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ateezscupid · 18 days ago

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─── FEB FILTH FEST: Mmmh - SIZE KINK ♡

SUMMARY / You've always loved how big your boyfriend was.

warnings ✩ PORN LINK, SMUT, DOM/SUB dynamics, dom!mingi, brat sub!reader, size kink, established relationship, reader is - well - very small in comparison to mingi, unprotected sex, praise, pet names (tiny, princess, little one, etc.)

word count ✩ 1,96k

tags ✩ @desirehorizon @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @starillusion13 @mingitheskzstan @bbdeongi @dawn-iscozy @xh01bri @mallielovssyou @clxssy1997 @soreberry @nopension @kitten4sannie @faeriehwas @lustfxq @ashistrashhhhhh @hwallazia

ATEEZ MASTERLIST / REQUEST / FEB FILTH FEST

The second you laid your eyes on Mingi, you fell in love. He was tall, built, had a pretty face -- but most importantly, he was bigger than you entirely. In every way that mattered, Mingi was a giant. You had a thing for guys like him, a size kink that had been a secret delight of yours for as long as you could remember. And here he was, your boyfriend, all yours.

You were scared to bring it up at first because you didn't want him to think you were weird, but the second you even mentioned it, Mingi's eyes lit up with excitement. He had always been open about his own kinks, and your size kink just added another layer to the intimacy you shared.

"It turns me on knowing I could fill you up so completely."

God, he was so hot. And tonight, he went all out. You could feel your knees trembling as Mingi wrapped his muscular arms around you, hoisting you up like you weighed nothing at all. His eyes, those deep, dark pools of desire, searched yours for the consent that you were more than eager to give. You nodded, your heart racing with excitement. He knew exactly how to play into your kink, how to make you feel so small and vulnerable yet so incredibly desired.

"So you really like being thrown around like this? Like some sorta doll?" Mingi's grin was wicked, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine. You couldn't help but nod again, your cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink. The way he handled you, like you were so much smaller than him, was intoxicating.

Mingi took a step back, eyeing you up and down, his gaze lingering on your thighs. "I always hated saying you were easy to throw around because of how small you are but, I mean, if you're into that-"

"Obviously it's weird if a stranger says it but not you. You're my giant," you replied breathlessly, feeling a rush of arousal at the thought of his immense power over you. Mingi chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest like a distant earthquake, and with one swift movement, he grabbed you by the thighs, hoisting you up in the air until your legs were dangling and your arms were wrapped tightly around his neck. Your body felt weightless in his strong grip, the blood rushing to your head and pooling in your cheeks as you gazed up at him.

"And you're my doll." he smiles, waddling his way toward the bed with you in his arms. He lays you down gently, the soft mattress giving way beneath your combined weight. He hovers over you, his large hands planted firmly beside your head. You feel his warm breath on your neck as he leans down, whispering sweet nothings that make your heart race even faster.

"Min," you moan. "Cmon, please. Touch me."

Mingi's smile widens as he looks down at you. He runs a finger along your jaw, his touch so gentle it feels like the brush of a feather. He backs away and lifts his hoodie over his head, revealing the abs and muscles that you've come to adore. His hands move to his belt, unbuckling it with a swift motion, and his pants follow shortly after. His size is breathtaking, making your mouth water at the sight.

He was silent as he rid himself of his clothes. Once he was done with his, he pulled you closer by your legs and started taking yours off too. You felt a mix of nervousness and excitement as the fabric of your pants slid down your legs and your feet kicked them away. You were wearing your favorite lacy underwear today, and you hoped he liked the sight of them.

"Aw, you're wearing my favorites." Mingi's voice was a low rumble that seemed to resonate through the very air around you as he took in the sight of your dainty underwear. He traced his thumb over the delicate lace, the pad of his thumb brushing against your sensitive skin and making you squirm beneath him.

"S-Shut up," you murmur, trying to hide your smile. "They're just-"

But your protests are cut short as Mingi leans down and captures your lips with a gentle yet firm kiss. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, tasting every corner with a hunger that leaves you panting. The sensation of his massive body looming over yours, his weight pressing you into the bed, sends a delicious thrill through you. You can feel his erection, hot and heavy, pressing against your stomach, and the anticipation of what's to come is almost too much to handle.

He flipped himself over and brought you along with him, sitting you on top of him. You felt the tip of his cock brush against your wet pussy, and you gasped at the sheer size of it. It was like sitting on a throne made of flesh, and you couldn't help but feel a little overwhelmed. But you didn't want to show it, not when Mingi was looking at you with those hungry eyes.

"Princess," Mingi says, his voice a low growl. "You know what to do."

You shake your head. "No I don't," you smile, playing coy. But you do know. You straddle him, the heat of his body searing into yours, and you start to rock back and forth, letting his length slide against your folds. The fabric of your underwear is the only barrier between the two of you, and the friction is driving you wild.

"Really? Cmon tiny," he says with a smirk, his hands on your hips, guiding you back and forth. He's so big, so powerful, and you can't help but feel like a plaything in his grasp. The way he controls your movements is maddening, but in the best way possible. You bite your bottom lip as the fabric gets wetter, his cock straining against it, begging for more.

"You're so big." you whisper, your voice barely a breath. The anticipation is thick, hanging in the air like a mist of desire that surrounds you both. Mingi's hands tighten on your hips as you lean down, your breasts brushing against his chest, your heart beating a wild tattoo against his ribs.

You lift your hips and grab his cock with once hand, gently stroking it as you lean back down to kiss him again. The fabric of your underwear is soaked through now, and it's clear that it won't hold up much longer. Mingi groans into your mouth as you increase the pressure, his hands moving to cup your ass, encouraging you to keep moving. The head of his cock slips under the elastic and you gasp, the sensation of his bare skin against yours making you shiver.

You pull away from the kiss and push him inside inch by inch, feeling yourself stretch around his girth. Your eyes widen with a mix of pleasure and pain as he fills you completely, his cock pressing against your walls with a gentle but firm insistence. It's a feeling like no other, one that sends waves of pleasure through your body and leaves you panting for more.

"S-So big," you whimper, your voice barely above a whisper as he stretches you open. His cock feels like it's splitting you in two, yet it's the most amazing feeling you've ever experienced. You tighten your grip on his shoulders, digging your nails into his skin, as you take him all in. His eyes never leave yours, watching your every reaction, the hunger in them growing with every inch you take.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin as he watches your face contort with pleasure. "Take all of me." His voice is deep, commanding, and you can't help but obey. You rock your hips back and forth, taking him deeper with every stroke, until you're fully seated on his cock. The pressure is intense, but it's a good pain, the kind that makes you feel alive.

"Such a cute little thing, aren’t you?" Mingi murmurs, his voice thick with lust as he watches your face contort with pleasure. His large hands are still on your hips, guiding your movements, but he's letting you set the pace. "Bein' so small and still bein' able to take all of me," You feel so small and delicate on top of him, like a doll being played with by a giant, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

You nod, biting your lip to keep from screaming as the pressure builds inside you. You start to move faster, your movements more frantic, your hips rising and falling in a steady rhythm that matches the pounding of your heart. You can feel every inch of him, every vein and ridge, and it's like nothing you've ever felt before. Your body feels like it's been made for this, for him, and the thought sends you spiraling closer to the edge.

"Yeah, tiny," he groaned, digging his nails into your skin. "Look how good your pussy is taking me, baby."

"O-Oh my god," you manage to say, your voice strained as you try to keep up with the delicious friction building between your legs. Mingi's cock feels like it's everywhere, stretching you, filling you so completely that you can't help but clench down around him. His grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging in as he watches you ride him. You're so close, so close to coming, and the thought of him watching you, feeling you clench around his cock like a vice, sends you hurtling over the edge.

"You're so close, aren't you? Can't even take everything I'm giving you?" Mingi teased, his voice a low, taunting growl that sent shivers down your spine. You nodded frantically, trying to form words through the haze of pleasure. His smirk grew as he sat up, wrapping his arms around your waist and flipping you over, so you were on your back with his cock still buried inside you. The shift in position made you gasp, his size feeling even more overwhelming as he pinned you down with his weight.

"M-Min, I'm-" you start to protest, but he cuts you off with a firm thrust, burying himself even deeper inside you. Your eyes roll back in your head and a strangled cry escapes your lips. The new angle hits you just right, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body. His muscular chest loomed over you, each of his movements causing his abs to flex and bulge, casting shadows in the dimly lit room.

He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head with one hand. "You're so tiny under me like this," he whispered, his breath hot in your ear. The feeling of his weight and his power made your body respond in ways you couldn't explain. You moaned as he began to fuck you with deep, deliberate strokes, his hips moving like a piston, each thrust driving his cock into you so far you could feel it in your stomach.

"Look at this," his other hand pressed down on your stomach, pushing you further into the mattress. "You're so tight, baby. So. Fucking. Tight." His words were punctuated by deep, powerful thrusts, each one pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You could feel his abs tighten and release as he moved above you, the muscles in his arms bulging with the effort of holding himself up and controlling his movements.

"'m gonna cum," you moan, the words slipping out of your mouth like a desperate plea. Mingi's grip on your wrists tightens, his pace unrelenting.

"Good," he whispers, his voice a dark promise. "Cum for me, princess."

#february filth fest #ateez #ateez hard hours #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez x reader #mingi smut #mingi fluff #mingi ateez #mingi x reader #mingi hard thoughts #mingi hard hours #Spotify

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macfrog · 3 months ago

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epilogue sex on fire

once more for old time's sake, hm?

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: guess who's getting married - and you're all invited.

warnings: age gap, alcohol consumption, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, daddy kink, praise kink, a weird bus metaphor. idk where it came from. but it works. enjoy!

word count: 6.9k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 💚

It passes in the blink of an eye.

Letting go of your mom’s hand at the school gates; forgetting when you next reached for it. Dancing around a laptop with an acceptance email from your first-choice college onscreen. Walking into a new job with a broken heart; walking out whole again.

All in the blink of an eye.

Joel says it too, as he scrolls through floorplans.

“…Used to be Tommy’s room, way back when,” he swipes to the next screenshot, “I thought it’d look good if we – we took down this wall, and – you see?”

You nod, twisting the hem of your T-shirt around your finger, and curl a little closer into his chest.

He still smells like the fresh coconut bodywash he stole from your bag. The sweet scent that he lathered up and let spill down your tummy, foamy bubbles slipping over your hips.

