considered how much to say. “I don’t know,” you admitted quietly, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of the file. “He’s been… off. Avoiding me.” 

Emily tilted her head slightly, her expression softening. “Did you talk to him?” 

“I didn’t exactly get the chance,” you said with a bitter laugh, glancing toward the back of the jet where Spencer sat. He hadn’t looked up once, his focus seemingly glued to the pages in front of him. “And even if I did, I don’t know what I’d say.” 

Emily followed your gaze, her brows knitting together in thought. “He’s probably overthinking something,” she said, her tone conspiratorial but kind. “You know how he gets.” 

“Maybe,” you murmured, but doubt lingered in your voice. 

Emily reached across the table, giving your hand a quick squeeze. “Give him time. And if he doesn’t snap out of it soon, you’ll have to be the one to say something. He’s not exactly known for his social bravery, you know.” 

You managed a small smile at that, grateful for her attempt to lighten the mood. But as you glanced toward Spencer one last time, the knot in your chest only tightened. 

You stared out the window, watching the clouds stretch across the sky as the jet hummed steadily beneath you. The rhythmic sound was almost soothing, but it did little to calm the chaos of your thoughts.

You didn’t notice Derek slip into the seat next to you until his voice cut through your haze. “Hey, pretty girl.” He nudged your shoulder lightly, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

You blinked, focusing on his familiar face. “Hi,” you smiled softly at your friend, grateful for the distraction, even if it was brief. 

Derek’s expression shifted from playful to serious. “I talked to him,” he said quietly. 

Your interest piqued immediately. You turned your head toward him, eyes searching his face for any hint of what had been said.

“What’d he say?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, not wanting anyone else to hear. 

Derek leaned back slightly, crossing his arms over his chest as he glanced toward Spencer at the back of the jet. “Nothing,” he said simply, his tone flat. 

You frowned, your gaze following Derek’s to Spencer.

For the first time today, Spencer’s eyes met yours—just for a moment—but it felt like an eternity. He quickly looked away, like he was ashamed to have caught you looking. 

“What do you mean, ‘nothing’?” you pressed, feeling a pang of frustration twist in your stomach. 

“I mean, he said there’s nothing wrong,” Derek replied, his voice low. His eyes followed Spencer again, and you could tell he wasn’t buying it either. 

You shot Derek a skeptical look. “He can’t seriously think anyone would believe that.” Your voice was laced with disbelief. 

Before Derek could respond, Emily, who had been quietly listening from the seat in front of you, leaned back and added her voice to the conversation.

You bit your lip, feeling the weight of the conversation settle heavily on your shoulders. The uncertainty was overwhelming, but the more you thought about it, the more it hurt.

“It's okay,” you said quietly, offering Derek a small, appreciative smile. “Thanks for asking anyway.” You tried to sound convincing, but your heart wasn’t in it. You didn’t want to delve deeper into this conversation, not now.

Derek gave you a long look, as if he wanted to press the matter further, but instead, he nodded and leaned back in his seat. Emily, too, remained silent, though you could tell she wasn’t ready to drop it. 

The rest of the flight passed in a heavy, unspoken quiet. You kept your attention on your file, reading the same paragraph over and over without really processing any of it.

Hotch was all business as usual, his stern voice cutting through the quiet hum of the jet.

He glanced briefly at his team before issuing instructions, his usual calm demeanor masking the weight of the case ahead. 

“Derek and Emily, I want you to speak with the families of the victims,” Hotch said, his eyes meeting the two of them briefly before shifting toward Rossi. “Rossi, you’ll be with me at the morgue.” 

Your stomach sank at the mention of your assignment. You knew what was coming, and so did Spencer. You exchanged a fleeting glance—brief, but heavy.

Then came Hotch’s eyes, locking onto yours. “You two will handle the geographical profile,” he said, his voice leaving little room for argument. 

Your breath caught in your throat at the assignment. Hotch knew that you and Spencer worked well together, but today, it felt like he was trying to push you into a situation that neither of you were ready for. 

The jet seemed quieter now, as if everyone could sense the unease simmering beneath the surface.

You glanced at Spencer once more, but he was already looking down at his file again, his brows furrowed in concentration, his face a mask of indifference.

You wanted to say something, ask Spencer what was going on, but you didn’t know where to start.

 The jet had finally touched down, and after gathering their things, the team made their way to the station.

You followed behind, taking in the familiar sights of the small town where another case was waiting to be solved.

Once inside the conference room, the rest of the team split off to tackle their individual tasks.

Hotch, Derek, Emily, and Rossi were all busy making preparations, leaving just you and Spencer to tackle the geographical profile.

The police officers handed you a stack of maps—crumpled and worn—offering their best attempt at providing the information you needed. You nodded and murmured your thanks before walking back toward the table where Spencer was already settling in.

You placed the maps down with a soft thud, but before you could sit, you glanced at Spencer.

His eyes were fixed on the maps in front of him, his hands already sorting through them mechanically, as if the world around him didn’t exist. 

“Spence,” you said softly, almost hesitantly. You had hoped this moment wouldn’t come, that the silence would resolve itself, but you couldn’t keep pretending anymore. 

He barely looked up at the sound of his name, but you caught the brief flicker of his eyes—a fleeting glance that was almost too quick to notice. 

“Hm?” he responded absently, his focus still on the maps as his fingers traced over the inked lines of streets and neighborhoods. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” The words slipped out before you could stop them, a quiet plea hanging in the air between you.

Maybe it wasn’t you. Maybe it was something else. Something outside of you that had put this strange distance between the two of you. 

Spencer’s eyes flicked up to meet yours, and for the briefest moment, you saw it��something in his gaze that made your chest tighten. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t frustration.

It was hurt.

Pain that you hadn’t expected to see in his eyes. 

He seemed to freeze for just a moment, and you felt your heart hammer in your chest, suddenly unsure of what to say next. 

He shook his head, his face hardening slightly, as if he was trying to pull himself back from whatever had just flickered in his eyes.

“Talk about what?” he asked, his tone a little colder than usual. His voice was quiet but firm—too firm, almost as if he were trying to put up a wall between you and him. 

You felt a lump form in your throat. "Did I—" 

Before you could finish, Spencer cut you off, his voice tight with something you couldn’t quite place. “We have to get started on this,” he said, his words sharp but careful. 

With a slow exhale, you nodded, though it didn’t come easily. "Right." You lowered your gaze, your fingers gripping the edges of the map in front of you as you tried to focus on the task at hand.

Spencer didn’t say anything more. Instead, he reached for a marker and started drawing a rough outline on one of the maps.

The usual warmth that he brought to these situations—his quiet intelligence, his willingness to collaborate—was nowhere to be found. 

As the moments stretched on, the weight of the silence became harder to ignore.

You both busied yourselves with the task at hand. Every time you glanced at him, Spencer’s face remained unreadable, his gaze focused solely on the maps.

The others trickled in later that night, the sound of the door opening followed by the rustle of bags and the smell of fast food wafting through the room.

Derek and Emily both carried bags filled with food, the scents of greasy burgers and fries a welcome distraction from the heavy atmosphere that had settled over the team. 

"Seems like it’s gonna be a long night," Rossi sighed, his voice deep with the exhaustion that had already begun to settle into his bones. He dropped down into one of the chairs around the conference table. 

You barely looked up, your stomach growling in protest. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until the smell of food hit you.

Without a second thought, you grabbed one of the boxes of fries from Derek’s hand and sat down, your back against the cool metal of the chair as you dug into the food.

“Thanks,” you murmured around a mouthful, not looking up as you continued to eat. 

The others began settling in, the murmurs of conversation filling the room, but there was one sound that was noticeably absent—the sound of Spencer's voice.

It had been hours since the awkward exchange between you and him, and you hadn’t had a chance to talk since.

You barely noticed when Spencer walked past the table until he mumbled something under his breath, barely audible over the low hum of the team settling in. 

"I'm not hungry." 

You kept eating, trying to distract yourself, but your heart ached in a way you couldn’t explain.

You missed Spencer’s warmth,the way you’d work side by side, always in sync.

But now, there was nothing.

You had no idea what had happened—what had gone wrong. And that uncertainty gnawed at you, making your chest tighten every time you thought about it. 

You glanced up, watching as Spencer’s figure slipped quietly out of the room, his back to you as he moved toward the hallway.

Rossi, who had been watching the scene unfold, raised an eyebrow at the silent exchange.

Derek, who had been digging into his food, finally looked up at you. His face was usually so open, so easy to read, but right now, there was something in his expression that mirrored Emily’s. 

“Hey,” Derek said, his voice gentle but direct. “You alright?” 

You nodded quickly, not trusting your voice to answer. You were trying so hard to hold it together, to focus on the task at hand, but all you could feel was Spencer’s absence.

"Yeah," you finally murmured, forcing a small smile. "Just hungry."

The case was wrapped up by the next day after a grueling night of work, punctuated by greasy fast food and a few stolen naps here and there.

The sense of relief was palpable as the team boarded the jet for the flight back home. The usual hum of quiet conversation and rustling papers filled the cabin, but you didn’t participate.

Instead, you sank into one of the plush seats and fell asleep almost immediately, your exhaustion taking over the moment you closed your eyes. 

Spencer sat across the aisle, his book open in his lap, though his eyes weren’t scanning the pages.

Instead, they were fixed on you.

The rise and fall of your chest, the way your head tilted slightly to the side as you rested—he couldn’t help but watch. It was a habit he’d developed over the years, this quiet observation of you. But now, it was tinged with something heavier. 

He missed you. 

Usually, these flights home were his favorite part of the job. You’d either challenge him to a card game, always finding new ways to try and outwit him (and sometimes succeeding), or you’d sit beside him and attempt to read over his shoulder.

He could still hear your exasperated sighs whenever he turned the page too quickly, knowing you barely managed to finish the first paragraph before he’d already moved on.

He could only sit there, the book forgotten in his hands, as he replayed the words that had been haunting him since the case started. 

“I don’t like it.” 

He hadn’t meant to overhear the conversation between you and Derek, but he had.

The way Derek had said, almost teasingly, that Spencer would do anything for you—it had been the truth.

Spencer would do anything for you. He cared about you in ways that he couldn’t fully articulate, in ways that went beyond logic or reason. But it was your response that had cut through him like a knife. 

“I don’t like it.” 

Those four words had been replaying in his head, over and over again, like a broken record. At first, he tried to rationalize it.

Maybe you were just joking, or maybe he’d misunderstood the context. But no matter how he tried to spin it, the meaning stayed the same. 

You didn’t like it. You didn’t like him caring about you. 

The realization had been like a punch to the gut. He hadn’t meant to be a bother, hadn’t realized that his presence, his actions—his feelings—might be unwelcome.

It tore at him, the thought that his care might have been suffocating, that it might have pushed you away instead of bringing you closer. 

He closed his book with a soft thud, unable to focus on the words anymore. His gaze drifted back to you, still sleeping.

He wondered if you had any idea how much you meant to him. If you knew how much he valued every moment you spent together, every smile, every laugh. 

But maybe that was the problem. Maybe he’d cared too much, given too much of himself. And in doing so, he’d crossed some invisible line, made you feel something you couldn’t say aloud. 

Spencer sighed quietly, leaning back in his seat as he stared out the window. He wanted to talk to you, to ask what you’d meant, to understand.

But the fear of hearing the truth—that he was a burden, that you didn’t want his care—kept his words locked tightly inside. 

So, he sat in silence, watching you sleep from afar.

Emily’s gentle touch on your shoulder roused you from your nap. The hum of the jet engines had stopped, and as you blinked yourself awake, you realized that nearly everyone else had already left.

You grabbed your bag groggily, trailing after Emily as she led the way off the plane. 

Once back at the BAU, you headed to your desk to grab a few last-minute things before heading home. The bullpen was mostly empty now, the soft glow of desk lamps casting long shadows across the space.

But your steps faltered when you noticed Spencer still seated at his desk, his focus seemingly glued to a stack of papers in front of him. 

You hesitated, debating whether to say something. But you couldn’t stop yourself—it was instinctual, this pull to check on him, to make sure he was okay.

Because you cared about him. 

“You should go home, Spence,” you said softly, standing at your desk across from his. The nickname slipped out before you could stop it, and you winced, worried it might irritate him further. 

Spencer’s head jerked up at the sound of your voice, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment before they darted back to the papers on his desk. “Still need to get some paperwork done,” he mumbled, his voice low and distant as he picked up his pen again. 

That was it. That response—cold, dismissive, and completely unlike him—pushed you to your breaking point. You couldn’t take it anymore, the distance, the tension, the ache of not knowing what you’d done to make him pull away. 

“Spencer, did I do something? Or did—” you started, your words tumbling out in a rush, driven by the desperate need for answers. 

His hand froze mid-sentence, the pen hovering above the page. Slowly, he set it down, his movements deliberate as he leaned back in his chair.

For the first time in what felt like days, he looked directly at you—really looked at you. 

His expression was a mix of weariness and pain, and it stopped you in your tracks. 

“Did you do something?” he repeated quietly, almost as if he couldn’t believe you’d asked the question. A bitter laugh escaped his lips, but there was no humor in it. “No, you didn’t do anything. Not really.” 

“Then why—” You gestured helplessly between the two of you, your frustration bubbling over. “Why are you acting like this? Like you don’t even want to be near me?” 

Spencer’s jaw tightened, and he glanced away, staring down at his desk. 

“I don’t wanna seem like I care too much,” Spencer said, his voice laced with a mix of frustration and hurt.

You stared at him, trying to make sense of what he was saying. The silence stretched, broken only by the soft hum of the neon light above you, its flicker almost mocking the distance now between you. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You asked, your voice trembling slightly. 

Spencer stood abruptly, his gaze sharp as he grabbed his bag, avoiding your eyes. “Nothing,” he muttered, his tone flat.

“Hey, no,” you said, walking toward him, your steps firm despite the tightening in your chest.

“No, you don’t get to do this, Spencer.” You stood in front of him now, blocking his path, your heart racing as he glared down at you. “You can’t just shut me out and then expect me to move on like nothing happened.” 

He didn’t respond at first, but you could feel the tension rolling off him, his anger simmering beneath the surface.

You bit your lip hard, the pain sharp as you tried to keep your composure. Blood welled up, a bitter tang on your tongue, but it barely registered as you looked into his eyes, searching for something—anything—that would tell you where you stood. 

Spencer’s gaze flicked down to your lip, his eyes softening for a moment as if the sight of you hurting made him hurt too.

He closed his eyes briefly, taking in a slow breath. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, tinged with regret. 

“You said you don’t like it,” he murmured, his words hesitant. 

Your heart skipped a beat.You had no idea where this was going, but you felt the space between the two of you growing heavier with each passing second. You swallowed, your eyes flitting nervously across his face as you stepped closer to him. 

“Don’t like what?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper, afraid of pushing him further away with a raised tone. 

Spencer’s gaze fixed on you, his disappointment clear. “You don’t like that I would do anything for you,” he said, his voice breaking just slightly. 

The words struck you like a punch to the gut, and you took a step back. Memories of your conversation with Derek came flooding back—his words, the concern in his voice.

You were so caught up in your own thoughts that you barely registered Spencer’s disappointed stare. 

“I heard your conversation,” he added, his voice distant, wounded. 

“Did you hear all of it?” you asked, your eyes searching his, the confusion on your face undeniable. 

“What?” he muttered, his eyes narrowing slightly. 

“The rest of what I said,” you clarified, your voice softening as you felt the distance between you begin to close.

You gave him a small, tender smile, one that barely reached your eyes. “I assume you didn’t hear what I said after that.” 

Spencer's shoulders slumped slightly, the tension draining from his body, but the disappointment remained. “I heard enough,” he replied. 

You sighed, your hand reaching out to gently touch his.

“I also told Derek that you care too much.” Spencer flinched at your words, as though they pained him, and you felt a flicker of guilt. But you weren’t done yet. “I’m not finished.” 

He looked at you, eyes wide with something close to fear, as if bracing for the words that might break him.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your emotions. “I said that I’m worried you endanger yourself for me. Look, Spence…” you hesitated, your throat tightening, “I don’t like making you worry. That’s why I said what I said. It scares me that you put yourself in danger. For me.” 

As your words lingered in the air, Spencer’s face softened, and his eyes flickered with a sudden realization.

He ran a shaky hand through his hair, and for a moment, he looked almost fragile, as though the weight of everything had suddenly hit him. 

“I… I didn’t mean—” His words caught in his throat, and he stumbled over his apology. “I’m sorry. I misunderstood everything. I should’ve listened better. I shouldn’t have assumed…” His voice broke. “I'm sorry.I shouldn't have pushed you away like that. I care about you so much, and I… I just… I’m sorry.” 

The rawness of his apology struck you harder than you expected. You could feel the sincerity in every word.

But before you could say anything, the urge to hold him—comfort him—overwhelmed you. 

Without thinking, you stepped forward, your arms reaching around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, the warmth of his body grounding you, and for the first time all day, the chaos inside you started to settle. 

Spencer stood still for a moment, clearly surprised by the sudden closeness. But then he hesitantly wrapped his arms around you, his grip tightening as he pulled you closer.

You could feel the rapid beating of his heart against your chest, mirroring your own. 

You closed your eyes, your voice soft but steady as you spoke into his neck, your words laced with emotion. “Spence… I care about you more than you’ll ever know,” you murmured, your hand gently stroking the back of his head as if to comfort him. “I don’t like being away from you. The thought of you putting yourself in danger for me… it’s just too much.” 

You felt Spencer's breath hitch against your skin, and he tightened his arms around you, as if trying to reassure himself that you were really there, that you weren’t going anywhere. 

“I know I should’ve said it better,” you continued, your voice trembling slightly with the weight of your words. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t care.” 

Spencer’s grip tightened. For a long moment, neither of you spoke.

Finally, he pulled back slightly, his hands lingering on your waist.

His eyes searching yours with a mixture of tenderness and uncertainty. “You mean everything to me, you know that? I just… I just don’t want to hurt you. I don’t know how to stop myself sometimes.” 

You smiled softly. “I know, Spence.” 

He nodded slowly, a faint but genuine smile tugging at his lips as he leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, but you shook your head. 

“Yes, you do,” you whispered back, holding him even tighter, as if reaffirming your place in each other's lives.

[urmum-lovesme]

Dad!Rafe and late night wake ups...

The room was pitch black, except for the faint glow of the street lights outside Tannyhill, which gently seeped into the room through the blinds. Y/n stirred first, groaning softly as the sound of the baby’s cries filtered through the monitor into the silence of their bedroom.

“She’s up” 

Y/n mumbled, burying her face into her pillow. Motherhood had been the most beautiful thing she’d ever experienced, every moment with their baby, every tiny coo, soft sigh, or fleeting smile, felt like magic, a love so profound it stole her breath. It filled her with a joy so overwhelming, that sometimes she found herself crying tears of gratitude just holding her. But as much as her heart was full, her body was weary. The late nights, the constant feeds, the endless cycle of changing, soothing, and rocking had started to wear her down in a way she hadn’t anticipated. She was more tired than she’d ever been in her life. Y/n let out a long sigh, pressing her cheek against the cool silk fabric of the pillow, she wanted to move- knew she had to- but the weight of tiredness anchored her to the mattress. Rafe shifted beside her, the bed creaking under his weight. 

“I’ve got it” 

He said, his voice thick with sleep. He blinked a few times, scrubbing a hand down his face, letting out a low groan, before rolling out of bed. Y/n murmured, already half-asleep again.

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, go back to sleep.”

Rafe padded down the hall, his steps heavy with exhaustion. He stepped into the nursery, the soft glow of the nightlight casting a comforting warmth over the room. The baby’s whimpers echoed through the stillness, her little body squirming restlessly in her crib. Rafe moved quickly, used to the familiar route to the kitchen and back to the nursery. He set the bottle, which he’d just prepared, down on the changing table and gently reached for her, her cries growing louder as he picked her up into his arms. 

“Hey baby girl,” he whispered, his voice soft and soothing. 

“What’s the matter, hmm?”

She quieted a little at the warmth of her father's embrace but still whined slightly, looking up at him with wide eyes. Rafe smiled, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the top of her head, 

“Let’s get you fed.” 

He murmured, cradling her against his bare chest as he walked over to the changing table. He moved to offer her the bottle, but as he tilted it toward her lips, she turned her head away stubbornly, a small whimper escaping her. Rafe blinked in surprise, holding the bottle closer and gently coaxing her to take it. 

“Come on, sweet girl,” he murmured, his fingers brushing lightly over her cheek, “it’ll make you feel better.” She turned her head again, the tiny furrow in her brow deepening as she whimpered louder. Rafe’s shoulders sagged slightly at her refusal. 

“Stubborn, just like your mommy huh?” 

He chuckled softly, shaking his head, though the faintest feeling of worry lingered in his chest as she let out another whine. He tried again, holding the bottle gently in her direction, but she pushed away again, her tiny hands flailing in frustration as her whines grew louder. Rafe shushed the baby, his voice calming, but there was a hint of concern underneath. He shifted her carefully in his arms, making sure she was comfortable before bringing the bottle closer once more. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart.”

This time, she slowly turned her head, her tiny mouth opening slightly, her little lips grazing the bottle’s nipple. And just when it seemed like she might latch on, she pulled back again, her eyes wide and her face scrunching in discomfort. Rafe sighed, a soft laugh escaping him despite the situation. 

“You’re going to make me work for it, huh?” he muttered under his breath. 

Y/n slowly stirred awake at the soft sound of their baby’s whimpers getting louder. Her eyes fluttered open just enough to see Rafe now standing by their bed, his brow furrowed as he held the bottle, trying yet again to get their daughter to take it. She turned her head away from it, and Rafe sighed softly, clearly at a loss, gently rocking her in his arms. With a tired movements, Rafe placed the bottle on the nightstand; his eyes flicking to Y/n, who was laying peacefully under the covers. She'd shifted slightly, sensing the change in the air. He hated to wake her, but he knew she’d be the one who could calm her down.

“Y/n,” he whispered, gently shaking her shoulder. “She won’t take the bottle”

Y/n mumbled something incoherent but shifted, her eyes barely opening as she adjusted herself, pushing herself up the bed, back against the headboard. With a soft groan, she pulled the strap of her vest down, goosebumps rising on her now exposed skin, and moved their baby into position, lining her up to her breast. Instantly, the baby latched onto her, and Y/n hummed softly, her eyes half-closed as she rested her head against the headboard. Rafe stayed close, his hand gently brushing her thigh as he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. His lips lingered for a moment, the tenderness in his touch speaking more than words could.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low, his gaze soft with concern.

“Mmm,” Y/n hummed, barely lifting her head, “tired.” 

She murmured, her eyelids fluttering closed again, exhaustion seeping into her voice. Rafe smiled faintly, his heart swelling as he watched her. 

“I know, baby,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

She tilted her head slightly, her voice barely audible. “Why are you sorry?”

Rafe chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Didn’t want to disturb you.”

“You’re never disturbing me” 

Y/n smiled faintly, her hand gently resting on their baby’s back, her voice full of warmth. Settling down beside her on the bed, Rafe propped himself on one elbow, his eyes fixed on their daughter. She was feeding peacefully now, her tiny hand resting against Y/n’s chest, her eyelids fluttering closed in contentment. The room was quiet except for the faint sounds of suckling, Y/n's soft breaths and the rhythmic hum of the monitor on the bedside table. Rafe reached out cautiously, brushing the back of his finger against their baby’s cheek. His eyes then flickered up and watched Y/n, eyes glistening in the dim light. He could see how tired she was- the faint lines under her eyes, the way her shoulders slumped ever so slightly- but even now, she glowed with an effortless grace that took his breath away.

“Hey,” he said quietly sitting up, drawing her attention back to him. She turned her head slightly, her eyes heavy with sleep but full of love.

“Hmm?” she hummed. He pressed another kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering as he murmured, 

“I’ll take her after, yeah? You need rest.”

Y/n’s lips quirked up in a soft smile, and she nodded faintly, her head resting against his shoulder. Letting her eyes flutter closed for a moment. Rafe watched her, his gaze flicking down to the baby, who was still latched on, her tiny body snug in Y/n’s arms. 

“What if she spits up?” 

Y/n asked softly, not even opening her eyes, her voice tinged with a playful worry. Rafe grinned, shaking his head. 

“I think I can handle a little spit, baby. She’s got nothing on your pregnancy nausea.” 

He teased, leaning his cheek against her hair. Y/n opened one eye, giving him a sleepy, knowing look. 

“You say that now, but you’ve never taken a proper hit.” She murmured with a small smirk. “C’mon,” Rafe replied, tilting his head back dramatically. 

“She’s like nine pounds. What’s the worst she can do?”

As if on cue, their baby let out the tiniest hiccup, followed by a soft gurgle. Both Y/n and Rafe froze for a moment, staring at her, before a wet, unmistakable sound followed- a small spit-up dribbling down her chin. Y/n bit back a laugh, her shoulders shaking as she glanced up at Rafe, 

“You were saying?” 

She quipped, her voice thick with amusement. Rafe sighed, shaking his head with a wry smile as he grabbed the burp cloth already draped over his shoulder. 

“Alright... guess I earned that one.” 

He dabbed gently at their daughter’s chin, his expression softening as he looked down at her, “still the cutest, though.”

Y/n chuckled softly, leaning her head back against his shoulder again. “Welcome to parenthood,” she murmured, her voice laced with affection. Rafe grinned, placing one more kiss on the top of his daughter's head, her soft hair brushing against his lips as he said quietly.

 “Wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

Dad!Rafe has my heart

[vunblr]

Heartwood

Pairing: Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Fluff. Smut. Unprotected sex.

Summary: After Sam’s party, Bucky begins to navigate uncharted territory as he works to balance his growing feelings and lingering insecurities in his blooming relationship.

Word Count: 11k

notes: Follow-up of Roots and Branches.

Bucky stirred first, blinking against the pale light filtering through the curtains. It was a strange sensation, waking without the shadow of a dream, or worse, the weight of a memory. Instead, there was only the quiet of the room, the steady rhythm of her breathing, and the warmth of her body tucked into his side.

He shifted carefully, with slow and deliberate movements, unsure if he’d disturbed her. She murmured something unintelligible, with her face half-hidden against the crook of his arm, but she didn’t wake.

For a moment, he allowed himself to simply look at her. Something was grounding about seeing her this way, soft, peaceful, and completely at ease. Her fingers brushed faintly against his chest, the contact so light it felt almost subconscious, like even asleep, she couldn’t quite let go of him. He leaned his head back against the pillow, releasing a slow breath of contentment as he let the moment settle over him.

She stirred then, her nose brushing against his collarbone, and let out the smallest sigh. Her lashes fluttered, and her sleepy gaze lifted to meet his.

“Good morning,” she murmured, her voice thick with sleep, a soft smile tugging at her lips as she tucked herself closer.

“Morning,” he rumbled softly, and before he could second-guess, he bent to kiss her forehead. He hesitated just enough to wonder if he should’ve rinsed his mouth first, but her sleepy smile disarmed him completely.

Her hand reached up lazily, brushing the curve of his jaw. “You’re up early.”

“Didn’t want to miss this,” he said quietly, as if speaking too loudly might break the moment.

She hummed, nuzzling closer into his chest. “I could stay here forever.”

He wrapped his arms around her instinctively, tightening the space between them. “Nobody’s stopping us.”

And that was when the doorbell rang, three sharp chimes that shattered the stillness.

Her body tensed briefly before she tilted her head back to look at him. He met her gaze with a scowl that was equal parts annoyance and resolve. “Ignore it.”

“But-”

He hugged her tighter, the words almost a growl in her ear. “Nobody’s home.”

The doorbell rang again, sharper this time, cutting through the morning like an unwelcome guest.

She froze, her forehead creasing as realization dawned. “Oh no,” she murmured, sitting up abruptly.

“What?” Bucky’s voice was a gruff rumble, his arms tightening briefly as if to pull her back before she escaped entirely.

Her face flushed with mild panic. “Sam! He’s supposed to fix the cabinets this morning.”

Bucky groaned, rolling onto his back, and shot her an exasperated look. “Really?” His hand raked through his hair, the messy strands falling into his eyes as he scowled at the ceiling.

She scrambled for her sweatpants, hopping slightly as she pulled them on, her movements hurried. Despite the rush, she bit her lip to stifle a laugh when she glanced at him again. He looked like a picture of grumpiness, his brow furrowed and jaw tight, the image of a man who wanted nothing more than to barricade the door and pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist.

“So, uh...” she ventured awkwardly, slipping a loose shirt over her head. “What do you want to do? Stay here in secrecy? I can sneak you some breakfast if you want.”

His gaze slid toward her, unamused.

“Or, I don’t know... sneak out the back door like some kind of criminal?” She half-grinned, watching for his reaction as she tugged the hem of her shirt into place.

Bucky grunted, leaning up on one elbow. “What are the other options?”

The doorbell rang a third time, louder and more insistent.

“None!” she hissed, darting toward the door, her bare feet padding against the floor. She paused briefly, shooting him an apologetic glance over her shoulder.

“I’ll be quiet,” he muttered with a resigned sigh, lying back and draping his arm over his face.

Suppressing a laugh, she opened the door with the best attempt at nonchalance. “Sorry, overslept,” she said, offering Sam a sheepish smile.

Sam raised an eyebrow, looking past her toward the faint creak of floorboards inside. “You sure about that?”

Her heart skipped a beat, but she kept her face composed, stepping slightly to the side to block his view. “Positive.”

As they entered the house, Sam glanced around and didn’t say anything, but his brow lifted ever so slightly before he turned back to her. “Didn’t see you stick around long at the grill last night,” he commented casually, taking a seat at the small kitchen table.

“Oh,” she began, busying herself with tidying up the counter. “I had a headache, so I didn’t want to overstay. Besides, you looked pretty engaged with those guys, and I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Sam leaned back in his chair, muttering, “Uh-huh...”

They made small talk, mostly about the cabinets and how long the repairs would take. He occasionally shot her a curious glance, but she managed to deflect most of his subtle prodding.

Bucky, meanwhile, slipped out of the bedroom and padded to the bathroom, his bare feet making the wooden floors creak faintly. Sam’s ears perked up slightly at the sound, but he didn’t let on, instead continuing the conversation about varnish options and hardware.

The bathroom door creaked open again, and Bucky’s steps echoed softly as he made his way back toward the room. Sam’s lips twitched with a smirk he barely managed to suppress.

“You know,” he said, leaning forward slightly, “it’s a shame you left early. There was someone I wanted to introduce you to last night.”

She quirked a brow, her curiosity piqued. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Sam continued, tapping his fingers on the table. “Since you’re still alone and, y’know, apparently still with no prospects.” His grin widened, barely containing the mischief lighting up his expression.

She rolled her eyes, though the corners of her mouth twitched with amusement. “And who, exactly, were you going to introduce me to?”

“John Walker,” Sam said, drawing the name out like it was some grand revelation. “Another wood supplier of mine. He bought blueberry pie in your booth at the festival and chatted with you for a bit. Tall, blonde, lopsided grin?”

She tilted her head, vaguely recalling the man in question. “Oh, yes. I think I remember him.”

“Well,” Sam said, his tone dripping with exaggerated lament, “he asked me to introduce you, but you’d already left. Such a shame.”

The sound of Bucky’s steps abruptly halted somewhere across the hallway. John Fucking Walker? That asshole?

Sam, pretending to be oblivious, leaned back in his chair with a satisfied sigh. “But hey, no worries. This weekend, I’ll be grilling again. Maybe then-”

Before he could finish, heavy steps thudded purposefully down the hall. Bucky appeared in the doorway, his broad frame filling the space, wearing nothing but his boxer briefs. The look he gave Sam was pointed, sharp, and entirely unamused.

Sam, the traitorous weasel, had the decency to feign surprise, though the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth betrayed him. “Well, well,” he drawled, crossing his arms with exaggerated ease. “Seems like someone else caught that contagious headache last night.”

Her head whipped around to find Bucky, standing in all his glory. Heat rushed to her cheeks as her gaze flickered instinctively downward, then back up, her mind racing. The situation felt like a slow-motion car crash she couldn’t look away from.

There was a beat of awkward silence, her flustered reaction contrasting with Sam’s calm, almost unimpressed observation.

He arched a brow and leaned forward slightly, his tone casual but laced with mischief. “You know,” he said, “you two might’ve thought you slipped out unnoticed last night, but let me tell you, your absence didn’t exactly go under the radar.”

Bucky’s gaze narrowed, his irritation now mingled with the dawning realization that Sam wasn’t just here to fix cabinets. He’d fallen right into his childish trap. He’d exposed himself confirming exactly what he had been baiting him for.

She scrambled for words, her voice faltering. “Well, you see...”

Sam, entirely unperturbed, waved her off. “The most exciting thing happening at that grill was the talk about the town festival, the weather messing up gardens, and the rock slide on the north road.” He leaned forward, his grin widening. “You didn’t think people would notice when the newest addition to the town and the hard-to-get collection figure of social events both disappeared at the same time?” Bucky’s eyes narrowed further, his annoyance deepening at Sam’s playful but undeniably pointed observation. “Oh, come on,” Sam added, gesturing broadly. “Small town, Buck. We’re starved for drama. Of course people noticed.”

She felt heat creep up her neck and settle in her cheeks, her blush betraying her sense of exposure. Meanwhile, Bucky grunted, his irritation simmering just beneath the surface. The thought of being a topic of conversation for the town sent a fresh wave of unease rolling through him.

“It’s not that bad,” Sam said breezily, clearly enjoying himself. “I give your story a week before it gets old and a new topic arrives.” His gaze appraised Bucky, his grin broadening. “Speaking of which, aren’t you cold?” He gestured pointedly to his state of undress.

Bucky crossed his arms over his chest, his scarred arm brushing against his side as he gave Sam a deadpan stare. “Aren’t you supposed to be fixing those cabinets?”

Sam snorted, shaking his head. “Look at you,” he teased. “Already the man of the house, bossing people around. Real domestic.”

Bucky’s lips twitched, just a hint of a smirk threatening to break through his otherwise stoic expression. “Keep talking, Wilson, and you’re gonna find yourself out on the porch with your toolbox.”

“Relax, big guy,” Sam shot back, grabbing his toolbox with an exaggerated sigh. “I’ll leave you to play house in peace.”

She bit her lip to keep from laughing, her blush slowly fading as Sam turned toward the cabinets, still chuckling under his breath.

“We’ll let you do your thing,” she called after him, with a light tone.

She placed a gentle hand on Bucky’s chest and gave him a little push out of the kitchen doorway. He went without resistance, though his brow remained furrowed. Without a word, she took his hand and led him down the hallway to the bedroom, closing the door softly behind them. When she turned, his expression hadn’t shifted. His jaw was tight, and his gaze lingered somewhere on the floor.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice soft but tinged with concern.

“Yeah,” he replied, but the lack of conviction in his tone was unmistakable.

She stepped closer, her hand brushing lightly over his forearm. “Bucky,” she pressed gently, “you don’t sound okay. What’s on your mind?”

He exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t like the idea of feeling... watched,” he admitted after a pause, his voice low. “This whole thing with Sam stirring the pot... people noticing stuff, making it their business.”

Her heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice. She reached for his hand, lifting it to her lips and pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles. “I get that,” she said quietly. “But I don’t think the people here would give you trouble. They’re probably just curious. It’ll pass.”

He glanced at her, his hesitation obvious. Then, with a slight shift of his shoulders, he added, “It’s not just that.”

Her brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated again, looking anywhere but at her, with a palpable unease. “I just... I don’t know what you want people to know. About... us.” He cleared his throat, awkwardly running a hand through his hair. “Or if there even is an ‘us.’”

Her stomach flipped, her breath catching slightly. “Bucky-”

“I mean, people say stuff in the heat of the moment,” he continued quickly, his words tumbling over each other. “Things feel... different in the light of day. And if you- if this-” He stopped, swallowing hard, still avoiding her gaze. “I don’t know if that’s what you want.”

His shyness was endearing and heartbreaking all at once, and it took her a moment to gather her thoughts.

“Wait,” she said, “You’re not saying you’re the one who wants a situationship, are you?”

His head snapped up, alarm flashing in his blue eyes. “No,” he said firmly, the denial almost a reflex. “That’s not- God, no.”

Relief washed over her, and a small smile tugged at her lips. “Good,” she said softly, stepping closer until there was almost no space between them. “We’re on the same page then.”

He relaxed marginally, his shoulders dropping as he at last met her gaze. The corner of his mouth twitched, almost imperceptibly, and he let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Bucky leaned down, his lips brushing hers with a tentative softness that quickly gave way as his uncertainty melted. The kiss deepened, and his hands slid to her waist, pressing her against him as hers wove into his hair. The heat between them grew, his grip getting firmer as a soft sigh escaped her lips, drawn into the intensity of the moment… until the sharp, rhythmic crack of hammering shattered the haze like a stone tossed into still water.