Under the rainfall shower, he massaged all the pain away. The sweet ache of three hours spent rolling around the bed of your bridal suite, letting him hold you and kiss you and fill you in ways only he has ever done.

You can still feel the heat of him between your legs. You miss him there.

“I see,” you whisper, tucking in beneath his chin.

Joel kisses your head. “You okay? You’re quiet, baby.”

“Just listening,” you reply, and he locks his phone.

“Maybe that’s enough Maple talk for the night, hm? We oughta be relaxing, getting ready for tomorrow.”

“No,” you turn in his grasp, “I wanna see what you’re doing with it. I think it’ll look good, Joel. Did you get the home report yet?”

He slides his phone onto the nightstand and wraps his arms around you. “Not yet. Soon as the work’s done.”

“It’ll look brand new. Totally different.”

“Mhm,” he smiles, “Sure will.”

You lay down on his chest, trimmed hair tickling your cheek. His heartbeat is familiar against your ear. It still skips a beat, even four years in. Still quickens anytime your hand falls over it.

“Are you ready to let go of the place?”

Joel takes a deep breath. “I guess I have to be,” he says, though the words tremble in his throat. It’s not often you catch him feeling uncertain. “Mom’s gone, Tommy said he don’t want it. Unless we pack up ‘n move outta the city, place would just sit there – empty.”

“Hm. Too many memories to let it go to waste.”

“Well, they ain’t all good ones,” he admits, drawing circles on your shoulder.

You thought, that afternoon in your bedroom, that he’d shown you his whole hand. Thought you knew every suit, every card he held. All the things that made Joel who he was – perfectly polished.

The cars, the property, the jet. The company – Jesus, there ain’t a thing he seemed more natural at, than running a multimillion-dollar business. He made it look so goddamn easy.

It used to drive you insane – how together he was. The cracks you could barely see, he’d glued them so perfectly. The ease with which he could hold himself in one hand, and hold you in the other. Just take it all on his shoulders like it weighed nothing.

For every card of yours that was turned, though, Joel revealed another of his.

Maple hadn’t always been the postcard it so looked. White walls, red mailbox. Flowerbeds and slamming doors; two boys’ bikes and one empty dining chair. He told you things with a flash in his eye – and you were never sure whether it was the fire of fury or the salt of sadness.

Joel isn’t so seamless after all. He’s a mosaic of everything that has ever happened to him. Joy and pain, everything in between. A shattered collection of shards, shimmering in the sunlight.

He’s beautiful. For all the brokenness, all the stitched skin – he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

He makes you feel beautiful, too.

“Well,” you say, “Maple raised you, so – I love it.”

He looks down at you like you’re brand new. Like it’s the first time he’s ever laid eyes on you.

Running his business looks natural, sure – but loving you comes as easily to Joel as breathing.

“Alright, pretty girl,” he says. “Bedtime.”

You groan into his chest, nose flat against the threads of silver. “Don’t wanna go to bed, Daddy,” you mumble.

He cups your head. “You’re nervous, huh?”

You nod between his pecs, and Joel laughs.

All this time, all the moments of doubt you’ve squashed with the toe of your shoe – and they still manage to creep back in. The corners of your vision still blur, the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight. The scars have long closed, but the skin still remembers.

“You know I’m gonna be there, right?” he says. “The whole time. I’m kind of the one you’re marrying.”

“Oh,” you tilt your head, “So that’s who you are.”

He lifts his hands, mirrors your stupid smirk. “Pleased to meet you.”

“What if we don’t see each other? I mean – before…”

“We will,” he promises. “I’ll getcha at the bottom of the stairs.”

“’s gonna be a pretty hectic day, Joel. We might not have time –”

His chin lifts. His lips part, the way they do when he’s about to chew up your panicked gibbering. He takes a breath and, straight as the line of his brow, repeats himself.

“I will get you at the bottom of the stairs. Okay?”

Your frown melts. Okay, you mouth, and he pinches your nose.

“I love you. Now, sleep.”

He flicks the light off.

Four years. Four years passed in the blink of an eye.

Twelve hours after your leaving party, you were strolling through Lavender Oaks, hand in hand. Nothing to hide anymore, no one to convince – not even yourself. You loved him then, whether you really believed it or not. Whether you had the courage to look it straight in the face, or not.

You had loved him for a while, really. It was the last card you had to deal. And Joel knew, long before you’d admitted it to yourself. He’s always been the patient one, hasn’t he?

That night, then, deep in the belly of last summer. Some leafy, twinkling rooftop garden of a restaurant that you can’t even remember the name of, because all you remember is him. Loose collar, long day. Drinks menu in one hand, the other cradling yours.

He was tired, and you knew it. He’d hardly stopped since seven a.m., working all through lunch and straight to eight – but he’d promised you dinner that week. It was already Thursday, and he had a conference or a company retreat or whatever it was that weekend.

You can’t remember. All you remember is his face, the second you said –

When are you going to ask me to marry you?

Joel faltered for all of three seconds – though if he’d had a mouthful of wine, he’d probably have choked on it.

Tomorrow, he said. Yesterday. Now. Marry me.

You laughed. I’m serious. I want you to ask me.

Really? His smirk faded into something more earnest. He looked like a boy, the way his eyebrows lifted and his lip trembled. A boy who believed in magic. The candlelight flickered across his face, suddenly wide awake and glowing with life. Would you say yes?

Mhm. And I wouldn’t break it off two days later, neither.

Lucky me, he mused. He paused, then added, You know we don’t have to, right? I’m happy, baby. I’m happier than I ever thought… his voice wavered and he gulped, I’d be happy the rest of my life, the way we are.

Joel, you lifted his knuckles to your lips, I want to be your wife. I want you to be my husband. Just – just ask me. I’ll say yes.

He beamed back at you like some lovestruck fool. You suppose he was; suppose he had been since the moment he first saw you. A goner as soon as he opened that office door, as soon as he felt the way your hand fit so perfectly in his.

I love you, he said – for what felt like the millionth time. Somehow, he made it mean more each time.

I know, you replied, leaning over the table to kiss him. I love you, too.

In the blink of an eye, your life changed from lonely blue mornings to bright golden dawns. From two boxes of stuff and a Swiss cheese plant, to an entire office with your name on the door.

You collected stripe after stripe, took leap after stride; chased every promotion, every chance, every speck of something over the horizon. Life got busy, you worked your ass off – but for the first time ever, you felt like you were becoming something. Becoming someone.

Joel sat up through all your late nights at the kitchen table. He poured coffee after coffee, carried you to bed when you couldn’t stare at the laptop any longer. He carefully consoled and aptly controlled every stress-induced breakdown you ever had.

He bought you a peace lily to keep your monstera company. He held your hand at every work event you had. He promised you could do it, and slowly, surely, you realized he was right.

So when you told him you were ready – and only then – Joel traded that little gumball ring for a new one.

A real one.

It happened in Paris. He took you back to that same glitzy restaurant – the delicate wine and rich steak, the chandeliers and renaissance ceilings. He echoed every word of French you spoke in a little Austin accent; played footsie under the table and flirted like it was your first date.

He was nervous. Indestructible as he seems, he still has his tells. He played with your hands the whole night, asked if you were okay every second sip of his drink.

Yeah, you said, I’m good. You?

Yep. Yeah. Good.

Your hands are shaking.

He smirked. I’m on a date with a real pretty girl.

He could barely wait for the elevator to reach the suite. He kept closing in on you, pressing words into your neck and playing with the straps of your dress. I love you, I love you, I love you, he said, gripping your waist.

I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.

Everything sparkling – the champagne, the stars, the thousand and one candles he had lining the balcony. Everything golden – the tower, the ring, the feeling flooding through your chest. And in a shaking voice, on a shaking knee, with shaking hands you had to cup as he spoke, he asked you.

Easiest yes ever.

He’s already asleep. Head tipped back, snoring to the ceiling. He looks so cute that it makes you giggle.

“’night, baby,” you lull, and cuddle into his chest.

Joel’s alarm splits the morning at seven.

He reaches over to silence it, groans into his palm, and rubs his eyes open. “Mornin’, angel,” he sighs – same as always. The same two words that kick off damn near every single day since you got together.

“Morning,” you reply, and hug him tighter.

You watch as he comes to life. Stirring beneath you, heart fluttering against yours, skin still warm and sleepy. You’ve been awake for the last hour just watching him – fingers trailing the valleys of his collarbones, nose nuzzling into the rugged hinge of his jaw.

Sometimes you wonder if it’ll ever fade – the rush you feel when you see him. The way the world tinges pink, mutes for a moment or two – and Joel is the only thing in any of your senses.

He lifts his arms in a loud stretch, biceps popping. He sucks in a deep breath. “We should do something today.”

You scoff. “Like what?”

His lips turn. I dunno. “Make some lifelong vows, maybe.”

“Sounds boring,” you huff, pushing yourself up. You roll from his grasp and pad over to the bathroom. “Why don’t we grab lunch instead?”

“Boring?” Joel scoffs. He follows you to the sink and curves around you in a bear hug. “Spent over a hundred grand on this thing, Ms. Miller. You telling me we wasted our money?”

His hands sneak under the material of your tee, lifting it over your bare hips. There’s a weight building against the small of your back – another thing that kicks off nearly every single day. It sits heavy, twitching when you reach for your toothbrush and your ass ruts against him.

Joel hisses. “Goddamn, darlin’,” he grabs your hips and steadies you, “Easy on me, now.”

“I’m not the one groping.” You spin in his arms, toothbrush between your molars.

“Can’t help it –” he kisses your neck, “– when you look –” the other side, “– so sweet –” he lowers with a tiny groan, “– ‘n you taste –” he places a long, damp kiss to your tummy, “– even better.”

You squirm in his grasp. “Joel, we don’t have time for –”

“Sure we do,” he murmurs, dragging his tongue to your slit. “It’s us they’re waitin’ for.”

You drop your brush into the sink with a gasp. “Tommy’s gonna be here any second.

His eyes flash up to yours. “Who?”

He scoops your ass and pulls your thighs over his shoulder. Deft with it, a body he knows as well as his own by this point. A body he loves even more.

You open up for him like he never left. Still warm and wet from last night, still coming down from each high he took you to. Sometimes it feels like this is all you do. Sometimes, you wonder if there’s ever a time you feel more you, than when you’re wrapped around some part of him.

Joel’s voice reverberates through your body. He groans as he licks, nips and sucks between your legs, slowly easing you off the counter and onto his mouth.

You reach for his hair. The salt and pepper streaks, the bedhead only you ever get to see before he’s washed and groomed into that perfect shape of himself. A carefully carved shape, ruggedly handsome but intentional.

He’s more relaxed this way. Your way. Before the world seeps into him, before the suit and tie and hundred-dollar cologne. When only his sun has seen him, stirred him, swept her fingers across his broad chest and whispered sweet nothings in his ear.

Heat is pooling in your stomach, flooding through your veins. It’s cracking open your chest, drawing breath from your lungs. You grip the edge of the counter, back arching, hips rutting against Joel’s tongue – and you come.

He doesn’t miss a beat. Doesn’t miss a drop. He laps every second of it up, every pulse of your cunt, slowing only when you crumple against the mirror and sigh.

Your fingers swirl around his hair. Your body feels heavy with pleasure. The shock is still looping around your bones.

Joel kisses the inside of your thigh and stands, crossing his arms at your spine.

“I love you,” you hum, licking yourself from his lips.

He smiles. A dreamy, golden thing. Still just him and the sun. “Love you, too.”

This morning, of all mornings, might be cutting it fine. They’ve already started setting up downstairs. Twenty tables, one hundred and fifty chairs, one thousand roses, forty bottles of champagne, three grand behind the bar.

The last thing you need on the day of all days is for the bride and groom to be late.

Still. He’s rock solid and right there, throbbing against your tummy.

You slip your hand around him and squeeze, massaging his tip with your thumb.

Joel’s jaw ticks. He feigns offense. “Baby, we don’t have time,” he says, eyes on his cock as you guide him south.

“Shut up,” you breathe, “Shut up and fuck me.”

“Ain’t saying no to that,” he replies, and his hips meet yours.

You groan in harmony, wrapping closer together. Joel finds a quick pace, body snapping into yours, holding you strong and steady in his arms.

“Jesus,” he pants, “Three times last night wasn’t enough for you, huh?”

“F-feels like it wasn’t enough for you, either.”

He laughs. “Forever wouldn’t be long enough in this little cunt, sweet girl. She’s too good to me. Loves her daddy, don’t she?”

You follow his gaze down, where his thick cock drags between your legs. Soaked with you, slick and shining with each thrust of his hips. Deeper and deeper, touching a part of you only he’s ever been able to reach. Pulling noises from your throat only he has ever been able to pull.

Joel rolls his forehead against yours and lifts your eyes to his, a messy kiss to your lips. “Like it when you watch,” he whispers. “You see how pretty she looks?”

“Mhm,” you hook an arm around his neck, “Feel so pretty, Daddy.”

“My beautiful girl.” His lips close around yours again, tongue hot and heady in your mouth. His pace stammers when you moan against him. He curses, hips jolting.

He’s close. All too close.

He won’t come before you. Not before he’s drawn another from your body, felt every pulse of your pussy around him. Not before he’s watched you fall apart; felt you collapse into his arms with it.

He slips out, kissing your temple to shush your petulant whine. “’s okay,” he folds your legs to your chest, “I gotcha. I’m here.”

Over his shoulder, the sun lights your reflection in the shower glass. His toned back, the swells of muscle across his shoulder. Hiding the shape of you from the morning – his moaning mess of a girl, gripping onto him and screaming into his chest.

She sobs his name and you taste it on your tongue. Daddy, Daddy, Daddy. Each one louder than the last, each one sorer.

The window is cracked open. Anyone might be walking under it.

And you like it, don’t you?

The chance that someone might hear. Might know exactly what Joel’s in here doing to you. Ruining you for anyone else, like he’s done a million times over.

It’s as though he lulls you into it. Like waves, starting in the pit of your belly and rolling outward. Heavier and deeper and sweeter, until your orgasm crashes over you in bursts of warmth.

Your arm tightens around Joel’s neck, brows knitting when you reach your peak. You keep your eyes locked on his, and he mirrors your expression.

“Oh, good girl, honey,” he rasps, pausing when his own high overcomes him. He twitches, little bursts of heat in your cunt before flooding the entire thing. He holds your hips flush against his until his cock stills and breath fills his lungs.

He pulls you against his chest and sits you back on the counter. If there’s one thing better than being fucked by him, it’s the comedown. The aftercare. The kissing, the fixing you back into shape.

Your pussy flutters around him. Your ear against his chest, you feel your heart beating in time with his.

Joel cups your head and dots kisses down to your shoulder. He makes to pull out, and you fuss.

“Stay,” you whimper, tugging on his arm.

He smiles. “Oh, baby, wish I could,” he squeezes your waist, “but I heard Tommy knockin’ on the door five minutes ago.”

He strolls back into the bedroom, massaging a knot out of his shoulder.

You sit, stunned, leaking all over the counter, before rushing through at his heels. “Asshole!” you hiss.

He chuckles as he pulls a hoodie over his head. “Couldn’t leave my lady unsatisfied, could I?”

You throw yourself into a pair of his pajama bottoms. “I think she’d have been fine with it, given your fucking brother is right outside.”

He swings the door wide open. You curl around one of his arms.

Tommy leans against the opposite wall, picking at his nails. He straightens, scratches his beard, and smacks his lips.

“Told you you’d sleep in, brother.”

Joel’s chin lifts. He nods, amused. “You did tell me that, yeah.”

You want to slap him for how cocky he definitely feels. His little brother is none the wiser.

The denim-donned Miller steps over the threshold and reaches for you, a bristly kiss to your cheek. “Mornin’, sweetheart. How you feelin’?”

“Good,” you lie.

“Nervous,” Joel corrects, cocking an eyebrow.

Tommy laughs. “Talk to Maria. She’ll calm you right down. She felt the exact same on our day.”

Their day. Almost ten years ago, back when you and Joel were strangers – and he and Tommy were as good as.

Credit to him, he put up with the pestering from both sides – that is, you and his mom – for six months, at the start of your relationship. Slowly – painfully slowly – he began to entertain the conversation. Never gonna happens turned into if it ever did happens.

He learned to unlock his jaw, to make eye contact with his mom when she talked about Tommy. He asked questions he hadn’t asked in years. He learned where he and his wife lived, what they named their son.

He learned that they’d had a spring wedding. He learned that Tommy’s best man was his drinking buddy. He fell quiet, and his mom knew to change the subject. On the drive home, he held your hand a little tighter than usual.

Six months which, in the end, felt less like convincing him – and more reassuring him. Yes, Tommy might ignore all of his calls. Maybe Maria might answer, and tell him in a hushed voice that now’s not really a great time, Joel.

Maybe his brother might pick up the phone himself, tell him to go straight to hell.

But he didn’t.

He didn’t hardly recognize his big brother’s voice, at first. There was a pause a few breaths too long right after Joel reintroduced himself – long enough that you thought you might’ve kicked him all the way back to square one. And then –

Well, shit, brother. How the hell have you been?

You spent your first anniversary in Jackson. You took Joel’s mom up there every year after. The brothers fit back together like they’d never been apart, like they’d never forgotten the shape of each other’s hug, the cut of the other’s good humor.

Tommy took you in like you’d been part of Joel even before either of them knew your name.

Your fiancé pulls you into a hug. He kisses your head and asks his brother to grab the elevator.

Tommy salutes as he turns down the hallway. “See you later, little sis.”

Joel holds your face and taps your nose. His lips twist in half a smile, half frown. “You gonna be okay?”

“Sure,” you sniffle. The sting of tears brims your waterline already and you blink them away. You’re hiding from him.

“I’m right downstairs if you need me,” he says, spotting you clear as day. “Just call.”

“Not supposed to see you before the ceremony.”

“Yeah,” Joel winces, “don’t think we’re supposed to have sex, either, but we broke that rule a long time ago, pretty girl.”

His hands are so big around yours. So steady, pulse loud only from your morning tryst – if at all. He plays with your fingers, straightens the ring on your third.

A sharp bell sounds. Tommy whistles for his brother. Your chest aches.

“Few more hours,” Joel says. “Few more hours and then we got the rest of forever, just you ‘n me.”

He wanders down to the elevator, turning inside. He leans against the back wall and crosses his arms. His eyes meet yours, lips curl in that trademark smirk of his, and the doors close.

The stairs are cold and breezy. The manor doors have been wide open all morning, guests filtering through, allowing the cool to cluster in each corner of the house.

It’s been a busy morning. Par for the course, so you hear. No bride gets through her wedding prep unscathed.

You’ve spent four ass-numbing hours dutifully planted in your chair, your nephew in your arms as something of a comfort blanket, eating fresh fruit and drinking cold champagne and promising not to touch your makeup after the artist is done with it.

Maria uses the light from the window opposite the top of the stairs to finish buttoning your dress. She balances on the second step, peering up at your trembling figure.

“It’ll be over before you know it,” she says.

“In the blink of an eye?” You scoff, but she nods.

“I’m serious. You won’t even feel it, and it’ll be over. You’ll be lying in bed tonight telling Joel, Maria was right.”

You clasp your fingers around your bouquet. “I’m sure he’ll love that.”

“He could stand to hear it more often.”

You giggle.

A pair of warm hands sweeps down your shoulders, turning you by the elbows. Her dress is a deep olive, spilling over her arms in waves of shining satin.

“Mom,” you breathe, leaning into her.

She smiles, pinching your cheek. “This is it,” she says simply, like it is as simple as tying your shoelaces. “Deep breaths.”

“I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of…” Your eyes scan the summery wallpaper behind her. It offers no answers. “…What if we’re not ready?”

She glowers. “Oh, yeah. Good point. I’m sure the man who flew you to Paris after two weeks is not ready to marry you. We should send everybody home.”

“It’s just a big deal,” you continue, “Lots of people downstairs.”

“No, there’s not. There’s not,” she cuts your protest, voice sharp, “There’s only one person in that room, and it’s him. And you’ve done scarier than this, right?”

Your head wobbles in weakened agreement.

She links her arm through yours. “I remember,” she leads you downstairs, “a little girl with shaking knees, boarding a bus to camp for the summer. I remember her teary face, her tiny hand waving goodbye from the back window. Ain’t this just the same?”

Your bridesmaids slip past, hoisting their silky dresses above their ankles as they tackle the winding staircase.