Bucky groaned, pulling back just enough to press the back of his head against the bedroom door. He closed his eyes, his jaw tightening as he stared at the ceiling in frustration. “I hate him,” he muttered, growling the words.

She stifled a laugh, brushing her fingers lightly over his chest. “He’s just doing his job,” she replied softly.

Reluctantly, he let her go, running a hand through his hair. “I gotta go anyway,” he admitted with a resigned sigh. “Got a quota to fill. Need to deliver it by closing time.”

Her lips curved into a small pout. “You didn’t even have breakfast,” she pointed out, crossing her arms.

He shrugged, grabbing his jeans from the floor. “I’ll sort it out,” he said dismissively, but the way he avoided her gaze told her he didn’t have a plan.

She clicked her tongue in mild exasperation. “Yeah, no.” Before he could argue, she slipped out of the room, leaving him to dress while she headed to the kitchen.

In one swift motion, she grabbed a big tupperware from the cabinet and set it on the counter. Without hesitation, she got to work, spreading jam on slices of bread, stacking three sandwiches neatly inside. On the side, she crammed in four cookies and a few slices of freshly cut apple, tucking the lid into place with satisfaction.

Sam, hammer still in hand, peeked over from the corner of his eye, his grin unmistakable. “Oh, you’re gonna spoil him rotten, aren’t ya?”

She quirked a brow, unbothered. “I intend to, yes.”

Sam laughed, leaning against the counter briefly. “Good,” he said with an approving nod. “Someone has to, baking queen. He deserves it.”

Her expression softened slightly, and she gave a small, conspiratorial smile before putting the tupperware in a cloth bag and heading back toward the hallway.

Bucky was buttoning his flannel shirt when she returned, with the bag in her hands. He glanced up at the sound of her footsteps, “What’s that?” he asked, nodding toward the flowery sack as he reached for his boots.

“Breakfast,” she said simply, holding it out to him.

He stared at it for a moment, then back at her, his brows knitting together. “I told you I’d figure it out.”

“And I decided I’d save you the trouble,” she countered, unfazed, stepping closer and pressing the container into his hands. “It’s just some jam sandwiches, cookies, and an apple. Nothing fancy.”

His fingers wrapped around the handles reluctantly, his gaze flicking down to it. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, and she wondered if she’d overstepped.

Then, with a small, almost imperceptible sigh, he muttered, “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I know,” she said softly, her tone light but insistent. “That’s why I did it.”

Bucky’s lips pressed into a thin line, but his grip on the bag tightened slightly, betraying the quiet gratitude he wasn’t quite sure how to voice. “Thanks,” he said finally, his voice low and a little rough.

Her smile widened, and she reached out to adjust the collar of his flannel. “Just eat it, okay? And no excuses about being too busy.”

He huffed a soft laugh, his shoulders relaxing as he shook his head. “Yes ma'am. You’re something else, you know that?”

“Good to know,” she replied with a playful smirk, giving his chest a gentle pat before stepping back.

As he turned to leave, he paused hesitantly in the doorway, his brow furrowing slightly as if caught in a thought. Then, without a word, he turned back and crossed the distance between them.

Before she could react, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. It was brief but gentle. “Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice rough but sincere. “Really.” He straightened and, without making eye contact, turned and exited the bedroom. The door clicked softly behind him, leaving her standing there with a flutter in her chest and a faint smile on her lips.

After Bucky left, she busied herself tidying up the kitchen and glanced at Sam, who was still diligently hammering away at the cabinets. “Want something to drink?” she offered casually.

Sam paused mid-swing and turned to her with a grateful smile. “Sure, whatever you’ve got.” She poured him a glass of orange juice, setting it on the counter where he could grab it easily before retreating to the living room.

The morning light filtered through the curtains as she settled on the couch, her laptop balanced on her knees. With a sigh, she opened the highlander’s document that made her roll her eyes every other sentence. She got through four chapters when Sam’s voice broke the quiet.

“All done for today,” he called from the kitchen doorway.

She glanced up, giving him a surprised smile. “That was quick.”

He grinned, wiping his hands on a rag as he stepped into the living room. “So, what’re you working on over here?”

Her stomach sank slightly. Oh no. Not this conversation again.

“Uh, just a manuscript,” she said vaguely, hoping he’d let it go.

But Sam, ever curious, tilted his head and leaned against the doorframe. “What kind of manuscript?”

“A romance novel,” she admitted reluctantly.

Sam’s grin widened. “Romance, huh? What kind? Cowboys? Pirates?”

She sighed, knowing resistance was futile. “It’s a Highlander one.”

That seemed to delight him even more. “Oh, like with the kilts and the swords and all that ‘My bonnie lass’ stuff?”

“Something like that,” she muttered.

Sam laughed, shaking his head. “My mom had a ton of those books, and my sister Sarah used to sneak them off the shelf when we were teenagers.” His grin turned devilish. “Boy, mom whipped her pervy ass when she found out. Thought she was scandalizing herself reading all those heaving bosom scenes.”

Despite herself, she let out a laugh, covering her mouth with her hand. “Poor Sarah.”

“Poor Sarah, my ass,” Sam said with a chuckle. “She’s still a sucker for those books. Says it’s the ‘only time she has to herself.’” He made air quotes, clearly still amused by the memory.

She shook her head, laughing softly as she accompanied him to the door. “Well, let’s hope she never gets her hands on this one.”

------

By the time lunch rolled around, she had advanced a lot on her scheduled work for the day and couldn’t stop herself from glancing at her phone. She typed out a quick message to Bucky.

Hey, what are you up to?

Minutes passed with no response. Then, about an hour later, her phone buzzed in her hand, his name flashing across the screen. She picked up immediately.

“Hey,” she greeted warmly, leaning back on the couch.

“Hey,” he replied, with a gruffy tone. She could hear the faint hum of machinery in the background. “Sorry for not answering. Still working.”

“Yeah? How’s it going?”

A long sigh crackled through the line. “The chainsaw broke. Had to switch to one of the old ones. Slower, heavier, and louder. Pretty much the worst.”

Her brow furrowed at the weariness in his voice. “Sounds like a pain. Did you eat anything?”

“Yeah,” he muttered, though it didn’t sound convincing.

She hesitated, then offered, “I can bring you something. A sandwich or-”

“Nah, I’m good,” he said quickly, though his voice softened just enough to take the edge off the refusal. “Appreciate it, but I’ll figure it out.”

She frowned but didn’t push. “Okay... What time do you think you’ll be done?”

There was a brief pause as he considered. “About seven. Maybe a little after.”

Her lips quirked into a small smile as she decided to push just a little. “Mind if I come by your place when you’re done?”

The line went quiet, the faint buzz of the machinery and distant thudding the only sounds. She held her breath, wondering if she’d gone too far.

Finally, his voice came through, quieter and tinged with something shy. “Yeah, sure. If you want. Can’t promise I’ll be much of a host, though.”

Her smile widened, warmth blooming in her chest. “That’s okay. I’m not expecting a five-star experience. Just... you.”

His exhale was soft but audible as if her words had taken some weight off his shoulders. “All right,” he said simply. “See you then.”

“See you,” she replied, “and take care.” she added before the line clicked off.

She stared at the phone for a moment, with a lingering smile. No matter how grumpy or tired he sounded, he was still Bucky, the guy who cared enough to try.

He looked briefly at the old phone in his hand, her voice still echoing faintly in his ears, before tucking it back into his pocket and exhaling sharply.

Rolling his shoulder for what felt like the hundredth time that day, he muttered a curse under his breath. The heavier chainsaw and the damp air weren’t doing his arm joints any favors, the ache setting deep into the bone. He flexed his fingers, trying to shake off the stiffness, but it did little to help. As he set the chainsaw down for a moment’s reprieve, his mind wandered back to her words. Mind if I come by your place?

He snorted softly, half-amused, half-bewildered. She wanted to come over after a day like this, to his place of all places. His gaze flicked toward the cabin in the distance, the thought of her seeing it exactly as it was sending a twinge of discomfort through him.

He started mentally ticking through the list of things he’d have to deal with before she arrived.

The plates in the sink. Take out the trash. Definitely need to dismantle the makeshift bed on the living room floor. His brow furrowed. Putting a few empty bottles of scotch out of sight wouldn’t hurt either.

The thought of her stepping into his world, even for a little while, made him pause. He couldn’t help the doubt creeping in, the same gnawing thought that had been with him for as long as he could remember.

How someone like her could bother with someone like me?

He shook his head sharply, as if to dispel the thought, and grabbed the chainsaw again. He didn’t have time to dwell on it, not with the sun dipping lower and more work to finish.

The sound of her pen clicking filled the quiet room as she glanced at the clock and mentally sketched out her plan. Bucky was clearly having a rough day, and if he wasn’t going to let her help during the daytime, she’d make sure his evening was better.

Her eyes scanned the kitchen counter before settling on the tenderloin she’d defrosted earlier. Perfect. A baked tenderloin, creamed potatoes, and maybe a good wine, it was simple but comforting, exactly what he’d need after a day like this.

She pulled out her apron and got to work, her hands moving with practiced ease as she trimmed the meat, seasoned it with rosemary and garlic, and slid it into the oven. While that baked, she started on the potatoes, peeling and boiling them before whipping them with cream and butter until they were perfectly smooth.

As she worked, her gaze drifted to the wine sitting on the counter, a thoughtful gift from a friend she hadn’t yet opened. Tonight’s the perfect occasion, she thought, setting it aside with a smile.

By the time everything was ready, the kitchen smelled warm and inviting, and she felt a sense of satisfaction at having put the plan together. With the tenderloin resting on a cutting board and the potatoes cooling in their pot, she finished her workload for the day and headed to shower.

Steam filled the bathroom as she rinsed away the day, her thoughts lingering on Bucky, on how tired he must be, on how much he tried to shoulder everything himself. She couldn’t erase the day’s frustrations, but she could lighten the load, even if only for a few hours.

After her shower, she picked through her closet, her fingers brushing over fabrics until they landed on a paneled skirt. It was soft and simple, and it paired well with a blouse she liked. Totally practical, she told herself. Absolutely no ulterior motives.

By the time the food was packed into containers and loaded into the trunk, the sun was beginning to set, painting the horizon in soft hues of pink and orange. She double-checked the tupperwares, the wine, and even threw in a small bag of cookies for good measure.

Satisfied, she slid into the driver’s seat with determination. Tonight, she was going to make sure Bucky felt better, even if he didn’t realize how much he needed it.

By the time she reached the cabin, the evening light was fading, casting long shadows through the trees that lined the narrow road. Her car bumped along the uneven path, the crunch of gravel under her tires breaking the quiet stillness of the woods.

As she pulled up, her headlights swept across the clearing in front of his cabin, illuminating a lone figure by the side of the house. There he was, hauling a bag of trash toward a bin, his movements slower than usual.

Caught in the beam of her headlights, he froze momentarily, squinting against the brightness like a deer on the road. His workwear was rumpled, his shirt clinging to his broad frame from a long day’s labor. Dirt streaked his forearms and smudged his face, his hair slightly damp and pushed back haphazardly.

She turned off the engine and got out, the sound of the door closing drawing his gaze to her. His eyes flicked immediately to the bags in her arms, and he moved toward her with purposeful strides, leaving the trash bag forgotten by the bin.

Before she could say anything, he reached for the bags. “Here,” he muttered, his voice gruff but soft, his fingers brushing hers as he took them.

She tilted her head, a playful pout forming on her lips. “No kiss?”

He paused, his brow furrowing slightly, as though he were genuinely considering it. The truth was, he felt grimy and sweaty, dirt likely smudged across his face, while she looked effortlessly put together. The soft fabric of her skirt swayed gently in the evening breeze, and her fresh, clean scent drifted toward him, a stark contrast to his own disheveled state.

“I didn’t have time to… I don’t wanna stain you,” he admitted, his voice low and rough as his gaze flicked down to the bags in his hands.

Her expression softened, a warm smile curving her lips as she stepped closer. Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around his waist, ignoring the startled grunt he made at the contact. Rising onto her toes, she pressed a quick, tender kiss to his lips. Before he could fully react, she pulled back, her eyes bright with affection.

“What kind of person would I be if I didn’t greet my man after a rough day at work?” she teased in a light tone.

His grip on the bags tightened slightly as he registered the words, and a faint blush crept over his cheeks, visible even through the dirt smudged on his face. Her man. The thought of it settled warm and steady in his chest, a sensation he didn’t quite know how to process.

He cleared his throat, his gaze darting away as he mumbled, “I guess you’re right.” Turning toward the cabin, he gestured for her to follow. “Come on in.”

As she stepped into the cabin, she paused to take it all in. The space was clean and warm, but undeniably spartan: bare walls, minimal furniture, and everything in its place. It was practical and functional, yet there was something distinctly Bucky about it.

Her gaze lingered on the small stack of books on the coffee table, a worn flannel jacket draped over the back of a chair, and a neatly folded blanket on the couch. Despite the lack of frills, it felt lived-in, quiet, and steady, just like him.

Bucky set the bags down on the small kitchen counter and turned to her, his brows furrowing slightly. “What’s all this?” he asked, gesturing at the containers with a slight tilt of his head.

“Dinner,” she replied simply, smiling as she stepped closer.

His eyebrows shot up, and he opened his mouth to respond, but before he could get a word out, she cut him off.

“What,” she interjected, her tone playful but firm, “did you think I’d come all the way out here after the day you’ve had just for you to take care of me? Maybe I didn’t make myself clear.” She stepped closer, her voice softening as her gaze met his. “I came to take care of you.”

His lips parted slightly, but no words came out. Instead, he blinked at her, his brow furrowing again as though he wasn’t quite sure how to process what she’d said.

“Come on,” she coaxed gently, placing a hand lightly on his arm. “You’ve been working your ass off all day, and I thought you could use a little help. That’s okay, right?”

He looked down at her hand on his arm, his muscles tensing slightly under her touch before relaxing. After a moment, he exhaled, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah,” he muttered, his voice quiet and a little rough. “Yeah, that’s... okay.”

Bucky stared at the bags on the counter. Of course she’d bring food. He slapped himself mentally for not anticipating it, given her nurturing nature. It wasn’t just something she did, it was who she was.

Still, a pang of guilt settled in his chest. He hadn’t asked for this, hadn’t even hinted at it, and yet here she was, going out of her way after what had probably been a long day for her, too. He felt, in some small way, like he was taking advantage of her kindness, even if unintentionally. Lost in thought, he barely registered her stepping closer until she wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly. His first instinct was to tense, the feel of her against his sweaty shirt making him self-conscious. But her warmth broke through the unease, and he found himself relaxing, his arms coming up to reciprocate the embrace. Inhaling the faint, sweet scent of her hair, he felt something in him soften.

“A penny for your thoughts?” she asked gently, her voice muffled against his chest.

He hesitated for a moment, then bit his lip before murmuring, “Just... not used to being cared for like this.”

Her hold on him tightened slightly, and she leaned back just enough to look up at him with a soft smile. “Well,” she said, her tone light but firm, “it’s better for you if you start getting used to it.”

He let out a soft, almost reluctant chuckle, the tension easing further from his shoulders.

“Go wash your hands,” she said, stepping back and gesturing toward the small bathroom. “I’ll set the table if that’s okay with you.”

“Maybe I should take a shower first,” he muttered, glancing down at himself, but she waved him off.

“You look starved,” she replied matter-of-factly. “You can shower after. Go on, wash up.”

Bucky arched a brow at her. “What’s in the containers, anyway?”

“Baked tenderloin, creamed potatoes, and a little wine,” she said as she started unpacking the food.

After her words, his face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. “Tenderloin?”

She nodded, her smile widening at his reaction.

“I’ll be right back,” he said quickly, his voice filled with unexpected excitement as he disappeared into the bathroom.

A little while later, Bucky reappeared, his hands clean and his face looking freshly washed. His long damp locks were pushed back, though a few stubborn strands refused to stay in place, giving him a slightly tousled look. He’d clearly made an effort, even if it wasn’t much, and she smiled at the sight.

The table was already set, the food neatly arranged in the middle, with mismatched enamel plates waiting. As he stepped closer, his eyes widened slightly at the spread before him. The tenderloin, perfectly sliced, the creamy potatoes beside it, it all looked like something out of a dream after the rough day he’d had. The smell hit him next, warm and comforting, and his stomach growled loudly, reminding him of just how little he’d eaten that day.

“It’s still hot,” she said, breaking his awed silence with a smile. “I used insulating containers.”

He nodded, still a bit dazed, and took his seat as she filled his plate. The first bite hit like a revelation, the flavors melting in his mouth. For a moment, he just sat there, savoring it, before digging in with gusto.

She watched with amusement the way he seemed to focus entirely on his plate. When he finished the first serving, he hesitated, glancing at the platter but not quite making a move. “Go on, you know you want more,” she said with a playful shake of her head, adding another helping to his plate before he could protest.

Bucky grumbled something under his breath, though the small, grateful smile tugging at his lips gave him away. He didn’t hesitate with the second helping, and by the time that plate was empty, he finally gave in and asked for the third himself.

“All right,” she teased as she served him again, “better than dino mac and cheese?”

His fork paused mid-air, and a gruff and warm laugh escaped him. “By a mile,” he admitted, shaking his head. “No contest.” The meal continued with more appreciative noises from him, low hums of approval and muttered compliments that only grew as he polished off every bite.

When his plate was finally clean, he leaned back slightly in his chair, his hand resting on his stomach. “I could get used to this,” he said softly, almost to himself, before his eyes widened slightly, and his ears turned faintly pink. “I mean... if you, uh, want to do this again. Another day. No pressure.”

She bit back a laugh, leaning her chin on her hand as she looked at him. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she replied warmly.

Bucky glanced down, his blush deepening, but the small smile lingering on his face betrayed how much her answer meant to him.

“So... how’s your arm?” she asked gently as she began clearing the plates, glancing at him with a mix of curiosity and concern. “You rotated your shoulder earlier, and you seemed a little stiff.”

Bucky froze, his eyes snapping to hers. He hadn’t realized she’d been paying that much attention. His first instinct was to brush it off, to tell her he was fine, no big deal. The words hovered on the tip of his tongue… but he’d promised himself not to shut her out. With a sigh, he leaned on the table, running a hand through his hair. “Using the old chainsaw today didn’t help. Heavy as hell, and the weather’s been a pain. Humidity makes it worse. Arm’s been bitching all day.”

She nodded thoughtfully, setting the plates aside before returning to her seat. “How about a massage?”

The question caught him off guard, and he stared at her, his thoughts muddled. He didn’t quite know how to respond, so he fell silent, mulling it over. It wasn’t like he’d ever been the type to ask for -or accept- things like that. But the idea of her hands working out the knots in his shoulder and biceps sounded almost too good to pass up after the day he’d had. “That’d be... really good,” he admitted finally, with a soft voice, “but I should take a bath first.”

She tilted her head, her expression turning stubborn. “Nonsense.” His brow furrowed as he started to protest, but she cut him off with a shy smile, her cheeks tinged pink. “I like how you smell, okay?”

He blinked at her, taken aback by her words. His gaze softened, and the tension in his shoulders eased just slightly. He didn’t know what to say to that, how could he argue when she looked at him like that?

“Okay,” he said finally, the corner of his mouth twitching into the faintest of smiles. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” she replied, with a steady but warm tone. “Now, take off your shirt and go sit on that stool over there,” she instructed, nodding toward the wooden stool tucked near the fireplace in the living room.

Bucky arched a brow but complied, standing slowly and pulling his shirt over his head in one fluid motion. As the fabric cleared his torso, she couldn’t help but stare. His muscled frame was on full display, the scars etched across his skin like unfinished stories. He hadn’t spoken of them yet, and she was determined to wait until he was ready to share those chapters himself. Her gaze lingered on the sharp cut of his shoulders, the way his muscles flexed with each subtle movement. Her hands twitched slightly at her sides, eager to touch him, to ease the tension she could see in every line of his body.

He turned and caught her staring, his lips quirking into a knowing smirk. “Did you plot this to take advantage of a tired and wounded man?” he teased, his tone dry but amused. “You stuff me full of food so I can’t move, and then you attack?”

She blinked, her cheeks warming, but a mischievous grin spread across her face. “Maybe,” she said with a playful shrug, reaching into her purse and pulling out a small bottle of lotion.

His eyes narrowed slightly, though there was a glint of humor in his gaze. “You planned this, didn’t you?”

“Perhaps it was a little premeditated,” she admitted, shaking the bottle in her hand as she stepped toward him. “Now sit.”

Bucky chuckled softly, shaking his head as he lowered himself onto the stool. “Remind me never to underestimate you.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” she quipped, uncapping the bottle and squeezing a small amount into her hands, her gaze flickering briefly to his bare skin.

As she stepped behind him, her heart beat a little faster. She placed her hands on his shoulders, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her fingers, and began to work the lotion into the tight muscles.

The moment her hands touched his shoulders, Bucky tensed, his first thought lingering on the sweat still clinging to his skin. As her fingers pressed firmly into the tight muscles at the top of his shoulders, the tension in his neck began to ease almost immediately, but his mind stubbornly clung to his unease. He shifted slightly, the thought of her hands on his clammy skin making him self-conscious.

She seemed to sense his hesitation, leaning closer until her lips brushed against the pulse point at his neck. The kiss was soft but deliberate, and he stilled completely at the unexpected touch. Her fingers pressed deeper into his shoulders as she murmured, her voice low and teasing, “I’m not feeling any relaxation, Buck.”

Her lips trailed a warm, wet line from his pulse point to his earlobe, and he groaned, a deep, gravelly sound that rumbled in his chest. The tension in his body began to dissolve, his shoulders sagging as he exhaled a long breath.

“There we go,” she said softly, a satisfied smile tugging at her lips as her hands resumed their steady, soothing rhythm.

She worked her thumbs firmly along the base of his neck, coaxing the tight knots free, before moving down to his shoulders. Her fingers dug into the thick muscles with just the right amount of pressure, and he let out a low hiss that melted into a sigh. His scarred arm caught her attention next, the touch growing gentler as she kneaded the firm swell of his bicep. Her fingers traced over the ridges of the scars there, not hesitating but mindful, lingering in a way that felt both tender and intentional.

Bucky didn’t say a word, but his body told the story, how his shoulders slumped further under her touch, how his breathing slowed, and how the stiffness in his arm seemed to melt away. With each stroke, he let go just a little more, his head dipping forward slightly, his lips parting as another sound escaped him, a softer, more relieved groan this time, like unburdening himself of a long-held weight.

By the time she finished, her hands moving back up to smooth over his shoulders one last time, Bucky’s body was practically putty under her touch. The knots in his muscles had vanished, leaving him loose and blissfully relaxed. Yet, beneath the calm she’d so carefully drawn out, a different tension simmered. Her warm breath against his neck, the soft brush of her chest against his back, and the intimacy of her touch stirred something deeper, and despite his best efforts to stay still, a part of him was very much paying attention to her ministrations.

She stepped back slightly, wiping her palms on a towel she’d grabbed from her bag. “All done,” she announced lightly, her voice warm. “How are you feeling?”

Bucky straightened slightly, forcing himself to keep his breathing even as he glanced back at her. “So good,” he said honestly, his voice low and husky. “Thank you.”

Before she could respond, he moved with quiet intent, his hands finding her waist as he gently pulled her into his lap.

Her eyes widened as she settled sideways on his thighs, his hands firm and steady, holding her as though she belonged there.

“What kind of host would I be,” he murmured, his voice thick and velvety, sending a delicious shiver down her spine, “if I didn’t thank you properly?”

And then his lips were on hers, warm and insistent, his hands holding her in place like he couldn’t bear the thought of her slipping away. The kiss deepened quickly, and she let out a soft moan as she shifted in his lap, the movement drawing her attention to the unmistakable hardness pressing against her. Her breath hitched, her heart pounding as heat rushed through her body.

When they finally parted, her gaze met his, taking in the tired lines around his eyes. She quirked a brow, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Weren’t you exhausted?”

Bucky leaned in, his lips brushing against her pulse point before nipping at it lightly. “Never for you,” he murmured, in a low and rough voice. The statement sent a thrill through her, her cheeks flushing as she bit her lip, her hands instinctively tightening on his shoulders. “You know,” he continued, his tone soft but teasing as his hand traveled under the hem of her skirt, his rough fingers brushing against her bare thigh, “last night I told you why I liked you in dresses and skirts.”

Her breath caught as his hand moved higher, his touch deliberate and unhurried. “Oh, I took note,” she answered playfully, kissing his cheek as her fingers traced idle patterns over his chest. Her gaze held his with a spark of anticipation. “What are you going to do about it?”

Bucky’s eyes darkened, the corners of his mouth twitching as his hand slid higher, his grip firm but coaxing. “Guess you’ll find out,” he said, his voice barely more than a growl as he kissed her again, deeper and more insistent this time. She gasped softly against his mouth, threading her fingers into his hair and pulling him closer.

His touch became more insistent, one hand sliding up her side, the fabric of her blouse bunching under his fingers. Without breaking the kiss, he unbuttoned it promptly and removed it in two smooth motions. He leaned back just enough to take her in, his eyes trailing over the curves of her body with open appreciation. His lips parted slightly, and a low, almost reverent hum rumbled from his chest. “You’re so damn beautiful,” he muttered, his voice rough with need as his hands moved to unhook her bra.

The straps fell away, and he cupped her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her sensitive nipples. She let out a soft whimper, slightly arching her body into his touch. “Perfect,” he murmured, leaning down to press a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the swell of her breast. His lips trailed down, and when his mouth closed around her nipple, sucking gently, a sharp moan escaped her lips. Her hand flew to his nape, her fingers tangling in his hair as she arched again, pressing him harder against her chest. The pressure of his mouth and the flick of his tongue were enough to send her mind spinning.

He growled softly against her skin, his other hand sliding down from her waist, hooking his arm under her knee, spreading her leg with ease, and angling her body to fit perfectly against his, with her back against his chest. His free hand trailed down, his fingers teasing the edge of her panties before pressing against the damp fabric. Her hips bucked instinctively at the contact, a sharp gasp escaping her he traced slow, deliberate circles over her clothed pussy.

“Today was a shitty day,” Bucky said huskily as his fingers pressed a little harder, drawing another moan from her lips. He leaned forward, pressing his face into the crook of her neck. “I appreciate it a lot... what you did here, sweetheart.”

His hand slipped under the waistband of her panties, his rough fingers finding her slick folds with ease. A strangled sound escaped her, as her hand flew to the back of his neck.

“I’m not very good with words,” he murmured, his voice vibrating against her skin. As he spoke, he pushed two fingers inside her, slow and deliberate, the stretch sending a wave of pleasure through her. “But I’m happy. Really.” His confession was soft, almost vulnerable, as his thumb began circling her clit with a practiced rhythm that sent her thoughts scattering.

Her head fell back, a moan spilling from her lips as her body arched against him. “Well, I can’t argue,” she panted, her words broken by pleasure, “this is a... a nice way of appreciation.”

His lips curved into a small smile against her neck as his fingers moved inside her with a slow, steady rhythm. Each motion drew soft gasps and moans from her lips, her body arching against him as the pleasure built. “Such a good girl,” he murmured, his lips brushing her skin. “You take care of me, and this is how I take care of you.” His voice was husky, laced with affection, and something darker, rougher.

Her breath hitched as he adjusted his angle slightly, his fingers curling inside her, hitting a spot that made her cry out. He chuckled softly, the sound low and rough in her ear. “There it is,” he growled, his pace quickening just enough to keep her teetering on the edge.

Her hands clutched at his thigh and neck, her nails digging in slightly as her hips moved instinctively against his hand. “B-Bucky,” she panted, her voice shaky, her head tipping back as she lost herself in the sensation.

When he shifted his arm slightly, a dry chuckle escaped him. “Fuck, I smell,” he muttered, half to himself, his self-consciousness creeping back in despite the moment.

She turned her head sharply, her flushed face meeting his. “My God, James,” she said firmly, her voice a mix of exasperation and arousal. “I told you, I’m okay with it.”

His brows quirked, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “So I’m James when you scold me?” he teased, pushing his fingers deeper, harder, making her gasp and stutter.

“T-That’s right,” she managed, her breath shuddering as his pace picked up. “I don’t mind you sweaty after a day of work... I think it’s hot, okay?” she confessed, her cheeks flushing an even deeper shade of red.

His hand stilled for just a second, his gaze lifting to hers in surprise before a wide, wicked grin spread across his face. “You think it’s hot,” he repeated, his voice a low, teasing drawl. “Well, sweetheart, I think you’re hot when you’re like this.”

Without another word, his fingers moved faster, curling and pressing in ways that made her moan loudly, her head falling back as the pressure built to an unbearable peak. He trailed open-mouthed kisses along her throat, his stubble scraping lightly against her skin as his pace became relentless.

“Maybe,” he murmured between kisses, his voice a husky whisper that sent tremors through her, “I could be Jamie when you cum. What do you say, darlin’?”

Her moans turned into breathless cries, her body trembling as his words pushed her closer to the edge. His thumb pressed harder against her clit, and with one final, precise movement, she shattered, her climax crashing over her in a wave of heat and pleasure.

She called out his name, her body arching as her walls clenched around his fingers. He didn’t stop, coaxing her through every aftershock, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered, “That’s it, good girl. Let go for me.”

When she finally slumped back against him with ragged breathing, he pulled his hand back, cradling her against his chest with a satisfied smirk. “So,” he said softly, his tone laced with playful arrogance, “Jamie it is, huh?”

She swatted his shoulder weakly, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.

“And now,” Bucky murmured between kisses at the back of her neck, his voice dark and laced with promise, “I’m going to show you exactly what I’m going to do about this skirt of yours.”

Before she could respond, his hands gripped her hips firmly as he shifted them both to the floor in one fluid motion. Her knees hit the soft rug beneath them, and he pressed himself against her back, slowly grinding his erection against her rear. One of his hands slid up to her waist, holding her firmly in place as his other hand moved to the nape of her neck, pressing her down gently but firmly against the coffee table.

The rough wood met her forearms, her body bent at just the right angle to have her completely at his mercy. Her breath hitched as she felt his hand leave her nape briefly, the sound of his belt unbuckling and the zipper of his jeans being drawn down making her pulse race.

With one hand still firm on her hip, Bucky gathered the fabric of her skirt and lifted it, baring her ass to him. His large, rough palm cupped one cheek, squeezing it firmly. “Seems to me,” he said, his voice gravelly and dripping with lust, “you came here intending to be taken advantage of.”

A low chuckle escaped her lips, her body reacting instinctively as she arched her back and parted her thighs slightly, lifting her hips toward him. “Can you blame me?” she teased, with a breathy voice, the words laced with anticipation.

His lips curled into a grin as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties and tugged them down in one swift motion, leaving them tangled around her knees. “Who am I,” he murmured, his tone dark and teasing, “to deny you what you want, especially after you pamper me, hm?” His pupils were blown as he stared at her pussy, slick and glistening with arousal. A low groan rumbled from his chest as he wrapped a hand around his cock, thick and heavy, precum already beading at the tip. He ran the swollen head through her folds, spreading her wetness over his length. The sensation made her gasp, her hips pressing back against him instinctively.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, savoring how wet and ready she was for him. Gripping her hip tightly, he lined himself up and began to press into her slowly, the blunt head of his cock stretching her open inch by inch.

She mewled at the stretch, the fullness making her fingers clutch the edge of the coffee table for support. As he slid deeper, a low moan spilled from her lips, as her body adjusted to take him to the hilt. He paused there, his chest pressing against her back as he leaned forward, his lips brushing her ear. “Are you alright, sweetheart?” he murmured, his voice was rough but tinged with genuine care, though he already knew the answer. The feel of her walls clenching around him, pulling him in even tighter, made it clear she was more than alright.

Her breath hitched again, her body shuddering under his, and she nodded quickly, her voice a little shaky but firm. “Yes,” she whispered, her tone carrying a mix of need and reassurance.

Satisfied, he let out a low, satisfied hum, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck before rolling his hips experimentally, drawing a sharp gasp from her lips.

Bucky pulled back almost completely before thrusting forward again, his pace slow and deliberate, letting her feel every inch of his cock stretch and fill her. The low, guttural groan that escaped his lips was unrestrained, a sound that vibrated deep in his chest as he rolled his hips again, savoring the way her pussy clenched around him.

It was like something unlocked inside him, the tension he carried in every interaction, every moment of his day, dissolving as he lost himself in the heat of her. Here, he didn’t have to hold back or second-guess. There was no space for hesitation, no room for what ifs, just her body arching beneath him and her soft moans urging him on.

“You feel so fucking good,” he muttered with a rough voice, the words falling from his lips without filter or pretense. He pulled back to watch the way his cock disappeared into her, his grip tightening on her as he snapped his hips harder, a sharp slap of skin meeting skin filling the air. “Made for me, aren’t you?”

Her whimper in response only spurred him on, his hand sliding up her back to press between her shoulder blades, bending her further over the coffee table as his thrusts picked up a relentless rhythm.

Her cries grew louder, her fingers clutching at the table for stability as she pushed back against him, meeting his movements with desperation. “Bucky!” she cried out, her voice breaking as his relentless thrusts sent waves of pleasure coursing through her.

“That’s it,” he growled, his lips brushing against her shoulder as he drove into her harder, deeper. “Say it again, sweetheart.”

“Bucky,” she gasped, her breath hitching as his fingers worked her clit with precision with her body trembling beneath him.

A grin spread across his lips as he leaned closer, his voice rough and teasing. “What about… Jamie? Hmm? Can I be your Jamie when you fall apart for me?”

Her head tipped back, and a flush crept up her neck as the name fell from her lips, breathless and needy. “J-Jamie...”

His groan was low and guttural, his hips stuttering for a moment before he caught his rhythm again. The way her voice carried his name sent a thrill through his body.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his pace quickening as his free hand slid up her back, holding her steady. “Say it again, darling. Let me hear it.”

“Jamie!” she cried, her voice trembling as the pressure in her core built to a breaking point.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his lips pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of her neck. “You’re so good for me. Taking all I give you.”

Her walls clenched around him, and she shuddered beneath him, her voice breaking as she gasped his name.

That was his undoing. His thrusts became harder, more erratic as he chased his release, her pleasure pulling him closer to the edge. “That’s it,” he growled, his voice strained but commanding. “Come for me, sweetheart. Come on my cock.”

She shattered, her cries echoing through the room as her climax ripped through her, her body arching and trembling under his hands.

Hearing her call his diminutive over and over as her body convulsed around him was enough to send him spiraling. With a guttural groan, he followed her over the edge, his hips driving into her one last time as he spilled inside her.

As the intensity ebbed, she slumped forward, her body draped over the coffee table, with a ragged and shallow breathing. Bucky followed her, his chest pressing against her back as they both came down from the high with their bodies still connected.

For a moment, neither of them moved, the only sound in the room was their uneven breaths. Then, with a soft grunt, Bucky wrapped his arms around her waist, his grip firm but gentle as he pulled her upright. “C’mere,” he murmured, his voice still gravelly, though softer now. He shifted, sitting back on the thick rug, and dragged her with him, settling her in his lap. Her back rested against his broad chest, his arms enveloping her in a warm, protective hug.

She melted into him, her head tipping back to rest on his shoulder as his chin came to rest atop her head. One of his arms enveloped her below her breasts holding her securely against him, while the other traced slow, idle patterns on her thigh.

“You’re amazing,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she reached back with her hand and caressed his stubbed cheek.

Bucky stilled for a moment, her words catching him off guard. He swallowed hard, his arms tightening around her slightly. “I think that’s my line,” he muttered, his lips brushing against her hair. “You’re the one who...” He trailed off, shaking his head with a small, self-deprecating chuckle. “You’re just amazing.”

She turned her head slightly to look up at him, her lips curving into a tender smile. “I like this,” she said, full of affection.

“Hmm?” he hummed, tilting his head slightly to glance down at her.

“This,” she repeated, gesturing to the way his arms were wrapped around her. “You. Holding me like this. Feels like home.”

His breath hitched, and he kissed the top of her head gently, tightening his embrace even further. “You… feel like home too.” he admitted, with a softer voice.

After a few minutes of quiet, she broke the silence, her tone turning playful. “So,” she said, glancing up at him with a teasing smile, “Will I get this treatment every time I cook you a hearty meal?”

Bucky froze for a moment, her question pulling him from the comfortable haze of their embrace. His body tensed slightly, and his usual awkwardness crept back in as his brain finally caught up with what she was saying.

“... maybe,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible as his fingers fidgeted against her waist.

She blinked, her smile widening as she tried, and failed, not to laugh. “What was that?” she teased, twisting in his lap just enough to catch the faint pink creeping up his neck. “I didn’t hear you, Jamie.”

At the sound of the name, his eyes widened briefly, and a groan rumbled from his chest as he pressed his face into the crook of her neck, trying to hide his embarrassment. “Don’t...” he started, his voice muffled, but she cut him off with a laugh, her fingers brushing through his hair.