“Alright, well,” you sniff, “I was eleven when I went to camp, so. Significant difference.”

“I disagree,” she says. “It’s a scary thing to do when you’re eleven, and maybe getting married is a scary thing to do when you’re thirty. But you got on that bus because you wanted to, and you’re doing this because you want it, too. It’s simple, sweetheart.”

She pauses a step below. Her hands drop from yours. Her eyes are glassy, tears threatening to spoil her makeup.

“Sometimes,” she whispers, “we mistake fear for excitement. Butterflies can feel an awful lot like nerves. Sometimes, something scary can take a similar shape to something wonderful. And you never know the difference until you step on that bus.”

She takes another step down and you reach for her hands – the same way you reached for them at the school gates, twenty years ago.

“Mom –” you squeak, twisting your fingers around hers.

She kisses your knuckles. “You are going to live the happiest life with him, I just know it. You’re going to take such good care of each other.”

She skips off around the bend in the stairs, shawl flurrying. At the bottom, she crosses paths with someone, squeezes their sleeve with affection.

He sways into view slowly, carefully, like he’s trying not to spook. Hands in his pockets, suit sleek and smart. Beard trimmed as close as you’d allow, hair fixed as neat as he’d allow.

He cleans up good. He always has. If it weren’t for the handrail, you might faint into his arms.

When he speaks, his voice is light, warm, soft on your skin. Wraps around you and draws you in, safe and sound. Calls you home.

“There’s my girl.”

And you walk to him.

“Hi,” you say, voice soft, heels clicking.

Joel watches every step. His eyes loop up and down your figure, scanning from the swishing hem of your dress to the twinkle in your eyes. He’s somewhere between the widest grin you’ve ever seen on his face, and shattering into tears.

“Oh, darlin’,” he sighs as you twirl into his arms, “You are so beautiful.”

You straighten the flower in his pocket. “You’re pretty beautiful, too.”

You fall together, bodies magnetized. Joel’s chin lifts and your lips connect in a tender kiss. He wraps his arms around your waist, hands travelling north along the figure-hugging material of your dress.

“Good choice,” he mumbles into your mouth.

“Mhm,” you reply, a joyful lilt to it. “Knew it was a winner.”

You stand for a moment, swaying together. Your arms crossed around his neck, his snug around your waist. Breathing one another in, steadying each other. Souls finding the other again.

Some last-minute guests scurry through the doors over his shoulder. Their footsteps echo through the hall as they find their seats. Joel holds you all the tighter.

“You ready for this?” he asks.

You take a deep breath. “Yeah. More than I’ve ever been, my whole life.”

“We can still call it off,” he smirks, “Take off on the honeymoon, never talk to any of these assholes again.”

He laughs when you do, relief blooming on his face.

“No, Joel,” you say. Your voice feels clearer, stronger with your body against his. “I love you. I love you so much, and I…I wanna get on the bus.”

His brows pinch. He tilts his head, scoops your jaw. “You…Wh–? What, baby?”

You nod to yourself, staring at his tie. “I wanna get on the bus,” you repeat, voice barely there.

He blinks down at you. His thumb strokes your cheek. He makes to reply – some dumbfounded quip, probably – when a voice splits you apart.

“Psst! You two!”

Your mom ducks her head out into the entrance hall. She clicks her fingers. “They need you up front, Miller.”

He nods and turns back to you, bending to look you in the eye. “Catch your breath,” he says. “Just a little while longer.”

“I’m ready,” you decide. “I’m ready.”

“Alright. Then let’s get on this goddamned bus, whatever the hell that means.”

The celebration is alive with a string melody, the tinkling of glasses, and bursts of sweet laughter.

Your cheeks ache from all the smiling. Your throat is dry from all the talking. And you don’t care. You could do this for the rest of your life, if Joel would let you.

Turns out getting married is pretty fun – once you’ve done it, that is. When all that’s left is to swing between tables, chat until you run out of breath, dance until your feet hurt. Eat until you feel sick, drink until your head dizzies, weep in the bathroom with your friends then reapply your makeup and repeat.

It’s a year-long effort with only a day’s payout – but as far as days go, it’s not half bad.

In the same grand hall you said I do in three hours ago – soaring windows with drapes strung to the heavens, pale flowers arranged on every table, chandeliers glistening overhead – you search for the one missing piece.

“Have you seen my husband?”

Drew scoffs as he approaches your spinning figure. Beer in one hand, his daughter in the other. He shakes his head, laughing.

“You ain’t used to saying that yet, are you?”

“Nope,” you pinch his daughter’s hands, “and I hope I never am.”

She squeals with laughter, kicking her legs under swirls of chiffon. She throws herself out of her father’s arms into yours and you catch her, perching her on your hip.

“Good for you, kid,” Drew says. “You deserve it. You both do.”

You smile and peer down at the toddler tugging on your diamond necklace. “Your uncle Joel bought me this,” you babble in her ear. “If it breaks, you’re one sorry individual.”

She giggles all the louder.

“Last I saw him,” Drew tilts his bottle towards the patio doors, “he was out on the terrace.”

Your eyes flit to the twinkling, dusky sky. “Alone?”

He shrugs. “Guess so.”

You pass his daughter back, fixing the bow on her dress. “I’ll find him. Thanks, Drew.”

The breeze breathes between the doors as you walk over. It’s a chilled night, but the fresh air is a welcome breather from the busy dancefloor.

Veiled by the sheer curtains, his figure relaxes against the balcony, staring out at the rolling lawn. He exhales a thick, scattered cloud of white to the sky. His head turns at the sound of your heels on the patio.

“Nice view, huh?”

Joel hums. His voice is clotted with tobacco. “Sure is, Mrs. Miller. Fine choice of venue.”

“Teamwork,” you reply, and pat your fingers against his palm in a weak high five. You cross your wrists over his shoulder and stare out at the mountains in the distance. “Out here all by yourself?”

“Just needed a moment. Take it all in.” He tilts the cigar in his hand. “Make use of my wedding gift from my best man.”

There’s a blanket of chill slowly settling over the valley. It hugs a little too tight around your bare arms. You shiver, nestling closer to Joel, and he straightens.

“Here, baby,” he says, shrugging his jacket off. He drapes it over your shoulders and rubs them warm. He plucks the cigar from its ashtray, offering it silently.

You scoff. “I’m not gonna like it.”

“I know,” Joel replies, “but we’re celebrating.”

The stick is heavier than you expected, dry and hard between your fingers. The cap is sliced, dampened by Joel’s lips.

He watches your mouth, smiling when you inhale. “Not too much,” he clasps your wrist lightly, “Only a little.”

It’s rancid, if you’re honest. Clogs your lungs with what feels like unbreathable heat, a sickly-sweet flavor that crinkles your nose. The smoke punches from your lungs in a broken cough. And once they’re clear – you lift the cigar for more.

“Alright,” Joel says, taking it back after a couple more puffs. “That’s enough, Kennedy. Like it?”

“Not bad,” you croak, stealing a swig of his champagne. “Don’t make a habit of it.”

“No, ma’am.”

You lean into him, elbows on the railing, following his outstretched hand as he points out each mountain peak.

He talks about the years he and Tommy spent camping, the long fishing trips with his dad. Regales in excruciating detail the time he pitched his tent right by a cluster of poison ivy, and woke up covered in bloody, blotchy blisters.

He talks about all of it easier than he has in years. As though the dust has settled over the memories, the good and the bad, and all that’s left is to look. No more shifting things around in his mind, trying to find where it all fits. Everything is exactly where it needs to be.

After a while, he kisses your head. “Hey,” he says. “Congratulations.”

You lift your head. “You, too…?”

“You got married today.”

“Did I? Shit, I didn’t mean to.”

He flicks his eyebrows. “That something you saw yourself doing, five years ago?”

No. Not at all. But then my boss held my waist to his in a dive bar, and – you know the rest.

“Hm,” you flatten your lips, “No, but then – you’re not something I saw myself doing, five years ago.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “Stay classy, pretty girl.”

You giggle. “I’d do anything, long as it’s with you. Mess around on the first date, fly to Paris on the second. Meet your mom, like, three weeks in.”

“You are not countin’ that lunch with James from accounting as our first date,” he protests. “That shitshow was not our first date.”

“You paid for my meal and you fucked me in the bathroom. Date.”

“No,” he points a telling finger in your direction, “No. If we have kids one day, they’re going to ask. We gotta get our story straight. Our first date was Paris. I took you to Paris.”

“Whatever you say, old man.” You bunch your shoulders, snuggling deeper into his jacket. “Deep down, you know the truth.”

“Can we change the subject?”

“What do you wanna talk about?”

He searches the skyline, plucking up courage when the last of the setting sun catches his eye. “Well,” he sounds nervous, “I thought I could give you your gift.”

You fiddle with your necklace. “I thought you already did.”

Joel shakes his head. He takes your wrists and lifts your hands. “Close your eyes.”

“If you drop a living thing into my hands, Miller,” you screw your eyes shut, “Divorce.”

“Uhuh,” he mutters.

He holds your hands in one of his. There’s the ruffling of linen, a faint jingling, a roaring cheer from inside.

There’s the cold kiss of metal in the cushion of your palm – tiny, featherlight – followed by a coiling, and something jagged.

You hold in a laugh, breathing nervously. “I’m scared,” you whisper, and Joel kisses the hinge of your wrist.

“You trust me?” he asks.

“I trust you.”

“Then, open.”

Your eyes flutter, and there he is. Still standing before you, still smiling. Still holding your hands. He nods down, and you look.

In your palms lies a small brass key. On the end of the chain, a single silver maple leaf tag. It winks back at you, moonlight reflected in its grooves.

You lift the key. It’s worn by time, metal nicked and imperfect. Brass a little tarnished. The leaf sways in your clutch.

“Maple?” you ask, and Joel nods. Your eyes begin to well.

“I know we’re happy in the city,” he says, “and I know it’s just some little paint-chipped house. It’s probably still got school reports ‘n shitty comics up in the attic. I just – God, I can’t shake it, baby.”

You look up at him, a question in your teary gaze.

“A little birdie once taught me,” he steps closer, “that it’s okay to lose things. To let ‘em go. I didn’t believe her at the time. I was scared. Scared to lose her, scared she might find something better. I reckon she was pretty scared, too, but – even when I thought I lost her, she came back.

“She said this thing about making new memories. Better memories. And I just can’t shake it.”