“You are so cute, you know that?”

He let out a dry chuckle, a sound tinged with disbelief as he leaned back slightly to meet her gaze. “I’ve been called a lot of things in my life,” he muttered with a  wry tone, “but it’s a first time for cute.”

She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. “Well, you are,” she said firmly, her eyes bright with affection. “And I dare anyone to say otherwise.”

His lips twitched, the faintest smile breaking through his usual reserve. “You’re something else,” he murmured, his arms tightening around her as he buried his face in her hair again.

He held her close for a moment longer, her warmth making it harder to let go. Finally, he cleared his throat, breaking the comfortable silence. “You... wanna stay the night?” he asked, his tone casual, but laced with a hint of hesitation.

Her lips curved into a soft smile as she leaned back just enough to meet his gaze. “I’d love to.”

“Good,” he said, the word gruff but filled with quiet satisfaction. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “And no one’s gonna be ringing the doorbell early in the morning here,” his tone carrying a touch of grumpiness.

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Well, that is definitely a bonus.”

Her laughter eased some of the tension in his chest, but it crept back just as quickly. For a moment he froze, a flicker of doubt crossed his features as his mind wandered to his unused bed. Do I even have sheets on that thing? The memory hit him almost instantly: yes, he did. A week ago, he’d tossed a spare set on there after doing laundry, figuring it was better than leaving the mattress bare. He sighed with relief, and his lips curved into a small grin.

Without warning, he wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her effortlessly, standing with her in his arms as if she weighed nothing, getting out of his pants with a little work of his legs.

“Bucky!” she squealed, laughing as she grabbed onto his shoulders for balance.

“You said yes,” he replied with a smirk, adjusting his hold as he headed toward the bathroom. “Now, come on. We both need a good scrubbing.”

Her laughter bubbled out as her hands slid up to cup his face. “You’re full of surprises tonight, Jamie” she teased with a playful tone.

Bucky’s brow quirked, a smirk tugging at his lips even as a faint flush crept up his cheeks. Tightening his hold on her, he leaned in, his voice dropping low and rough. “Oh, Jamie’s gonna teach you a lesson about poking bears,” he muttered, the teasing edge in his words sending a shiver down her spine.

Before she could fire back, his hand shifted, delivering a swift smack to her ass.

She gasped in surprise, jerking slightly, then bit her lip with a playful grin. “Is the big bad bear planning to plunder a honeypot tonight?” she asked, with a teasing undertone.

Bucky’s eyes went wide for a moment, and his steps faltered. His ears turned bright red as he stammered, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “What do you read in those novels?” he muttered, avoiding her gaze as his grip on her tightened slightly.

She grinned wickedly, undeterred. “It’s not like you haven’t already-”

Before she could finish, his hand came down with another sharp slap to her ass, making her squeal. “Enough outta you,” he growled, though the pink on his ears deepened.

“Oh, you can dish it out, but you can’t take it?” she teased, still grinning as she tightened her arms around his shoulders.

He let out a low groan, shaking his head as he adjusted his grip, carrying her effortlessly into the bathroom. “You’re a menace,” he muttered.

“And you like it,” she countered, leaning in to kiss his cheek, her lips brushing against his flushed skin.

His stride slowed as he turned his head to look at her, his tired blue eyes softer now. The teasing glint had faded, replaced by something deeper, more vulnerable. “Yeah,” he admitted quietly, his voice low and raw. “I do.”

As they crossed into the bathroom, he leaned his forehead against hers. “You make it easy to forget everything else,” he murmured, his voice barely audible but weighted with a truth he rarely allowed himself to share.

Her arms tightened around him, as she pressed a kiss in the corner of his mouth. She could feel the unspoken heaviness behind his words, the burdens he carried in silence. But she didn’t push. She knew he would tell her when he was ready, about his struggles, his past, and the shadows that still lingered in his mind. “I’m glad Bucky, you deserve that.”

His chest rose and fell with a deep breath, his arms tightening around her as he held her close. For a moment, the world outside the bathroom, outside this cabin, ceased to exist. He dipped his head slightly, brushing her lips in a tender, unhurried kiss, filled with gratitude and unspoken promises, a glimpse of the feelings he couldn’t yet bring himself to express.

[d-z20]

Neighbourly Care part 3 (NSFW)

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: You go home for Thanksgiving and who else joins your family but none other than their wonderful neighbours Agatha and Rio

-OR-

You struggle to make it through the meal and so does Agatha, but she "accidentally" spills her drink which means you fuck in the bathroom :)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, top Agatha, top Rio, fingering, oral, mention of humiliation kink

Words: 3.5k

A/N: THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE AND KUDOS!!! to celebrate here is a bonus seasonal chapter :D Happy Thanksgiving to those that celebrate, and to those who don't: enjoy the chapter anyway ;)

AO3 | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Master List

A Thanksgiving To Remember

As the morning light filters through the blinds, the hotel room is dim and quiet. You wake up slowly, feeling warm and content, your body still tingling from last night. You shift slightly, realising that Rio is already awake. She’s sprawled comfortably on her side, her head resting on the pillow, her hand absently stroking your arm. Her eyes flicker open as she senses you waking, and she smiles at you lazily.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Rio hums, stretching and running a hand through her hair. “How are you feeling?”

“Good thanks, how about you?" You smile, feeling the pull of her easy, bright energy. Was she always so upbeat in the mornings?

“I’m great. But she,” Rio gestures toward Agatha with a playful smirk, “isn’t a morning person.”

Behind you, Agatha just grumbles in response, muffling her face into the pillow and pulling you closer into her. Rio leans over, a mischievous grin on her face as she brushes Agatha’s hair from her face. “C’mon, darling, I’ll make you coffee,” she offers sweetly, but you can hear the hint of a challenge in her tone. 

Agatha groans again but finally starts to sit up, stretching with an audible crack in her spine. “Fine, fine,” Agatha mutters. “But it better be good, or I’ll go back to sleep.” 

Rio laughs and gets up to make coffee, leaving Agatha to rub her eyes before looking at you. You share a quiet moment, the lingering energy from the night before making the air between you feel heavy with unspoken thoughts.

As Rio busies herself in the kitchenette in the corner of the room, Agatha grabs her phone and starts swiping through it. Not wanting to bother her, you reach for your phone too. You’re happily scrolling when a notification pops up

MILF 1 has added you to the group chat.

MILF 1 named the group chat Check-In Group

MILF 1: There. You can’t ignore us now, sweetheart.

You’re smiling at your phone when you feel Rio standing next to you, coffee in hand

“What are you smiling at? Not another potential date, I hope." She meant it as a tease, but you can hear the hint of jealousy in her voice.

“No,” you chuckle. “In fact, it’s just the opposite; Agatha is making sure that never happens again.” You tilt your phone to show Rio the notifications.

She looks down at your phone, her eyes narrowing slightly at the screen. “Why do you have Agatha saved as MILF 1?” she asks, raising her voice loud enough so Agatha hears.

You laugh nervously and quickly glance at Agatha, who’s sitting up now and lazily sipping her coffee, her attention on the two of you. She raises an eyebrow at you, her eyes glinting with something more than just curiosity.

“Well?” Rio prompts, clearly enjoying your discomfort.

You squirm under their combined gazes, feeling both flustered and slightly turned on. “It’s just the truth,” you admit sheepishly, your voice dropping as you fidget with the comforter. “She is a mom, and, well, I do want to f—” You stop yourself just in time, your cheeks heating as you look anywhere but at them.

Rio raises an eyebrow, a wicked grin curling on her lips. “Oh? And what am I saved as?” she teases, voice low and playful. “Please tell me it’s not just MILF 2.”

Your face goes hot, and you start fiddling with the comforter in your lap. “It might be.”

Rio bursts into laughter. “You really couldn’t think of something more creative?” she asks, shaking her head in mock disapproval.

Agatha’s smile never fades, but her eyes darken, and she stands up, stretching slowly. “Okay, on that note, I’m going to go shower,” she says, cutting through the playful moment. She gives Rio a brief kiss on the cheek before heading toward the bathroom. “You two behave while I’m gone.”

As Agatha disappears into the bathroom, Rio sets her coffee cup on the nightstand and leans closer to you, her expression shifting. There’s an undeniable heat in her eyes as her lips brush against yours in a kiss that’s possessive and urgent. “So you like to fuck us, hmm?” she whispers against your lips, her breath warm as it fans over your skin.

Your breath catches as her words sink in, and your body reacts almost instantly, a tingling warmth pooling low in your belly.

When the bathroom door clicks shut behind Agatha, Rio doesn’t waste a second. She pushes you back against the pillows, her touch both gentle and commanding. The electricity in the air is palpable as her lips find yours again, her kiss deepening with every passing second.

You moan softly when her hand trails down your side, grazing your hip before slipping under your waistband. She pauses just long enough to murmur against your lips, “You’re already so excited for me. Do you like it that much when I humiliate you?” Her tone is teasing, but there’s an edge to it that makes you shiver.

Before you can answer, Rio presses her lips to yours again, cutting off any reply as her hand moves with a confidence that leaves you breathless. Her touch is slow at first, teasing, as though she’s savouring every little sound you make in response. The tension between you builds rapidly, and the air is charged with unspoken need.

Somewhere in the background, you faintly register the sound of the shower running in the bathroom. Rio pulls back just enough to mutter against your lips, her voice low and dripping with desire. “I’ve got about ten minutes until she's done showering.”

Her words send a shiver down your spine, the hunger in her tone unmistakable. You swallow hard, your pulse racing as you meet her gaze. “I don’t think we’ll need that long anyway,” you admit softly, your voice trembling slightly under the weight of her intensity.

Rio smirks, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction at your answer. She wets her fingers with your arousal before burying two of them inside you, igniting a fire in your core that threatens to consume you completely. “So eager for me already,” she murmurs, her voice both teasing and utterly dominating. Her words make your breath hitch, the hint of humiliation in her tone only heightening your anticipation as she begins to fuck you.

There is no slow buildup, and Rio is mercilessly fucking you in seconds, pulling sounds out of you that you didn’t even know you could make; you’re pretty sure that the whole floor can hear you now.

She starts to pump her fingers faster, and you can hear how wet you are. She takes your bottom lip between her teeth and bites down before soothing it with a quick swipe of her tongue. "Shhhhh, baby, try and keep quiet for me; Aggie can’t know what I’m doing.”

The idea that this sex was potentially forbidden pushes you over the edge, and you grip on to her shoulders for dear life as your orgasm comes crashing over you. You pull Rio into a messy kiss to try and dampen your moans as you wind down. She pulls her fingers out, humming with pleasure as she sucks them clean.

“Fucking hell,” you pant.

Rio looks at you with a devilish grin. 

The sound of the bathroom door opening jolts you out of the haze. Agatha steps into the room, towel-wrapped and hair damp, her expression calm as she surveys the scene. Rio immediately freezes, her eyes widening slightly like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

But Agatha doesn’t say a word. She simply raises an eyebrow, a ghost of a smirk tugging at her lips, before turning back to the closet to finish getting ready. Her calm, collected demeanour somehow leaves you even more flustered than being caught outright.

The rest of the morning passes in a blur. After Agatha and Rio get you dressed, they drive you back to your college apartment; their voices light and playful. “Remember to actually text us this time,” Rio teases as she pulls up to the curb. “We’re not just for weekends, you know.”

“Yeah, text us, sweetheart,” Agatha adds with a soft smile. “We like hearing from you.”

“I will,” you promise, glancing at your phone, already thinking of what you were going to text them.

—

Later that evening, you’re mindlessly scrolling on your phone when you notice a new notification in your group chat with Agatha and Rio.

Check-In Group

MILF 2 changed the name to MILFs Anonymous

MILF 1: Rio!

MILF 2: Come on, just let me have this one thing :(

MILF 1: Fine, but Y/N, change our contact names now please

You roll your eyes at Rio’s antics but do as you’re told, not wanting to dissapoint Agatha; you still feel a bit guilty for having sex with Rio this morning.

—

Over the next few days, you find yourself texting with them more and more. The conversations flow easily—Agatha constantly checking in on you, always asking if you’ve eaten or if you’re doing alright. It’s sweet, in a way you didn’t expect, but it’s comforting. Rio, on the other hand, can’t resist sending her terrible dad jokes, which, despite your best efforts, always make you laugh.

MILFS Anonymous

~ 15:48

Rio: What do you call a group of crows that stick together?

You: Oh God, please stop

Agatha: Seriously. You’re not funny

Rio: VelCrows :)))

Agatha: Sometimes I wonder how I fell in love with you

Rio: It’s because I fuck you like there’s no tomorrow ;)

~ 21:17

Agatha: *click to open image*

Agatha: Huh, you don’t look like you’re doing much fucking to me

You drop your phone with a loud clatter. You were not expecting to see a picture of a Rio naked and tied to the bed with a vibrator pressed against her clit and by the looks of it, she had been like that for some time. You spend the rest of your evening fucking yourself to that image. Each time you think you’re done and can't cum any more, the image pops into your mind again, and you start to imagine all the things they would do if you were with them, and before you know it, your hand is back between your legs.

—

Thanksgiving break arrives faster than expected, and the familiar comfort of your parents' home feels like a welcome change from the chaos of college life. You arrive in the early afternoon, greeted by the warm aroma of roasted turkey and spiced pies wafting from the kitchen. It’s a little odd being home after everything that’s happened with Rio and Agatha, knowing they live just next door. You wonder if you’ll see them during your visit.

It turns out you don’t have to wonder for long.

A knock at the front door pulls you from your thoughts, and your dad answers with a cheerful, “Agatha! Rio! Happy Thanksgiving!”

Your stomach flips.

You appear in the hallway just in time to see them stepping inside, Agatha holding a neatly wrapped gift basket and Rio carrying what looks like a bottle of wine. They’re dressed casually but still look effortlessly gorgeous; Rio is dressed in a breezy striped blue shirt that’s half tucked into her jeans. The loose fit of the shirt somehow adds to her charm, her confident movements making it clear she’s completely at ease. Agatha, on the other hand, is the picture of sophistication, her fitted blazer in a warm mustard hue paired with a turtleneck and slacks giving her a commanding presence that turns heads—even in such a casual setting.

“We just wanted to drop this off,” Agatha says, her usual polished tone soft and warm. “A little something for the holiday.”

“Oh, nonsense, you’re not just dropping it off,” your mom insists, appearing behind your dad. “You’re staying for dinner. It’s the least we can do after everything you did for this one when they got locked out in the rain.”

Your heart nearly stops. You glance at Agatha, who meets your wide-eyed look with a calm, knowing smile.

“Really, it wasn’t any trouble,” Agatha says smoothly, a teasing lilt in her voice. “I mean, we could’ve just let them in with the spare key you gave us, but... well, we thought they might prefer a warm bed and some company at ours instead.”

Your cheeks burn as Rio chimes in, her grin bordering on wicked. “And they didn’t seem to mind one bit.”

Your parents laugh, completely oblivious to the deeper meaning behind the exchange, but you feel like you’re about to combust. Agatha and Rio both throw you brief, pointed glances before following your mom into the dining room, leaving you standing there trying to steady your racing heart.

—

Dinner starts off innocently enough, but the air feels charged in a way you can’t quite explain. You’re hyper-aware of Rio sitting across from you and Agatha beside you, their presence consuming all your focus.

Rio’s long fingers wrap elegantly around her wine glass as she listens to your dad talk, but her gaze keeps drifting to you, her lips curving into a faint smirk every time your eyes meet. Meanwhile, Agatha takes every opportunity to lean close, brushing her arm against yours under the guise of reaching for the breadbasket or whispering a sly comment in your ear that sends a jolt of heat straight to your core.

“You look a little flushed, sweetheart,” Agatha purrs at one point, her tone dripping with amusement. “You okay?”

You nod quickly, biting your lip to keep from saying something that would give you away. Rio catches the exchange and arches an eyebrow, her gaze flickering between the two of you knowingly.

It only gets worse as the meal progresses. Rio’s foot grazes yours under the table, lingering just long enough to send a thrill up your spine. 

When Agatha pours herself another glass of wine, she tilts the bottle toward you with a raised brow, silently asking if you’d like more. You nod, not trusting your voice. As she leans over to fill your glass, her lips brush your ear so faintly it feels like a whisper of air. “Behave, sweetheart,” she murmurs, her voice so low and intimate that a shiver runs down your spine.

You clench your thighs and glance up at her wide-eyed, but she only pulls back with that same subtle smile, her expression calm and unreadable.

You do your best to stay composed, but your mind is spinning. Every touch, every look, and every smirk makes it harder to focus on anything else.

Then, as if the universe wants to test your resolve further, Agatha “accidentally” spills a bit of wine on her sweater.

“Oh, shoot,” she says, dabbing at the stain with her napkin.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” your mom says quickly. “Y/N, show Agatha where the bathroom is, and grab her a clean top from the laundry room, will you?”

You nod, your pulse quickening as you rise from the table. Agatha follows you down the hall, her calm exterior betraying nothing, but you can feel the tension radiating off her like heat. You scurry off to grab Agatha a clean top and quickly show her to the bathroom.

The moment you’re alone in the room, she closes the door behind you with a soft click and turns to face you, her expression shifting from composed to utterly predatory.

“Finally,” she murmurs, stepping closer, her voice low and thick with desire. “Do you have any idea how hard it’s been to keep my hands off you all evening?”

Your breath catches as she backs you against the counter, her hands finding your waist and pulling you flush against her. Her lips are on yours before you can respond, the kiss hungry and demanding, igniting a fire in your chest that spreads through your entire body.

“Agatha, we—” you start to protest, your voice a shaky whisper, but she silences you with another kiss, her hands sliding up your sides to cup your face.

“They’re none the wiser,” she murmurs against your lips, her voice sending shivers down your spine. “Now, let me have you for just a moment.”

Before you can respond, Agatha’s hands drift lower, deftly removing anything on your bottom half that will get in the way of her goal and letting the fabric fall to the tiled floor. Her gaze darkens as she sinks to her knees in front of you, her palms sliding down your thighs, leaving trails of heat in their wake.

Her eyes flick up to meet yours, full of lust and mischief, as she leans in closer. “Dripping everywhere,” she murmurs, her voice husky and teasing, her lips ghosting over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. “Just like the first time we were in a bathroom together. Seems I have a knack for this, don’t I?”

Your heart pounds in your chest as her words hang in the air, her presence between your legs sending a surge of electricity through you.

It might be Thanksgiving, but your body feels like the Fourth of July when she drags her tongue from your entrance to your clit. She sucks it into her mouth and flicks lightly with the tip of her tongue before releasing it and going back to push her tongue inside you. The woman is on a mission and wastes no time in bringing you close to your climax in record time.

Her hand clamps over your mouth, not willing to risk you letting the whole street know that you’re going to cum, and then, with a final flick of her tongue, you’re glad she did because the orgasm hits you like a fucking 18-wheeler truck, your legs start to shake, and you have to grip on to the sink to stop yourself from collapsing. 

Your breathing comes in ragged gasps as the world tilts back into focus, your body still trembling from the intensity of what just happened. Agatha stands, her movements unhurried and precise as she grabs a tissue and delicately wipes the corner of her mouth, her expression one of calm satisfaction.

"Still as sweet as I remember," she murmurs, her voice low and teasing as she crumples the tissue and tosses it into the small trash can by the sink.

You blink at her, still clinging to the edge of the sink for balance, your legs shaky and your mind a hazy blur of aftershocks. Agatha’s hands are steady as she helps you straighten your clothes, her touch lingering just a moment too long, her fingers grazing the small of your back before she steps away.

She smooths the fresh top you fetched for her, giving herself a quick once-over in the mirror. Perfectly put together, not a single hair out of place. You can’t help but marvel at her composure, especially when you feel like you’ve just been turned inside out.

Agatha turns back to you, a soft, almost maternal smile on her lips as she gives your ass a light pat. “Go on, darling,” she says, her tone playful but firm. “Head back out there before they start to wonder. I’ll be right behind you.”

You swallow hard, willing your legs to cooperate, and make your way back to the dining room, still trying to regain your composure.

The two of you return to the dining room during dessert, the scent of sweet pies and coffee wafting in the air. Agatha looks completely composed now, her clean top fitting snugly as she takes her seat next to you. She even stops for a moment to dab a napkin at the corner of her mouth—the perfect picture of elegance considering she was wiping away the last remnants of your cum. You, however, can feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you settle down, trying not to meet anyone’s gaze too directly.

From the other side of the table, Rio watches the two of you with a smirk that’s far too knowing for comfort. She raises her glass in a small toast, the corner of her lips quirking in amusement before she takes a slow sip.

“So,” she says casually, her tone light but her eyes sparkling with mischief, “did the mess get sorted out?”

Agatha doesn’t miss a beat, shooting her a calm, collected smile. “All taken care of. They were very helpful.” She says, draping an arm around the back of your chair.

Your mother beams, none the wiser. “Well, that’s sweet. Always good to know you’ve got a helping hand.”

Rio stifles a laugh behind her hand, her eyes meeting yours briefly. The heat simmering beneath your skin refuses to let up, and you can only hope that dessert wraps up soon—before someone else catches on.

-----

"we could’ve just let them in with the spare key"

*humming* it was Agatha all along

⚠️Remember⚠️validation saves lives (this fic dies when I believe nobody likes it anymore because I have imposter syndrome)

READ PART 4

-----

taglist: @aceday @valarmorghuli @ctrlamira @lezbean-with-a-side-of-dilfs @noturlondonboy @darkangelchronicles @4theluvofsapphos

[jypsyvloggin]

How to do the AI Headshots filter on TikTok?

@classyjitterbugg I found a winner, can you guess which one? #AI #aiheadshotgenerator #aifilterchallenge #aifilter #linkedin #linkedinheadshots ♬ 3:15 (Slowed Down + Reverb) – Russ The AI Headshots filter is a popular TikTok filter that uses artificial intelligence to create professional-looking headshots from your photos. The filter can be used to improve your skin tone, hair, and makeup, and…

[deepspacenova]

𝐂𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐒

4500 words | Dragon!Sylus. Banter. Sexual tension. Smut. (aka the holy trifecta)

Note: Basically written based on headcanons and vibes. Because no, I am not okay about this myth card. Let’s all be not okay together xx

The icy air prickled on her skin as she scrambled her way through the rocky terrain that led down to the cavern system. 

She couldn’t help but feel a thrum of adrenaline-infused excitement as she crept into the darkness, the fissures in the rock overhead illuminating the tunnel with speckled moonlight as she slipped through the silent shadows. 

She paused for a moment, her breath curling into silver mist in front of her. The stars were high, and the cave ahead was quiet and blissfully unaware of her presence; she had time for a moment of indulgence. She took a deep breath, the intense chill of the night air revitalizing her. 

She had certainly seen worse.

Once upon a time she’d loathed heights, but she’d experienced far worse things over the years than being a few extra metres from the ground. After the war she’d thought it would be easy to fall back into her life, thought it would feel like being back on solid ground, but she’d been wrong, so caught up in changing the world that she didn’t even realise that she had changed too. Now…

Now she had to get back to work.

She hugged the jagged rock walls, her boots crunching softly against the gritty floor of the cave as she crept deeper into the shadows. Overhead, the roof of the cavern became higher and darker, glittering with faint streaks of quartz that caught the dim light filtering through unseen cracks above. 

What would her younger self think of this? Sneaking into a monster’s lair to pilfer his treasure? She imagined that naive girl, horrified beyond belief, clinging to ideals about honor and fairness. But those ideals didn’t pay for food, for shelter. The truth was simple: wealth changed the world. And if she had to steal it from the claws of a monster, then so be it. 

The path curved sharply, and just ahead, the faintest glint of gold sparkled in the dim light. Her heart skipped, her pulse quickening. 

Something was wrong. 

The chamber’s massive iron door, usually sealed tight, was cracked open, its hinges groaning faintly as a draft stirred the cavern air.

Damn it. She’d been so close. So close she could taste it. But now—

The faintest sound reached her ears—a low scrape, like claws dragging across stone. It was so subtle she almost missed it over the hammering of her heart as she gripped the dagger at her side.

Carefully, she tilted her head to peek around the corner.

The chamber opened into a vast expanse of shimmering treasure. Gold coins, goblets, gems, and gilded weapons spilled across the cavern floor in glittering piles. But her attention wasn’t on the wealth — it was on the hulking figure sprawled atop the stone mound.

The dragon. 

His massive form was sprawled on the pedestal, onyx scales glinting in the faint light like shards of obsidian. Smoke curled lazily around him as he rested its head on a palm, like a domesticated creature in repose.

Her stomach twisted. She’d expected him to be there, of course, but seeing him in the flesh was another thing entirely. The beast was impossibly large, his spiked wings resting behind him like folds of a midnight curtain. His tail swished idly, the tip flicking lazily as it held his prize, her prize. The Thread of Celestia, the sparkling necklace she’d set out to retrieve.

The very sight of him irked her. The sheer arrogance of him. No disguise, no armor, no clothing, he wasn’t even sticking to the shadows, the cocky, brutish– 

“Your stealth skills could use some work.” He called, his voice low and resonant, cutting through the quiet night like a blade through silk.

She rolled her shoulders, cracked her neck and gripped her dagger. 

She stepped out into the moonlight, allowing the glow to illuminate her silhouette. His massive form shifted, but he didn’t move to hide. No, he continued to lay upon his perch insolently, as if daring her to try something. His gaze narrowed as he took in her figure fully. 

A few moments of silent stalemate, then, a long-suffering sigh.

“Again, little one?”

“Apparently.”

“How have we ended up here again?”

“I don’t know.”

“Who sent you this time? I doubt we move in the same circles,” he said with a pretentious little sniff.

“No one hired me, Sylus.”

“Oh?” he inquired, eyes glittering like rubies. “Just for the fun of it then?”

“This isn’t for fun.” She lied. It wasn’t just for fun anyway… “Just because you don’t care about anything but yourself–”

“You know that’s not true,” he said, sitting up. The Thread of Celestia disappeared somewhere on his person with a smoothness that made her wonder just how many secrets his body held. 

Sylus continued, “I don’t believe for a second that you don’t have a little giggle to yourself thinking of the look on your master’s face when he realises his favorite… toy is being played with.” His gaze sluiced like warm water over her body and she knew he didn’t mean the necklace. She took another step toward him, palm tensing around the dagger behind her back. “And before you start waxing poetic about causes, I’ll remind you that last time we were in this position, you told me that cretins like him get what they deserve.”

“They do,” she said lightly, taking a few more steps forward.

“If you’re waiting for me to fall prey to the dagger behind your back, little one, you’re going to be disappointed.”

She shrugged, using the action to subtly shift her stance.

“I’m always disappointed in you.”

“Careful, sweetie, you’ll make me cry,” he drawled, his lip curling. “Shall we get on with it, then?”

She stopped less than a foot away from him. “I think we should.”

“Then, we don’t have all night.”

“No we don’t.”

There was a moment of perfect stillness, perfect silence. Then the tension snapped.

She sprung forward like an arrow from a bow, lunging towards him through the thin gap between them, and at the very same instant he leapt off the ledge, conjuring a cloud of thick smoke that swamped her vision. She expelled it with a slash of her arm and as the fog cleared she tried to glimpse him to no avail. He’d disappeared.

She may well have changed a great deal over the years, but she still hated losing.

She prowled around the cavern, her lungs burning as she fought to catch her breath each time she felt a claw poke her back, a tail stagger her step, or his melodic chuckle reverberate through her chest. She was fast but so was he, and in terms of size, strength, and supernatural ability he had her beat tenfold. 

He was almost close enough to grab now, but still an elusive flash of body parts her blasted human eyes could barely make out. It was now or never, though. With a grimace and a grunt of exertion, whipped around, hands outstretched–

And caught nothing but air.

She heard the soft thump of his tail behind the gold pile next to her and, not one to be easily deterred, she followed. 

This wasn’t over until she said it was over.

But she felt his heartbeat too late, alarmingly close, and she didn’t even have time to turn around before the tip of his claw was denting into the delicate flesh at the side of her neck.

“Found me,” he whispered into her ear as his arm came around her. He chuckled under his breath as she shuddered involuntarily against his front. “I forgot we’d added ear-whispering to the list of dirty tricks. I know how much it… affects you.”

“Fuck you,” she spat, cursing her treacherous body.

“Really? Here?” he said, and she could practically hear the arrogance in his grin.

Well. One dirty trick begets another.

Angling her hips just so, she pushed her arse backward until she heard the sharp intake of breath she knew so well. Then she snapped her head back, and heard a satisfying grunt as it connected with his face.

She spun around as his tail replaced his arm when the tip of his middle finger brush a small drop of blood from the corner of his lip — ideally, she’d have aimed for his nose, but he was at least a head taller than her so she’d take what she could reach — and drew her fist back.

“Oh no you don’t,” Sylus growled, grabbing her fist in his hand and twisting her arm toward the small of her back. “Don’t you dare give me another black eye, little one.”

“Don’t tempt me,” she muttered, drawing her dagger with her unrestrained hand and aiming it at his face.

Sylus released her fist from his grip, then used her moment of unbalance to tighten his tail around the back of her knees, but she was still fast and trained. She dropped her entire weight onto his tail and tackled him to the ground while he was still regaining his balance.

“If you don’t want a black eye, then you should be faster,” she panted, wriggling on top of him as she attempted to pin his arms to his sides with her knees. “Now where is it?”

“You don’t already know?” he asked silkily, with an utterly shameless grin and a roll of his hips. And yes, of course she could feel the effect the friction was having on him, of course, she knew she was squeezing him with her thighs so it was hardly an unexpected outcome, of course, his ridiculous leather ensemble really did leave very little to the imagination, but–

“I’m not interested in that,” she said coolly. “Where’s the necklace? And don’t you dare tell me to search for it.”

“Why should I tell you anything, sweetie? I’m rather enjoying myself if I’m honest.” She felt his erection twitch beneath her as if it was agreeing with him.

“So help me, Sylus, I will search for it, and depending on which crevice you’ve stashed it in, that could be quite uncomfortable for you.”

“Why are you so damn insistent anyway?” he asked blandly. “This thing is a novelty at best.”

“An expensive novelty,”

“Well obviously, but surely a rock that supposedly prevents hangovers is beneath your exalted notice?”

“It just means I’m selling something harmless,” she said with a shrug, “Now where-”

A loud crack of thunder above them split the quiet of the night, startling her.

Sylus immediately bucked his hips up, destabilizing her just enough that he could pull his hands up from where she’d been pinning them. He grabbed the back of her thighs and flipped them over, managing to catch one hand but she was too quick for him to catch the one that mattered, and then they were still again.

Her dagger under his chin, his claw digging into the space above her heart, tail pinning her in place, their chests heaving.

“Now why do we always have to solve our problems with violence, little one?” he purred, his voice barely more than a wisp of air. “Can’t we act civilized for once?”

“Maybe.”

“Fancy moving your little blade then?” he murmured, leaning forward a touch so she could feel the soft vibration of his voice humming through the length of her weapon into her hand.

“No,” she said stubbornly, “Why don’t you move your- your talon?”

“Because if I move mine you’ll cut my cheek, take the jewelry, and leave me,” he bit out, scowling, “Like last time.”

“Last time was different.”

“I wouldn’t have cared, you know,” he whispered, moving a fraction closer. She kept her blade against his throat, and he pressed his a little harder into her ribs. “I would have let you take that amethyst too, but waking empty handed and alone? That did sting a bit, sweetie.”

“So sorry,” she muttered sarcastically.

“No you’re not,” Sylus growled.

“No,” she said, almost breathless now, “I’m not.”

He let out a huff of exasperation, and they surged together. The kiss was hot and hard and vicious, and it stole the air from her lungs. She could taste the blood on his lips, and resisted the urge to bite it harder, oddly proud she was the one who’d put the mark there, who made the great beast bleed in the first place. He had no such qualms, and he nipped sharply at her lower lip, grunting in satisfaction when he felt her shudder beneath him.

“We can’t,” she gasped as he turned his attention to her neck. 

“If you want to leave then move your damn knife out of my face,” he rumbled into her jaw, and she realised that she had instinctually kept her weapon stuck firmly under his chin. His claws had moved to wrap around her throat. 

“Fine.” The sound of metal hitting metal echoed around them as the blade landed into a small pile of gold. 

They lay there, their faces a hair’s breadth apart for several seconds before she yanked the silvery-white hair at his nape and kissed him as if she wasn’t expected to be back in the city soon. 

Sylus didn’t complain. On the contrary, he growled into her mouth and his tail constricted harder around her hips, keeping her flush against him. Gods, she really did wish he wasn’t quite so attractive. She could feel every muscle through her clothes, smell the comforting scent of smoke on his warm breath, see every piece of white and black that covered this man who lived in the grey. 

“Every time,” she murmured as he kissed and nipped his way down her chest. “Every time I say it's the last time.”

“You did last time.” He hummed. 

She flicked her tongue against the pulse point she’d wanted to press her dagger into a few moments ago, “That’s why I left.”

He roughly shoved his thigh between hers and smirking at the way she gasped and tightened her grip on his shoulders, she could feel every wrinkle of fabric brush against her sensitive skin. “I’m sure that’s why,” he whispered in her ear sardonically.

“Dirty tricks,” she managed to pant out.

“Have I missed something, little one?” Sylus asked, pushing his thigh harder into her so she was practically rocking on his leg, “I thought we were well into the list? My lip’s still healing by the way.” 

“I need to get out of here, you beast,” she said, uncomfortably aware of how thin and unconvincing her voice sounded. “You can have all the dirty tricks you want once I–”

“That a promise?” he asked with a wolfish grin. 

She couldn’t help but smile back, even as she felt her cheeks heat. “Just a few hundred metres to the exit of the cave”

“Hm, winner keeps the necklace?”

“Wait, that’s not–”

He silenced her with a searing kiss, all tongue and teeth, then pulled away with an unbearably arrogant smirk, getting up and vanishing from her sight.

“Sylus!” She shouted in frustration before sprinting after him.

That confusing, adrenaline-fueled joy was back as they chased each other around the cave. 

She had no clue if she was really gaining on him, or if he was letting her for the fun of it, but in that moment she didn’t care a bit. When she spotted his tail from the corner of her eye she leapt forward and this time she caught more than air. She barreled into his chest like a warrior. Her light build was mitigated by the sheer momentum and together they tumbled onto the stone-cold floor.

They tussled clumsily for a few moments, rolling over and over without either one getting the upper hand. 

She saw a tantalising glint in her peripheral vision.

He was dangling the Thread of Celestia over her head from his tail — she didn’t even want to know which unholy nook or cranny he’d produced it from — and even in a gilded room it glittered, almost as if it was producing its own light. 

Then she realised that while she had been staring at the jewel, Sylus was staring at her, eyelids lowered, gaze soft. He cocked his head, questioning, and she couldn’t help but smile.

She reached out and gently closed her hand over the necklace, removed it from his tail, and flung it away from them.

“The usual rules?” Sylus murmured.

“Yes.”

“You didn’t wake me last time.”

“Last time we’d already agreed on the course of action.”

“You mean you’d agreed on the course of action,”

“Don’t pout, dragon. It’s not my fault all your attention had rushed south.”

“You were half-naked, sweetie.”

“So were you. That’s how I know where all your attention was.”

“Just… promise you won’t do it again,” he said, more serious than she’d heard him tonight.

“Fine,” she sighed. “I promise.”

“I’ll make you pay if you break this one,” Sylus rumbled, his voice low and dangerous.

She opened her mouth to retort, but he surged forwards with a low moan, their lips met, and her brain went blank for several wonderful seconds.

They were panting when they broke apart, but there was only a split second of stillness before they were back at each other, fingers and claws tearing at their garments between kisses. Eventually the clothing battle was won, and Sylus pressed his naked torso to hers as he brushed her hair over her shoulder with one sharp finger.

She ran her hands indulgently down the length of his back and he shuddered under her fingertips, sinking his teeth into the soft skin between her shoulder and neck.

She gasped and he chuckled. “Tit for tat,” he murmured into the crook of her neck, running his hands down the outside of her arms all the way down to her hips, where he hooked his thumbs inside her underwear. 

She tore them down her legs, the tease of real touch not nearly enough.

“So impatient,” he tutted, his lips brushing her jaw with every syllable.

In answer she slid her hand back up to palm him and grinning smugly to herself when she felt him shudder.

“You are always so-” he pulled one bra-strap down off her shoulder, “-demanding-” he slipped the other strap down, dragging his tongue over her collarbone, “-and greedy.”

“Tease,” she managed, trying and failing to disguise the growing desperation in her voice.

He pulled back and smiled slowly, the dusting of pink on his cheekbones and the soft grinding into her palm the only signs he might be as overwrought as she was. 

He dragged a fingertip across her lips, just barely grazing her tongue for the smallest second, and then it was too late to stop herself. She sucked it into her mouth, and for that moment every shred of composure vanished from his expression.

Apparently all his patience vanished too, because he let out a hoarse groan and grabbed her, flipping her around so her front was pressed against the gold-splattered floor. She longed to feel his heated skin against hers, so when he flicked open her bra she scrambled to shrug it off, gasping when her nipples brushed the cold metal of his treasures.

“You know how I know you like me here?” he growled into her ear, running his sharp finger down her spine. 

“How?” she panted, and he laughed quietly, a soft vibration against her neck.

“Because, little one,” he purred, “You’ve already headbutted me once this evening. I don’t believe for a second you wouldn’t do it again if you wanted to,” he nuzzled the nape of her neck, an oddly tender action given the way he was gripping her hips hard enough to bruise, “So logically I have to conclude that you’re letting me do this… but why is that, sweetie?”

He trailed off and his tail lowered around her thighs, leaving her exposed but still constrained. He swept his hand down her arse and the inside of her thigh, and then back up again to dip one finger into her. She tried to arch into his touch, but he’d already pulled away, and she huffed in frustration.

“Tell me why you’re letting me do this,” he commanded softly.

She bit her lip to stop herself from moaning. How was he so good at this?

The first time it happened it had been a fight from start to finish, brutal and frantic and without the smallest trace of softness, and she’d screamed so loud they’d had very nearly brought the cave down. The second time was more of a negotiation. He’d trapped her here for a few days, and after the first time had been so successful, it seemed like there were certainly worse ways to pass the time.

Every time they both agreed it was the last. Sometimes she told him to shut up, wrestled him to the floor, and made him shut up. Sometimes it was the other way around. But every time it became just a little harder to convince herself that this time really was the last.

“Tell me, little one,” he breathed, grinding each ridge of his cock slowly against her backside.

And every time, they would get to this point, the point where her resistance would evaporate, she’d say fuck it.

“Because I love it,” she gasped.

“Hmm,” he hummed, leaning forward again to reach between her legs, cupping her but not pushing inside. She groaned and arched into him again, and the arrogant bastard laughed. The worst thing was that his brazenness only riled her even more. “Now, are you going to be good for me, sweetie?”

“Don’t push it,” she snapped, and he laughed again.

“As you wish,” he said smoothly, and as much as she was enjoying this, his hand between her legs and his warm weight pressing her bare front against the floor, it didn’t do to let his ego run amok.

She moved to turn around, and surprisingly he didn’t try to stop her, just pulled her to him, kissing her deeply. For once there was no fight for dominance, no semblance of a struggle, just a frenzy of movement as they both scrambled to devour each other.

She traced his scales with her tongue. He stamped hot, open mouthed kisses on the bruises that were beginning to bloom from their escapades. Skin to skin, it was like a moment out of time, a bubble where nothing outside this underground cavern existed.

A sigh of satisfaction vibrated from his chest, when he slid a finger inside her and choked on a gasp of pleasure. His tongue swirled around her nipple and his thumb found her clitoris, and suddenly what she’d thought would be a marathon became a sprint.

“Sylus, I- I’m-”

He withdrew his hand and she groaned in disappointment, but her thighs were already cradling him and his cock was already teasing at her entrance. She ground down, desperate for friction, but he tightened his tail around her and before she could even blink he had flipped her over again. She had wanted to watch him unravel above her but now he was pushing her knees apart, and pushing further and further into her and- well, actually, this was fine too.

The moment the tip of his cock bottomed out she arched up into him as if she’d been electrocuted. Even so, it wasn’t enough. She squirmed for more.

“So demanding,” he purred, his hot breath torturous against the curve of her cheek.

“Stop stopping!” she growled, grabbing his hair to push his face into her neck and pushing back into him.

He chuckled against her and flexed his hips once, just once, and she was so close she felt like a live wire, her skin buzzing with the anticipation of it. Without warning he punched her clit and she screamed into the top of her own hand.

Sylus caught her wrist and pinned it to the ground.

“Don’t you dare,” he grunted, pushing in further, “I want- fuck- I want to hear every single sound.”

She moaned loudly. Much as she hated to admit it, she really did love his voice like this.

“Just like that,” he groaned, and she clenched around him involuntarily as he began to move. “Oh fuck- I fucking love-”

“Gods, I’m going to-”

“Yes, come on my cock,” he snarled, thrusting harder and tightening his grip on her wrist.

Her other hand fisted around his nape, her whole body clenched, and her awareness narrowed past this room, even past him, and all she could do was hold on for dear life as her orgasm claimed her.

In the fuzzy edges of her perception she heard her name, his voice low and rough, almost reverential, and finally he came with a wordless moan, his body shuddering against her. As the waves of pleasure began to recede, she thought distantly how strange it was that this was so good. It didn’t make any sense at all. They didn’t make any sense. This couldn’t ever work.

But there was something profoundly, sinfully delightful about taking something you were never meant to have. And in that moment, she thought she understood this dragon more than she ever had.

There weren’t any more words. This part was always oddly quiet for how much they both loved to talk. They just silently curled their exhausted bodies around each other. There wasn’t anything left to say, they both knew that, all too quickly, dawn would arrive, and reality would catch up with them once again.

As the tendrils of sleep coiled around her mind, the last thought in her head was that maybe she would quite like to do this one day without any of the usual shit. Maybe they could fall asleep together and wake up together. Maybe they would… maybe……

When she awoke, she felt unusually comfortable. She hummed in contentment and stretched, and let out a little sigh of disappointment when she realised that she was alone. Then the context caught up with her, and all the sleepy indulgence evaporated.

She bolted upright, ignoring the twinges of protest from her limbs and the rush of lightheadedness at getting up so quickly. She’d half expected him to be lounging there next to her, waiting for her with the necklace dangling from his tail like an insolent bastard, but no. The cave was as empty as the silks she’d been lain on, and her heart sank.

She should have known this would happen, especially since she’d done it to him last time. She shook her head in exasperation at herself. This couldn’t keep happening, it was-

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed a small package on the bedside table, a leather pouch with a folded note propped up in front. She reached for the pouch, undoing the drawstring and peering inside.

And there it was. The necklace. The very thing that had brought her to him in the first place.

She pulled the drawstring tight, as if looking at it too long might make it disappear, and reached blindly for the note. It was just a few scrawled words.

Just this once, sweetie. I have a monstrous reputation to maintain. -S

[dksfml]

Love 119 [Part Three]

part of my paramedic!jungwon series. [part one] [part two]

pairing: paramedic!jungwon x doctor!reader genre: enemies at work, lovers at home. secret dating. jungwon is just doing his duties, suggestive, submissive jungwon, fluff (only in the start lol) summary: you celebrate your first anniversary with jungwon’s mouth on another woman, so you remind him what yours tastes like. word count: 7.4k author's note: the third part of this seriess!! i swear it's just getting freakier and longer every after part. i hope you enjoy this one! reply or request if you want to be part of the taglist<333

You stir awake, the haze of sleep still clinging to you like a warm blanket. The soft morning light filters through the blinds, painting streaks of gold across the sheets. Your body feels heavy, a pleasant exhaustion lingering from the chaos of yesterday’s shift—and maybe something more.

As your eyes flutter open, the first thing you see is Jungwon. He’s lying on his side, facing you, one arm tucked under his head to prop himself up. His bare torso is on full display, lean muscle and smooth skin catching the light in a way that almost makes you think you’re still dreaming.

He’s watching you with a lazy smile, his hair slightly messy, the boyish charm of his grin blending effortlessly with the undeniable allure of his half-dressed state. There’s a glint of amusement in his eyes, one that only grows when your gaze meets his.

The soft chill of the morning air seeps into your skin, prompting you to burrow deeper into the covers. Your voice is barely above a whisper as you mumble, “I’m cold,” the words slipping out unconsciously.

Jungwon pauses, his gaze softening as he studies your half-asleep form. Without saying a word, he shifts closer, the mattress dipping slightly beneath his weight. He tugs the blanket higher over your shoulders, his fingers brushing against your skin briefly, sending a small, unintentional shiver through you.

“Better?” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing, laced with a hint of amusement. But before you can respond, he leans back into his original position, his torso stretching in the process.

The motion draws your attention as he props himself up on one elbow again. The sunlight dances across his skin, accentuating the subtle lines of his muscles. A groan escapes him as he adjusts his weight, breaking the momentary silence.

“This position makes my abs hurt, you know,” he says, his tone casual but tinged with playful teasing, as if daring you to react.

Your eyes flick down, almost involuntarily, to his stomach, and the sight before you is enough to make your pulse stutter. His defined abs contract as he adjusts himself, every line of muscle taut and perfectly framed. The blanket rests low on his hips, leaving very little to the imagination.

You immediately snap your gaze back up, your cheeks warming. “Then why lie down like that?” you ask, trying to sound unimpressed but failing miserably.

Jungwon tilts his head, his smile growing softer. “Because I love watching you like this,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady, the words settling over you like a gentle embrace.

Your heart skips a beat, and you don’t quite know how to respond. You’re not used to this side of him—unapologetically tender, his teasing stripped down to something raw and sincere.

“Watching me drool in my sleep?” you finally say, hoping to lighten the moment and mask the warmth spreading through your chest.

He chuckles, the sound deep and rich, sending a shiver down your spine. “Not quite,” he replies, leaning in slightly, his face just a breath away from yours. “More like admiring how peaceful you look when you’re not yelling at me about work rules or rolling your eyes at my jokes.”

His hand finds yours, and he laces your fingers together, his thumb brushing softly over your knuckles. It’s such a simple gesture, but it makes your heart flutter in a way you’re definitely not prepared for.

“Speaking of plans,” Jungwon starts, his tone a little quieter now, but there’s a spark of mischief in his eyes. “You remember what we said we’d do for our one-year anniversary?”

You blink at him, your brain still catching up. “Anniversary?”

“The beach trip,” he reminds you, his lips curving into a smile that’s unfairly charming. “You know, the one we’ve been talking about forever but never actually made happen because someone—” he gently pokes your side, earning a surprised squeak from you, “—is married to their job.”

“Excuse me!” you protest, sitting up slightly. “You’re the one who never takes a day off, Mr. Heroic Paramedic.”

“Touché,” he laughs, his hand still holding yours. “But I’m serious this time. No pagers, no alarms, no emergencies. Just us, the waves, and maybe some terrible sunscreen tan lines.”

The mention of the trip makes your chest tighten with a rush of emotions. You’d tucked that dream away, figuring it would never happen between the chaos of your lives. But now, hearing him bring it up so earnestly, you feel your cheeks heat with unexpected joy.

“You remembered,” you whisper, your voice soft and a little awed.

“Of course I remembered,” he says, looking at you like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I’ve been looking forward to it. Haven’t you?”

Your lips part, and for a second, all you can do is nod, feeling ridiculously shy under his gaze. “I—yeah, I have,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been wanting to go for so long… with you.”

His grin spreads, slow and wickedly boyish. “With me, huh? You sound kind of obsessed.”

“Oh my God, Jungwon!” You groan, shoving at his shoulder, but he catches your hand easily, laughing as he pulls you closer.

“Don’t be shy now,” he teases, his voice dropping into something softer, more intimate. “It’s cute. You’re cute.”

Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire, and you bury your face in his chest, mumbling something incoherent. He chuckles, the sound reverberating through you like a warm hug, as his free hand drifts to gently trace over the fading hickey on your neck—the one he left just last night.

“You know,” he murmurs, his voice full of mischief as his fingers lazily skim your skin, “this might be my best work yet.”

“You’re insufferable,” you grumble, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably as goosebumps rise in the wake of his touch.

“And yet, you love me,” he replies smoothly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Which is why we’re going to that beach, no matter what. I already started looking at places. A little beach house, just us. What do you think?”

You peek up at him, your eyes wide with a mix of surprise and excitement. “You mean it?”

“Do I ever joke about stuff like this?” he asks, and when you hesitate, he adds with mock offense, “Don’t answer that.”

You giggle despite yourself, the sound spilling out of you before you can stop it. “Okay, fine. I’ll take you seriously this time.”

“Good,” he says, his hand slipping around your waist as he pulls you even closer. “Because I’m picturing us on the sand, soaking up the sun, maybe arguing over how much sunscreen you forgot to put on.”

“Excuse me, I’m very responsible with sunscreen!” you say, sitting up straight to glare at him, though the effect is ruined by the smile tugging at your lips.

“Sure you are,” he says, his grin teasing as he leans in. “But you know what? Even if you turned into a lobster, I’d still think you’re the cutest thing on the beach.”

You groan, shoving at him again, but this time he topples backward, taking you with him. You land in a tangled heap, his laughter mixing with your protests as he wraps you in his arms.

“You’re impossible,” you mutter, though you’re smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.

“And you’re mine,” he replies easily, his voice softer now as he looks up at you. “One year down, and we’re only getting started.”

Your heart feels like it might burst, and for a moment, you just stare at him, the weight of his words sinking in. “Yeah,” you say softly, resting your forehead against his. “We are.”

And as you lie there, tangled up in him with the morning sun streaming in, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, this dream of yours is finally within reach.

The day had been long, the kind where you couldn’t wait to jump in your bed, let alone entertain the idea of more teasing from your coworkers. It was the end of the shift, and as you packed up your things, you couldn’t help but hear the familiar whispers that had been circulating throughout the day. They’d been subtly, yet persistently, questioning your sudden decision to file leave for next week. And when you’d dropped the bomb that you’d be taking three days off, your coworkers had practically pounced on you.

"Going on a date?" one of them asked, grinning, clearly enjoying the moment.

You gave a half-smile, but played it cool, keeping the details about your time off to yourself. "Maybe?" you replied with a teasing tilt of your head, your voice casual but with just enough of a playful edge to keep them guessing.

“Oh, so it’s a date date?” another one chimed in, raising an eyebrow. "Or are you just going for a spontaneous adventure?"

You bit back a smile, holding your ground. “That’s for me to know and you to wonder about.”

But your coworkers weren’t quite done yet. They shared a conspiratorial look, the kind that only happens when they think they’ve caught something juicy. "Funny," one of them said, leaning in, "Riki also filed for leave next week. Guess it’s the week to go on a getaway. What are you two up to, hmm?"

Your eyes widened just a bit, but you didn’t let it show. Not Riki. Your colleagues’ eyes twinkled with mischief as they continued their teasing. "Could it be that you and Riki are planning some... romantic getaway?"

You could see Riki in the corner of your eye, standing by the supply closet, looking thoroughly confused as he overheard the conversation. He was always the innocent one in this mess. You glanced at him, barely able to keep from laughing at how flustered he looked already.

"Oh, no," you said with a mischievous glint, your voice light but professional as you turned to Riki, who seemed to shrink into himself. "Riki’s just off to his sister’s graduation. Nothing more to see here, folks."

Riki blinked, completely unaware of the teasing in the air. “Right! I’m just going for my sister’s graduation,” he said with a completely straight face, oblivious to the undercurrent of the conversation.

Your coworkers, however, were having none of it. "Sure, Riki," one of them teased with a smirk, "A sister’s graduation. How convenient." They shared a laugh, clearly enjoying Riki's obliviousness, while you tried your best to stay professional, even though you were fighting a smile.

Riki just looked around, still confused by the attention. “What?” he asked, genuinely lost, not picking up on the implications. “It really is just that.”

Another coworker, not missing a beat, chimed in. “Well, if you’re both taking leave at the same time, I guess we’ll call it a ‘coincidence.’”

You fixed them all with a calm but firm gaze, your voice cutting through the banter. “Alright, enough,” you said, your tone brokering no argument. “I’m taking time off for personal reasons, Riki is attending his sister’s graduation—no more assumptions. Now, unless you want me to start assigning extra shifts, I suggest we all get back to work. We've got patients to care for, don’t we?”

The teasing immediately ceased, and your coworkers scattered, murmuring apologies as they returned to their stations. Riki, still trying to piece everything together, gave you a nod, grateful for the quick save.

"Riki, here," you said, walking up to him with a small, knowing smile. "I borrowed your coat yesterday, and I figured I should return it."

His face immediately softened with relief at the change of subject. "Oh, right," he said, taking the coat from you. His fingers brushed against yours briefly as he took it, and he fumbled slightly, his gaze darting to the side. "Thanks for bringing it back so quickly."

“No problem,” you replied, raising an eyebrow. "You need it for your shift tomorrow, right?"

Riki nodded, his gaze finally meeting yours, but there was a curious hesitation there, a flicker of something else that caught your attention. "So..." he began slowly, almost as if testing the waters. "I, uh, was meaning to ask you earlier. Are you... actually dating someone?"

Your eyes softened slightly at the question. You could sense the genuine curiosity in his voice, and you appreciated that he was asking out of sincerity, not to add fuel to the teasing.

You hesitated for just a moment, not out of uncertainty, but more because you didn’t want to spill all the details. “Yes,” you answered sincerely, offering a smile. "I’m in a relationship. It’s been a while now."

Riki blinked at your response, his expression unreadable for a moment as he processed your words. There was a brief pause before he spoke again, his tone now quieter, almost as if the reality of your answer had settled in.

“Oh,” he said, simply. His face remained neutral, but there was something about the way his shoulders slumped ever so slightly that hinted at a tinge of disappointment, or maybe just confusion. It was hard to read, but you noticed it.

You couldn't help but soften your gaze at him. It wasn’t as though you’d been hiding the fact that you were in a relationship, but there was something about the way Riki asked that made it seem more... personal, more significant. His question wasn’t casual—there was an underlying sincerity to it.

“So… you don’t want to know more details?” you teased lightly, trying to lighten the mood, though you couldn't quite suppress the small, almost wistful smile on your face.

Riki blinked again, seemingly caught off guard by the question. He shook his head quickly, a slight flush creeping up his neck. “Uh, no,” he said, though his voice had a touch of sheepishness to it. “I just wanted to make sure, you know, since... well, I didn’t want to be awkward or anything.”

You raised an eyebrow, half-smiling. "Awkward?" You leaned against the counter casually, not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable, but still enjoying the rare moment of candidness between the two of you. “There’s no need for that. It’s just... I’m in a relationship. That’s all there is to it."

Riki nodded quickly, though there was an almost imperceptible sigh that escaped him. He seemed to be sorting through his thoughts, as if trying to connect the dots, but didn't push any further.

"So, uh, how long have you two been together?" His question came out a bit more suddenly, like he was trying to switch gears in a way that would make the situation feel less charged.

You met his gaze again, taking in the subtle shift in his demeanor, how his face seemed a little more relaxed now, as though the weight of the conversation had lightened. You thought about Jungwon for a moment—his presence always felt like a quiet reassurance, even when you weren’t with him.

“Quite a while,” you answered, the corner of your lips lifting into a small smile. “It’s been long enough that we’ve stopped worrying about all the small stuff. We’re... past the uncertainty.”

Riki gave a slow nod, the light in his eyes shifting to something a bit warmer, as if the idea of you and Jungwon being comfortable together made more sense to him. "That’s... really nice," he said, his voice steady, though there was a soft sincerity that added an unexpected weight to the words. "I’m glad you found someone."

There was an odd kind of quiet between you two, the office noise continuing around you, but it felt like this little bubble of conversation had shut it all out for a moment.

You could see that Riki was still processing everything, but the awkwardness that initially lingered between you two was gone. There was something more genuine now, a mutual respect, even if you hadn’t shared every detail. The conversation felt like an end to one chapter of your relationship with him and the beginning of another—a little less guarded, a little more human.

“Thanks, Riki,” you said, smiling warmly at him. “I appreciate that.”

Riki gave you a small, shy smile in return, still holding onto the coat you’d returned to him. "No problem. And, uh, if you ever want to talk... about anything... I’m here," he offered, clearly trying to be supportive in the only way he knew how.

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind,” you replied, your voice soft, but professional.

You glanced back at him with a subtle, almost imperceptible smile. “Let’s go. We’ve got no time for distractions.”

The day you had been waiting for had finally arrived—the getaway to the beach that you and Jungwon had planned so carefully, and now, as you both stepped out of the car, the salty breeze kissed your skin and the sound of waves lapping at the shore greeted you.

The sun dipped lower, casting an amber glow across the beach as you and Jungwon walked along the shore, the sound of the waves gently crashing in the background. The air was warm, carrying a light breeze that tousled your hair and wrapped around you like a comforting embrace. It was the perfect end to the day, but there was something else in the atmosphere—something more intimate, a traction you could almost touch.

You could feel his presence beside you, just close enough for his warmth to seep into you, yet distant enough that the space between you felt charged with possibility. His hand brushed against yours, and you didn’t pull away, instead letting your fingers gently touch, then intertwine. The simple contact sent a rush of heat through your body, and for a moment, everything else faded away—just you, him, and the sound of the ocean.

“Feels like a dream, doesn’t it?” Jungwon murmured, his voice soft and laced with an emotion that caught you off guard. You tilted your head to look at him, your eyes meeting his.

"Yeah, it does," you agreed, the words tasting sweeter than usual. You didn’t want to break the magic, the feeling of being alone in this perfect little bubble, just the two of you.

He gave you a small smile, his gaze lingering on you as if trying to say something without words. The way he looked at you—so soft, yet full of desire—made your heart race.

“You know,” he said, his voice dropping lower as he gave your hand a gentle squeeze, “you’re even more beautiful out here, with the sun on your skin.” He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The touch was light, almost reverent, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little distracted.”

You blinked, the unexpected compliment pulling a soft laugh from your lips. “Well, aren’t you full of surprises today?”

He laughed quietly, but the teasing edge in his voice was absent, replaced by something more sincere. “I’m always full of surprises,” he said, his thumb lightly grazing the back of your hand. The moment felt more intimate than you expected, your heart beating a little faster as the weight of his gaze settled on you. “But I mean it. You really are.”

You weren’t sure how to respond, so you simply smiled, your fingers tightening around his, silently acknowledging the connection between you. It was enough.

After a long pause, Jungwon turned toward the towel he had spread out earlier, the one you’d been lounging on, and rummaged through his bag. He pulled out a bottle of sunscreen, the cool plastic in stark contrast to the hot air around you. You glanced down at your shoulders and realized with a jolt that you had completely forgotten to apply any sunscreen.

You winced a little, already feeling the heat beginning to build under your skin. “Uh, looks like I forgot something,” you said, half-laughing at your own oversight, trying to keep the mood light.

Jungwon caught your eye and smirked, clearly noticing your discomfort. “Need some help with that?” His eyebrow arched, the playful teasing in his voice making your heart skip a beat.

You raised an eyebrow in return, a teasing grin tugging at your lips. “Actually,” you replied, glancing down at his bare, tanned shoulders and realizing you could use his help as much as he needed yours, “I think you need some help. You’ve got a lot of skin to cover.”

Jungwon chuckled and nodded, his lips curling into a smile. “Fair enough. I’ll take care of you, then,” he said, his voice low, almost too smooth as he unscrewed the cap and poured some lotion into his hand. The air between you seemed to shift, charged with an energy that made your breath catch.

He reached out, a slow, deliberate move as he gently applied the sunscreen to your shoulders. His touch was light, but the heat from his skin made the lotion feel almost like an intimate caress. You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to focus on the cooling sensation, but the intimacy of the moment—his hands gliding over your skin—made your pulse race.

"Don’t want you turning into a lobster," Jungwon teased, his fingers brushing your collarbone. The touch was light but electric, sending a shiver down your spine. His hand lingered just a second longer than necessary, the warmth of his skin contrasting with the coolness of the sunscreen.

He moved to the other side, his fingers grazing your shoulder, the sensation soft but deliberate, as if savoring the contact. When his thumb brushed the back of your neck, you couldn’t help but hold your breath, the subtle pressure making your skin tingle.

For a brief moment, you both stayed still, the air thick with something unspoken. His touch was gentle but possessive, as if he didn’t want to pull away. “All done,” he murmured, his voice low, his hands still resting on your skin. The tension between you lingered, leaving your heart racing.

“Thanks,” you managed, though your voice was a little more breathless than you intended. You met his gaze, trying to hide the warmth in your cheeks. “I’ll return the favor, don’t worry.”

Jungwon chuckled again, but there was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leaned in just slightly, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’d better.”

You stepped forward, taking the bottle of lotion from him and squeezing out a generous amount. The cool lotion met your warm skin as you applied it to his shoulders, your fingers smoothing the cream in slow, careful circles. His body tensed slightly beneath your touch, but not in discomfort—more in anticipation. You could feel the muscles under his skin shift as you worked your way down his back, your touch lingering longer than necessary, letting the moment stretch out between you.

“Hmm,” Jungwon muttered, his voice quiet as he tilted his head slightly to look at you. “That feels good. Almost like you’re trying to spoil me.”

You laughed softly, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Maybe I am,” you teased. But your voice softened again as your hands continued to move over his skin, now reaching his lower back, your fingers gliding over the soft expanse. The simple touch was intimate in a way that left you both a little breathless.

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if savoring the contact. “You’ve got good hands,” he said, his voice low, the words almost a compliment, though there was something else beneath them—a quiet, simmering desire that neither of you dared to acknowledge aloud.

“Glad you think so,” you murmured, your own heart beating faster. The space between you was thick with unspoken tension, the air charged, both of you aware of how close you were, how every touch seemed to ignite something deeper within.

When you finished applying the lotion to his back, Jungwon turned to face you, his eyes dark with an intensity that matched the warmth of the beach around you. He didn’t speak at first, but his gaze lingered on your lips before moving back up to meet your eyes.

For a moment, it was as if time stood still. The sound of the waves and the rustling of the wind seemed to fade, and all that was left was you and him, standing so close that you could feel the heat radiating off his body.

But just as your heart began to race, just as the tension between you reached a boiling point, a voice pierced the air.

“Help! Help!” It was a shout from the water, distant but desperate. Someone was in trouble.

Jungwon immediately tensed, the playful atmosphere gone in an instant. Without a word, he dropped his hands, his gaze locking on the water. His expression shifted, his focus narrowing, and in the blink of an eye, he was already moving toward the water, his body agile and sure.

“Stay here,” he said, his tone firm yet soft. “I’ll handle this.”

You wanted to argue, but the urgency in his tone left no room for discussion. You hesitated for only a moment before you found yourself trailing behind him, your own heart pounding in your chest as you reached the water's edge. Jungwon was already plunging into the surf, swimming with the grace of someone who had trained for moments like these. The crowd had gathered now, watching with wide eyes, as the seconds ticked by.

He reached the woman, hauling her out of the water with impressive strength. Her body was limp, but Jungwon handled her with care as he placed her gently onto the sand. The crowd murmured in concern, but Jungwon was in his element, focused, calm. His hands moved over the woman’s body as he checked for injuries, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“Someone get a first aid kit! We need help over here!” he called out, his voice steady but urgent.

People around him seemed to freeze, waiting for someone else to act, but no one stepped forward.

You didn’t hesitate. You immediately pulled out your phone, dialing the local authorities. “We need medical assistance at the beach,” you said quickly, your voice crisp, the professional tone taking over. “A woman is unresponsive. She was pulled from the water. We need help immediately.” You gave them the location and hung up, your pulse still racing from the adrenaline.

You hung up quickly, but your eyes never left Jungwon.

He was already beginning chest compressions, his hands pressing firmly against the woman’s sternum, rhythmically pushing. His expression was intense, his jaw tight with concentration. There was no trace of hesitation in his actions. Every movement was measured, calculated to save her life.

You stood frozen for a moment, watching him work—each press of his hands against her chest a reminder of just how much control he had over a situation. His face was hard with focus, his brow furrowed, but there was a hint of something softer in his eyes as he checked the woman’s pulse again. His gaze flickered to you briefly, but he said nothing. There was no need for words between you two now. You both knew what needed to be done.

The woman’s chest still wasn’t rising. Jungwon didn’t stop, his hands never faltering, never speeding up or slowing down. He checked her airway, tilting her head back gently before pinching her nose, his lips pressing firmly against hers to deliver breaths.

Your breath caught in your throat as you watched him perform the life-saving technique, his mouth pressed against hers with the kind of urgency you rarely saw outside of medical emergencies. You hadn’t expected the flutter of something strange, a cold weight that settled in your chest.

You weren’t sure what it was—maybe it was the intensity of the situation, the rawness of what he was doing, or maybe it was the way his lips lingered a fraction longer than necessary. You forced your attention to the woman, checking her pulse at her neck—thready and weak, but there.

You could feel the tension in your chest tightening, but you couldn’t quite name it. It wasn’t like anything you’d felt before. You tried to focus, to push aside the rush of emotions. But the sight of Jungwon so effortlessly confident, so completely in control—it stirred something inside you. You knew this was part of his job, that he had done this countless times before. And yet, there was something intimate about the way he worked, something raw that made your pulse quicken.

The woman wasn’t responding. Jungwon paused to breathe again, his movements fluid and methodical. “Come on…” he muttered, almost to himself, his voice barely audible over the crash of the waves.

As if on cue, you could hear the distant hum of sirens growing louder. Medical help was on the way. But there was still time. Jungwon didn’t let up. His hands moved with precision, and when he performed another round of compressions, his face set in grim determination, you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

Finally, the woman gasped, her body jerking, and her chest rose with a shallow breath. A collective sigh of relief swept over the crowd. Jungwon didn’t stop, though—he kept checking her vitals, his brow furrowed as he worked. But there was a flicker of relief in his expression now.

Still, he wasn’t finished. “Where’s her guardian?” he asked sharply, scanning the crowd, his tone commanding. No one stepped forward.

Jungwon didn’t let the uncertainty slow him down. He checked her airway again, adjusting her position slightly, as he continued to monitor her pulse. “Stay with us,” he muttered under his breath, giving her another round of compressions, the weight of the moment hanging in the air.

The crowd around you seemed to dissipate, but you didn’t move. You stood there, watching Jungwon, your chest tight with some indescribable feeling—something you didn’t want to name, but couldn’t ignore.

As the woman’s pulse started to stabilize, Jungwon looked at you again, his gaze briefly meeting yours, filled with an intensity you didn’t know how to process. There was no time for anything else, though. Medical personnel were almost here, and Jungwon was already back in control, handling the situation with such ease and authority that it left you breathless.

You were grateful for him, for everything he was doing, but a part of you still felt that odd ache in your chest, the feeling lingering long after the danger had passed.

The day had been overwhelming, a whirlwind of emotions that drained every ounce of energy from both of you. By the time you arrived back at the hotel, the exhaustion clung to your bones, as if the weight of the beach’s chaos had followed you in the humid air that seemed to cling to your skin. The usual buzz of life had quieted, leaving only the raw, lingering tension that neither of you had addressed.

Jungwon, ever perceptive, had noticed the change in you. From the moment he’d pulled that woman from the water and worked tirelessly to save her, he’d seen the way your expression had shifted, the way you seemed to retreat into yourself. He knew you—too well, sometimes—and it wasn’t lost on him that this was the first time you’d witnessed him perform mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. That alone would have been enough to make anyone feel uneasy, but on top of that, it was a woman around your age. Jungwon couldn't help but wonder if the situation had stirred up feelings in you he couldn’t fully understand.

He had been silent during the walk back, his mind swirling with thoughts. The usual back-and-forth between you was absent, replaced with a heavy quiet that hung between you both. It wasn’t the comfortable silence that came with shared moments, but a thick, uneasy one. Jungwon glanced at you more than once, his eyes searching for some sign, something that would reassure him everything was okay, but your expression was unreadable. You seemed distant—far away in a way that he hadn’t seen before.

He had seen you work through chaos countless times, both at the hospital and in life. He’d witnessed you maintain your composure under pressure, handling emergencies with an ice-cold focus. But this, seeing you react to him performing CPR on another woman, was different. He could tell. You had always been the kind of person who didn’t let emotions cloud your judgment. But now, there was something behind your eyes—a shift in the air, something unsaid that made him feel unsure.

The woman on the beach was alive because of him, because of both of you, but he couldn’t help but wonder if, in some way, your quietness was born out of something deeper. He knew how you felt about professionalism, how you held both your relationships and your work close, but this... this felt like something more. The fact that you had watched him perform a life-saving act on a stranger, a woman, with such intensity—it seemed to have carved a small divide between you and him.

Jungwon wasn’t sure what to do with this new silence. The weight of it pressed down on him, heavier than the hot air around you both. He wanted to say something, to bridge the gap that had suddenly appeared, but the words eluded him. So he stayed quiet, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts he couldn’t quite piece together.

As you arrived at the hotel, Jungwon opened the door for you, his usual warmth nowhere to be found. He watched as you walked past him without a word, heading straight for the bathroom. The sound of the door closing behind you echoed in the silence, and he slumped against the nearest wall, uncertain of what to do next. He was acutely aware of the tension in the room, how heavy it felt now, like any wrong move would break something fragile between you.

He sat on the bed, fingers running through his hair as he tried to gather his thoughts. He knew you well enough to understand that you were internalizing everything—probably more than you let on. You never showed your hand too clearly, and he respected that. But right now, as you were in the bathroom, washing away the remnants of the day, Jungwon felt like he was stepping on eggshells. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing, to make things worse.

When you finally stepped out of the bathroom, your face was still wet from the towel you’d used to wash away the salty residue of the day. The door opened softly, and his eyes immediately locked with yours. There was a new heaviness in the air now, something between you both that neither of you could ignore.

Jungwon sat at the edge of the bed, his gaze intense, waiting for you to make the first move. Your eyes never left his as you walked toward him. The distance between you was small, but it felt infinite, both of you suspended in an unspoken understanding of what had transpired. He could feel the electricity in the air, thick and undeniable.

When you finally reached him, you paused, just inches away. The traction between you two crackled in the silence. Then, slowly, you raised your hand, fingers brushing against his cheek. His breath hitched at the softness of your touch, his eyes closing as he leaned into it instinctively, seeking comfort in the small, intimate gesture. He didn’t know what this moment meant, but he couldn’t deny the pull between you.

When your fingers reached his lips, the weight of everything left unspoken seemed to paralyze Jungwon, as if his entire body was caught between restraint and desire. His pulse quickened, a soft tremor running through him as you wiped the remnants of the mouth-to-mouth resuscitation off his lips with the towel. He stayed still, breath shallow, allowing you to guide the moment. There was something in the way your touch lingered, in how you moved with such control, that left him unable to do anything but wait—wait for your next move, for the next shift in the tension that was thickening the air between you.

His body hummed with need, his eyes closed as he absorbed the soft, deliberate stroke of the towel, every inch of his skin aching for more. Your proximity was intoxicating, your movements deliberate, yet so gentle. It wasn’t just the physical touch, but the unspoken invitation—the way you held him in place with nothing but your presence.

As you pulled the towel away, his lips were left lingering with the memory of your touch, and for a moment, he hesitated. But the hesitation didn’t last long. His instinct to close the distance between you overpowered his restraint, and before either of you could think, his lips pressed urgently against yours, claiming you in a kiss that was both desperate and hungry.

The kiss was electric. His hand cupped your face, fingers trembling slightly as he kissed you like he couldn’t catch his breath. You could feel the heat of his desire, but there was also something else—something submissive in how he let you lead. He responded fiercely, yes, but there was an unmistakable trust in how he followed your lead, how he let you guide the rhythm of the kiss, the intensity of it. He didn’t try to dominate; instead, he surrendered to you completely.

Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as if you needed to be closer, as if the kiss was the only way to erase the tension that had been building since the beach. It was messy, heated—your control evident in the way you commanded the kiss, but it was equally filled with urgency, a shared need for release, for connection.

Jungwon’s hands roamed to your back, fingers pressing you against him, but there was a carefulness to his touch. He wasn’t forceful. There was a tenderness, almost like he was waiting for you to take control. He wanted to feel you, wanted to have all of you, but in a way that was patient, as if he was afraid of breaking something in the moment.

You pulled away just briefly, breathless, and your eyes locked with his. There was a flicker of uncertainty in his gaze, but you didn’t let it linger. You tilted your head, studying his face, searching for something—answers, maybe, or perhaps reassurance. You were in control now, and it was clear from the way he looked at you that he would follow wherever you led.

Before you could even process the thought, your hands gripped the front of Jungwon’s shirt, pulling him with you as you leaned back. His breath hitched in surprise, but there was no resistance from him—just a quiet, willing surrender. Without breaking the kiss, you guided him backward, pushing him gently onto the bed with a sense of urgency. The soft creak of the mattress under his weight only fueled the tension between you both, the air thick with the electric pull of desire.

You hovered over him, your body just inches away from his, feeling the heat radiating off him in waves. His hands, which had been holding you so gently, now rested on the bed, palms flat as he watched you with an intensity that mirrored your own. His eyes were dark, full of something raw and unspoken, but he didn’t try to close the distance. He was letting you take control now, his body still beneath you, and you could feel the subtle way he was surrendering to you, leaving himself at your mercy.

The weight of the moment pressed on your chest, but you didn’t break away. Your gaze held his, unwavering, as you let the silence stretch between you, charged with something deeper. You could see it in the way his breath quickened, in the subtle flex of his muscles beneath you as he awaited your next move.