The words catch on your tongue on their way out. You’re only just now realizing how different life was before. Before him, before this. How empty and cold it felt, how little you noticed before the sun peered through the clouds and said something in a drawl laced with love and humor.

How quickly you ran into its warm, open arms.

Joel goes on. “The guys are making a real good job of it. They said there’s plenty potential, and you know it has that huge yard. Now, if you don’t want it, say the word and it’s gone. Out of our hands. But,” his voice breaks, “if you do, then – it’s yours, darlin’. It’s been yours since the moment you walked through the door.”

And, well – hasn’t everything?

The job was yours the very second you tiptoed into his office. He told you so himself. The job, the desk, the free trip to Europe. You walked into his life and flipped everything on its head, without even knowing it.

You worked for him for three years before anything ever happened. Three whole years of elbow nudges and fleeting glances and one too many questions about whoever the other was dating. Joel figures he loved you all that time. You figure you loved him, too.

You changed everything for him. From that first glance, the first meeting of your hands, nothing was ever the same. All of it, from the spare cabinet in his bathroom to the third finger on his left hand – it was all just waiting for you to make it your own.

Hasn’t Joel’s heart belonged to you since you first laid eyes on each other?

You turn the key between your fingers. The answer rolls along the tip of your tongue. The longer you stay quiet, the more nervous you know he’s feeling.

Your eyes meet his – and you smile.

“I want a porch swing.”

Joel chuckles. “Done.”

“And we host Thanksgiving every year.”

“Every year?” He almost grimaces.

You’re staring each other down. It’s as much a game as it is a genuine request, like most of what you do. Just as much teasing as sincere.

You nod. “Every. Year.”

“Okay,” he relents. “Anything else?”

Your eyes drift off behind him. Inside one of the windows, Drew and Rachel twirl their little girl in time with a familiar guitar melody. She throws her head back in a fit of laughter and they pick her up, spinning her around.

Joel glances over his shoulder. He breathes a laugh. “I’ll give you that tonight if you really want it.”

You lean into his chest and kiss his jaw. “I just want you.”

“You got me,” he says. “Hook, line, and sinker.”

The rest of the band kicks in. The raspy lead singer, the perky drum beat. The dancefloor fills some, hands thrown to the ceiling, glasses spilling over.

You bite down on a smile, eyes flitting to Joel’s.

He twists his shoe into the patio, nudging into your side. He extends his arm and you link yours through, following his lead inside. “Good song,” he mutters.

“Hm,” you agree. “Little before my time.”

#bye bye lovebirds! i miss you already!#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #ceo!joel miller #ceo!joel #sugardaddy!joel miller #the last of us #the last of us fic #fic: sex on fire

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2pndr · 4 months ago

Text

Dinner In a Winter Wonderland

Hi! This is my first ever fic! Hope you enjoy it :D

Winter x Male Reader Fluff

8.4k words (sorry)

“We’ll only agree if you guys bring along a fourth friend, ok?”

Your three friends all recited to you the conditions a “goddess” had set for the Christmas quadruple date they were dragging you into.

You sat at your desk, speechless as you scanned the pleading faces of your roommates and long-time friends, stunned by their brazen appeals to you. It was probably that last sentence that bamboozled you the most though. Sure you were the closest to them, but it’s not like they were short on other friends. Why did you of all people have to come along?

“Why me of all people?” you asked again, this time out loud.

“Well, apparently, they have a you in their friend group too,” one of your friends began.

“A me?” you scoffed.

“Yeah, a you,” he continued. “Y’know, a stubborn, reclusive homebody who needs to be dragged out of their room every time their friends wanna hang out. All because they enjoy their ‘me time’ a little too much,” he joked, perhaps a bit too accurately imitating your increasingly weak excuses to leave the dorm.

“Ha, ha,” you mocked.

“No seriously! Apparently, her name’s Winter.”

“Winter?” You stifled a snicker. “Like the season? That’s her real name?”

“I mean, that’s what they told us,” your friend replied with a shrug. “Who cares? It’s kinda cute.”

You silently agreed, hiding a smirk as to not concede that your interest was piqued. “So let me get this straight,” you began, folding your arms in an attempt to appear unfazed. “The only reason I’m being dragged along is because you guys need someone to pair up with some girl who—what?—shares my hate for leaving the house? The hell’s in this for me?” You asked, feigning anger.

“Dude, it’ll be a perfect match!” another friend enticed, desperately trying to paint the situation in an appealing light. “You both don’t like leaving your rooms, you both hate meeting new people. It’s like the universe is aligning for you two to meet.”

Did he even realise the irony of that sentence?

“C'mon man, spending Christmas alone in your room three years in a row is some of the saddest shit I’ve ever seen,” The first one remarked.

Well he wasn’t wrong, but you couldn’t let him get any ground.

“Some people can’t help it,” You retorted.

“Well those people probably don’t have a chance to go out with the most attractive women they’ll ever see.”

You scowled, about to add fuel to the fire before your third friend cut you off.

“Think about it,” he chimed in, shifting the conversation away from an argument. “If she’s anything like you, she’ll probably want this whole thing over with as fast as you do.”

“Uh, huh…” You leaned back in your chair, tamed, but staring at the ceiling unconvinced. A girl like you? With how active the rest of the campus was, you found it hard to believe there was actually someone out there like you—someone cynical and uncomfortable with social gatherings of any form.

To be clear, you didn't have poor social skills—in fact, you’d argue you had a certain way with words—you just avoided any chance to use them. You had a knack in discerning the smallest shift in someone’s expression, adjusting your tone, words and body language to suit.

But that knack was often overshadowed by an unshakable urge to assess, to weigh every syllable and gesture, scanning for the faintest sign of discomfort or misinterpretation.

This hyperawareness turned into a road-block for any conversation. Instead of letting the flow guide you, you’d find yourself scrutinising every word you said the instant it left your mouth, wondering if it had landed right, if it was too much or too little, or if you’d somehow veered into awkward territory.

The more you tried to keep things smooth, the more you’d find yourself caught in these spirals of self-correction, only to create the very awkwardness you’d been trying to avoid.

So in the rare case you did end up at a social event, it was like you were playing a part. You stuck to the same few openings, the same practised routes for small talk.

There was nothing organic or genuine about the performance, nothing personal or meaningful. It was merely for show—a facade to keep up appearances.

It was all exhausting, and that’s what you had reiterated to your friends time and time again.

Regardless of your scepticism though, a strange part of you was actually a little curious. Not about the date itself—no, that was still a nightmare—but about this mysterious girl who apparently shared your introversions.

“Look, all we’re asking for is one night,” one pleaded, hands glued together as if he was in prayer. “One night! Just hang out with her for a couple hours while we chat up her friends, and you never have to do this again. You don’t have to see her again, talk to her again or anyone else if we ever ask. We’ll owe you big time.”

“Seriously dude, we’ll pitch in for the PS5 Pro or something!” another added in further pleas.

You let out a long sigh, staring this time down at your desk. Not in a million years would you even consider buying that atrocious excuse for a cash grab, but the sentiment of your friends owing you that colossal amount was admittedly tempting.

And then there was this Winter girl. The one who was apparently as much of a hermit as you were. You couldn’t ignore that meeting her was happening during Christmas, the very time of year you tried to avoid going out the most. But you almost couldn’t help but wonder what kind of person she was, if she really was as closeted as you or just some exaggerated myth your friends had conjured up to lure you out.

It shouldn’t have, but just the idea of her tickled something deep in your brain, flooding your subconscious with various guesses of her character.

Your mind conjured up an amalgamation of the most attractive women you had seen throughout your life; famous actresses and idols, the cute barista at the Starbucks down the road, that one girl at the airport who caught your eye but you never ended up talking to. Their looks, personalities, whatever alluring details you could recall were being melted together and forged into what became your own expectation of Winter.

You imagined a stunning slim and quiet girl—that much was obvious—with milky white hair, and fair complexion. They were traits all befitting of a girl named Winter. But in your mind something about her attitude, her facial expressions… they radiated… cold. It wasn’t unlike how you appeared to strangers—irrationally concealing your timid fear of interaction with a stiff stare and an emotionless face. As you considered how similar your vision of her felt to you, it was strangely… warm…familiar.

Within a matter of seconds, your apprehension had transformed to a hesitant desire to meet her. Or rather, this idea of her you had thrown together.

You sat in a long silence, wrestling with your inner turmoil—your shameful, uncharacteristic urge to discover the truth about this girl.

Seriously man? You asked yourself. There’s no way in hell she’d look anything like that if she was anything like you.

Your asshole of a subconscious did have a point.

But something about this tugged at you in a way you couldn’t help but notice. If this girl was like you, really like you, you had to know.

“Alright,” you eventually grumbled, putting a hand over your face to suppress the oncoming wave of regret already washing over you. “I’ll go.”

Your friends erupted in cheers, high-fiving and dapping each other up like they had just won themselves a date with the hottest girls on campu–Oh.

“YES! You’re the man!” one of them yelled, giving you a ‘pat’ on the back that almost knocked you out of your chair.

"You won’t regret this!" another exclaimed, jabbing a finger toward you, though deep down, you already kind of did.

“FUCK YEAH!” the last one punched to the sky. “We owe you man,” smiling from ear-to-ear as cheers followed him out of your room.

As you hastily cleared the other two from your territory, you felt the dread settling in. One night, that’s all it was, you told yourself. Just one night with this girl named Winter, who was probably as opposed to this as you were.

What’s the worst that could happen?

---

Before you knew it, you were in your friend’s car, dressed in your Sunday’s best—which, admittedly, was a hastily thrown together fusion of your roommates’ closets.

An attempt had been made to make your less than desirable features appear at least mildly presentable to the outside world. Your hair had been styled with some expensive hair product you could barely pronounce, your caveman scent obscured by some B-list celebrity’s cologne, and your abhorrent posture—honed through years of agonising abuse to your spine—was being corrected by your friends’ frustrated hands what felt like every other second.

They had half-jokingly, half-100%-seriously subjected you to some correction exercises over the past few days, few of which you actually bothered to attempt. Obviously, the few you had tried didn’t work, as your friend had stopped bothering to correct your posture himself, instead resorting to giving you a stinging slap every time your spine inevitably slumped from upright.

The swelling of the handprint forming on your back had charitably distracted you from the metric-shit ton of adrenaline coursing through your veins. It caused your breathing to grow heavy and your heart to feel it was going to burst from your chest. A couple sleepless nights and a few too many hours of staring blankly at your PC monitor had transformed your strange curiosity for meeting Winter back into dread.