And then, without saying a word, you lowered yourself further, bringing your lips to his once more. This time, there was no hesitation, no second-guessing. The kiss was deep, intense—full of everything you hadn’t said, everything you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel until now. Jungwon’s hands found their way to your back, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t bear to let you go, but even in his need, he let you guide him, letting you set the rhythm, the pace.

You pulled away slightly, your lips lingering just above his, feeling the tension in the air thicken as you gazed down at him. His eyes were half-lidded, chest rising and falling beneath you, but you could still see the sharp edge of something in his gaze. It wasn’t just the intensity of the moment—it was that subtle wariness, the same one you’d seen earlier, when he had saved that woman on the beach.

"You were pretty focused on saving her, weren’t you?” you asked, your voice quieter, but with a teasing edge.

Jungwon let out a soft, almost self-conscious laugh. "I had to. It’s part of the job," he said, his voice still heavy with the remnants of the adrenaline that had coursed through him earlier. He was trying to downplay it, but you saw right through him. "Besides, she was drowning. It’s not like I can just leave her in the water."

"You really looked like you were about to save her from everything," you quipped, arching an eyebrow. "A woman your age, no less. What was that? Was there some kind of... connection?"

Jungwon's eyes flickered, a flash of vulnerability passing through them before he masked it with a half-smile. "Well, you know, it's hard not to connect with someone who’s in trouble." He shifted underneath you, his voice a bit more serious now. "You’re not mad, are you?"

You smiled softly, the weight of the moment returning. "Mad? No. Just trying to get used to the idea of you saving women... right in front of me." You leaned down, your lips brushing his again, slowly this time, savoring the taste of him. You could feel the sharpness in his breath as he leaned into it, his hands gripping your back tighter.

"I guess it’s a good thing I’m saving you now, huh?" Jungwon’s voice was low, almost a whisper, but there was that familiar teasing edge to it, like he was trying to regain some sense of control.

“You're going to save me from what, exactly?” You pulled back slightly, your hands on his chest, feeling the hard press of his muscles beneath your fingertips. Your gaze never left his, unwavering.

Jungwon’s lips quirked into a half-smile, his eyes darkening with something unspoken. "From getting lost in your head," he said, his voice playful but with an undertone of something more serious. "And from overthinking things."

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at that, the traction between you both momentarily easing. "Yeah? I guess you’ve got a lot of practice in saving people, huh?" You leaned down to kiss him again, this time with more purpose, your hands moving to his face, holding him there as you deepened the kiss.

He responded just as fiercely, his hands pulling you closer, his body shifting under yours. But even in his urgency, he still let you take the lead, his grip softening just enough for you to feel the weight of his trust.

As the kiss broke, you both breathed heavily, faces just inches apart, the silence between you charged once again.

"Just don’t get any ideas, Jungwon," you muttered, your lips curling into a sly smile. "I’m the one in control here."

Jungwon’s eyes flashed with something almost mischievous. “Oh, I know,” he murmured, his hands sliding to your waist, tightening briefly before letting go. "I’m all yours."

The words lingered in the air, both playful and charged with a deeper meaning. Your heart raced, a warmth spreading through you as you met his gaze. There was a comfort in the way he held you, in the way he knew exactly how to push and pull you at the same time.

Jungwon’s smile softened, his voice almost a whisper as he leaned in closer, brushing his lips against your ear. “Happy Anniversary, baby.”

You leaned in close, your breath barely a whisper against his skin. “Oh, I give up,” you said with a dramatic sigh, rolling your eyes in mock exasperation. Your fingers lightly traced his chest as you looked up at him with a teasing glint in your eyes. “Do a mouth-to-mouth CPR on me now.”

[part one] [part two]

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tell me if you want to be added or removed from the taglist! thanks<33

[kingkatsuki]

— sleepy

I’m still deciding how to characterise him because I feel like he’s got so much depth😫

Togame hates having his naps interrupted— unless it’s by you.

Pairing: Togame Jo x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, dirty talk, established relationship, handjobs, cockwarming, lazy sex, one spank, dick riding, creampie.

Word Count: 2.1k.

Togame Jo is handsome like this. Thick brows softened behind circular glasses as his dark lashes tickled the lenses, eyes shut softly as his chest rose and fell steadily with the rhythm of his breathing. His yellow Shishitoren jacket is strewn over the back of the couch, sandals are kicked off on the floor as he spreads his thick thighs.

You’re happy to feel him half-hard when you settle yourself on top of him, plush thighs on either side of his hips as you press your weight against his crotch. You’d expect him to wake with a jolt if you didn’t know him any better, so used to having to stay alert to avoid the conflict from Furin or any other rival gangs that may filter into unknown territory. But Togame already has you mapped out like the back of his hand, warm palms immediately smooth along the exposed skin of your thighs as his lashes flutter. Staring up at you through half-lidded eyes as he stifles a yawn.

“You ain’t ever lettin’ me nap, huh?” His voice is laced with sleep as calloused fingers dig into the plush of your thighs, shifting slightly beneath you as he feels the warmth between your thighs press against his crotch from the motion. The way you tighten your grip around his shoulders at the contact doesn’t go unnoticed. He slides his outstretched legs back in as he shifts you on his lap, bringing you closer to him.

“You can nap later” You tease, pressing a kiss to his lips as his tongue juts out to taste your lipgloss, “I missed you today.”

You loved having Togame like this— soft and vulnerable, a side of him that no one else got to see.

“I missed you too.” He hums, tilting his head against the back of the couch to get a better look at you as you grind yourself against his crotch again, “Oh? You missed me like that—” He feigns ignorance— he knows exactly what you want.

“Been thinking about you all day,” You admit, feeling your skin flush as the heat inside you continues to rise, a neglected throb pulses between your thighs as your cunt begs for attention.

“Ah, so that’s the real reason you woke a sleeping man up, hm?” He pretended to grumble, his fingers already dipping into your thighs in response, “Tell me what you need?”

“Need your cock, Jo,” You mumbled, leaving glossy kisses against his jawline, “Please?”

“Take whatever you want, sweetheart.” He goads, “It’s yours.”

You love when he indulges you, leaning back just enough to pull his pants down as he mutters complaints under his breath as he’s forced to raise his hips just enough to leave the fabric nestled around the curve of his ass. A soft pout appears on his lips that you can’t help but kiss away before you take in the sight of his cock, hot and heavy as it lays against his pelvis.

Gently taking him into your hands as you pump him softly, your thumb swipes at the bead of pre that pearls at the tip as you smooth it along the length of him. Togame is so pliant when he’s like this, allowing you to take the reigns and use him how you see fit.

“You’re such a tease,” He chastises, his head strewn against the back of the couch as your eyes follow the column of his neck. His Adam’s apple bobs when you press your thumb against his slit, swallowing thickly as his hips jerk into your grip.

“I dunno,” You smile back, “You seem to like it.”

“Your hand’s wrapped around my dick, what’s not to like?” He drawls, squeezing your thigh gently.

“So why don’t you wanna fuck me?” You press, and you feel his grip tighten against your plush skin.

“Believe me, sweetheart,” He yawns, not bothering to cover his mouth as he flashes sharp canines, “I always wanna fuck you.”

“So why don’t you?” You pout, running your thumb along the underside of his cock.

“I just like seeing you needy,” Togame grins, and it has your brows furrowing in annoyance.

“I’m not needy,” You gasp in mock offence as you jab a finger against his chest, “You’re the one that’s been out fighting all morning.”

“You always need my cock to shut you up, yeah?” He ignores you with a dull smirk, staring at you with half-lidded eyes.

Togame his calloused palm along your thigh to the curve of your ass as he pulls your body against his, your face buried in the apex of his neck as he grips his cock steady. Giving himself a languid pump with a flick of his wrist as his other hand pulls your panties to the side, too tired to even attempt to undress you. His slender fingers curl around the fabric as he helps guide the tip of his cock towards your drooling hole, holding you steady as you meet resistance and begin to drop yourself down on his cock.

“Fuck,” You sigh as you feel the delicious ache of him stretching you out. Grinding your hips against him as you feel your body begin to relax and mould to him, taking inch after inch as he finally bottoms out inside you.

“Jo,” You murmur against the column of his neck, feeling him shift beneath you as he palms the swell of your ass, “Pay attention to me.”

“You always have my attention, sweetheart,” He replies, smoothing a palm along your spine as he holds you to his chest, “But it’s bedtime.”

“It’s four in the afternoon,” Your lips curl into a grin against his pulse point as he delights in the saccharine tone of laughter that tumbles from your lips.

Togame breaks off into a guttural groan that rumbles deep in his throat when he feels your tight heat clench around him from the rhythm of your laughter, a sound that vibrates all the way through his neck as you feel it against your lips.

“Yeah, see—” He agrees, tightening his grip around your frame to prevent you from grinding yourself down on his lap, “Bedtime.”

He tries to resist the urge to rut into you like this, to feel the blunt head of his cock carve away at your insides as you pulse and whine above him. Your fingers tease through the short hair at the back of his neck as you wriggle your hips in defiance.

“You never let me nap, woman.” Togame grunts.

“We can’t fall asleep like this.” You coo, warm breath fans his ear as you try to find purchase against his broad shoulders.

“Sure we can.” He counters, “Just close your eyes.”

Togame was certain he could quite happily die like this— the last thing he feels as he takes his dying breath is the sensation of your perfect walls wrapped tight around his cock. What better way to go?

“You’re so silly,” You scoff, pressing a kiss to his cheek as you continue to roll your hips above him, lifting yourself before dropping yourself down on his length as you deliberately press against his pelvis with each forward motion to add some friction to your clit.

You think he’s maybe falling asleep until he strokes his palms along your waist, mapping a path along your sides until he finds the curve of your chest. Pushing your shirt over your breasts as he palms them through the thin cups of your bra. The corners of his lips curl into a content smile when he feels you clench around him in response, your pace faltering when his thumbs graze your nipples. Feeling them pebble beneath his touch as he pulls the cups of your bra down to settle below your tits.

“You’re so pretty,” Togame mumbles, rolling the stiff peaks between his thumb and forefinger as you scoff.

“You’re not even looking at me.”

“I don’t have to look to know.” He shoots back, catching you off guard with a rough smack against your ass.

“Oh,” Your hips jerk, velvety walls clenching around him in response as you feel your skin begin to prickle under his touch.

“You’re always pretty.” He parts his eyes into a tired squint, just enough to adjust to the afternoon sunlight streaming into the room as he watches you. Using him for your pleasure as you keep a sloppy pace, hips rolling as his cock moulds you into the shape of him.

You reward him with a kiss— a slow sensual one with tongues clashing and swallowed breaths as a groan rises in his throat.

“Jo,” You mumble against his lips, “I’m tired.”

“Oh?” He goads, “You’re tired? When you woke me up to do this.”

“Please, Jo.” You plead, tugging his bottom lip between your teeth.

“I suppose I’ll have to do the work, huh?” He rasps, squeezing your ass playfully.

“Fuck me, please?” You whine, and Tokgame feels it. The way your walls tremble around him with desire, desperately trying to milk him of his seed as he feels your slick drool down to his balls. His eyes are still shut behind circular glasses as he moves his fingers to where your bodies are connected, stroking along the length of him that pokes out of your tight cunt to feel how wet you are.

“Fuck.” He groans, and you can tell that’s his final piece of resolve wavering.

You’re the only thing that makes him want to go fast— the pulse of your warm hole coaxing him further as he expels a deep breath. Togame’s grip on you tightens as he holds you steady, fingers dig into your hips as he starts a rough pace. The sound of skin against skin echos the room as he fucks up into you with vigour. The harsh movement has your breasts bouncing as you scramble for purchase, clinging onto the back of his neck near the base of his skull as you rest your forearms on strong shoulders.

He loves you like this— so pliant and at his mercy as his balls slap against the swell of your ass with each rough rut. Pulling the prettiest sounds he’s certain he’s ever heard from between your lips as you begin to crescendo, feeling yourself teetering on the edge of your climax as your walls clamp down around him.

“That’s it, baby,” He grunts, as his hips snap roughly, “I know you’re close.”

Pearly tears clump in your lashes as your nails dig into his scalp, the coil inside you dangerously close to unravelling as the tip of his cock kisses your cervix with each pronounced thrust, “Give it to me.”

And you do. Crying out his name as your toes curl and your eyes roll into your skull, euphoria washes over you as it’s all you can do but bask in the pleasure as a mind-numbing orgasm surges through you.

“That’s my girl,” Togame is quick to prolong it, his eyes open and intent on you through polarised lenses as he moves his thumb to rub at your puffy clit. Ignoring your pleas that it’s too much, you can’t— when he knows you can, and you will, “That’s my good fucking girl.”

Your body trembles against him as your second climax hits that much harder than your first. Convulsing against him you pull your face back from his neck, sitting upright as the pleasure wracks through you, flowing through your veins like an addictive drug as he watches you ride it out. Clenching around his cock as your cunt eagerly begs him for his release, wanting to feel every drop of it.

“Fucking hell,” He pants, holding you steady as he begins to use his grip on you to bring your body down to meet his thrusts. Forcing you onto his cock with each rough snap of his hips, “You’re so needy.”

It’s all you can do but sit there and take it as he uses you for his own release, barely managing a handful of thrusts before he reaches his peak. Holding your hips flush with his as he pumps spurt after spurt of warm, white cum inside your velvety walls. Coating you with his spend as he leaves you seated on his cock, basking in the afterglow as he feels your walls continue to pulse and throb around him as he keeps you plugged with his spend.

You whine when you try to pull yourself off him and his harsh grip stops you, leaving you positioned on his cock as he wraps his arms around your body to press you against his chest. Tucking your head onto his shoulder as he presses wet, open-mouthed kisses against your collarbone.

“Not so fast, sweetheart,” He hums, his hands back to tracing lines against the curve of your spine, “You got what you wanted— now we’re takin’ a nap.”

[yunniverse]

Bliss

౨ৎ PAIRING— jeong yunho x reader

౨ৎ GENRE— fluff, established relationship, fem!reader

౨ৎ WARNINGS— very fluffy, yunho’s the best husband

౨ৎ WORD COUNT— 0.9k

౨ৎ SUMMARY— a soft morning with yunho

౨ৎ A/N— i genuinely want this with him :( i hope you enjoy it! feedback is always appreciated and thanks for reading, lovelies! <3

You blink your eyes open, letting them adjust to the bright morning sunlight filtering in through the window. The room feels pleasantly warm as you look to your right to see your husband, still sleeping peacefully.

Yunho’s face is flushed with a morning glow, a lock of his dark messy hair falling in front of his eyes as he breathes deeply.

Your breath is almost taken away as you quietly watch him, admiring the way he can still look so ethereal, even after sleeping and rolling around all night.

You’re convinced he’s an angel. There’s no other explanation.

As you look at him, a faint smile grows on your face. Your gaze drops to his hand, resting on the pillow near his head, the size of it making butterflies swim in your stomach.

Gently, you reach out, tracing the lines of his long, slender fingers, before carefully flipping his hand over to trace his palm.

You’ll never get used to the size difference, his whole hand is almost the size of both of yours, but they fit so perfectly together. Like puzzle pieces.

Unable to resist any longer, you reach out, brushing the lock of dark hair off his forehead, listening to him groan softly, stirring, but not waking yet.

Smiling to yourself, you gently trace Yunho’s collarbone before moving up to his jawline, stopping when you reach his lips. They’re parted slightly as he sleeps peacefully, looking smooth and soft. You fight the urge to kiss him right then.

Instead, you gently trace your thumb along his bottom lip, watching as he stirs again, wondering if he’ll finally wake. But he doesn’t, simply snuggling more into the silk pillow.

Deciding you want to see his pretty eyes, you lean in, pressing soft, gentle kisses to his face before moving to his neck. He tilts his head to give you more access unconsciously, probably not even realizing he’s doing it.

After a moment, his eyelids flutter opened and he blinks lazily a few times before he speaks, his voice deep and raspy from sleep. “G’morning, my love.”

“Mm, good morning, handsome,” you smile, pressing one last kiss to his nose as Yunho sleepily grins, the hand that was resting against the pillow lifting to cup your cheek in his palm, his thumb brushing softly against your skin.

“You’re so beautiful.”

His words send butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you feel yourself blush, knowing your cheeks are flushed pink.

Yunho chuckles, the sound rumbling from his chest as he moves his hand to the back of your neck, “You’re so cute when you’re shy, you know that, right?”

“You might have told me a few times,” you respond, your cheeks still colored pink as Yunho smiles softly before gently tugging your head down, until it’s only inches away from his.

“I love waking up to your face,” he whispers, his brown eyes sparkling with devotion.

“Likewise,” you giggle, the butterflies still very much present as you lean down a little closer.

Yunho’s gaze slowly shifts from your eyes to your lips and back again before he speaks, his fingers gently playing with your hair, “I love you, you know that?”

“You might have told me a few times,” you laugh, repeating your words from earlier as Yunho squeezes your neck gently before his hands shift to cupping your face.

“Most wives tell their husbands they love him too, hm?” he tells you cheekily, his thumbs brushing against your skin.

“Oh, they do?” you ask, feigning surprise. “I suppose I should stick to tradition then, huh?”

He nods, his gaze now glued to your lips as he shifts almost imperceptibly closer, “It’d be nice to hear those three pretty words from you, sweetheart.”

“Oh, it would?” you ask teasingly, making his gaze snap up to meet yours again, a hint of a challenge swimming in their dark depths.

“It would,” he replies, his voice husky, with a hint of a possessive growl.

“Whoa, no need for that, baby,” you laugh, smiling, as he rolls his eyes playfully. “I love you, Yunho. So, so, so, so much. More than the whole universe, all the stars and planets and everything, and more than—“

He cuts you off, pulling you down to brush his lips against yours in the softest of kisses, successfully shutting you up, as your eyes flutter closed at the feeling of his soft lips.

He soon deepens the kiss, his lips moving against yours, still gentle and so soft. He holds you as if you’ll break if he doesn’t handle you gently.

It makes you fall harder for him as you respond to his gentle kiss. You pull back for air once before kissing him again, intoxicated by the feeling you’d never felt before kissing him.

No one else compares, and you’re positive they never would.

When he pulls back, breathing a little heavier, his lips now glistening, he smiles, his eyes sparkling, as he boops your nose with his finger. “Bliss looks good on you.”

You laugh, playfully smacking his chest, as he leans in, kissing you one last time, before letting you bury your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his intoxicating scent.

Your senses are overwhelmed by the slightly peachy, sweet scent of his body-wash, mixed with his comforting natural scent. It makes you breathe in deeply once again, sighing contentedly as you snuggle into his neck.

“Comfy?” he asks softly, his hands rubbing up and down your back before resting against your lower back as he squeezes you a little closer.

“Mm, very,” you respond, mumbling into his soft skin. “I could live right here forever.”

“Oh, you could?” Yunho chuckles, pressing a gentle kiss to your hair. “I wouldn’t mind at all, my love.”

You smile, closing your eyes as you continue breathing in his scent. “Can we stay like this forever?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[faebled-stories]

A Journey to Belong

Kinkvember Day 26: Collaring

LOONA/Lossemble Kim Hyunjin x Male reader

12.2k words

AN: Woke up this morning to see an anon sharing a picture that was absolutely perfect. I'm a little gutted I didn't think to use it first, but I'm swapping out the original because it fits so well. Shoutout to that anon!

Hyunjin used to wear her collar with pride. To her, it was more than just an accessory; it was a quiet proclamation of something deeper, something grounding. The soft leather always warmed against her skin, like a second pulse in tune with her own. She would touch it absentmindedly, her fingers brushing its edge when she was lost in thought or overwhelmed by emotion. It wasn’t just a tether—it was comfort, a mark of belonging, a secret she carried that only the two of you truly understood.

Sometimes, you’d catch her tracing its curve, her lips curling into a playful, knowing smile. She seemed to radiate joy in those moments, a quiet confidence that reflected her connection to you. When she laughed, her head tilted just enough for the light to catch its polished surface, creating a subtle gleam that felt like it winked just for you. That collar wasn’t just part of her identity—it was part of yours. A symbol that carried the weight of something words couldn’t touch, a connection that went deeper than mere appearance.

In the past, she treated it with reverence. Her hands would move with care as she adjusted it in the morning, her fingers slow and deliberate, as if the act were a ritual. When you fastened it around her neck, her posture straightened, her shoulders set, as though she were bearing the weight of something noble, something cherished. But lately, that reverence had begun to fade.

The world had grown heavier on her shoulders, its quiet burdens pressing into her with relentless persistence. It dulled the gleam in her eyes, dimming the light that once made them shine like distant stars. She moved slower now, less deliberate, her rhythm disrupted by the constant push and pull of responsibilities she could never quite shake. You saw it in the way her hand brushed the collar less often, in the way it hung around her neck without the same meaning. It had begun to feel like an afterthought—a once-sacred symbol reduced to just another thing she wore.

The rituals that once anchored her, those small acts that reminded her of who she was and what she meant to you, had grown scarce. The quiet moments where meaning was woven, thread by thread, had been replaced by silence. It wasn’t just the collar losing its weight—it was the spaces between you that felt heavier now, filled with an unspoken distance that you couldn’t quite bridge.

That evening, the house was quiet. The golden hues of sunset filtered through the curtains, pooling in soft puddles of light on the wooden floor. You stood in the bedroom doorway, your shadow stretching long across the room as you watched her. She was tucking her legs beneath the blanket, her movements slow, tired. Normally, this hour was sacred. She would kneel beside the bed, her posture straight, her head bowed, her breaths even as she let the weight of the day melt away. It was a small ritual that belonged to the two of you, a moment of balance in a chaotic world.

But tonight, she simply climbed into bed. Brushing a few stray strands of hair from her face, her expression was one of quiet resignation, as though that ritual were nothing more than a faint memory.

“Hyunjin,” you said softly, your voice steady but questioning.

She glanced up at you, her eyes heavy with exhaustion, faint shadows beneath them betraying just how long the day had been. “Hmm?”

“Your ritual,” you reminded her gently, careful to keep your tone light.

“Oh,” she murmured, shifting slightly as she pulled the blanket higher over her shoulders. “I’ll skip it tonight. I’m tired.”

The word hung in the air between you, cold and unyielding. It felt like the first crack in something you’d thought was unshakable. You wanted to press her, to remind her that it wasn’t just a routine but a connection—a space for her, for you, for what you’d built together. But something fragile lingered in her gaze, a weariness that ran deeper than physical fatigue. She looked like a bird perched precariously on a wire, ready to take flight at the slightest movement.

So instead, you nodded and stepped away, the sound of your footsteps fading into the quiet of the house. Still, the tightness in your chest lingered, an ache settling deep as you heard the soft creak of the bed springs signaling her restless sleep.

-----

A couple of mornings later, sunlight poured through the kitchen window, a golden warmth spilling across the tiled floor. Faint motes of dust swirled lazily in the still air, catching the light. The soft hum of the refrigerator was the only sound breaking the silence. You stood at the counter, the warmth of your coffee mug grounding you, your gaze fixed on the corner of the room.

It was the spot you’d asked her to clear days ago. Yet, it remained untouched, the clutter seeming to expand every time you looked at it. Books with dog-eared pages teetered in uneven stacks, half-empty mugs marked with faint coffee rings sat beside plates with crumbs still clinging to them. Papers—some folded, some crumpled—spilled across the surface, as though she’d abandoned them mid-thought. It wasn’t just a mess; it was her mess. Her habits left to fester, her tasks left undone, her things bleeding into the shared space as if their importance extended only as far as her immediate need for them.

You took a slow sip of your coffee, the bitter warmth grounding you as irritation flickered faintly in your chest. Turning toward the sound of soft footsteps, you saw Hyunjin shuffle into the room. Her hair was loosely gathered in a bun, messy strands framing her face, and her phone cast a pale glow across her features. Her thumb moved idly, scrolling with an almost hypnotic focus that made the rest of the world feel distant.

Without looking up, she moved toward the counter, her movements slow and distracted. You waited, letting the silence stretch for a moment, then finally spoke. “Hyunjin, why haven’t you cleaned the corner yet?”

She paused mid-step, her thumb hovering over her phone. For a fleeting second, she looked genuinely confused, like she wasn’t sure what you were talking about. Her eyes followed yours to the mess, and recognition flickered faintly across her face.

“Oh,” she said lightly, her tone casual, as if the neglected corner was an afterthought. “I haven't gotten to it yet.”

You set your coffee mug down carefully, keeping your voice calm but deliberate. “You didn’t get to it?”

“Yeah,” she replied, her tone dismissive, already brushing off the moment. “I’ll do it later. It’s not a big deal.”

Her hand waved vaguely toward the clutter, and she didn’t even glance up from her phone. Her thumb resumed its slow scrolling, her focus absorbed once again by the screen in her hand. The dismissiveness in her words stung more than you expected. It wasn’t the mess itself—it was the meaning behind it, the erosion of care, the growing distance her casual attitude revealed.

“Hyunjin,” you said, your voice tightening slightly. “When I ask you to do something, I expect it to be done.”

She didn’t even glance up, her gaze fixed firmly on her phone. “Okay, okay,” she mumbled, the words quick, automatic, more reflex than acknowledgment. As she turned slightly, she muttered under her breath, “Jeez.”

The word was quiet but sharp enough to cut. It hung in the air, a small jab that carried a weight far heavier than the sound should have. Your jaw tightened, the flicker of irritation blooming into something harder to ignore.

The warmth of the sunlight streaming through the window felt out of place now, incongruous against the tension crackling in the air. The room, once a peaceful haven, suddenly felt heavier. The silence was no longer soothing but charged with something unspoken. You turned back to the window, gripping your coffee mug a little tighter as you stared out at the trees swaying gently in the breeze.

It wasn’t about the mess, not really. It was about what it represented—the slow, creeping disconnection that seemed to settle in the spaces between these moments. You wondered how something so small, so seemingly insignificant, could feel so monumental. But the distance was there, undeniable, growing wider with every careless dismissal, every idle word. You stared out at the golden light playing across the trees and wondered when things had started to slip away.

-----

That evening, the restaurant was softly lit, the golden glow of candles casting flickering shadows across the table. The low hum of conversation mixed with the gentle clinking of silverware, creating an atmosphere that felt both intimate and alive. You and Hyunjin sat among her friends—Go Won, Yeojin, Hyeju, and Vivi—whose chatter flowed easily, punctuated by bursts of laughter that seemed to brighten the room. The five of them shared an easy rhythm, their teasing and playful banter weaving a language they all seemed to instinctively understand.

Hyunjin looked radiant tonight, her cheeks flushed from the warmth of the room and the laughter bubbling from her lips. She leaned forward as Yeojin said something outrageous, her eyes crinkling with genuine amusement, her smile wide and uninhibited. It was the kind of joy that drew you in, making the rest of the room blur around her. For a moment, you let yourself get lost in it, in the way her laughter lit up the space between you, in the quiet pride of seeing her so at ease.

Then, Go Won leaned forward, her grin mischievous, her tone teasing. “So,” she said, drawing out the word, her eyes glinting with barely contained glee, “is it true that Hyunjin’s partner is, like, totally in charge?”

Yeojin giggled, her eyes darting between you and Hyunjin, while Hyeju smirked knowingly. Vivi, who had been sipping her wine, set her glass down delicately and raised a curious eyebrow, her lips curving into a subtle smile. Their teasing filled the air with an electric anticipation, the kind that came before someone said something bold. All eyes turned to Hyunjin, waiting for her response.

Hyunjin laughed, but it wasn’t the soft, genuine sound you’d heard moments before. This laugh was sharp, cutting, her tone tinged with something defensive. “Yeah, right,” she said, flipping her hair with an exaggerated flourish. “He thinks he’s in charge? Oh please.”

The table erupted in laughter. Go Won clapped her hands while Yeojin practically doubled over, her giggles carrying across the room. Even Hyeju, who often played it cool, cracked a grin. Vivi, ever poised, hid her smirk behind her hand, but her eyes sparkled with amusement. You smiled along, but it felt stiff, a hollow gesture as her words sank in.

Beneath the table, you reached for her hand, a subtle gesture meant to ground the moment, to remind her of the connection that should have been there. But her hand shifted slightly, pulling away as if she hadn’t noticed—or perhaps as if she had and didn’t care.

“Hyunjin,” you said softly, leaning toward her so your words wouldn’t carry to the others. Your tone wasn’t angry, but there was a question in it—a quiet nudge toward something unspoken.

For a fleeting moment, her smile faltered. She glanced at you, her eyes flickering with something—hesitation, regret, a sliver of guilt—but it disappeared as quickly as it came. “What?” she said, her voice light, brushing off the moment. “It’s just a joke.”

Her words hit harder than you expected, their casual dismissal cutting deeper than they should have. The conversation rolled forward without missing a beat, the others picking up where they’d left off. Vivi leaned toward Go Won, quietly asking a question that made her laugh, her soft voice adding to the warm hum of the room. Hyunjin, meanwhile, turned back to Hyeju, her smile slipping back into place. On the surface, everything seemed normal, her laughter blending seamlessly into the rhythm of her friends’ banter.

But beneath that surface, her thoughts tumbled. She told herself it wasn’t a big deal—that it was better this way, keeping things light, keeping her independence in view for others to see. They didn’t need to understand everything. They didn’t need to see what happened between the two of you, the private bond that defined her. That was hers to guard. And yet, as she laughed, the thought settled heavily in her chest, an unease she couldn’t quite push away.

You leaned back slightly, withdrawing into the golden light of the restaurant. The room around you was alive with warmth and conversation, but it felt distant, as though it belonged to another world entirely. You watched her across the table, the way she tilted her head toward Hyeju, sharing a private joke, the corners of her lips lifting just enough. It should have been enough to warm you, but instead, a quiet ache gnawed at the space between you.

There was a disconnect now, sharp and unyielding, like an invisible chasm that had opened in the space of a few words. It wasn’t the laughter or even the teasing that stung. It was the way she pulled away—the way her words had drawn a line that neither the candlelight nor the soft hum of the restaurant could cross. The warmth of the evening felt muted, its glow unable to soften the weight of the unspoken distance. You sat back in silence, watching her laugh and smile, and wondered when the connection you shared had started to feel like a memory rather than something real.

The days had begun to blur together, the weight of unspoken tension threading through the quiet of the house. Little moments that once felt warm now felt distant, replaced by a growing disconnect that neither of you had yet acknowledged aloud. You found yourself noticing the small things more—the sound of her keys dropping onto the counter, the way her shoes landed haphazardly by the door, as if she no longer cared where they fell. It was as if the rhythm you once shared had gone slightly out of sync, a subtle discord that lingered in every interaction.

This evening was no different. The house was still, the muted hum of life outside barely audible through the windows. You sat on the couch, a reading lamp casting a soft glow over the book in your hands, the quiet, a fragile balm you hadn’t realized you needed. The words on the page barely registered, your mind wandering to the space between you and Hyunjin, to the way things had begun to fray. You turned the page absently, your focus more on the soft creak of the house settling than on the story in front of you.

The sudden slam of the front door shattered the stillness, the sharp crack slicing through the quiet like a thunderclap. Hyunjin stormed in, her movements hurried and agitated. Her bag slipped off her shoulder and hit the floor with a heavy thud, the sound reverberating in the space like a dropped weight. It landed crumpled and forgotten, a statement as loud as the door she had slammed behind her.

Tension radiated off her in waves, her presence electric, charged with barely contained frustration. She moved with a restlessness that seemed to fill the room, suffocating in its intensity. Her breathing was uneven, her fingers twitching as they reached up to push her hair back from her face, her movements sharp and unrelenting.

From your spot on the couch, you looked up, your grip tightening slightly on the book as the soft light from the lamp illuminated your face. You studied her, taking in the way she paced slightly, her gaze flickering over the space like she was searching for something to anchor her. The energy she brought into the room was undeniable, sharp and restless like the air before a downpour.

“Rough day?” you asked, your voice neutral, carefully measured as you closed the book and set it aside on the small table next to you.

“Don’t start,” she snapped, her voice taut and edged with irritation, each syllable cutting through the stillness like a blade. She kicked her shoes off with thoughtless movements, one landing askew near the door while the other slid across the hardwood with a soft scrape. Without so much as a glance in your direction, she headed toward the kitchen, her movements brisk and full of a frustration she seemed unable to contain.

You rose from the couch, moving calmly in her wake, each step deliberate and unhurried. The tension radiating from her seemed to fill the air, but you kept your own energy steady, refusing to be drawn into the storm she was carrying. “I’m not starting anything,” you said, your voice low and even. “I’m asking.”

“Then don’t!” she said, whirling around to face you, the sharpness in her tone reverberating between you. Her eyes burned with an emotion that went beyond anger—it was raw, layered with exhaustion and something deeper, something tangled and unspoken that caught you off guard. “God, you’re always hovering. Can’t you just give me some space?”

Her words lingered in the air like smoke, acrid and stinging. They cut through the fragile quiet that had filled the house before she arrived, leaving it broken and jagged in her wake. Her shoulders rose and fell with shallow breaths, her chest heaving slightly as though even the act of speaking had pulled something out of her. You took a small step closer, your movements measured, keeping your gaze steady as you tried to read the tension in her stance. Her posture was tight, defensive, her arms twitching slightly as though she wanted to cross them but couldn’t quite commit to the action.

“Hyunjin, come here,” you said softly. Your voice was calm but firm, a quiet invitation edged with a gravity that couldn’t be ignored. It wasn’t loud, but it carried weight, a steady anchor in the turbulence that crackled in the space between you.

Her jaw tightened, her teeth pressing together as she hesitated. For a moment, her arms wrapped around her chest defensively, her body closing off. Her eyes flickered with something between defiance and vulnerability—an emotion she seemed desperate to mask. “What now?” she muttered, her tone laced with sarcasm and exhaustion. “Another lecture? Another rule I’ve broken?”

You let the words hang in the air for a moment, refusing to take the bait. “Come here. Now,” you said again, sharper this time. The calm authority in your voice sliced cleanly through her deflection, leaving no room for argument.

Her body stiffened, her lips parting as if to fire back a retort, but the words caught in her throat. She froze, her arms tightening against her chest as she stared at you, her expression caught somewhere between rebellion and hesitation. The air between you felt impossibly heavy, thick with the weight of all the things left unsaid. Her defiance was still there, simmering just below the surface, but quieter now, edged with uncertainty.

Slowly, deliberately, you reached for the collar around her neck. The movement was calm, but its intent was unmistakable. Her breath hitched audibly, her eyes widening as your fingers brushed the soft leather, warm from her skin. The cool buckle under your touch seemed to amplify the tension, vibrating in the charged silence.

Her reaction was immediate. Her hands shot up, grasping yours with sudden urgency. Her palms pressed against the backs of your hands, trembling slightly as though to stop you—or at least to understand. The contact struck you both, heavier than the action itself, more intimate than any argument could ever be.

Her fingers curled lightly against yours, delicate but insistent, as if trying to cling to something intangible. She didn’t speak, but her eyes searched yours, wide and pleading. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, but the emotion in her gaze spoke louder than any words she could muster.

The buckle clicked open, the sound impossibly loud in the quiet. Her hands lingered on yours for a moment, trembling as though reluctant to let go. When the leather slipped free from her neck, her hands fell away slowly, brushing over her collarbone as if trying to feel the weight that was no longer there.

Her gaze darted downward, her expression shifting between shock and raw vulnerability. “What—what are you doing?” she stammered, her voice faltering, unsteady. Her fingers rose instinctively to the bare skin of her neck, searching for the familiar presence of the collar, now conspicuously absent.

You held the collar in your hands for a moment, its weight feeling heavier than it had ever been. The leather seemed darker under the dim light, more imposing in its absence from her neck. Without a word, you turned and walked toward the mantle, your footsteps deliberate, every step sinking into the silence like a nail into wood.

Carefully, almost ceremoniously, you placed the collar on the mantle. Its dark band stood out starkly against the pale wood, a silent reminder of what it represented. You let your hand linger for a moment before stepping back and turning to face her again.

“If you can’t respect what this collar means,” you said, your voice steady and measured, “then you don’t deserve to wear it.”

Her breath hitched audibly, sharp and hollow in the heavy silence. For a moment, she stared at you, her lips parting as if to argue, but no words came. Her shoulders sagged slightly, and she looked away, her hands twitching at her sides. Then, her gaze snapped back, flickering with faint resistance, though it was muted—more defense than defiance.

“That’s not—” she began, but her voice faltered, the words tapering off. She looked down, her fingers brushing her neck as though searching for the familiar weight that was no longer there. Her jaw tightened, and her voice came softer, almost subdued. “You’re… overthinking this,” she muttered. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

You stayed silent, your gaze steady, letting her words linger in the charged air. She shifted uncomfortably under your scrutiny, her hands falling away from her neck as she glanced toward the collar resting on the mantle. The sight of it made her flinch, her shoulders drawing inward, but she refused to let herself stay vulnerable for long.

“Whatever…It’s just a stupid collar,” she said finally, the words tumbling out too quickly, too defensively, as though trying to shield herself from the enormity of the moment.