You had moronically forgotten you actually had to talk to this girl for a couple hours instead of just confirming if she was similar to you.

Either you forced some kind of pitiful attempt at conversation with her—risking major embarrassment—or both of you succumb to sitting in introverted silence.

Even if you could properly wrestle with overusing your little talent, the fact was, any attraction whatsoever to a girl caused you to fold like a cheap suit, rendering your ability useless. If Winter was any bit as alluring as your mind made her out to be it would be more than disastrous for you. It would be like every ounce of composure was swapped out for a hyperactive inner monologue—one that left you stumbling over your own thoughts.

As your friend’s car hummed along the bustling holiday streets, your mind continued to spin in overdrive almost as quickly as the neon red and green of the city's Christmas ornaments seemed to appear and disappear all around you. You aimed to avoid risking any conversation that led to your humiliation, desperately mapping out the possible routes for conversation. This process was standard yet exhaustive at this point—your own RPG dialogue tree being mapped out in your mind.

"Hey, nice to meet you. How’s it going?"

"Fine."

[ No further options.]

You could already feel the weight of the dead-end conversation dragging the both of you down. That wasn’t going to work.

“So, what kind of stuff are you into?"

"Not much."

[FAILED: Charisma check too low.]

Your mind projected you staring at the ceiling, desperately trying to find something, anything, to say while Winter twiddled her thumbs, wondering out loud with a groan,“Why did I even bother to show up.”

What the fuck brain? That wasn’t helping your confidence at all.

“Hey, I’ve heard a lot about you.”

"Yeah, same."

[Neutral response. Proceed carefully.]

This felt promising. You could try pushing deeper, maybe ask a follow-up question, but you could already feel how you would screw it all up—one wrong word, one wrong look and kaput.

How about…

[Say Nothing.]

[No response.]

Yeah, that’s probably how it’s gonna go.

The car hit a bump in the road, and so did your only shred of confidence in this turning out well. You sighed quietly to yourself, senselessly running through these hypothetical scenarios in your head, frantically searching for the “good” dialogue option that simply wasn’t available to you.

There was no save scumming in real life, no charisma stat to help you bluff and charm your way through the whole thing, no getting lucky with your dice rolls either. It was just your limited social ability, a few thinly veiled attempts at small talk, and the faint hope that Winter might somehow be interested in having a conversation. It all reminded you why you avoided these kinds of situations in the first place…

You suck at them.

What felt like eternity with your own thoughts was soon interrupted as the car pulled up to the curb. You noticed the Christmas themed sign of the barbeque restaurant in the evening dusk. You stared at it, utterly terrified like it was signalling the entrance to some twisted version of hell—a place where your date, crowds of people, and the inevitable crushing embarrassment of being out of your element awaited—your hell.

Your friends on the other hand were already pumped, talking over each other in excitement as they recounted for the hundredth time just how hot these girls they scored were. Meanwhile, you were still stuck somewhere between resignation and panic.

Their voices blended into background noise—drowned out by the mental gymnastics you were performing to figure out how to survive the next couple of hours. You hadn’t even walked into the restaurant yet, and you already felt like retreating into the comforting embrace of your bed sheets back home.

As you resolved to follow your friends inside you were instantly hit by a wall of warmth, thick with the smell of grilling meat and the hum of lively holiday celebrants. The restaurant was buzzing—waiters weaving between tables, the sizzling of meats echoing from grills, and laughter rippling across the room like a contagious wave. Already the ‘energy’ in here was too much for you, prompting you to take a moment to adjust the atmosphere—all while your friends strode in like they owned the place.

This was the kind of scene you’d typically steer clear of: crowded, chaotic, and packed with people who simply enjoyed the presence of others. The holiday season did nothing to ease your anxiety, doing its part to gather everyone together by filling every seat in the restaurant. You shoved your hands into the unfamiliar pockets of the jacket your friends threw on you, hyper aware of how out of place you felt.

Your friends were greeted with warm smiles from the hostess—predictably, since they looked like they had just stepped off of the cover of Vogue magazine. Meanwhile, you were certain you looked like you’d rather be anywhere else.

She led you all to a private booth which was, thankfully, designated its own corner far away from the rest of the vivacious dynamic of the restaurant’s other patrons. Your relief didn’t last long though, as your heart leapt into your throat when you spotted four girls already sitting there. Three of them stood up to greet you, all endearing smiles, waves and the obligatory “Merry Christmas.”

Your fear was instantly frayed as the first girl began her introduction. Her name was Karina, and you were taken aback at how uncannily beautiful she was. In fact, it was almost unsettling how flawless she looked. It was like she had been engineered in a lab or generated by some AI algorithm designed to create the perfect face. Everything, right down to her sharp profile and unnaturally smooth skin was other-wordly perfect. A small mole dotted the edge of her chin, like an anchor tethering her otherwise impossibly symmetrical features to reality. She greeted your friends with a poised smile, but there was something behind her eyes—sharp, calculating, and trained on you—like she was sizing you up in particular.

But your mind paid that no attention as the next beauty introduced herself as Giselle—Her confident demeanour being the highlight for you. She moved with an ease that gave the impression she wasn’t fazed by anything or anyone. Her posture was relaxed, yet somehow commanding, exuding an energy that screamed, I’m hot, and I fuckin’ know it. The assertive eye contact she made with each of you as she introduced herself caused you to shrink back, almost out of respect for her authority. In contrast, her voice was steady and warm, but her eyes flicked back to Karina’s every so often, like the two of them were communicating without saying a word.

Then there was Ning Ning, who practically radiated excitement. Her lips curved into a smile that was bright and infectious, the kind that lit up her entire face. She greeted you all with a playful wave that bordered on adorable. Yet there was a switch in her—something in the way her expression shifted mid-conversation from lively and sweet to striking confidence—which could flip in an instant. She seemed to live in the moment though, completely detached from whatever silent exchange was happening between the other two. It was hard to tell if Ning Ning was more girl-next-door or temptress, and that fluidity made her all the more intriguing.

Your friends weren’t exaggerating. Each of them was stunning in their own way—like the kind of women you’d expect to see gracing the pages of a high-fashion magazine or as models strutting down a runway.

Yet, you couldn't help but notice the girl still seated at the inner end of the table, toying with her sleeves as the soft glow of her phone lit her face. Winter, you assumed. She didn’t stand, didn’t do so much as glance briefly at the four of you. But even in her stillness, she drew your attention. Her beauty wasn’t like Karina’s polished perfection or Giselle’s self-assured allure and most definitely not like Ning Ning’s bubbly charm. Winter appeared different—there was something so fundamentally distinct about her that interested you, piqued your curiosity when you thought you were infallible to such feelings. Regardless of what you heard about her, you found yourself encapsulated by nothing but her sheer beauty.

As your eyes lingered on her you didn’t feel like you were looking at a person. Instead it was as if you were gazing upon the natural landmark of a frost-covered landscape—pure, serene, and silently breathtaking. It was as if she belonged more to the cold elegance of nature than to the warmth of human company. Her presence was subtle yet striking, like the clear, crisp air on a winter morning. The restaurant's soft, amber light caught her pale complexion in a way that made her seem almost ethereal, yet still grounded. Her silvery-white hair cascaded around her face like freshly fallen snow, soft and shimmering, as if her namesake itself had carefully crafted each strand to highlight her delicate features. Somehow, Winter lived up to that paradoxically beautiful expectation you had envisioned, but seeing her in person gave the impression she transcended it.

You stumbled through your own introduction to the rest of the girls, utterly captivated by what most people would consider a bad display of manners. Anybody in your shoes would have had their eyes glued to the trio of goddesses standing before you, but you could barely spare them a second—alright, a third glance.

Predictably, the small talk that followed didn’t include you. Your friends however—more eager than you’ve ever seen them—quickly launched into banter with Karina, Giselle, and Ning Ning. Normally you would be in awe of how easy they made the whole thing look, but you could only half-listen, your thoughts and eyes constantly drifting toward Winter, who remained seated quietly at the end of the booth.

Eventually, Karina offered you all to sit, prompting one of your friends to shove you along to your side of the table. The little collision knocked you out of the fugue-like state you were in, drawing a quiet cry that caused laughter to erupt around you. Quickly realising that you’d be facing Winter, you hesitantly sat down, your eyes flicking back to her every now and then.

When she finally glanced your way, there was a brief pause, her cool eyes locking onto yours. For a moment, you were caught, held in the silence between you. Her gaze was steady, unwavering, but a hint of vulnerability showed itself as she studied you. Before you knew it, you were staring—completely absorbed by the depth in her eyes. They weren’t just cold or distant as you first thought—they were calm, almost reflective, like a still lake that hid something beneath its surface. The more you looked, the harder it became to pull yourself away.

Seconds passed—maybe more—and you didn’t even realise how long you’d been holding her gaze until your heart gave a sudden jolt, reminding you that you were looking at a person and not nature’s pièce de résistance. Embarrassment shot through you as you quickly broke eye contact, feeling a heat crawl up your neck.

“Winter, right?” Your voice came out much too casual, completely betraying the fact that you were just caught staring at her like an absolute buffoon. How did you already manage to mess this up?

Winter tilted her head ever so slightly, a small flicker of amusement ghosting over her lips before she nodded. She blinked more than once, her lashes fluttering to mask brief hesitation. Her gaze softened just slightly. “Yeah,” she replied simply. Her voice was soft, but clear. There was no hint of awkwardness or hesitation, but the slight shift in her posture, the way her fingers brushed the sleeve of her shirt said otherwise.

You nodded, you’d only asked one question and you already felt like your dialogue options were exhausted. But on the bright side, the mere fact she replied meant things were already going better than they did in your head.

The silence between you both stretched for a beat, then another. Neither of you spoke, but remarkably it felt like the words were there, waiting to be said. Winter’s fingers continued nervously with her sleeve, brushing the fabric in small, rhythmic strokes, while you found yourself looking at empty plates, the table—anything but her. Both of you seemed unsure of what to say next, letting you confidently conclude that she was indeed as nervous as you. You noticed her lips parting as if to speak, only to close again after a moment of hesitation.

A few more seconds passed before you both spoke at once.

“So—”

“Did you—”

You stopped mid-sentence, catching her eye before you let out a quiet, awkward chuckle. “Uh, sorry. You go first.”

Winter looked down briefly, as if gathering herself. When she lifted her gaze again, there was a softness in her eyes, and a hint of vulnerability that hadn’t been there before. Her thumb brushed the edge of the table, tracing it gently as she glanced back at you. “They had to bribe you too?” She asked timidly, lightly gesturing to your friends who were engrossed with hers.

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Yeah, you could say that. It’s a whole mess, isn’t it?”

Winter nodded, her own smile flickering into existence, delicate but brief. Her voice softened as she admitted, ”These three promised me free food for a week just to get me to show up.” Winter scrunched her face, slanting her eyebrows in an attempt to scowl at them, but failed miserably, producing an adorable pout that was more endearing than anything else.

Your heart may as well have melted right there.

You laughed softly, buying yourself time to regain your composure. From afar, she was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen, but up close? When that cold, hard exterior began to fade, she doubled as the cutest too.

Your little chuckle successfully let you continue the eerily natural flow the two of you had going. “Mine offered to chip in for a game console.”

“So that’s what got you, huh?” Her eyes brightened with amusement, and for the first time, you saw her smile linger just a little longer. It wasn’t just her smile though. A slight accent softened the edges of her naturally sweet tone. Everything she said felt so easy on the ears, so digestible, and you—despite your scepticism and bitterness towards being here—found yourself hungry for more. Your friends would have called you a hypocrite, but in your defence, they both contributed to this perfect image that sat opposite you. You couldn't help but think it was the cutest sight you’d ever seen.

Perhaps that’s what gave you the strength to say this next part.

“Well not exactly…” You trailed off, breaking eye contact as your fingers fidgeted nervously under the table.

Winter tilted her head slightly, raising an eyebrow in anticipation like a puppy awaiting a command. God, how was everything she did so adorable?

You leaned in, still avoiding her gaze and turned your head slightly toward the wall, hoping the others wouldn’t overhear what you were about to say.

“I was uh…” You began, almost a whisper as the words struggled to leave your suddenly dry mouth.

This time Winter leaned in, meeting you at a distance a little too close for comfort.

“I was curious about you…”

Your words were like bullets, creating an embarrassing recoil that sent you hurtling back into the headrest, your gaze pointing straight down as a crimson flush seized the skin of your cheeks.

Your friends would have scoffed at how trivial that whole exchange seemed, all the while you felt like a timid middle schooler confessing to his crush. You managed to baffle yourself with your boldness, not daring to look up and see Winter’s reaction.

To your further surprise, your little self-conscious introspection was interrupted by a giggle. Not just any giggle. Winter’s giggle.

You looked up to meet her face—equally as rosy as yours. But in place of your distraught expression was Winter, giggling like a child on a sugar-high. Her laughter was light and melodic, bubbling up like it couldn’t be contained. She leant back covering her open mouth with her hand. Her whole face had lit up, it was the kind of laugh that crinkled her eyes and shook her shoulders ever so slightly. It wasn’t just the sound, though—it was the way she smiled from ear to ear, so unguarded and genuine, a welcome contrast to the shy and distant she showed otherwise.

You lied earlier. This was the cutest thing you’d ever seen.

At first, you were confused by her sudden outburst, but as the infectious warmth of her laughter sunk in, a mutual smile spread across your face. The tension you’d been holding onto for several days seemed to melt away with each lingering note of her laugh. You honestly had no idea what she found so funny, but in the moment, you were just happy to go along with it, confident that you were doing at least something right.

Your friends, noticing her giggling, shared amused glances but didn’t interrupt. From the way they were staring, they were just as surprised as you were at how well this was going. They all held an expression that confessed we didn’t know you had it in you.

Ning Ning too giggled under her breath, playfully nudging Giselle. “Look at that—actual progress,” she muttered teasingly, her tone dripping with mock disbelief.

Karina though, was different. She subtly monitored the interaction, her sharp gaze softened now, intrigued by how Winter was opening up. It felt like she approved though, commending you in getting Winter out of her shell. She stayed silent though, still content to just observe.

Winter’s adorable outburst slowly ebbed, her shoulders still shaking slightly as she tried to catch her breath. She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, an adorable mix of bashfulness and amusement colouring her features.

“So…” she began meekly, eyes flickering down before meeting yours again. “Do I live up to your expectations?” Her tone was soft, tentative, as if she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to hear the answer.

You were caught off guard by Winter’s own intrepid addition to your conversation, feeling your face heat up as you struggled to find the right words.

I—well…” You exhaled, trying to pull together the honesty that was suddenly a challenge to articulate in her presence. “You’re not what I expected,” you admitted, a gentle smile finding its way onto your face. “I don’t think I could’ve pictured someone quite like you, even if I’d tried.”

The sudden spark of vulnerability in Winter’s expression tugged at something in you. You realised your answer might’ve sounded too cryptic, maybe even evasive. The faint quiver of her brow and roll of her Adam's apple told you she wasn’t sure how to take that.

You cleared your throat, glancing up at her cautiously as you explained, “I mean that in a good way!” Winter had a beauty that seemed too obvious, too stunning to need validation, yet you couldn’t help but want to say it aloud. “I thought you’d be stunning and well…you are.” Winter turned away sharply, hiding her flushing face with a hand. “I just thought that you’d be a lot more.. distant. But meeting you here, seeing you laugh and smile…” you were thinking of an eloquent way to put this, but you found yourself beholden to the truth right now.

Winter was having this… effect on you. You weren’t one to ‘open up’ or ‘talk about their feelings’ and yet you felt compelled to here. “Seeing you laugh and smile… I can’t help but think it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.” You had no idea where this newfound confidence was coming from, but you had a sneaking suspicion it was spurred on from what you’d just described.

Winter’s cheeks deepened from a soft pink to a vibrant flush, and she let out a shaky breath. Her fingers lingered over her features, like she was trying to shield herself from the intensity of the moment. Her eyes darted back to you and the delicate gleam in her gaze made your heart skip.

“Really?” she murmured, her voice barely audible, as though she feared saying anything louder might shatter the fragile honesty between you. She dropped her hand from her coloured cheeks, her eyes tracing your face for confirmation. “You really think that?”

You nodded, the sincerity in your gaze unwavering. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” You chuckled softly, hoping to lighten the air.

Winter’s shoulders began to relax, she herself not realising that they were glued to her neck. Her face remained flushed, but the tightness in her posture had vanished, leaving her more relaxed and open in how she sat.

“Thank you…” she let out. Her voice remained soft, but they certainly carried more weight.

“I’ll admit I’m surprised too…” She hesitated, glancing away, lips curving into a soft smile. “I thought you’d be just like everyone else…” You listened attentively, holding her gaze while she spoke tenderly, honestly.

“So I didn’t expect you to be…well, this easy to talk to,” she admitted, rubbing up her arm. “You don’t feel like everyone else, all practised lines and smooth talking,” she let out a faint chuckle. “ You make mistakes, you slip up. You’re like me. And um… cute too.” It was your turn to look away, your own cheeks starting to heat up. “So there’s something really nice about that...”

You pinched yourself under the table. This was going too well for you. This had to be a dream.

“I’m glad you think that,” you told her with a smile. Your voice was lower and steadier than you’d expected, though a trace of disbelief lingered beneath your words. Because, truthfully, you could never have imagined this going so well—not in a million lifetimes.

To your absolute delight, Winter sent you another wide smile. You didn’t think it could get much wider, but somehow she pulled it off.

You hadn’t realised it till she brought it up, but with Winter, you didn’t need to use those memorised openers or routes. She enticed you in such a way that just encouraged you to just… be you. Everywhere else you went you always felt an expectation to act like everyone else, to sound like them. But in the short time you’ve been around Winter, you hadn’t felt that at all. Was it because you two were similar?

“So,” You began, searching for your answer. “I take it you’re not a big fan of all this?” You gestured to the six other residents of the table, and by extension the rest of the restaurant.

Winter raised an eyebrow, leaning back into her chair. She shifted in her seat, crossing her legs under the table, almost like she was trying to ground herself. “More or less. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate people... I just like my space, y’know? Too much noise, too many people... it feels like I’m in the wrong place.” She paused, glancing briefly at the rest of the table. “But you get it, right?”

“More than I care to admit,” you replied with a sigh, feeling some strange sense of relief wash over you. “It’s exhausting. I never know what to say, or how to keep up.”

Winter’s lips curved upward again, knowingly. She seemed to relax even more, sinking into the conversation as much as she did her seat. "Exactly. It always feels like everyone has these… scripts. Like they know exactly what to say and when to say it." She gestured lightly toward your friends, still engrossed in their own lively conversations. "But it’s… difficult. It’s all tiring,” She confessed with a little pout. “It doesn't feel natural or genuine to me, it feels like I'm… like I'm…”

“Like you’re playing a character,” you finished, taking the words right out of her mouth.

Her eyes widened a fraction, a glimmer of recognition passing through them. “Exactly!” she rejoiced. A quiet laugh escaped her, one that sounded relieved. “All our friends can happily be themselves, but we’re stuck acting like someone else.”

As Winter continued, you noticed a subtle shift in the way she spoke. It wasn’t just about her anymore—she was talking about the both of you. There was something comforting about the fact that she felt like you were in this together, like she saw a bit of herself in you. You weren’t just sharing a conversation anymore—it was an understanding.

You nodded, staring into her opulent orbs as if she were a reflection of yourself.

But before either of you could say more, Karina’s voice cut through the air, pulling you both back into reality.

“Hey, are you two lovebirds ready to order?” she teased.

You blinked and glanced around, realising that everyone else had been staring at you—impatient, but knowing smiles all around. Even the waiter at the head of your table, pen poised and all, gave you a subtle, approving nod.

“Oh, uh…” You stammered, feeling a rush of heat crawl up your neck. You turned to glance at Winter, and for a moment, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of you. Her eyes, wide and glimmering, were so close that you could see the subtle flecks of silver and blue swirling within them. The space between you was almost nonexistent; you were close enough that you could feel the warmth of her breath, your noses almost grazing. Wait, what? The realisation hit you both at once, and in an instant, you jolted back into your seat, wide-eyed and startled, your heart pounding from the unexpected proximity.

Winter did the same, recoiling sharply and causing a small tremble in the table. Her face flushed a deep, rosy pink, the sudden burst of colour creeping from her cheeks down to her neck.