Your expression didn’t waver, your silence speaking louder than any response could. Her dismissive tone lingered in the air, but it felt brittle, as though it could shatter under the weight of her unspoken emotions. The room settled into an oppressive stillness, the warmth of the house replaced by a cold tension that neither of you could escape.

Her gaze flicked back to you for a fleeting moment before dropping to the floor. She stood frozen, her fingers twitching at her sides, her vulnerability laid bare despite her words. And as the silence deepened, you wondered if she truly believed what she had just said—or if it was simply easier to say than to confront what the collar, and everything it represented, meant to her.

-----

The absence of the collar should have been no big deal. That’s what Hyunjin told herself that first night, staring at the faint shadows cast by the moonlight on the ceiling. The glow of the streetlights outside spilled through the curtains, painting shifting shapes that danced with the breeze. Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, the cool air brushing against her bare neck—a subtle but insistent reminder of what wasn’t there. She pulled the blanket higher around her shoulders, seeking warmth, but it didn’t help. No matter how tightly she cocooned herself, the emptiness followed her, clinging like a shadow she couldn’t shake.

Her fingers fidgeted at her sides, brushing against her throat as though searching for something that wasn’t there. Each time they met bare skin, a pang of frustration mingled with something deeper—something she refused to name—flared in her chest. She shifted onto her side, then her back again, the rustle of the sheets doing little to calm the restless energy coiling within her. The room felt colder, quieter than it should have been, the stillness pressing down on her like a weight.

“It’s just a strip of leather,” she whispered into the dark, her voice barely audible. The words felt hollow even as they left her lips, a weak attempt to convince herself of something she didn’t truly believe. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

Saying it aloud should have helped. It should have silenced the thoughts, dulled the ache in her chest. But the words dissolved into the silence, weightless and meaningless, leaving behind only a sharper awareness of the void they couldn’t fill. She turned her face into the pillow, her fingers clutching the blanket as though holding onto something tangible could ground her. But even that felt futile, like trying to grasp smoke.

Sleep, when it finally came, was fractured and uneasy. Flickering images and sensations haunted her dreams, vague and ungraspable. The sound of your voice lingered in her subconscious—steady, grounding, sure. The firm yet comforting pressure of your hands left an imprint that refused to fade. And the collar—it haunted her, its weight vivid in her dreams, so real she could almost feel it pressing against her skin.

She woke several times throughout the night, her body restless, the blanket tangled around her legs. Each time, her hand instinctively reached for her neck, her fingers brushing the bare skin as though to confirm what her mind already knew. The absence felt like an accusation, a silent reminder of what she had dismissed too easily. By the time the faint light of dawn seeped through the curtains, her body was drained, but her thoughts were relentless, circling the same question: Why did it feel like so much more than just a collar?

-----

By the third day, the weight of the collar’s absence had become unbearable. The void it left consumed her thoughts, gnawing at her relentlessly, each quiet moment amplifying the ache. The collar sat on the mantle in the bedroom, unmoving yet commanding, its polished leather gleaming faintly in the soft light of flickering candles. It seemed so small, so unassuming, yet its presence loomed large, dominating not just the room but her every thought.

At first, she avoided looking at it directly, telling herself it didn’t matter, that it was better to stay busy and keep her focus elsewhere. But the effort was futile. Her eyes betrayed her, flickering back to it again and again, her chest tightening with each glance. The ache inside her grew sharper, more insistent. Her lips pressed into a thin line, her fingers twitching at her sides as though resisting the urge to reach out. It wasn’t just the object that unsettled her—it was the creeping realization of what it symbolized: trust, connection, submission, and the bond she had taken for granted.

She tried to leave the room, to find distraction in other parts of the house, but the bedroom pulled at her like a tide. Each step away felt heavier, harder, until she couldn’t bring herself to leave at all. By midmorning, she was back, sitting on the edge of the bed, her gaze fixed on the mantle. Hours stretched long and quiet around her as she lingered, her presence a silent acknowledgment of the tension she couldn’t escape.

By evening, Hyunjin’s resolve had crumbled entirely. She remained in the bedroom, the air thick with the faint scent of mint and the lingering trace of your cologne. The room seemed heavier than usual, as though the walls themselves were holding their breath, waiting for her to face what she had been avoiding all day.

Her gaze locked on the mantle once again, drawn to the collar as if by an invisible force. Its polished leather caught the flickering candlelight, the buckle gleaming faintly like a distant beacon. Her chest tightened with every passing second as she stared, her reflection faintly visible in the metal, distorted and fragile. Her breath grew shallow, her thoughts swirling into a chaotic storm of guilt, longing, and determination.

Unable to stand the weight of it any longer, she slowly sank to her knees. The wooden floor felt cold against her skin, grounding her trembling body as she settled into position. Her hands rested lightly on her thighs, but her fingers quivered, unable to stay still. She bowed her head, her breath uneven, as though the very act of submission was drawing the truth out of her.

The room pressed down on her in its quiet stillness. Each flicker of candlelight seemed to illuminate the depths of her turmoil, the flames dancing in time with the raw emotion that churned within her.

Her heart pounded steadily in her chest, her body aching from the strain of holding the position, but she refused to move. The act of kneeling felt like the only thing tethering her, a physical manifestation of the submission she had neglected.

She whispered to herself, soft and uncertain, the words carried by the silence. “It wasn’t just a stupid collar. It never was.”

The admission felt raw, vulnerable, but the weight of it didn’t lift. Her breaths came shallow and uneven as the minutes ticked by. Her muscles burned, her knees aching against the hard floor, but she stayed resolute, unwilling to let the discomfort deter her. This was where she belonged—waiting, asking without words for the chance to prove herself.

When the sound of the front door opening echoed through the quiet house, her heart leapt in her chest. Her body stiffened, the faint creak of your footsteps growing louder as you moved closer. She didn’t dare lift her head, the air around her thickening with anticipation. Her fingers curled into the fabric of her thighs, her breath catching as your familiar presence filled the doorway.

You stopped, your shadow falling over her as you took in the scene: Hyunjin kneeling at the foot of the mantle, her head bowed, her form trembling slightly with emotion. The flickering candlelight cast soft shadows across her figure, accentuating the strain in her shoulders, the tension in her hands. She didn’t look up, but the weight of your gaze pressed into her like a tangible force.

“Hyunjin,” you said, your voice low and steady, cutting through the quiet like a blade.

Her head lifted slightly at the sound of your voice, her eyes wide and glistening as they met yours. “Sir,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I… I know I wasn’t called here. But I needed to be here.”

You studied her, your expression unreadable, and she hurried to continue, her words spilling out in a rush. “I’ve been so foolish,” she admitted, her voice cracking slightly. “I thought I could brush it off, that it didn’t matter. But I was wrong. So wrong.”

Her fingers twitched against her thighs, her entire body trembling as she spoke. “I’ve learned… that submission isn’t automatic. It’s not something I can take for granted or expect without effort. It’s something I have to give—fully, every day. And I failed to do that, Sir. I failed to value you, to trust you, and to honor what this collar represents.”

Her voice broke, a sob catching in her throat. “I thought I could handle its absence. That it wouldn’t affect me. But it does, Sir. It does more than I ever imagined. Without it… without you, I feel so lost.”

Her head dipped lower, tears spilling over as her breath hitched audibly. “Please, Sir,” she whispered, desperation threading through every syllable. “I don’t deserve it yet, but I want to. I want to earn it back. I’ll do anything. Just… just let me prove myself.”

“Words are easy, Hyunjin,” you said, your tone calm but unyielding. “They don’t mean as much as action.”

Her breath hitched, and she quickly looked up, her wide eyes searching your face for any hint of mercy. “Please, Sir,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I’ll show you. I’ll prove it. Just… please, let me earn it back.”

“You’ve been working hard,” you acknowledged, stepping closer, the collar still in your hands. “But hard work isn’t enough. What makes you think you deserve this again?”

Her lips parted, trembling as she struggled to find the words. “Because I—I know what I lost,” she said finally, her voice trembling. “I know what it means now, Sir. I’ll do anything to earn it back. Please, don’t keep it from me.”

You took another step forward, looming over her. The weight of your presence made her lower her head again, her breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. “Anything?” you asked, your tone steady but sharp. “Because this collar isn’t just about obedience. It’s about trust. Commitment. Do you even understand what those mean?”

“Yes, Sir,” she said quickly, her voice rising in desperation. “I understand now, I swear. I didn’t before, but I do now. Please… let me prove it to you.”

Her hands twitched against her thighs, instinctively wanting to reach for you but staying frozen in place. The room fell silent again, the tension thick as her pleas hung in the air. You stayed quiet, letting her squirm under the weight of your gaze. Her breathing grew more frantic, her fingers curling into fists as her composure began to crack.

“Sir,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I’m begging you. Please… I need it.”

You crouched in front of her, the collar dangling from your fingers. Her eyes locked onto it instantly, her breath catching as if the air had been knocked from her lungs. But you didn’t move to put it on her. Instead, you leaned closer, your voice a low murmur. “Needing it isn’t enough. You’ll have to earn it, Hyunjin. Through action, not words. Can you do that?”

“Yes, Sir,” she said, her voice trembling but resolute. “I’ll do anything. I’ll prove myself.”

“Then keep proving it,” you replied, your tone firm as you straightened again. Her body tensed, and for a moment, she thought you were going to walk away. The thought must have terrified her, because she moved without thinking, her hands clasping around your ankle.

“Please, Sir,” she begged again, her voice raw with emotion. “Please… I’m sorry for taking it for granted. I’ll never do it again, I swear. Just give me a chance.”

You watched her for another long moment, letting her desperation sink in. Finally, you knelt again, holding the collar at eye level. Her eyes widened, hope flickering across her face, but she stayed still, trembling as you leaned in.

“This collar is not just a decoration,” you said, your voice low but deliberate. “It is a gift. A privilege. And for it to stay on, you’ll need to show me that you understand that.”

Her breath hitched as you moved closer, the collar brushing against her neck. Slowly, with deliberate care, you fastened it around her throat. The soft click of the buckle echoed in the room, final and absolute, like a vow being made. Her chest rose sharply as the familiar weight settled back into place, grounding her once again.

Her fingers twitched again, instinctively wanting to reach for it, but she stopped herself. You tilted her chin up with a single finger, your gaze locking onto hers.

“To keep this collar,” you said, your tone soft but firm, “you will face tests. Challenges that show me you’re worthy of wearing it. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips slightly parted, and her wide eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Thank you, Sir. I won’t let you down. I promise.”

You let your hand linger on her chin for a moment longer before releasing her, your gaze steady as you straightened to your full height. Towering over her, your presence filled the space, commanding without a single word. She remained kneeling, her hands resting on her thighs, her posture perfect but trembling slightly as the weight of the moment settled over her.

“Good,” you said, your voice steady, firm. “Because this is your second chance. Don’t waste it.”

She swallowed hard, her breath shallow, her gaze flickering between your face and the collar now secure around her neck. The room seemed to hold its breath, the tension shifting into something heavier, warmer, charged with the quiet promise of something restored.

Slowly, you leaned down, your hand brushing her cheek as your lips met hers. The kiss began tentative, a gentle press of lips, testing the waters of the bond you were rebuilding. But it deepened quickly, fueled by the unspoken emotions of the past week. Her hands, still trembling, reached for your shoulders, clutching at you as though afraid you might pull away.

Your hand found the collar, your fingers curling around the leather as you tugged gently, pulling her closer. The sensation sent a visible shiver down her spine, her breath catching in her throat.

“You’ve missed this, haven’t you?” you murmured against her lips, your voice low and knowing.

“Yes,” she gasped, her voice trembling. “So much, Sir.”

A faint smile played across your lips as your grip on the collar tightened slightly, guiding her as the kiss deepened. The heat between you grew steadily, the air thick with the mingling scents of mint and her rising need. She pressed closer to you, her hands sliding down your chest, fingers clutching at your shirt as if anchoring herself in your presence. Each touch, each movement was an affirmation of the connection you had rebuilt, the trust slowly returning.

Her body leaned into yours instinctively, the energy between you palpable. You pulled back just enough to let her feel the tension lingering in the space between your bodies. Your hand, still curled around the collar, applied the slightest pressure, keeping her gaze locked on yours.

“Then show me ,” you said softly, your voice steady, deliberate.

Her breath hitched, her hands falling back to her thighs as she lowered her gaze slightly, the flush on her cheeks deepening. “Yes, Sir,” she whispered, her voice filled with reverence. The atmosphere between you was electric, charged with anticipation as she prepared to prove herself once more, piece by piece, rebuilding what had been fractured.

Hyunjin nodded, her body visibly tense with anticipation. Her fingers moved with care, unfastening the button on your pants and sliding the zipper down. The soft sound of fabric shifting against the leather chair seemed deafening in the silence. Her breath hitched as she tugged your pants and boxers down, her cheeks flushed as you were exposed to her fully.

Her wide eyes flickered upward, a mix of nervousness and need shining in them as she hesitated for a moment. You didn’t speak, letting her feel the weight of the moment, your hand moving to rest lightly on her head. That gentle guidance was all she needed to lean forward, her lips parting as she placed a soft, tentative kiss at the base of your length. Her warm breath brushed against you as she began, her tongue tracing a slow, deliberate path upward.

Her movements grew more confident as she worked, her lips wrapping around you, taking you deeper with each pass. The soft moans that escaped her vibrated against your skin, the sound sending a jolt of heat through your body. You threaded your fingers into her hair, your grip firm but not harsh, guiding her pace as she moved with increasing fervor.

“Good girl,” you murmured, your voice low and approving. She responded immediately, her pace quickening, her tongue and lips working in perfect harmony. But just as the tension in the room began to build, you tightened your grip in her hair, pulling her back sharply.

“Stop,” you said firmly.

Her lips slipped off you with an audible pop, her eyes snapping up to meet yours, wide and questioning. Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, her hands still resting lightly on your thighs as she froze in place. The sight of her—lips glistening, cheeks flushed, her pupils blown wide with desire—sent a wave of satisfaction through you, but you held your expression steady.

“Look at it,” you commanded, your voice calm but unyielding. “Just look.”

She swallowed hard, her gaze dropping to your length. Her hands twitched against your thighs, her lips parting slightly as she stared, her breathing ragged. The heat between you was palpable, thick in the air as the seconds stretched on.

“Sir,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“Not yet,” you replied, your tone firm. “You’ll wait until I say.”

Her fingers dug slightly into your thighs, her need evident in the way her body shifted, her legs pressing together subtly. The denial was working—her arousal was unmistakable, her lips trembling as she obeyed, her gaze fixed on you.

“Resume,” you said after a long moment, your hand loosening its grip on her hair.

She dove back eagerly, her mouth enveloping you with renewed fervor. Her moans grew louder, more desperate, her movements quicker, more precise. The warmth of her mouth, the slickness of her tongue, and the soft, muffled sounds she made sent sparks of pleasure through you.

Just as her pace became frantic, you tugged on her hair again, pulling her back abruptly. Her head tilted up, her lips red and swollen, her eyes glassy with desperation. A soft whimper escaped her as she looked at you, her need etched into every line of her face.

“Stop,” you said again, your voice sharp.

“Sir,” she whimpered, her voice breaking. “Please.”

You tilted your head slightly, observing her with quiet intensity. “Please, what?”

“Let me continue,” she begged, her voice trembling. “I need to, Sir. I need to.”

Your lips curled into a faint smile as you leaned forward slightly, your thumb brushing over her swollen lower lip. “You’ll wait,” you said, your tone commanding. “Until I’m ready.”

Her body visibly trembled, her arousal spilling over into every movement. Her thighs pressed together tighter, her hands clutching at the fabric of your pants as if anchoring herself. She was desperate, her need growing with every second you held her back.

Finally, you tugged her closer pulling her head down slightly. “Resume,” you said, your voice low and rough.

She whimpered softly, the sound drenched in need, her lips parting as she immediately obeyed. Her mouth found you again, her movements feverish, as if every second away had only amplified her desperation. Her tongue glided along your length with reverence, each flick and swirl precise, her lips sealing around you as her moans vibrated against your skin. Her soft, muffled sounds filled the room, fueling the intensity of the moment. Her submission was complete, every movement a display of her devotion and longing to please.

The tension inside you built higher with every stroke, every delicate movement of her lips, her frantic need feeding your own growing pleasure. Her breath came in quick huffs through her nose as she worked, her hands lightly gripping your thighs for stability. She was utterly lost in the moment, her entire focus on serving you, and it was intoxicating.

With a firm tug on the collar, you pulled her head back once more, her lips slipping off you with a soft, breathy whine of frustration. Her wide, pleading eyes locked onto yours, her need written plainly on her flushed face. Her breaths came in shallow, desperate gasps, her chest rising and falling as she tried to steady herself.

"Strip," you ordered, your voice steady and commanding.

Her trembling hands immediately moved to obey, her fingers fumbling slightly in her haste as she shed her clothes. The fabric slid from her body, pooling on the floor as she stood before you, bare and vulnerable. Her skin glowed in the flickering candlelight, every curve and line of her body laid out for your gaze. She shivered, a mix of anticipation and arousal coursing through her, but she didn’t waver, her eyes cast downward in submission.

“Now, get on the bed,” you said, your tone leaving no room for hesitation. “On all fours.”

She scrambled to comply, her movements quick but deliberate, the urgency in her actions undeniable. The mattress dipped slightly beneath her as she positioned herself, her knees sinking into the plush surface. Her back arched instinctively, her head bowing submissively, her hands gripping the sheets tightly as if anchoring herself. Her breath hitched audibly as you stepped behind her, the leash in your hand taut, its tension a constant reminder of your control.

Reaching for the leash attachment on the bedside table, you let the quiet sound of metal against wood fill the room. Her body tensed at the faint clink, her breath catching as she froze in place, her anticipation palpable. The polished attachment glinted in the candlelight as you clicked it into place on her collar, the sound sharp and commanding. A tremor ran through her as the leash went taut, and you gave it a testing tug, pulling her head back slightly.

“You’ve done well,” you murmured, your free hand trailing over the curve of her spine, feeling the way her body shivered beneath your touch. “But I’m not done testing you yet.”

Her whimper was soft, her voice barely audible over the quiet tension in the room. Her hips shifted instinctively, pressing back slightly, seeking more of your touch as though her body had a will of its own. The leash in your hand grew taut as you pulled her back, her movement halted with deliberate precision. A shiver ran through her, and the small sound that escaped her lips was almost a plea, fragile and raw.

You smirked at her eagerness, letting your hand slide to her hips, gripping them firmly to keep her still. “Desperate already?” you murmured, your tone edged with amusement. The heat of your palm against her skin only heightened the tension, her trembling body betraying the effort it took to remain obedient.

Slowly, you teased her, letting the tip of you brush against her entrance, the barest touch enough to make her tense and gasp. Her thighs quivered, her breath catching audibly as her body trembled with restrained anticipation. Her need was palpable, her entire form aching for more, yet she remained frozen, holding herself steady with a visible effort that only deepened your satisfaction.

“Patience,” you said sharply, your voice slicing through her whimper. The leash tightened slightly, a reminder of your control. “You’ll take what I give you. Nothing more.”

“Yes, Sir,” she whispered, her voice shaky yet obedient, her words punctuated by shallow, unsteady breaths.

You pressed forward just enough to enter her, your movements slow and deliberate, the sensation electric as her body responded instantly. Her muscles clenched tightly around you, a soft, broken cry escaping her lips as her fingers curled into the sheets. Her need was overwhelming, radiating from her trembling frame, yet she didn’t move, her submission absolute even as her desire consumed her.

“Don’t move,” you commanded, your tone low but firm.

“Yes, Sir,” she gasped, her voice filled with effort as she fought to remain still. Her fingers dug deeper into the sheets, her knuckles white as her body vibrated with barely restrained longing. Every breath was a struggle, her soft whimpers growing louder as you stayed motionless, letting the weight of the stillness press down on her.

But then, instinct betrayed her. Her hips shifted ever so slightly, seeking more of you, her desperation winning out for a fleeting moment. The rustle of the leash was sharp as you pulled it taut, her head jerking back as your hand came down sharply on her ass with a loud, resounding smack. She yelped, the sound a mix of pain and pleasure, her body jolting forward even as she froze in realization.

“What did I say?” you growled, your voice low and commanding, the leash a firm tether in your hand.

“Not to move,” she whimpered, her voice trembling with both need and apology.

“Then don’t,” you snapped, your tone sharp, leaving no room for argument.

“Yes, Sir,” she replied quickly, her words laced with desperation as she braced herself, her hands gripping the sheets tighter.

Leaning forward, you pressed in further, filling her slowly, deliberately, her sharp gasp echoing in the room as her body quivered around you. Her whimpers grew louder, her breaths shallow and uneven as her restraint began to unravel. The tension between you was palpable, the air charged with her aching desire and your unyielding control.

Again, she moved—a tiny, involuntary tilt of her hips, but it was enough. Without hesitation, you tugged the leash sharply, pulling her head back as your hand came down on her other cheek with another sharp smack. Her cry was louder this time, her body jolting beneath you as the sting radiated across her skin.

“You’ll wait until I allow it,” you said, your voice a growl. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” she whispered, her voice breaking, her body trembling as she tried to steady herself.

The leash tightened in your hand as you leaned over her, your lips brushing against her ear. “Good girl,” you murmured, the words low and deliberate, sending a shiver down her spine. “Now, let’s see if you can do better.”

You stayed still inside her, savoring the way her body clenched around you, her desperation growing with each passing second. Her soft, broken whimpers filled the room, every sound a testament to her struggle and her need. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the sheets, her entire body trembling with the effort to obey.

When she moved again—a subtle, instinctive tilt of her hips—you didn’t hesitate. The leash tightened sharply, pulling her head back as your hand came down once more with a sharp smack. The sound reverberated through the room, her cry echoing louder, her body jolting before falling still.

“Again?” you growled, your tone low and dangerous. “Have you not learned?”

“I’m sorry, Sir,” she whimpered, her voice cracking, her words tumbling out quickly. “I’ll be good. I’ll be still.”

“Prove it,” you said sharply, your grip on the leash firm, holding her exactly where you wanted her. “Show me you deserve this.”

She nodded frantically, her breaths coming in soft, broken gasps as she fought to hold herself steady. Her body quivered beneath you, every inch of her radiating need, but she didn’t move again. The leash in your hand was a constant reminder of her submission, the tension pulling her further into the moment as her fingers gripped the sheets tightly, her knuckles white.

You pressed into her fully, slow and deliberate, filling her completely. Her sharp gasp echoed in the room, her body instinctively clenching around you as she felt the stretch of you inside her. But you didn’t move. You held her there, buried deep, the weight of the stillness pressing down on her.

“Do you want me to move?” you asked, your voice low, calm, and teasing.

“Yes, Sir,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need. “Please.”

You stayed perfectly still as the tension built between you. Without warning, you twitched inside her, the subtle movement making her entire body jolt. A broken whimper spilled from her lips, her thighs trembling as she clenched around you again, her breath shaky.

“Is that what you wanted?” you asked, your tone almost mocking.

“More,” she whimpered, her voice cracking. “Please, Sir. Give me more.”

Another twitch. Her cry was louder this time, her back arching slightly as the sensation rippled through her. Her hands clutched at the sheets, her entire body quivering with desperation.

“Why should be so generous?” you murmured, your voice calm, almost curious. “Have you earned it?”

“I—I’ll earn it,” she stammered, her words tumbling out in a breathless rush. “Please, Sir, I’ll do anything. I’m sorry. Please.”

You leaned over her slightly, the leash in your hand taut as your free hand slid down her back, your touch soft, teasing. “Anything?” you asked, your lips brushing against her ear.

“Yes,” she gasped, her voice trembling. “Anything.”

Her body tensed as she waited, anticipation written in every trembling muscle. Then, you twitched again, the small, deliberate movement sending another jolt of sensation through her. Her cry was a mix of frustration and arousal, her thighs pressing together as she fought to stay still.

“Please,” she begged, her voice raw and desperate. “Please, Sir, I’ll be good. I won’t move. Just—please.”

Her desire was palpable, her submission complete as body trembled beneath you. You stayed still for a long moment, letting her desperation simmer, the leash pulling her head back slightly as a reminder of your control.

Finally, you pulled back all the way, the cool air brushing between you as her breath hitched, her body trembling with anticipation. Her hands gripped the sheets tighter, her entire form taut, waiting for your next move. Without warning, you thrust into her fully, your entire length filling her in one deliberate motion. A loud cry escaped her lips, raw and unrestrained, her body clenching tightly around you in response. But she stayed completely still, every muscle tense, holding herself in perfect submission despite the overwhelming sensation.

You stayed there, buried deep inside her, your hand trailing down her back in a slow, soothing motion. Her breath came in shallow, ragged gasps, her entire body trembling with the effort to hold herself still. “Good girl,” you murmured, your voice low and warm, laced with pride. “You listened this time.”

“Thank you, Sir,” she whispered, her voice trembling but steady, filled with quiet gratitude. Her submission radiated from every inch of her body, her fingers gripping the sheets so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Slowly, you pulled back again, her breath catching as she braced herself. Then, without warning, you thrust into her a second time, your motion smooth and deliberate, your entire length filling her completely. Her cry was louder this time, her voice breaking as her body clenched around you again. But once more, she didn’t move. She held herself perfectly still, her submission unwavering, her breath shaky as she fought the overwhelming sensations.

The leash in your hand stayed taut, keeping her aligned with your control, her body bent to your will. You leaned forward slightly, your breath warm against the back of her neck as you murmured, “That’s what I wanted to see. You’re doing so well.”

“Thank you, Sir,” she gasped, her voice barely a whisper, trembling with relief and pride.

This time, you began to move, your pace slow and deliberate, the shift a clear and deliberate reward for her obedience. The relief in her voice was almost tangible, her muffled cries spilling out with each thrust, each sound a testament to the weight lifted from her desperation. Her body responded instinctively, perfectly aligned with your rhythm, the curve of her back arching as though offering herself entirely to you.

The leather leash in your hand stayed taut, a constant tether to her submission, its tension drawing her further into the moment. Each measured thrust pressed her hips forward, only for her to press back with a growing urgency, her movements eager yet restrained, still seeking your permission in every motion. The slick heat of her enveloped you completely, her body clinging with a fervent need that made the air between you crackle with intensity.

Her cries grew louder, each sound a mix of pleasure and surrender, her voice rising in raw emotion with every deliberate thrust. Your grip on the leash tightened, and you pulled her head back sharply, eliciting a sharp gasp from her lips. Her neck arched beautifully, her vulnerability on full display as she submitted to the pull of the leather.

In a fluid motion, you wrapped the supple leash around her head, positioning it snugly between her lips. The soft leather pressed firmly into her mouth, transforming her cries into muffled, broken sounds of pleasure and need. The gagged whimpers and desperate breaths filled the room, blending with the rhythmic sound of your movements. Her body trembled beneath you, every shudder and quiver a display of her surrender, her raw need laid bare.

"This," you murmured, your voice low and edged with a commanding roughness as you leaned in, your lips grazing the delicate curve of her ear. "This is who you truly are," you continued, your breath warm against her skin, each word sinking into her like a brand. "Your best self," you whispered, the possessiveness in your tone undeniable, each syllable deliberate, drawing her deeper into the moment. "Completely mine."

Her muffled response was unintelligible but filled with emotion, her entire body reacting to the weight of your claim. Her hands gripped the sheets with white-knuckled intensity, her nails scraping against the fabric as her body buckled beneath the steady, purposeful rhythm you set. The leather pressed into her lips, the tension in the leash anchoring her fully in the moment, as if nothing else in the world existed except your control and her submission.

Her cries reached a fever pitch as you slowed abruptly, pressing deep inside her and holding completely still. The sudden lack of motion made her freeze, her muffled whines of frustration breaking the quiet tension in the room. She clenched around you instinctively, her body desperate for the friction and release that had been so cruelly denied. Her desperation filled the air, thick and electric, as she quivered beneath you.

“You don’t get to cum until I give you permission,” you growled, your voice low and commanding. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” she whimpered, her voice shaky, her words muffled by the leash pressing against her lips. Her hands gripped the sheets tightly, her knuckles white as she fought to obey, every fiber of her being screaming for relief. Her body trembled violently, her thighs quivering as she remained perfectly still, holding herself together only through sheer willpower.

You began to move again, deliberately slow, each thrust measured and purposeful. Her muffled cries grew louder, her hips instinctively pressing back into you, desperate to match your rhythm, to take more of you. But each time her movements matched yours, you slowed again, the leash taut in your hand a constant reminder of her place.

"Patience," you said sharply, landing a firm slap on her ass. The sound echoed in the room, followed by a sharp gasp as she jolted slightly under your touch. Her body trembled, the sting blooming across her skin as a mix of pain and pleasure heightened her arousal.

You smirked at her reaction and spanked her again, your hand coming down with enough force to draw a muffled cry from her lips. Her muscles tightened around you, her body reacting instinctively as her breath hitched. “You take what I give you, nothing more, nothing less” you ordered, your voice a low growl. 

She nodded frantically, her breaths ragged as her body trembled with the effort to obey. Her submission sent a thrill through you, and you rewarded her with another deliberate spank, your palm landing squarely on her other cheek. Her cry was louder this time, her body jolting forward as the sensation spread through her.

“Good girl,” you murmured, your tone approving but firm. “I can feel how much you want it. Is this all it takes to make you fall apart?”

Her muffled cries grew more frantic as you thrust into her again, slow but deep, her body tensing with every motion. The deliberate pace was maddening, designed to keep her on edge without letting her tip over. You spanked her once more, the sound of the impact followed by a sharp whimper that was pure need.

Then, leaning over her, you tugged the leash tighter, tilting her head back. Your breath was warm against her ear as you growled, “Where do you deserve my cum?”

Her muffled response was immediate, frantic. “Inside, Sir,” she gasped, her voice trembling as her hips instinctively pressed back against you. “Please, Sir, inside. Fill me.”

You smirked, leaning closer, your voice low and teasing as you asked, “Do you think you’ve earned that?”

“Yes, Sir,” she whimpered, her voice cracking with desperation. “I’ll be good—I’ll do anything. Please, Sir, I need it.”

You spanked her again, the sharp smack drawing a broken cry from her lips. Her body jolted, her thighs trembling as she clenched tightly around you. “Then beg for it,” you commanded, your voice thick with authority.

“Please, Sir,” she sobbed, her voice trembling with emotion as she broke completely. “Please let me have it. I’ll do anything—I’m yours. Please let me feel it.”

Tightening your grip on the leash, you thrust into her slowly, deeply, savoring the way her body trembled beneath you. “Good girl,” you murmured, your voice a low rumble against her ear. “You’ve earned it.”

Your pace quickened, each thrust deliberate and deep as the tension between you reached its peak. Her muffled cries turned to sobs of relief and pleasure, her body responding instinctively as she gave herself over completely. The connection between you was electric, her submission feeding your control as the leash stayed taut in your hand, keeping her exactly where you wanted her.

Leaning closer, your voice dropping to a low growl. “Who do you belong to?” you demanded, the authority in your tone leaving no room for hesitation.

“You, Sir,” she gasped, her voice trembling but resolute, her entire body arching under your control.

You thrust harder, making her cry out as you repeated, “Say it again.”

“You, Sir! Only you!” she sobbed, her voice raw with submission as her body shuddered.

"Good," you murmured, your voice thick with satisfaction as you leaned in closer, tightening your grip on the leash-turned-gag. The leather pressed snugly between her lips, muffling her cries as her body quivered beneath you. "Never forget it."

You didn’t give her time to respond. Your hips began to move with unrelenting purpose, each thrust harder and deeper than the last. The room was filled with the rhythmic sound of your movements and her muffled cries, raw and desperate, vibrating through the leather gag. Her body arched beneath you, trembling with the effort to hold herself steady, her fingers clutching the sheets so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Her thighs quivered as she clenched around you, her body reacting instinctively to your relentless pace. Each sharp motion drew another muffled moan from her lips, her cries growing higher, more frantic, as her body teetered closer to the edge. The leash stayed taut in your hand, pulling her head back just enough to keep her perfectly aligned to your will.

Her entire form shook beneath you, her body taut with tension as the heat between you built to a fever pitch. Her muffled sounds became a pleading melody, her desperation spilling out with every motion as her submission deepened. You could feel the way she clenched tighter, her body begging for permission even without words, every inch of her crying out for release.

You pulled the leash back, the leather taut between your fingers, leaning into her ear as your voice dropped to a sharp, commanding growl. “Now. Cum for me.”

Her release was immediate, her body convulsing beneath you as a muffled scream tore from her lips, raw and unrestrained. Her walls clenched tightly around you, the intensity of her climax gripping you like a vice, pulling a guttural groan from your throat. Her limbs shook uncontrollably, her strength failing as her muscles gave out. Her body became weightless against the collar, her submission leaving her completely at your mercy.

The leash in your hand became a lifeline, pulling her back as her head tilted, her breath hitching in sobbing gasps. Each wave of her release rolled through her, leaving her trembling and arching into you, her body unable to do anything but feel. Her fingers clawed weakly at the sheets before falling away entirely, her arms limp, her legs shaking so violently they could no longer support her weight.

You didn’t let up, your thrusts deep and deliberate, each motion designed to draw every ounce of her climax from her quivering body. Her walls pulsed around you, the sensation almost too much as she squeezed tighter with every tremor, her body desperately holding onto you. The heat of her, the way her back arched instinctively, and the desperate, muffled cries that spilled from her lips pushed you closer to the edge.

“That’s it,” you growled, your voice low and rough, satisfaction lacing every word as her sobs softened, her trembling body still clenched tightly around you. Leaning over her, your breath brushed her ear, sending a shiver through her overstimulated form. “Take it all.”

Her submission fueled your own release, the way she surrendered entirely to the moment, her body collapsing beneath you. You thrust into her one final time, burying yourself as deep as possible as the pleasure surged through you, your groan low and primal as your release hit. The sensation of filling her completely, the warmth of it spreading between you, sent another shockwave through her. Her body tensed again, her climax reigniting in perfect rhythm with yours, her walls tightening and pulsing as if to draw every drop from you.

Her muffled cries broke into breathless sobs, her body trembling violently as the overwhelming sensation left her utterly undone. The collar pressed firmly against her neck, grounding her even as her limbs refused to obey her, her submission total. Each pulse of your release seemed to extend her own, the shared intensity forging a connection so powerful it felt as though the air around you crackled with it.

As the last tremors of your climax subsided, you stayed buried inside her, the weight of your body pressing her into the mattress. The leash remained taut in your hand, a steady reminder of her surrender, the collar snug against her flushed skin. Her body slowly relaxed, her trembling subsiding into soft, uneven breaths, her whimpers barely audible as her submission became absolute.

You leaned down, your lips brushing softly against the back of her neck, your breath warm and soothing as it ghosted over her flushed skin. “Good girl,” you murmured, your voice low and filled with satisfaction. “You took it so well.” The heat between you lingered, a tangible reminder of the bond you had just reaffirmed, the connection pulsing in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

Her voice was a trembling whisper, filled with gratitude and exhaustion. “Thank you, Sir.”

You loosened your grip on the leash slightly, one hand sliding soothingly along her back as her breathing steadied. The quiet weight of the shared moment settled over both of you, a tangible understanding of control, devotion, and the bond that held you together. Her body relaxed beneath you, pliant and trusting, the tension of the night ebbing away.

As you moved to release the binding and settle beside her, she surprised you. Slowly, shakily, she pushed herself up, her limbs trembling with effort, and turned to face you. Her knees met the floor, her movements reverent despite her exhaustion. She knelt there, her gaze steady but soft, shining with unspoken emotion as she clasped her hands lightly in front of her.

“Thank you, Sir,” she said, her voice wavering but firm, her head bowing slightly in deference. “Thank you for giving me another chance. I promise I’ll never take it for granted again.”

The sincerity in her tone struck something deep within you, her submission layered with gratitude and determination. You reached out, cupping her face gently in your hand, tilting her chin so her eyes met yours. For a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of you, the depth of her devotion reflected back in her gaze.

“I believe you,” you said softly, your thumb brushing over her cheek as her eyes glistened with unspoken emotion. “And I’ll hold you to that promise.”

The connection between you was palpable, the quiet intimacy of the moment settling like a balm over the intensity of everything that had come before. As she knelt there, a renewed sense of trust and devotion radiating from her, you felt the unbreakable bond between you solidify once more.

You reached down, your fingers brushing lightly against her chin as you guided her off her knees. Her body moved with a hesitant grace, her legs trembling slightly from the intensity of the moment. She followed your lead without question, her wide eyes flicking up to meet yours, silently searching for reassurance as you helped her onto the bed. The mattress dipped beneath her weight as she settled, her hands clutching the sheets tightly, knuckles whitening as though anchoring herself.

When you reached toward the collar around her neck, her breath hitched audibly, her entire body going rigid beneath your touch. “Sir…” she whispered, her voice trembling with uncertainty. “Please… don’t take it off. I’ll do better, I promise.”

Her plea was laced with desperation, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths as her gaze darted between your hands and your face, searching for any hint of mercy. A small, involuntary shiver ran through her, and her fingers twitched against the sheets, her need to hold onto the collar palpable.

You paused deliberately, your hand still resting against the cool leather. Leaning closer, you met her panicked gaze, your voice calm but firm, the tone leaving no room for argument. “This isn’t punishment,” you said, your breath warm as it ghosted over her cheek. “You’ve earned it back, but I need to take care of you first.”

The words hung in the air, steady and unyielding, and her resolve cracked just slightly. She nodded, swallowing hard, the submission in her posture softening into trust as she tilted her head, baring her neck for you. Even as she complied, her lips parted as though she wanted to speak again, but no words came. Her breathing quickened as the soft click of the buckle echoed in the room, impossibly loud against the quiet backdrop. You slipped the collar off carefully, her skin faintly red where the leather had rested. The collar felt heavier in your hand than usual as you set it on the bedside table, its presence a silent promise.

Her gaze followed the collar until it was out of sight, her trembling form still taut with unspoken emotion. Before she could voice any of it, you leaned in, your lips brushing against the now-bare skin of her neck. The first kiss was featherlight, your breath warm and soothing against her flushed skin, a deliberate reassurance. Her body shivered beneath you, a soft, involuntary sound escaping her lips as you began to trail kisses along the delicate curve of her neck.

Each kiss was purposeful, slow and deliberate, leaving a path of heat in their wake. You felt her breath catch, the tension in her shoulders melting under the tender press of your lips. When you reached the sensitive spot beneath her ear, you lingered, your teeth grazing her skin gently before sucking just enough to leave a faint mark. Her gasp was sharp, her hands tightening their grip on the sheets as a visible shudder ran through her.

“These,” you murmured against her skin, your voice low and possessive, “will be your substitute until tomorrow. A reminder of who you belong to.”

“Yes, Sir,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, trembling with emotion. Her body sank deeper into the bed as you continued, your mouth leaving faint marks that dotted her neck like a constellation of your claim. Each kiss was deliberate, your teeth grazing her skin just enough to send another wave of sensation coursing through her. By the time you finished, her breaths were shallow, her body completely relaxed, her submission absolute.

Satisfied, you reached for the lotion on the bedside table, the faint scent of vanilla filling the air as you warmed it between your palms. “Lift your chin,” you instructed gently, your tone soft but commanding. She obeyed instantly, her head tilting back to expose the expanse of her neck, her trust in you evident in the way she remained perfectly still.

The cool lotion met her heated skin, and she shivered under your touch, the contrast heightening her awareness of the care you were giving her. Your fingers moved slowly, deliberately, smoothing the lotion over the faint redness left by the collar. Each stroke was tender, soothing, a tactile affirmation of her worth and your devotion.

When you finished, you leaned in one last time, pressing a soft kiss to the base of her neck. “Tomorrow,” you promised, your voice steady, carrying the weight of your conviction. “You’ll wear it again.”

Her voice broke slightly as she whispered, “Thank you, Sir.”

You stayed close, your hands resting lightly on her shoulders as her breathing steadied. The room settled into a quiet hum of intimacy, the bond between you unspoken but profound. The collar rested nearby, waiting for its return, but the marks you left on her skin and the care you had shown were enough to remind her of everything she had earned.

[gilbertscurls]

More ➵ Matt Sturniolo

warnings: SMUT, sub!matt, unprotected p in v, praise and degradation kink (?), use of good boy, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, edging, choking, pet names (baby, sweetheart, etc.)

The late afternoon sun filtered through the curtains, casting a soft, golden glow over the room. You lay sprawled comfortably across Matt, your head resting on his chest as the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulled you into a sense of calm. The warmth of his body under yours was familiar and comforting, a sensation you craved after long days of classes and work.

Your fingers absentmindedly traced along the neckline of his t-shirt, brushing against his skin with feather-light touches. You could feel him tense slightly under you. Still, you didn’t think much of it, content to let your mind wander as you continued to trail your fingertips along the edge of his collarbone and up to his throat.

Matt’s breathing hitched, almost imperceptibly, but you caught it. You lifted your head slightly to glance up at him, a playful smile tugging at your lips. His eyes were half-lidded, his lips parted just enough for you to notice how his breath had quickened.

“You okay?” you teased softly, your fingers still tracing the delicate line of his throat, the pulse beneath your touch growing quicker.

Matt swallowed hard, his hands shifting to rest on your waist, as if grounding himself. “Yeah,” he breathed, but there was a tension in his voice you couldn’t miss.

You tilted your head, your smile turning mischievous as you shifted your weight slightly, the movement making Matt exhale sharply. “Are you sure?” you murmured, your fingers now trailing lower, over his collarbone and back to the base of his throat.

His hands tightened on your waist, and the way he looked at you—eyes filled with heat—sent a thrill through you. "Baby," he muttered, his voice strained.

Your lips curled into a knowing smile as you leaned down, your breath ghosting over his ear. "I think I know what's happening here," you whispered, pressing just a bit closer to him, feeling the tension radiating from him, his body betraying what his words wouldn’t.

You grinned, your fingertips lingering just a moment longer on his throat, feeling the racing pulse beneath them.

Matt felt a shiver run down his spine as your hand gently pressed against his neck, and he felt the firm pressure of your thumb against his Adam’s apple. He let out a gasp, feeling a mixture of surprise and excitement.

“Whoa,” he muttered, his voice shaky. “Easy there, sweetheart. You’re playing a dangerous game.”

He looked up at you, and the sight of you on top of him, your body pressed against his, and your hand on his throat was making his heart race. He knew you weren’t going to actually hurt him, but the dominating gesture was turning him on in a way he hadn’t expected.

“Be a good boy for me and don’t move so much,” you mumbled, resting your head on his chest, but keeping your hand on his throat.

Matt felt a wave of unexpected pleasure wash over him at your domination, and his breathing got a little heavier. He was surprised by how much he was enjoying this little game of yours, feeling a strange mixture of excitement and submission.

“Yes, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice a little breathless. “I’ll be a good boy for you. I won’t move.”

He couldn’t believe how this simple act of you asserting your dominance was affecting him. It was like a switch had been flipped in his brain, and he was suddenly more turned on than he had expected. He let himself surrender to your control, his body feeling warm and alive beneath your touch.

You looked up at him in disbelief. “Don’t tell me you’re into it.”

Matt felt a blush spread across his cheeks at his incredulous tone. He hadn’t expected you to figure out that he was enjoying this type of behavior. He swallowed hard, trying to regain his composure.

“No,” he protested, trying to sound convincing. “I don’t… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Your dick is digging into my thigh, Matthew.”

His face turned an even deeper shade of red as you called him out on his current predicament. He couldn’t deny that your dominating behavior was having a rather physical effect on him, and he was starting to feel a little embarrassed.

“Uh… I, um…” he muttered incoherently, still trying to come up with a decent excuse.

“Uh… Um…” you mocked him. “Speak up.”

Matt felt a wave of embarrassment but also a thrill from your mockery. He took a deep breath and swallowed, mustering up the courage to speak up.

“Okay, fine,” he admitted, his voice shaky. “I… I am enjoying this. A lot.”

„Mm, I can feel that,” you teased. “What, you like to be bossed around and degraded?”

Matt let out a small involuntary moan as you teased him, his body reacting to your words in a way he couldn’t control. He felt another wave of embarrassment wash over him, but he knew he couldn’t deny the truth.

“Y-yes,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I… I do like it when you’re in control. When you boss me around and… Degrade me a little.

You pouted. “My little Matty is getting so worked up from just that?”

He felt a mixture of embarrassment and arousal when you used that nickname. It was demeaning, but also somehow endearing coming from you. He felt himself harden even more under your body, his desire growing stronger by the second.

“Y-yes,” he admitted, his voice breathless. “God, yes, I’m so worked up right now. Just from you being on top of me like this, and your hand on my throat. I like feeling dominated by you.”

He looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and embarrassment. He felt a little vulnerable, telling you these things, but at the same time, he trusted you completely.

You kept tracing your fingertips along the side of his sensitive skin. “So responsive for me…”

Matt shivered as he felt your touch, the sensation making his body feel even more alive. He let out a soft gasp, his breathing getting heavier as he responded to your touch.

“Y-yes, so responsive,” he mumbled, his voice shaky. “For you, only for you. You have no idea what you do to me.”

“Yeah?” you murmured. “Tell me, what would you like from me, baby?”

Matt’s heart raced at the sound of your sultry voice, and he felt his body respond even more strongly to you. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his breathing and collect his thoughts.

“I… I want you,” he admitted, his voice quivering with desire. “I want you to take control. I want you to do whatever you want with me. I’m yours, sweetheart. I’ll do anything for you.”

“All mine,” you repeated, gently squeezing his cheeks with one hand. “You’ll do anything… So pathetic, baby…”

Matt felt a mix of shame and excitement at your words, a combination that only served to arouse him even more. He couldn’t believe that he was enjoying being degraded like this, but something about the way you were talking to him was making his body feel a type of pleasure he’d never experienced before.

“Yes, anything,” he panted, his voice needy. “I’m your pathetic little baby. I’ll do anything you say, sweetheart. I’m all yours.”

He looked up at you with pleading eyes, his face flushed with desire. He wanted more, he wanted you to take control and do with him what you pleased.

You moved your face to be even closer to his. “You want to be my good boy, baby?”

He felt a shiver run down his spine, your face just millimeters away. He nodded eagerly, his breathing shallow and shaky.

“Yes,” he breathed. “Yes, I want to be your good boy, sweetheart. I’ll do anything to make you feel good. Please, make me your good boy.”

You smiled at his eagerness and looked at him almost affectionately.

“I know you will, baby,” you purred. “I know you'll be my good boy, because you're so desperate to please me. Aren't you, my little pathetic baby?”

Matt felt another wave of shame mixed with arousal at your words, his body responding to your degrading tone. He nodded quickly, feeling a sense of submission wash over him.

“Yes, I am,” he panted. “I'm your desperate, pathetic little baby. I'll do anything to please you, sweetheart. Please, just tell me what to do. I'm desperate for you.”

“I want to hear you,” you purred, your lips trailing a path from his jaw to his neck, along the carotid.

Matt felt a shiver run down his spine as your lips touched his neck, trailing soft kisses along his sensitive skin. Your words and your touch sent tremors through his body, and he felt a surge of intense need and desire.

“You want to hear me?” he repeated, his voice choked with desire. “H-how? What should I say, sweetheart?”

“I want to hear how good I'm making you feel,” you explained in a low tone. “Every. Single. Moan.”

Matt let out a soft gasp as he heard your demand. He felt a mixture of excitement and shyness at the thought of being so vulnerable and open with you about how you were making him feel. But he wanted to please you, and he knew you wouldn't accept any less than complete honesty.

“Y-yes, sweetheart,” he panted, his voice quivering. “Every moan, every single one. You're making me feel so good, so incredibly good. I can't even think straight.”

“Good boy,” you praised him with a smirk, your hands tantalizingly slipping under the hem of his shirt.

Matt felt another shiver run down his spine, the thrill of pleasing you making his body tingle from head to toe. He gasped softly as he felt your hands slip under the hem of his shirt, your touch alone sending waves of pleasure through his body.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice breathless. “I want to be your good boy, sweetheart. I want to do everything you say. Please, touch me, touch me more.”

You tugged at the hem of his cropped pink shirt with a teddy bear on it. “And you chose this shirt today… So cropped, so pretty… Almost like you wanted to tease me.” You made a quiet tsk sound. “Do you know what you are?”

Matt felt a mix of embarrassment and excitement at your teasing tone, your words making his heart race even faster. He knew you were right, he had chosen this particular shirt because it was a little more revealing than his usual attire, and he had hoped it would get a reaction out of you.

“I… I am what, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice slightly shaky. He knew what you were getting at, but he wanted you to say it.

“You're a slut, baby,” you purred, sliding your hands down his sides. “Such a slutty waist, all in view…”

Matt felt another shiver run down his spine as he heard your dirty words, your hands on his sides making his body feel alive with desire. He moaned softly at your touch, and he couldn't deny the truth behind your words. He was your little slut, wanting to please you in any way he could.

“Y-yes, I'm your slutty little baby,” he panted, his voice filled with need. “I picked this shirt for you, just to show off my body for you. I wanted to be your little tease.”

“Such a naughty boy, teasing me like that…” you murmured, grabbing his chin in your hand.

Matt felt a thrill of excitement as you grabbed his chin, his breath catching in his throat at your touch. He knew he was being naughty, but he couldn't help it. He wanted your attention, he craved it. He looked up at you with pleading eyes, desperate to be your good boy.

“I'm sorry, sweetheart,” he gasped. “I just wanted to get your attention. I wanted to be your naughty little boy.”

You ran your fingertips over the text on the shirt that said I need a kiss. “Mm, I don't think you deserved it.”

Matt felt a pang of disappointment at your words, his eyes widening in surprise. He had hoped that his choice of shirt would sway you, but you were denying him what he wanted. He pouted slightly, his voice pleading.

“N-no? But I… I just wanted a kiss, sweetheart,” he whined, his voice needy. “I was being naughty, but I was doing it for you... Please, please I need you to kiss me.”

“Do you think you deserved it?” You raised an eyebrow.

Matt felt a wave of shame wash over him as you questioned his worthiness of your kiss, but he knew deep down that he didn't. He was being naughty, and he hadn't done anything to deserve your affection. He lowered his head, his voice shaky and submissive.

“No… I don't deserve it,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I've been a bad boy, sweetheart. I've been teasing you, and I know I don't deserve your kiss. But… But I want it so badly.”

You smirked at his admission, loving how submissive and obedient he was being. You knew he wanted your kiss so badly, but you also knew you had to teach him a lesson. You continued to run your fingertips over the text of his shirt, teasing him with the prospect of what he couldn't have.

“You want it, baby?” you murmured, your voice low and sultry. “You want me to give you that kiss? Show me how much you want it.”

Matt felt a mixture of embarrassment and desperation as you continued to tease him with the prospect of a kiss he so badly craved. He wanted to show you how much he wanted it, how much he needed it. He looked up at you with pleading eyes, his voice desperate.

“Please… Please, sweetheart,” he panted, his voice shaking with need. “I want it so badly. I'll do anything, anything you want. Just… Just please give me a kiss. I can't take any more of this torture.”

His words seemed to have the desired effect, as your smirk widened, knowing you had him right where you wanted him. You looked at him with a mix of desire and satisfaction, still gently tracing your fingers over his body. You enjoyed seeing him desperate and pleading for your kiss, knowing how much power you held over him in that moment.

“Anything, huh?” you repeated, your voice sultry. “Anything to get my kiss?”

Matt nodded eagerly at your question, his desperation growing even more intense. He would do anything, anything at all to feel your soft lips on his. He looked up at you with pleading eyes, his voice dripping with desire.

“Anything, sweetheart,” he repeated. “Anything at all. Just tell me what to do, and I'll do it. I just… I just want to feel your kiss so badly. I need it, please.”

You enjoyed seeing him so desperate, his pleading voice and pleading eyes making you feel even more powerful. You could feel the control you had over him, and you loved it. You continued to trace your fingertips over his skin, enjoying the way he shivered at your touch.

“Then show me, baby,” you commanded. “Show me how badly you want it. Beg me for it, like the needy little baby you are.”

Matt blushed deeply at your command, his heart racing at the thought of begging you for a kiss. But he was so desperate, so in need of your affection, that he didn't care if it made him look pathetic. He took a deep breath and looked up at you, his voice desperate and pleading.

“Please… Please, sweetheart, I'll beg if you want me to,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “I want your kiss so badly. I need it, I need to feel your lips on mine. Please, please, don't tease me anymore, I can't take it.”

You felt a surge of pleasure at his desperate plea, his voice pleading and submissive. You enjoyed seeing him degrade himself to get what he wanted. You looked at him with a smirk, reveling in the power you had over him.

“Good boy,” you cooed, your voice almost affectionate. “Keep begging, baby. Make me believe you want it more than anything.”

Matt felt another shiver run down his spine as you called him a good boy, the praise making him feel pathetic and lowly, but also incredibly desired. He looked up at you with pleading eyes, his voice growing more desperate and shaky.

“Please… I'll do anything, I'll be your good boy, your loyal little boy… I just want your kiss, please sweetheart. I need to feel your lips on mine, I need to feel your love. Please, I'll do anything, just let me have your kiss. I can't take it anymore. Please, please, please.”

You were loving every second of this, watching as he continued to beg and plead for your affection. You could tell how desperate and needy he was, and it fueled your power over him.

“You're so pretty when you're desperate, baby,” you purred. “You'll do anything for my kiss, won't you? Anything I ask of you, just to feel my lips on yours?”

Matt nodded eagerly, his voice almost a whine as he continued to beg you.

“Yes, yes, I'll do anything, I swear. Just please, please let me have your kiss. I'll be your good boy, your loyal boy, your everything. Whatever you want me to do, I'll do it, just please, just give me your lips. I'm begging you, darling, I need it so badly. I need your love, your touch, your kiss. Pleaseeee.”

Finally, you couldn't resist his desperate pleas any longer. You looked at him with a mixture of desire and affection, your own need matching his. You leaned in close to him, your voice sultry and seductive.

“Alright, baby… Since you begged me so nicely, I suppose I'll give you what you want.”

You placed a gentle hand on his chin, tilting his face up towards yours, and then pressed your soft, full lips against his in a deep, passionate kiss.

Matt felt a wave of relief and excitement wash over him as you finally gave in to his pleas and kissed him. He melted into your touch, his body responding to your kiss with eagerness and desire. He let out a soft moan against your lips, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer to him.

He could feel all of his pent-up need and desire release in that single kiss, and he wanted more, so much more.

You deepened the kiss, your tongue gently parting his lips and exploring his mouth. You could taste his desperate need, and it fueled your own desire. You slid your hand up to the back of his neck, holding him close as you continued to kiss him with passion and hunger.

You could feel his body pressing up against yours, his arms holding you tightly, and you loved knowing how badly he wanted you, how much he was craving your touch.

Matt was drowning in the sensation of your kiss, drowning in the feeling of your tongue in his mouth, your hand on the back of his neck, your body pressed against his. He couldn't get enough, he needed more, he needed all of you.

He let out a soft moan, his mouth moving feverishly against yours, his tongue dancing with yours. He was completely lost in you, his need for you growing more intense with each passing second.

You fixed your position on top of him, your hands running up and down his sides, as you continued to kiss him, almost pinning his body to the bed.

Matt felt his body shiver at the feeling of your hands on his sides, his arms tightening around you in response. He was almost completely submissive under you, letting you take control and do whatever you wanted to him. He let out another moan, his breath catching in his throat, as you deepened the kiss and pushed his body further into the bed.

He was completely at your mercy, completely vulnerable and exposed, and he loved every second of it.

“How badly do you want me, baby?” you asked teasingly.

Matt was practically trembling with desire, his body on fire with need. Your words only fueled his desire even more. He looked up at you with pleading eyes, his voice almost desperate.

“So badly… So badly," he gasped, his voice shaking with need. “I want you so badly, sweetheart. I need you, I need all of you. I'll do anything you want, anything at all, just please… Please.”

“Please, what, sweetheart?”

Matt was almost losing his mind with how badly he wanted you, his body aching for your touch and attention. Your question only served to make him even more desperate and needy.

“Please… Please, touch me, kiss me, do whatever you want to me,” he pleaded, his voice shaking with need. “I'll do anything you ask me to, I'll be your good boy, just please… Please, give me your love, your attention, your touch. I need it, I need you so badly.”

You felt a thrill of excitement run through you at his pleading words, your power over him making you feel even more seductive. You ran your hands over his chest, feeling the heat and desire radiating off of him.

“You're so needy today, baby,” you teased, your voice sultry. “You want me that badly, huh? You'll do anything for me?”

Matt nodded eagerly, his eyes fixed on your face, his body squirming under your touch. He would do anything, he was desperately, completely at your mercy.

“Yes… Yes, I'm needy, I'm your needy baby,” he managed to gasp out, his voice shaky with desire. “I'll do anything you ask, anything at all, I swear. Just please... please touch me, kiss me, give me your attention. I'll be so good for you, I promise, I'll be your good boy.”

“Mm…” you hummed, running your hand over the teddy bear on his shirt. “Think it'll stay on, don't you think? Since you love to tease me with it so much…”

Matt felt a shiver of excitement run through him at your words, his body growing even harder at the thought of you taking off his shirt. He met your gaze with a mix of need and desire, his voice shaky and trembling.

“Y-yes, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice catching in his throat. “Yes, it'll stay on. Just for you, just to tease you. I can be your good boy and keep it on, if that's what you want.”

You smirked at his reply, enjoying the effect you had on him. You ran your hand down over his abs, feeling the muscles tensing under your touch. You leaned in close to him, your lips millimeters away from his ear.

“Oh, I know you'll keep it on, baby. You like being my good boy, don't you? You like being my obedient little slave, hmm?”

Matt nodded eagerly, his body practically quivering with need and desire. He loved being your good boy, your obedient little slave, submitting to your every command. He was completely under your control, and he loved every second of it.

“Yes… Yes, I love being your good boy, sweetheart,” he gasped, his voice thick with desire. “I'll be whatever you want me to, whatever you ask of me. I'm yours, completely yours.”

“Such pretty words…” you mused softly, your hand gently trailing a path from his chest down.

Matt shivered underneath your touch, his body yearning for more of you. His eyes were glued to your hand as it teased its way down his chest, the anticipation driving him wild.

He let out a soft gasp as your hand reached his stomach, his body arching up slightly in response to the pleasure your touch was giving him.

You smiled as you watched him react to your touch, your hand continuing its slow, teasing journey down his body. You could feel his muscles tensing and his breathing growing more ragged as you neared the waistband of his pants.

“You're so sensitive, baby,” you whispered, your voice dripping with a sultry tone. “You love it when I touch you, don't you? You love being my good boy, my toy.”

Matt nodded eagerly, his body practically aching for more of your touch. He loved being your toy, your good boy, completely and utterly under your control. He wanted you so badly, he needed you so much.

“Yes… Yes, I love it, I love it so much,” he gasped, his voice thick with need. “Please, sweetheart, please touch me more. I'll do anything, just please, touch me more.”

You smirked, your hand finally touching him through the fabric of his plaid pajama pants, and you raised an eyebrow. “No underwear either, huh?”

Matt let out a soft moan as your hand touched him, his body arching up to meet your touch. He shook his head, his voice trembling with need and desire.

“N-no… N-no underwear,” he gasped, his heart racing. “I wanted to be good for you, sweetheart. I didn't want any barriers between us.”

Your smirk widened, enjoying the effect you were having on him. You liked that he had gone out of his way to be good for you, that he had done this just to please you.

“That's a good boy,” you purred, your hand stroking him gently through the fabric, your touch driving him wild. “You wanted to be completely naked for me, didn't you? You wanted nothing to get in the way of my touch?”

Matt nodded eagerly, his body quivering with pleasure at your touch. He wanted nothing more than for you to touch him, to feel your skin against his.

“Yes… Yes, sweetheart, I wanted nothing in the way. I wanted to be bare for you, completely open and vulnerable. I want nothing more than for you to touch me, to feel your skin against mine. I need it, I need you so badly.”

You tugged at the waistband of his pants, and Matt let out a gasp as his member sprung free from the confinement of his pants, his body reacting instinctively to your touch. He was completely at your mercy, vulnerable and open to your touch. His heart was racing, his body yearning for more of your touch.

“Sweetheart… Please… Please, touch me…” he pleaded, his voice shaky and trembling with need. “I need you…”

You smirked at his desperate plea, enjoying the power you had over him. You loved hearing him beg and plead, knowing that he was completely at your mercy, completely vulnerable to your touch.

“Oh, but I am touching you, baby,” you replied, your hand continuing to gently stroke and tease him. “But you're so needy today, aren't you? You want more than just my hand, don't you?”

Matt nodded eagerly, his body quivering with need and pleasure at your touch. Your hand felt incredible, but he wanted more, he needed more. He wanted all of you, he wanted to feel your body against his.

“Yes… Yes, I do, sweetheart,” he gasped, his voice thick with need. “I want more. I want all of you. I want to feel your skin against mine, I want to feel your body against mine. Please… Please, I need it so badly.”

“Begging so nicely for me…” you purred, moving down to straddle his hips.

Matt felt a shiver of excitement run through him as you straddled his hips, your body pressed against his, your touch driving him wild with desire. He looked up at you with pleading eyes, his voice full of need and vulnerability.

“Please… Please, sweetheart,” he begged, his voice shaking. “I need you so badly. I need to feel your skin against mine, I need to feel you all around me. Please… Please, give me what I want, what I need so badly.”

Your smirk widened, enjoying his begging and pleading. It was so satisfying to see him completely at your mercy, completely vulnerable to your touch and attention.

“Such pretty words, baby,” you purred, your body moving against his slowly, teasingly. “You're such a good boy, begging so nicely for me. And good boys get rewarded, don't they?”

Matt's body reacted instinctively to your touch, his hips moving against yours as he ached for more of you. Your words were like a fire in his veins, fueling his need and desire even more. He nodded eagerly in response to your question, his voice shaky and pleading.

“Yes… Yes, I'm a good boy… I'm your good boy,” he gasped. “Please… Please, give me my reward, sweetheart. I want it so badly. I need to feel you, please, please, please…”

You smiled, your body still moving against his slowly, your touch teasing and torturous. Seeing him so desperate and needy was incredibly satisfying, and you were enjoying every second of it.

“You want your reward, do you?” you murmured, your voice dripping with seductive tone. “You want to feel me all around you, is that it?”

Matt nodded eagerly, his body quivering with need and anticipation. He wanted to feel you, to be completely enveloped by you. Your touch was driving him wild, his body responding instinctively to your every movement. He looked up at you with pleading eyes, his voice full of need and desire.

“Yes… Yes, that's what I want. I want to feel you all around me. I want to be completely enveloped by you, to feel your skin against mine, to be touched and loved by you.”

You smiled at his words, his eagerness and desperation fueling your own desire. You liked seeing him so needy and submissive, completely at your mercy. You leaned down, your body pressing against his, your breath warm against his ear.

“You're such a good boy, aren't you?” you whispered, your voice soft and sultry. “So desperate and needy for me. You want me, you need me, don't you?”

You hovered above him, sliding your panties to the side, and positioning him right by your entrance. Matt gasped at the sudden sensation of your skin against his, his body responding eagerly to your touch. He could feel your heat, your wetness, and it sent a wave of desire through him. His heart was racing, his breathing ragged and heavy.

“Sweetheart… Please…” he pleaded, his voice thick with need. “I want you so badly, I need you. I need to feel you, please…”

You smiled at his needy plea, enjoying the power you had over him. You loved seeing him do desperate and submissive, completely at your mercy. “Yeah? What do you need, my good boy?”

Matt whimpered at your words, his body tensing as he tried to hold back. Your words were like a match to kindling, setting him ablaze. “Baby… I need… I need to be inside you. I need to fill you up, please… Please, let me have you…”

“Begging so nicely,” you praised him.

Matt’s grip on you tightened as he felt you slowly sink down on him, your warmth enveloping him. His breaths came in short pants, his chest heaving as he tried to maintain control. “Oh, God… Baby… It’s so good… Please… Move, please, move…”

Matt’s words dissolved into a string of curses and pleas as you began to move, your hips rolling against him in a slow, torturous rhythm. He could feel every inch of you, you walls squeezing him, milking him for all he was worth. “Fuck, fuck, fuck… Baby, please…”

“What do you need, sweetheart?” you teased, resting your hands on his chest, still covered by that damn slutty t-shirt, as you moved against him.

His face contorted with need, his eyes squeezed shut as he fought to hold back.

“You… I need you. Harder, please, harder. I’m so close, I’m gonna… I’m gonna… Please, baby, please… I can’t… I can’t hold on…”

“So close already?” you asked with a soft tsk. “My pathetic little boy…”

Matt’s body shook with the effort of holding back, his nails digging into your hips hard enough to leave marks.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry… It’s just… You feel so good, I can’t… Please, I’ll do anything, anything you want, just… Please…”

His pleas dissolved into incoherent babbling as your movements became even slower, more deliberate. You leaned forward, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “You want it so badly, don’t you? You want to let go and just fuck me until you can’t think straight.”

“Yes… Yes, please…” Matt whimpered, his body trembling as he tried to thrust up into you despite your slow pace. “Please let me, please just let me… I’ll… I’ll wear this shirt every day, I’ll clean the house every day, I’ll…”

Your lips curled into a wicked smirk at Matt’s desperate pleas. You increased your pace slightly, allowing him a bit more friction.

“Mmm, listen to you beg. It’s almost as pathetic as how easily you’re about to cum for me.”

You rolled your hips, taking him deeper, and Matt’s back arched, his body tensing.

“Oh God… Oh God… I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry… Oh God, I’m gonna… I’m gonna… Please, baby, please, can I…?

“Be a good boy and wait for me, huh?”

Matt’s body shook violently as he tried desperately to hold back his impending orgasm. Tears streamed down his face from the sheer effort and overwhelming sensation. “Yes… Yes, I’ll be good… I’ll wait… I’ll wait for you… Just please…”

You suddenly stopped moving, leaving Matt buried inside you with nothing but your tight warmth surrounding him. You leaned forward, your breath hot against his ear as you whispered, “Good boy. Now, let’s see how long you can last like this, shall we?”

Matt whimpered pathetically, his hips twitching with the desperate need to thrust. His hands fisted in the sheets, knuckles turning white as he fought against the urge.

“Please… Please, baby… It’s so hard… You feel so good… I don’t know if I can…”

You chuckled softly at his distress, your body tensing slightly around him. “You can, and you will. Because you’re my good boy, aren’t you?”

You leaned back slightly, your fingers tracing down his chest.

Matt let out a choked sob, his vision blurring as he struggled to maintain control. “Y-yes… I’m your good boy… I’ll do anything you want… Just please, please let me cum… I need to cum so badly… Please, baby…”

Your lips curled into a wicked smirk as you watched Matt unravel before you. You could feel him throbbing inside you, his body trembling with barely restrained need.

“Anything I want, hmm?” you purred, rolling your hips just slightly. “Then prove it. Hold it.”

Matt’s eyes rolled back, a guttural moan tearing from his throat at the slight movement. His fingers dug into your hips, nails likely leaving crescent marks. “F-fuck… Yes, I’ll hold it… I’ll hold it for you… Just please don’t move.”

You giggled mischievously and did just that. You slowly lifted yourself up, only to drop back down on him, your hips swiveling in a torturous rhythm.

“Like that, Matty? Does that make it harder for you to hold back?”

Matt’s head trashed from side to side, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly as he tried to form words. His body convulsed violently as he neared the point of no return, his high-pitched whimpering filling the room. “Oh God… Oh God… It’s too much…”

“Shh, baby, you can do it,” you cooed softly, your voice belied by the sadistic grin on your face. You continued to ride him slowly, your fingers trailing over his stomach and chest.

Matt’s back bowed off the bed, his hands scrabbling for purchase on the sheets as he neared the breaking point. “Baby… Please… I’m gonna… I’m gonna… I can’t… I can’t… Oh God… It hurts…”

You moved your hand to his neck, gently pressing on the base of it. “You wanna cum for me, baby?”

His eyes fluttered shut, his face contorting with pain. “Y-yes… Yes, I want to… Please, I’m begging you… I need to… It’s too much…” His voice broke off into a desperate whimper as he bucked his hips, seeking more friction.

“Alright, sweetheart,” you purred sympathetically, your hand on his neck tightening possessively. “You can come for me now. Show me what a good boy you are and give it all to me.”

Matt’s entire body seized up as an explosive orgasm crashed through him. His back arched almost painfully as he let out a guttural scream of ecstasy, his cock pulsing and throbbing inside you.

You let out a low moan as you felt Matt’s hot seed spilling into you. You continued to move on him slowly, drawing out his release, until he was writhing beneath you, oversensitive and pleading. “P-please… Too much… It’s too much…”

“Hush now, sweetheart,” you cooed soothingly, your hands running gently through Matt’s sweat-soaked hair. “You’ve been such a good boy for me. Just a little more, alright?”

Matt let out a shuddering breath, his body still trembling as he tried to endure the overwhelming sensations. He whimpered pitifully, his body tensing as another wave of pleasure hit him. “I-I’m still… Still… Oh… Oh… Baby…”

Your grin widened as you felt Matt’s arms wrap around your waist, his fingers digging into your back as he clung to you. “That’s it, baby. Give it all to me. You’re doing so well,” you praised, your hips moving in gentle circles to milk him for every last drop.

Matt’s vision started to blur as he teetered on the edge of another climax. His breath came in ragged gasps as he fought to hold back, his mind screaming for relief. “N-no more… P-please… I can’t… Can’t take any more…”

“Yes, you can,” you assured him, your voice dropping to a low, sultry tone. You leaned in close, your lips brushing against his. “You can take it for me, can’t you, sweetheart? You’re my good boy, aren’t you?”

He let out a shuddering breath, his eyes fluttering shut as he nodded weakly. “Y-yes… Yes, baby… I’ll take it… I’ll be your good boy… Please… Please, it’s too much… It’s too good… It’s… It’s…”

Matt’s words devolved into a high-pitched whimper as another wave of intense pleasure washed over him. His body convulsed uncontrollably as he came undone, his fingers clutching at your back as he rode out the sensations. “Love… You… Love you… Baby…”

Your heart swelled as you heard Matt’s mumbled words. You pulled him close, cradling him against your chest as he trembled in your arms. “I love you too, sweetheart,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “And you’re mine, aren’t you?”

Matt nodded against your shoulder, his breath still coming in short, sharp pants. “Y-yours… all yours… Only yours… Forever…” He lifted his head to meet your gaze, his eyes glazed and unfocused. “Baby… I think I’m…”

“What, sweetie?” you asked softly, concern etched on your face as you looked down at Matt. He seemed so fragile in that moment, so completely consumed by you. “What do you think, sweetheart?” You brushed a strand of hair out of his face, your fingers gentle on his skin.

Matt swallowed hard, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. “I think I’m gonna… Gonna come again… Just from feeling you hold me. You make me feel so good…”

Your eyes widened in surprise and arousal at his confession. You could feel his body tensing in your arms, his cock twitching against your thigh as another orgasm began to build.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” you purred, holding him tighter. “Come for me again.”

Matt let out a strangled moan, his hips jerking involuntarily as the pleasure crested.

“Baby! Ah, ah, ahhh…” His cock throbbed and pulsed, spurting thick ropes of cum onto your thigh and stomach as he came undone in your arms.

You held Matt close as he shook and trembled through his intense orgasm, cooing words of praise and love. “That’s my good boy… You did so well, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you.”

You peppered his face with soft kisses as he slowly came down from his high.

idk i kinda hate it

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274, @psychologyloverfr, @lovetaylorrussellgrr, @conspiracy-ash

[girlkisser13]

birds of a feather

"i knew you in another life" "you had that same look in your eyes" "i love you, don’t act so surprised"

pairings: percy jackson x fem!reader

warnings/tags: none. tooth rotting fluff. established relationship.

summary: "i love you in every universe."

the warm afternoon sun filtered through the trees, casting a dappled pattern of light and shadow over the grassy clearing. the air was filled with the sweet scent of wildflowers, and the gentle hum of bees buzzed around the two of you as you sat cross-legged on the soft grass, your fingers deftly weaving a colorful flower crown. percy lay with his head in your lap, his eyes closed, a peaceful smile playing on his lips. his dark hair felt soft under your touch as you carefully arranged the flowers, making sure each one was placed just right.

the two of you had stolen away to this hidden spot, far from the hustle and bustle of camp half-blood. it was your secret sanctuary, a place where the both of you could escape from the chaos of your lives as demigods and simply be yourselves. as you worked on his flower crown, you found myself lost in the simple, soothing rhythm of the task.

percy’s voice broke the comfortable silence, soft and contemplative. "do you think parallel universes are real?"

you paused, your fingers stilling for a moment as you considered his question. "i don’t know," you admitted, your focus still on the flowers in your hands. "maybe. there’s a lot we don’t understand about the universe."

percy opened his eyes and looked up at you, his sea-green eyes thoughtful. "i’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. about how there could be other versions of us out there, living different lives."

you nodded absently, selecting a bright yellow daisy and adding it to the crown. "it’s a nice idea. infinite possibilities and all that."

he reached up and took your hand, his touch warm and grounding. "do you think we’d still find each other? in those other universes?"

his question caught you off guard, and you looked down at him, your heart skipping a beat. there was something earnest and vulnerable in his expression that made your chest tighten with emotion.

"i don’t know," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "i’d like to think so."

percy’s smile widened, and he gave your hand a gentle squeeze. "i think we would. no matter what."

you tilted your head, curiosity piqued. "how do you know?"

he shifted slightly, turning so that he could look up at you more easily. "because i love you," he said simply. "and my love for you is so strong, so pure, that i can’t imagine any version of me not feeling the same way. it’s like... like a universal constant."

you felt heat rise to your cheeks, and you looked away, focusing on the flower crown to hide your embarrassment. "that’s... really sweet, percy."

"i’m serious," he insisted. "i believe that in every universe, i would find you. and i would love you just as much as i do now."

you could hear the sincerity in his voice, and it made your heart swell with affection. you finished the last few touches on the flower crown and gently placed it on his head, the colorful blossoms a stark contrast to his dark hair.

"there," you said, smiling down at him. "perfect."

percy reached up to touch the crown, his fingers brushing against the petals. "thank you," he said softly. "for everything."

you leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead, feeling the warmth of his skin against your lips. "i don't think i could love you any more than i already do," you said quietly. "i think i’d love you till the day i die."

he closed his eyes again, his expression one of utter contentment. "that’s all i need to hear."

you stayed like that for a while, the world around you fading into the background. in that moment, it didn’t matter what dangers awaited you outside your little sanctuary, or what challenges you would have to face as demigods. all that mattered was the here and now, and the love the two of you shared.

and maybe, just maybe, percy was right. maybe your love was a universal constant, something that would endure no matter what. it was a comforting thought, one that made you believe in the possibility of parallel universes and the idea that you would always find each other, no matter what.

as the sun began to set, painting the sky with hues of pink and orange, you knew that this moment would be etched in your memory forever. because in every universe, in every possible reality, you knew one thing for certain: you would always love percy jackson.

[prentissmultiverse]

No Strings to Hold Us - part I

You are distracted by your boss, Emily Prentiss, who stirs something inside you with the habit of licking her lips. Emily, aware of the effect she has, toys with you and one thing leads to another. tw: smut, age gap, power dynamics

(words: 5474)

The bullpen was unusually quiet as the team filtered into the conference room, files in hand and tension crackling in the air. Another case, another unsub to catch. You slid into your seat at the round table, trying to make yourself as inconspicuous as possible. Being the youngest member of the BAU, you still felt like you had to prove yourself every day, even though you knew you were damn good at your job.

Emily Prentiss stood at the head of the table, commanding everyone’s attention effortlessly. Her presence was magnetic—controlled, dominant, and sharp as a razor. Her salt-and-pepper hair framed her face perfectly, a mixture of maturity and elegance that left you speechless more often than you’d like to admit. And then there was her habit—the one that had started to ruin you in every meeting: the way she licked her lips when she was deep in thought.

It was subtle, almost absentminded, as if she didn’t even realize she was doing it. But every time her tongue darted out to wet her lips, your stomach did a little somersault, and your concentration went straight out the window.

"Alright," Emily began, her voice smooth and authoritative. "This unsub has escalated over the last three months. Six victims, all within a 50-mile radius, each killed in a similar fashion. This means we’re likely dealing with someone organized, methodical, and—" She paused, tilting her head slightly as she flipped through the case file, her sharp eyes scanning the pages. And then it happened.

She licked her lips.

It wasn’t deliberate—it never was. Her tongue darted out, wetting her bottom lip just enough to catch the light. Your pulse quickened, heat rising to your face as your focus wavered. God, did she even know how that looked? How it felt to watch her do something so simple, so unintentionally seductive?

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, gripping the edge of the table as you tried to ground yourself. Emily continued speaking, completely unaware of the effect she was having on you—or at least, you thought she was. Her tone was steady, her posture commanding, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes when she glanced your way. Amusement, maybe? No, you were probably imagining it.

“Y/L/N.” Her voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and you jolted slightly in your chair. “What do you think the unsub’s next move might be?”

You blinked, your brain scrambling to catch up. “Uh… well, um…” You cleared your throat, feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes on you. “Given the escalation pattern and the fact that the last victim was found near a transportation hub, it’s possible the unsub is planning to expand their hunting ground. They might feel emboldened enough to target someone in a more populated area.”

Emily’s lips curved into a small, approving smile, and your stomach flipped again. “Good. I want you to follow up on that lead with Garcia. See if there’s any surveillance footage we can use to track movements near the crime scenes.”

You nodded quickly, grateful for the opportunity to escape her gaze. “Yes, ma’am.”

The meeting continued, but you couldn’t focus. Not when Emily leaned back in her chair, her fingers steepled as she listened to Tara’s analysis. Not when she licked her lips again—this time slower, as if she was savoring the thought of whatever brilliant deduction she was about to make. It made your cheeks burn, and you dropped your gaze to your file, pretending to take notes.

By the time the meeting ended, your nerves were frayed. You gathered your things quickly, hoping to slip out before anyone noticed how flustered you were. But as you reached the door, a familiar voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Y/L/N.” Emily’s tone was firm but not unkind, and you turned slowly to face her. She stood just a few feet away, her dark eyes studying you with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

“Yes, ma’am?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Her lips twitched into a faint smirk. “Good work today. You’ve got a sharp mind, even if you’re a little… distracted at times.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Was that a double entendre, or were you reading too much into it? “Thank you,” you mumbled, clutching your file like a lifeline.

Emily’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before she nodded, her expression shifting back to one of professional detachment. “Get those leads to Garcia.”

You nodded quickly and hurried out of the room, your mind racing. As you walked away, you couldn’t help but wonder if Emily Prentiss was as oblivious to her effect on you as you thought—or if she was perfectly aware and enjoyed watching you squirm.

You spent the rest of the day in Garcia’s office, burying yourself in surveillance footage and databases, hoping the work would distract you from the lingering heat in your chest. But no matter how hard you tried, your thoughts kept circling back to Emily.

The way she stood at the head of the table, commanding attention with such ease. The way she smiled, so rare and deliberate, like a reward for those lucky enough to earn it. And, of course, the way her lips moved when she spoke, the soft, unconscious gestures that seemed designed to drive you insane.

By the time you emerged out of Garcia’s office, your head was spinning. You sat down at your desk, wanting to sum up the info you and Garcia found. After some moments you looked up, seeing Emily sitting at her desk, her reading glasses perched on the bridge of her nose.

You hesitated, unsure if you should interrupt. She was engrossed in a file, her brow furrowed in concentration. And then—of course—it happened again. She licked her lips slowly and you felt that same maddening twist in your stomach.

This was ridiculous. You were a professional—a damn good one, at that. You couldn’t let something as simple as a habit distract you. Resolving to pull yourself together, you knocked softly on her doorframe.

Emily glanced up, her dark eyes locking onto yours. For a moment, her expression was unreadable, and then her lips curved into that faint, knowing smile. “Agent Y/L/N. What can I do for you?”

You stepped inside, clutching your file tightly. “I wanted to give you an update. Garcia and I reviewed the footage, and we found a car that matches the description of one seen near the second and third crime scenes. She’s running the plates now.”

“Good work,” Emily said, leaning back in her chair. She took off her glasses and set them on the desk, her gaze never leaving yours. “Anything else?”

You shook your head, suddenly feeling self-conscious under her scrutiny. “No, ma’am. That’s it.”

She tilted her head slightly, studying you in that way she always did, as if she could see right through you. “You seemed a little off in the meeting earlier,” she said, her tone casual but probing. “Everything alright?”

Your heart skipped a beat. Was she calling you out? You forced yourself to meet her gaze, even though the intensity of it made your skin tingle. “Yes, ma’am. I’m fine. Just… focused on the case.”

Her smile widened ever so slightly, and there was a glint of amusement in her eyes. “Focused, huh?” she said, her voice dropping to a lower, almost teasing register. “You sure about that?”

Your throat went dry. “I—uh—yes, ma’am,” you stammered, your face burning. “Completely focused.”

The bullpen had emptied out, the rest of the team heading home to get some much-needed rest. You stayed behind, hoping the quiet would help you focus, but every time you tried to concentrate, your mind wandered back to Emily.

And then, as if summoned by your thoughts, you heard footsteps. Your stomach twisted as Emily appeared from around the corner, holding a file in one hand and her coffee mug in the other. Her blouse was unbuttoned just enough to drive you insane, and the loose strands of her hair framed her face in a way that felt almost too casual, too intimate for the professional distance you were supposed to maintain.

“Still here?” she asked, arching an eyebrow as she walked toward you. Her voice was smooth and low, cutting through the silence like a knife.

You nodded, unable to look directly at her. “Yes, ma’am. Just… finishing up.”

Emily hummed softly, setting her coffee mug down on the edge of your desk. “You’re dedicated. I admire that.” She leaned against the desk again, her posture casual but her presence overwhelming. “But you’ve been distracted the last days.”

The words hit you like a brick wall. There was no way to avoid it now. You looked up at her, your heart pounding. “I… I’m sorry if it seemed that way. I didn’t mean to—”

“Stop,” she said, cutting you off with a raised hand. Her voice was firm but not unkind. “I’m not chastising you, Y/L/N. I’m just… curious.”

You blinked, your mind racing. “Curious?”

Emily tilted her head slightly, studying you with those piercing dark eyes. “You’re a good agent,” she said softly. “Sharp, focused, intuitive. But it felt like your mind was somewhere else. Or maybe… on someone else.”

The air between you crackled with tension. Was she implying what you thought she was implying? You struggled to form a coherent response.

“I—uh—no, ma’am, I was just—”

She leaned in, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “Y/N, I’ve been doing this job for a long time. I can read people better than they’d like. And right now, I’m reading you.”

You froze, your heart pounding so hard it felt like it might break through your ribs. Emily’s gaze was steady, unwavering, and you felt completely exposed under her scrutiny.

“You’ve been watching me all day,” she continued, her tone soft but laced with unmistakable intent. “I could feel it in the briefing, in my office, even across the bullpen. Am I wrong?”

You opened your mouth to deny it, but no words came out. The truth was right there, hanging between you, and there was no point in pretending anymore.

“I…” you started, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean to… it’s just… you…”

Emily’s lips curved into that maddeningly knowing smile, and she leaned in even closer, her face just inches from yours. “Me?” she prompted, her voice teasing. “What about me?”

Your breath hitched, your face burning with a mix of embarrassment and desire. “You… you’re distracting,” you admitted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “The way you—your presence—it’s… hard to ignore.”

For a moment, Emily didn’t say anything. She just stared at you, her expression unreadable. And then, to your shock, she smirked—like she’d just confirmed something she’d suspected all along.

“Is that so?” she murmured, her voice low and dangerous. “Well, that’s… interesting.”

Before you could respond, she straightened and walked around to your side of the desk. You turned in your chair to face her, your pulse racing as she leaned down, bracing her hands on the armrests. The proximity was almost unbearable; you could see every detail of her face, feel the warmth of her breath.

“You should’ve said something sooner,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I could’ve… helped you focus.”

Your breath caught in your throat as her words sank in. Was she serious? Or was this just another game, another test? Either way, you were utterly powerless to stop the way your body responded to her.

“I—” you started, but the words died on your lips as Emily leaned in, her face so close that you could feel the heat of her skin. For a moment, you thought she might kiss you, but instead, she shifted slightly, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered:

“Do you want me to stop?”

The question sent a shiver down your spine, and you clenched the arms of your chair, your mind a whirlwind of emotions. Every instinct told you this was dangerous, that you were crossing a line you could never uncross. But in that moment, all you could think about was her—her voice, her touch, her overwhelming presence.

“No,” you whispered, barely able to get the word out.

As Emily leaned back, her tongue darted out to lick her lips in that maddeningly way she always did. Your eyes flicked to the movement, helpless to stop yourself, and when you looked back at her, she was watching you with an intensity that made your stomach twist.

Her gaze was sharp and calculated, every flicker of emotion on your face seemingly absorbed and cataloged. There was something unnervingly predatory about the way she looked at you, a slight curve to her lips that wasn’t quite a smile—it was something darker, something laced with triumph. She leaned back against the desk, crossing her arms, and regarded you in silence for a moment that stretched too long.

“You’re coming with me,” she said finally, her voice calm but firm, leaving no room for argument.

You blinked, your mind still trying to catch up. “To…?”

She smirked, tilting her head just slightly, her dark eyes never leaving yours. “Home. My home.”

Her words sent a jolt through you, and you swallowed hard, your pulse racing. “Are you serious?”

Emily pushed off the desk with a languid grace, stepping closer to you. “I don’t say things I don’t mean,” she said, her voice low and even. “You’ve had a long day, and so have I. And judging by the way you’ve been looking at me—” her tongue flicked out briefly to wet her lips, and your stomach clenched, “—I think we could help each other.”

“Help each other?” you echoed, your voice trembling slightly.

Her smirk deepened, and she stepped even closer, her body just inches from yours. “You’re touch-starved, Y/N,” she said bluntly, her tone tinged with a knowing amusement. “And so am I. This doesn’t have to be anything more than what it is. Just two people fulfilling a need. Nothing serious.”

Your cheeks burned at her words, and you opened your mouth to protest, but nothing came out. She was right, of course. Every stolen glance, every moment your breath hitched at the sound of her voice or the way she carried herself—it all betrayed you. And the way she said it, so matter-of-factly, left you feeling exposed in a way you couldn’t explain.

“I see the way you react,” Emily continued, her voice softening slightly, though it lost none of its edge. “Every time I do this…” She licked her lips again slowly, her eyes locking onto yours as if daring you to look away. Your breath hitched, and her smirk widened. “You’re so easy to read, Y/N. It’s almost endearing.”

“I—” you started, your voice shaky, but she silenced you with a single raised brow.

“Don’t overthink this,” she said firmly, her hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. Her touch was gentle, almost too much in contrast to her dominant energy. “We both want this. So, let’s stop pretending we don’t.”

Her confidence left you reeling, and before you could process it fully, she was pulling back. “Come on,” she said, her tone casual now, as though she hadn’t just unraveled you completely. “Let’s go.”

The drive to her house was a blur. Emily’s composure was unshakable, her hands steady on the wheel as she navigated the quiet streets, while you sat in silence, stealing glances at her and trying not to let your mind spiral. Every flick of her tongue across her lips, every shift of her posture, seemed calculated, designed to keep you on edge.

When you finally arrived, Emily led you inside with quiet confidence, closing the door behind you and leaning back against it for a moment. The air between you felt electric, charged with tension and anticipation. She crossed her arms, her gaze raking over you with a slowness that made your skin prickle.

“Still with me?” she asked, her voice low and teasing.

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah. I’m here.”

Her smirk returned, and she pushed off the door, stepping toward you with the same predatory grace she’d shown earlier. “Good,” she murmured. “Because I think we’ve both waited long enough.”

As she reached you, her hand cupped your jaw, tilting your face up to meet hers. Her lips claimed yours in a kiss that was firm and demanding, her tongue teasing along your lower lip before slipping inside. The flicks of her tongue mirrored the way she licked her lips, and you couldn’t help but melt into her, your body pressing against hers as she took control.

“Bedroom,” Emily murmured against your lips, her voice rough, commanding.

You nodded wordlessly, letting her guide you. She stood, keeping you close as you stumbled toward her room. Her hands never left your body, steady and grounding as you entered the dimly lit space. It was exactly what you’d expect from her—minimal, clean, with just enough personal touches to feel lived-in. But you barely had time to take it in before Emily turned you around, pressing you against the closed door.

Emily’s hands were everywhere as she pressed you against the door, her lips devouring yours with a mixture of hunger and control that left you trembling. The air between you was thick with unspoken tension, a dangerous mix of desire and need that neither of you could resist. Deep down, you knew how wrong this was—the power dynamics, the age gap, the impropriety of it all.

As if sensing your thoughts, Emily broke the kiss. “You don’t overthink this,” she said against your lips, her voice low and firm. “Not tonight.”

You nodded, your breath hitching as she moved her lips to your neck, nipping and sucking in a way that left you dizzy.

She pulled back, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered, “Bed. Now.”

Her voice was low, commanding, and you obeyed without hesitation, letting her guide you backward until your knees hit the mattress. You sank down, your heart pounding as she hovered over you, her dark eyes raking over your body with a look that made your stomach twist. Slowly, Emily began unbuttoning her blouse, her gaze never leaving yours. She wasn’t in a rush—this was a game to her, and she intended to savor every moment.

When the fabric slid off her shoulders, you couldn’t help but let your eyes trail over her. She was stunning, her confidence and poise radiating from every inch of her. Emily smirked, clearly enjoying the way you stared at her, and leaned forward, bracing her hands on either side of your head.

“You look nervous,” she teased, her lips brushing against your cheek.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not nervous.”

“Liar,” she murmured, her lips trailing down your jaw. “But I like that. I like how you react to me.”

Her words sent a flush of heat through you, and your breath hitched as her hands moved to the hem of your shirt. “Can I?” she asked, her voice soft but firm.

You nodded, unable to form words, and she pulled your shirt over your head in one smooth motion. Her hands skimmed over your bare skin, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. She took her time exploring, her fingers brushing over your shoulders, your collarbone, the curve of your waist. When her hands settled on your hips, she leaned down, her lips ghosting over the sensitive skin of your neck.

“Emily,” you breathed, your hands clutching at her arms as she kissed her way down your throat.

“Shh,” she murmured, her voice low and soothing. “Just let me take care of you.”

She kissed her way down your chest, her hands sliding up to cup your breasts through your bra. Her thumbs brushed over your nipples, and you arched into her touch, a soft gasp escaping your lips. Emily smirked, clearly pleased with your reaction, and reached behind you to unclasp your bra. She slid it off and tossed it aside, her eyes darkening as she took in the sight of you.

“You’re beautiful,” she murmured, her voice filled with lust.

Her lips found your collarbone, then trailed lower, her tongue flicking over your nipple in a way that made your back arch. Her hands held you firmly in place as her mouth worked its way across your chest. You felt like you were unraveling beneath her, your body responding to her touch in ways you didn’t know were possible.

“Emily, please,” you whispered, your voice trembling with need.

“Patience,” she replied, her tone teasing. “I’m not done with you yet.”

She kissed her way down your stomach, her hands sliding over your thighs as she moved lower. Her fingers hooked into the waistband of your pants, and she glanced up at you, her eyes meeting yours. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” you breathed, barely able to get the word out.

She smiled, a rare softness in her expression, and tugged your pants and underwear down in one smooth motion. Her hands caressed your thighs, her touch firm but gentle, as she settled between your legs. She leaned down, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh, and you felt your breath catch in your throat.

“You’re shaking,” she murmured, her voice low and soothing. “Relax, Y/N. I’ve got you.”

Her words should have embarrassed you, but instead, they only made you want her more. You nodded, your hands clutching at the sheets as she kissed her way up your thigh, her breath warm against your skin. When her lips finally found your center, you couldn’t stop the moan that escaped you.

Her lips and tongue moved with expert precision, every stroke and flick drawing sounds from you that you couldn’t control even if you wanted to. Emily hummed against you, the vibration sending shivers through your body, and her strong hands gripped your thighs to keep you steady as your hips moved instinctively toward her. The wet heat of her mouth and the relentless attention she lavished on you had your head spinning.

Your hands were clutching at the sheets, your body arching instinctively as she brought you right to the edge. The pressure in your core was unbearable, your breaths coming in shallow gasps, and just when you thought you’d finally find relief, she stopped.

You whimpered, your hips bucking forward as if chasing the sensation she had so cruelly denied you. “Emily,” you gasped, your voice trembling with desperation.

She looked up at you from between your thighs, her lips glistening and curved into a smug smirk. “Not yet,” she said, her voice calm and authoritative, leaving no room for argument. She placed a firm hand on your hip, holding you in place. “You’ll come when I decide you’re ready, not a second before.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, the dominance in her tone igniting something deep inside you. All you could do was nod, your body trembling with need as you submitted to her control.

“Good girl,” she murmured, her hand trailing down your thigh before she pulled back. She climbed off the bed, moving to the bedside drawer, and your breath hitched as you watched her retrieve the harness. She took her time, adjusting the strap with practiced ease, her movements commanding. The way she carried herself, so confident and in control, left you breathless.

“You’re going to let me take you,” she said as she climbed back onto the bed, her dark eyes locking onto yours. “And you’re not going to hold back. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Emily,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as your heart raced in anticipation.

She smirked, clearly satisfied with your response, and leaned down to brush her lips against yours in a kiss that was more of a statement than an act of affection. “Good,” she said softly, her voice dripping with authority. “Now spread your legs for me.”

You obeyed without hesitation, your body trembling as she positioned herself between your thighs. Her hands were firm as they gripped your hips, holding you in place as she lined herself up with you. The sheer presence of her was overwhelming, her dominance filling the room.

“Keep your eyes on me,” she commanded, her voice low and steady as she pressed into you. The stretch was perfect, intense and all-consuming, and your eyes fluttered shut for a moment as a moan escaped your lips.

“Eyes,” she said firmly, her tone sharp enough to snap your attention back to her. “I want to see you.”

Your gaze locked onto hers, and the intensity of her expression made your breath catch. She began to move, her pace slow at first, drawing out every sensation as she watched you intently. Every roll of her hips was calculated, her movements designed to drive you closer to the edge while keeping you firmly under her control.

“You’re mine tonight,” she said, her voice low and commanding as she leaned down, her lips brushing against your ear. “Every sound, every movement, every breath—it’s all for me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you gasped, your hands clutching at her shoulders as she quickened her pace, her dominance consuming you completely.

And as she took you apart piece by piece, her name fell from your lips like a prayer, a surrender to the woman who had claimed every part of you without question.

“You take this so well,” Emily murmured, her voice dark and laced with approval, her breath hot against your skin. The words sent a jolt through you, your body arching instinctively as she drove deeper, her movements commanding and relentless.

Her hips moved faster now, each thrust purposeful and precise, the pace leaving you breathless as the pleasure built to an unbearable crescendo. But she didn’t stop there. One of her hands slid down your body, her fingers finding the sensitive bundle of nerves that had you crying out the moment she touched it. Her fingers circled with just the right amount of pressure, perfectly in sync with the rhythm of her thrusts.

The combined sensations had you gasping for air, your fingers clutching at her shoulders, desperate for something to anchor you. The words fell from your lips in a desperate, broken stream—pleas for more, cries of her name, and incoherent whispers of need.

“That’s it,” she growled, her lips brushing against your ear. “Let me hear you. Don’t hold back.”

You obeyed instinctively, your moans spilling freely, every sound she pulled from you only spurring her on. Her control was intoxicating, the way she commanded every inch of you, every breath and shuddering gasp. Her fingers pressed harder, circling faster, and the coil in your core tightened impossibly.

“Emily,” you cried out, your voice trembling as your body arched into her. “Please—I’m so close.”

Her smirk was audible in her next words, low and dangerous. “You’ll come when I say you can. Not a moment before.”

Her pace quickened, her fingers working you with maddening precision as her thrusts deepened, leaving you writhing beneath her. Every movement was calculated, every sound you made rewarded with a dark hum of approval. She leaned in closer, her breath hot against your ear. “You’re mine,” she growled, her tone commanding and firm. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you gasped, the words tumbling out without hesitation. “Emily, I’m yours.”

“Good girl,” she murmured, her voice dripping with satisfaction. Her fingers pressed harder, the rhythm perfect, as she drove you closer and closer to the edge. Your body tensed beneath her, the tension building to an unbearable peak.

“Come for me,” she commanded, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Your back arched off the bed as a wave of pleasure crashed over you, your release ripping through you with a force that left you trembling. Emily didn’t stop, her movements slow and steady as she helped you ride out the high, her hand still stroking over your thigh.

As the last waves of pleasure subsided, you lay there panting, your body spent and trembling. Emily leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before pulling back slightly. Her gaze met yours, and for a moment, there was a softness in her expression—a flicker of something unguarded that made your chest tighten.

“You did so well,” she murmured, her hand brushing over your hair. “So beautiful.”

Her words sent a warmth through you, and you couldn’t help but smile, though your body still felt like it was buzzing. Emily climbed off the bed, carefully unfastening the harness and setting it aside before climbing back onto bed. Her eyes glinted with mischief as she hovered over you, her fingertips tracing lazy patterns along your skin. “The night’s still young,” she murmured, her voice low and inviting.

Before you could respond, her lips found yours in a kiss that sent a fresh wave of heat through you, reigniting the spark in your veins. Her smile against your mouth was wicked.

“We’re not done yet.”

A few hours later, both of you lay tangled under the sheets, spent and breathing heavily. The room was silent except for the soft rustle of the sheets and the rhythmic sound of your heartbeats slowly returning to normal.

The weight of the silence between you was heavy, and you could feel the thoughts swirling in your head, as they always did.

You were trying to push those thoughts away, but it was impossible to stop them.

Emily seemed to sense it, her fingers trailing idly along your arm as she shifted slightly, pulling you closer. Her lips brushed against your ear, her voice low and steady. “Stop overthinking.”

You blinked up at her, suddenly self-conscious, but she already knew what you were thinking. She always did.

“I’m not…” you started, but her voice cut through, smooth and knowing.

“I can hear your thoughts from here, Y/N,” she said, her tone teasing but with a hint of amusement. “I know what you're thinking. The age gap, the power dynamics, the… complications.” She paused, meeting your eyes with that all-knowing intensity. “It’s just sex. Nothing more. So, stop overthinking it.”

You nodded slowly, but her words still felt too simple, too final. There was something in her voice, in the way she said it, that made it sound almost too good to be true. You couldn’t help but feel the conflict building within you. The part of you that craved this—her control, her dominance—and the part of you that couldn’t shake the unease about it all.

“Right,” you said quietly, trying to mask the uncertainty in your voice. “Just sex. Nothing else.”

Emily’s lips quirked up into a small smile, but there was no humor in it. She leaned in, kissing you softly, lingering for just a moment before pulling back. “That’s right,” she said, her voice low, but there was an edge to it now. “Because anything else…” She paused, her gaze intense as she let the words hang in the air. “Anything else would be a mistake.”

The weight of her words settled over you, and for a moment, everything felt so simple, so clear. But deep down, you both knew that the simplicity was an illusion. The truth was, neither of you could ignore the undercurrent between you, the way her touch lingered too long, the way your heart beat faster every time she looked at you.

You lay there for a while in silence, both of you lost in your own thoughts, unsure of where to go from here. But one thing was clear: for now, it was just sex. No feelings. No complications. Or so you told yourselves.

You had no idea how much time passed, but when you finally drifted into a peaceful sleep, your body resting against hers, Emily stayed awake for a while. She held you close, watching the rise and fall of your chest as you slept, her fingers gently stroking through your hair.

For a few moments, she let the silence stretch, her gaze softening as she looked down at you. Your face was peaceful, unaware of the storm of emotions swirling within her. She could feel her heart tightening, the pull she had tried to ignore throughout the night.

It felt right. Too right. And in that moment, as her fingers traced over your skin, the reality of it all hit her—she was already too far gone.

...

You can read part 2 here

[syluslnd]

hiii ive been reading a bunch of your work for a while and i luv em ^^. can i ask if you could do a scenario where sylus discovers your s*lf-h*rm scars? if its too triggering you dont have to

sylus reaction to your self harm scars

The soft morning light filtered through the curtains casting a warm golden glow over the bedroom. You stirred slightly feeling the weight of sleep slowly lift from your body.

Beside you Sylus lay quietly his chest rising and falling with steady breaths. His presence was comforting and as you blinked your eyes open a soft sigh escaped your lips.

Without thinking you stretched out your arms letting your muscles wake up along with you. It was a lazy, comfortable movement, one you'd done countless times.

But this time, as you reached above your head, Sylus's gaze shifted. His eyes, usually so sharp and calculating softened as he watched you. He always looked at you like that in the mornings-like he was seeing something precious, something fragile. Yet today, something was different.

As your arms stretched out the sleeves of your loose shirt slid back just for a moment revealing the faint but unmistakable lines on your wrists.

Sylus's gaze sharpened immediately. His usual calm, controlled demeanor faltered just for a second but that second was all it took for his heart to twist in his chest. His brows furrowed almost imperceptibly and he stiffened beside you. His eyes flickered over the cuts-small, faint but unmistakably deliberate.

At first, his mind raced to a darker place.

Had someone hurt you? The thought was instant, primal, filling him with a flash of anger. But no-he knew that wasn't it. Sylus was nothing if not observant and as quickly as the thought came it was dismissed. This wasn't something someone else had done to you.

This was something you had done to yourself.

His stomach twisted an unfamiliar feeling of dread settling deep inside him. He wasn't stupid. He knew exactly what those marks meant and for the first time in a long time he felt... lost. Sylus was used to handling difficult situations, staying composed no matter what. But this? This was different.

He didn't know if he should say something. If he should bring it up. The air between you felt suddenly thick charged with something heavy and unspoken. You were still stretching lazily, unaware of the storm brewing in his mind.

Sylus stared at your wrists for another beat before you lowered your arms back down, your shirt falling back into place, hiding the evidence of whatever had been going on beneath the surface. You turned toward him with a sleepy smile, your eyes half-lidded with lingering drowsiness.

"Morning" you mumbled softly, unaware of the way his gaze had hardened, how his expression had tightened for just a split second before he smoothed it over with a casual smirk.

"Morning, sweetie" he replied his voice even though there was a slight edge to it that hadn't been there before. He reached out brushing a strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle, though his mind was anything but calm.

He didn't bring it up immediately. For the next few minutes he tried to act like nothing had changed like he hadn't seen what he just saw. But it was eating away at him gnawing at the edges of his thoughts.

Sylus wasn't one to ignore things, and certainly not when it came to you. He was always so good at teasing you pushing your buttons just enough to make you blush but this... this was different. This wasn't something he could tease away.

As you lay there beside him your head resting on his chest he couldn't stop his eyes from drifting back to your wrists hidden beneath the fabric now but the image of those cuts was burned into his mind. His hand resting on your arm felt the weight of every line every mark that told a story he wasn't sure he was ready to hear.

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore.

"Sweetie" he began, his voice unusually soft but there was a tension beneath it. You shifted slightly, tilting your head up to look at him noticing the way his brow was furrowed his usual calm expression giving way to something more serious.

"What is it?" you asked, your voice still groggy from sleep.

For a moment Sylus hesitated something uncharacteristic for him. He wasn't the type to dance around things but this felt... delicate. Like if he said the wrong thing everything might crack.

"I..." He trailed off, his hand brushing lightly over your arm, his fingers tracing the edge of your sleeve. "I noticed something. On your wrists."

Your heart skipped a beat your body tensing immediately. You knew what he was talking about and suddenly the lazy morning felt far too suffocating. The room, once warm and comfortable, now felt like a trap.

Sylus watched the way your expression shifted, how your eyes darted away from his, how your breathing grew just a little more uneven. His jaw clenched and he forced himself to stay calm, though every instinct inside him was screaming to ask, to demand answers.

"I'm not stupid, kitten" he said, his voice quiet but firm. "Those aren't accidents, are they?"

You felt your throat tighten the weight of his words pressing down on you. The cuts— something you had tried so hard to keep hidden to push away-were now laid bare and Sylus, with his sharp eyes and relentless persistence, wasn't going to let this go.

"No” you whispered barely audible your voice cracking under the pressure of the moment. "They're not."

Sylus closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling slowly, as if trying to gather his thoughts.

When he opened them again his gaze was steady, though there was something darker behind it. "Why?" he asked, the word heavy with emotion. "Why are you doing this to yourself?"

You bit your lip, tears already welling in your eyes as you tried to find the words. "I don't know..." you started, but it felt hollow, like an excuse. You knew exactly why. "It just... it helps. When everything gets too much, it's like... it's the only thing I can control."

Sylus's expression faltered his usual confidence cracking as he processed your words. He had never seen you like this-so vulnerable,so lost. You, the person who was always so bright, so full of life. The one who always smiled, always laughed, even when he teased you relentlessly.

He felt guilt settle deep in his chest. Had he missed this? Had he been so caught up in his own world, in his work, that he hadn't noticed how much you were struggling? The thought gnawed at him, filling him with a sense of helplessness he rarely felt.

"You should've told me" he said, his voice low but there was an edge of frustration in it.

Not at you but at himself. "I should've been paying more attention. I should've known something was wrong."

You shook your head quickly the tears finally spilling over as you sat up wrapping your arms around yourself as if to protect yourself from his piercing gaze. "It's not your fault, Sylus” you said, your voice trembling. "I didn't want you to know. I didn't want to be a burden."

His eyes flashed with anger-again not at you but at the situation. "A burden?" he repeated, his tone sharp. "You think you're a burden to me?"

You flinched slightly at his words, and he immediately regretted the harshness of his tone. He reached out, his hand resting on your arm again, this time more gently.

"You're not a burden" he said, his voice softening. "Not to me. You never could be."

You looked down at your hands, your heart heavy with guilt and shame. "I just didn't know how to tell you. It's... it's hard. It's hard to explain why I do it and I didn't want to make you worry."

Sylus exhaled slowly, his hand moving to cup your cheek tilting your face up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. "I’m already worried, sweetie" he said quietly. "and I wish you would've told me sooner. I hate that you've been going through this alone."

The tenderness in his voice broke something inside you and you couldn't hold back the sob that escaped your lips. You collapsed into his arms burying your face in his chest as the weight of everything you'd been holding in finally came crashing down.

Sylus wrapped his arms around you holding you tightly against him his chin resting on top of your head. "I'm here now" he murmured his voice steady though you could hear the pain behind it. "We'll get through this together. You don't have to do it alone anymore."

And for the first time in a long time, you felt like maybe-just maybe-you didn't have to carry the weight of it all by yourself.

[im-so-normal-iswear]

Ahem can I request what shadow would do with his s/o when they have nightmares?

A/n: I've actually only had a nightmare once, and I don't really consider what I had one, so idk how well this is written

Shadow x s/o with nightmare

You wake up with a jolt, your heart pounding against your ribs. you shook ad you heaved in and out heavily. The room is dark, but you can make out Shadow’s silhouette, sitting in his usual spot by the window. He’s always up late, either lost in thought or silently keeping watch. His eyes flick to you almost immediately, keen as ever to notice the change in your breathing.

"You’re awake," he states, his voice low and quiet, more an observation than a question. He’s by your side in moments, moving with the same silent precision you’ve grown used to. The mattress dips slightly under his weight as he sits beside you, his hand hesitating before settling gently on your shoulder.

"You had another one, didn’t you?" Shadow asks, softer this time. His voice, though stern, had a touch of concern in it.

You nod, unable to find your voice yet. The nightmare still fresh in your mind as you tried to regulate your breaths. Shadow notices. Of course he notices. He’s always observant when it comes to you.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks, his hand shifting to rest against your back, a small gesture of comfort that feels grounding.

You shake your head. "I... I don’t know. I don’t think it’ll help."

Shadow’s eyes narrow slightly, not out of irritation but in thought. He knows nightmares well, too well. He knows the weight they leave, how they linger like a shadow you can’t shake. Still, he doesn’t push you. That’s one thing you appreciate about him, he respects your boundaries, even if he’s tempted to press further for your own sake.

"All right," he says after a moment, standing abruptly, grabbing a blanket. "Come on."

You blink, startled. "What?"

"You’re not going back to sleep like this," he says matter-of-factly. "We’re going outside."

"Outside? Shadow, it’s the middle of the night!"

"Fresh air helps clear your head," he replies, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. "Trust me."

You sigh but find yourself sliding out of bed anyway. there was no poing in arguing, and frankly you were too tired to anyways.

Shadow leads you out to the quiet woods near your home, the two of you walking in comfortable silence. The cold night air nipped at your skin, but Shadow draped the blabket he took over your shoulders keeps you warm. He walks just ahead, glancing back every so often to make sure you’re keeping up. The moonlight filters through the trees, casting silvery patches on the ground, and you find yourself focusing on the sound of his footsteps and the rustle of leaves.

After a while, Shadow stops at a clearing. He gestures for you to sit, spreading the blanket out on the grass. "Here," he says, sitting beside you. He tilts his head back to look at the sky. "Look."

You follow his gaze. The stars are brilliant tonight, scattered across the inky sky like shards of a diamond. For a moment, you forget entirely about the nightmare as you gaze up at the night sky.

"Better?" Shadow asks, his voice quieter now.

You nod. "Yeah. Thanks."

He doesn’t say anything, but the slight upward twitch of his mouth tells you enough. Shadow leans back on his hands, his usual stoicism softening in the starlight. "You’re stronger than you think," he murmurs after a while. "Whatever it is you’re afraid of... it will not overtake you. Not while I’m here."

The two of you sit there in comfortavle silence for a moment.

Eventually, he nudges your shoulder gently. "You should try to sleep. I’ll keep watch."

You hesitate, but the exhaustion tugs at you. Lying down on the blanket, you close your eyes, taking in the nights hidden sounds. Cricket chirping, the leaves of the trees around you gently clashing against each other and shadiws steady breathing next to you. It was all almost harmonious.

As sleep starts to claim you, the last thing you hear is his voice, low and steady "I’ve got you. Nothing will hurt you while I’m here."