“I’ll have the—”

“Could I have—”

You both started at once, then stopped, exchanging an awkward, embarrassed laugh. You gave a little nod, gesturing for her to go first.

“ I’ll have the…”

Winter’s voice trailed off as she scanned the menu in a hurry, cheeks still rosy. She managed to mumble her order, then you fumbled your way through yours right after, both of you clearly rattled but trying to play it cool.

As the waiter left the table, a heavy silence settled over you and Winter. The energy from before—where genuine laughter and soft words had filled the space between you two—seemed to have dissipated. Now, you found yourself unable to speak, the memory of that fleeting, close encounter hanging thickly in the air, making it difficult to breathe. It rendered thinking of something to say practically impossible.

You glanced at Winter, only to find her just as quiet. She was staring at the menu again, though you knew she wasn’t really reading it. Her fingers brushed along the page absentmindedly, putting in no effort whatsoever to make her rapid flicking believable. Every so often, her eyes would dart toward you, only to quickly return to the menu the second she thought you might notice.

Despite the tension, a sense of relief came over you. The silence gave you an opportunity to collect yourself, to push back the storm of emotions swirling around inside you. You sank a little further into your chair, quietly thankful for the momentary ceasefire.

Your mind wandered to all those couples who roamed the city streets—it was the bitter truth that you wouldn’t fit in as one of them. The way you’d always seen yourself didn’t align with how those people acted: smiling and talking for what felt like forever. For years on end you considered yourself emotionally unavailable, selfish with any time you had. Yet, here you were, sitting across from Winter, someone who was...different. Someone who made you feel like, maybe—just maybe—you were capable of being one of those couples.

You shook your head slightly, dismissing the thought as quickly as it came. No, that kind of thing didn’t happen to people like you. You were reading too much into it, weren’t you? It had to be just the heat of the moment, the proximity playing tricks on your mind. The sincerity in her gaze, the warmth of her breath—it was just...well, it was nothing, really.

But then why was your heart still racing?

Winter shifted slightly in her seat, her eyes still trained on the menu. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but stopped herself, the words catching before they had a chance to escape. You could almost feel her nerves mirrored in your own chest.

You too thought about saying something—anything—to break the silence, but every possible word felt clumsy in your mind. You were far too embarrassed to speak up, but at the same time, you wanted to recover the soft energy that radiated between the two of you—the thrill of a conversation where you felt at ease, where you could be you.

"Sorry, about… uh, that," you forced out, sending her a sheepish smile. “I didn’t mean to make things weird.” There was no reason for you to take responsibility, but you assumed it would ease her if she was absolved of fault. After all, it would have eased you.

Winter shook her head quickly, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. “Trust me, if anyone made things weird, it was me.” You couldn't help but laugh—she was trying to do the exact same thing.

“Don’t worry about it, Winter,” you assured, her name slipping out instinctively.

There was a shift in her posture as her name escaped your lips, subtle but noticeable. She uncrossed her legs under the table and leaned forward ever so slightly, her fingers nervously playing with the edge of her sleeve again. She seemed on the verge of saying something important. You could sense it in the way she glanced at you—anxious eyes, cheeks flushing scarlet.

Her lips pressed together for a moment, then softened as if she’d finally made up her mind. Her eyes met yours, letting you peer into that reflective lake once again. But this time, you could almost make out what was below— she was letting down a wall, one you’d wager few have ever seen behind.

She took a breath, her chest rising and falling with a quiet resolve, and then, in almost a whisper she spoke.

“Please. Call me Minjeong.”

The simplicity of the words didn’t match the weight they carried. There was something so incredibly personal in her request, something that felt like a secret being shared between just the two of you. Her gaze stayed locked on yours, as if waiting to see how you’d react, her vulnerability laid bare.

“M-Minjeong,” you stuttered delicately, the name feeling both foreign and intimate on your tongue, like you were stepping into a space no one else had been invited to.

Minjeong’s expression softened even more, a glimmer of relief flashing across her eyes. She let out a breath, one she seemed to have been holding in anticipation of your response. A curve played across her lips. It was pure, unguarded. You almost could see the warmth radiating off of her, like this simple act of you saying her name had drawn you two closer.

“I— I like the way you say it,” she confessed quietly. Her voice was shy, as if she wasn’t used to hearing her own name spoken aloud.

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry, unsure of how to respond but feeling the gravity of the moment pull you deeper into her orbit. The vulnerability in her tone, the way her eyes softened when she looked at you, made everything feel so surreal. You had no idea what to say next, your mind scrambling for the right words, but none seemed enough.

Multiple pairs of eyes fell on you from around the table, but neither you nor Minjeong were in the right state to acknowledge it. As far as you were both concerned, you two were the only people on Earth right now.

Before you could manage a reply, Minjeong spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper. “Most people just call me Winter. It’s easier for me… less personal.” She glanced down at the table, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on the edge of her sleeve. “But I dunno…” She trailed off. “Minjeong feels right with you.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy and meaningful, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were seeing something fragile. It was like she was giving you a piece of herself, trusting you to hold it gently.

“Minjeong,” you repeated, this time more certain. “It’s a beautiful name.”

She met your gaze again, her eyes shining with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. “Thanks,” she murmured, a shy smile tugging at her lips, but this time, there was no hesitation in the way she looked at you. No walls, no pretence. Just Minjeong, in all her quiet, ethereal beauty.

You felt a warmth bloom in your chest, the kind you hadn’t experienced in years. It was like being a teen again, that rush of excitement and nervous energy coursing through you—the way it used to when you’d catch your crush’s eye across the room and feel your heart race. But this was different—it was deeper. As you sat there, looking at Minjeong, you realised it wasn’t just her beauty or the way she had let you in. It was the feeling she stirred in you, something you thought you’d long forgotten. She wasn’t just someone who caught your eye—she made you feel alive again. Like you were rediscovering that fluttery, intoxicating rush from your youth, but unlike then it wasn’t fleeting. There was a quality to it that you just couldn’t articulate—your years of social isolation, your unending cynicism towards basic human emotion left you that way.

But you tried, tried to put a label on this unfamiliar feeling. You searched your mind for a word, a description, anything that could encompass what was building in your chest, but nothing came close. It was a bewildering sensation that refused to fit into the neat definitions you knew.

The tension in your mind dissipated the moment the waiter brought the food, and you watched as everyone’s attention turned to their meals. The table filled with idle chatter and silverware scraping against plates, grounding you back to the present. You took a steadying breath, grateful for the pause and the warmth of the meal as it cut through the delicate web that had woven itself between you and Minjeong.

Still, you couldn’t help but notice her in the little pauses and movements—the way her eyes sparkled with each glance around the table, her small, quiet smile at each bite. Even now, Minjeong’s presence felt magnetic, she occupied her space without demanding it, a rare grace that felt refreshing. Each time she looked up, she met your eyes with a soft, almost bashful smile that sent an echo of warmth through you. It made you want to reach out, to learn more, to let her know how much she’d already begun to matter to you.

The conversation around the table grew louder, but your own exchange with Minjeong stayed quiet and gentle. You spoke in low tones, sharing snippets about each other’s lives. Every glance, every subtle word between you seemed to deepen the quiet understanding you shared. Gone was your lacking composure, the insatiable need to assess and please. Your exchange with Minjeong felt like a safe space, a judgement-free zone to be yourself in public. You’d explain to her all your nerdy hobbies, and she would listen with genuine attentiveness, her eyes adorably lighting up when you’d find something else in common. In return, you found yourself hanging onto every word she offered back, falling deeper and deeper into the conversation as she opened herself up to you

And when there were lulls—as there inevitably were between introverts such as the two of you—you both found comfort even in the silence. It was strange, feeling so drawn to someone you had known for only a few hours. The part of you that usually resisted connections seemed to fall silent in her presence. And as she leaned in closer to share an amused thought, her fingers playing absently at the edge of her napkin, you felt something within you shift.

What was this feeling, exactly? You had tried to put it into words, only to come up empty. You were someone who could gauge how a person was feeling from body language alone, like you could measure and judge everything they felt. But when it came to yourself—your feelings, your emotions—you came up short.

But as the evening wore on and the rest of the table grew quieter, you found yourself looking at Minjeong with a soft certainty. From the way Minjeong looked at you, you got the impression she was struggling with the same dilemma. But you didn’t need to name this undefined feeling that stirred in you. Every shared glance, every smile that lingered a beat too long—these were all the words you needed. There was an understanding—unspoken yet undeniable—that whatever this was, it was real. And in that moment, with the quiet warmth shared between you two, it was enough.

---

You emerged from the restaurant, taking in the brisk air of the Christmas evening. Typically, retreating back into the bustling street was your first step in your retreat to the solitary comfort of your dorm room. It let you breathe a sigh of relief for escaping whatever social event you had been forced into.

But tonight? Tonight your steps were unhurried, in fact you felt the urge to linger. Tonight, Minjeong was by your side, her soft smile mirroring your own. The breath you let go this time was instead a remorseful one, a signal that your time together was almost over. Of course as much as she looked the part, the girl before you wasn’t some unreachable, otherworldly angel—she was real, and very much contactable.

You both watched from afar as your friends exchanged phone numbers with Karina, Giselle and Ning Ning. On any other day, you would have looked on in unspoken envy,but alas, tonight was different. You stared at the new contact sitting in your phone—a beautiful name befitting of an equally beautiful woman, punctuated by two snowflakes either side of it.

“Minjeong,” it read. Simple, familiar now, but it held a weight you’d never thought a name could carry.

You grinned, feeling a warmth unlike any the night’s chill could steal away. The white-haired girl handed your phone back to you, sending a sincere smirk your way.

“Make sure to call me, okay?”

Her tone was light and gentle, but her eyes were serious, like this meant more to her than anything else.

“Of course,” you assured. There was nothing in this world that could make you shatter the joy reflected in that smile.

Without warning, she stepped forward, instantly closing the distance between you. Her arms wrapped around you—warm, gentle and tentative. For a moment, you were too stunned to react, but the heat of her body—which was now flush to yours—quelled any concern. Instinctively, your arms folded around her, drawing her closer, absorbing her presence. The soft scent of her hair drifted up to you, and you felt her heartbeat against your own.

“Thank you for tonight.” She whispered, her soft voice muffled by your chest.

You didn’t know how long you two were standing there, pressed together as one, but in the moment it didn’t matter. When she finally pulled away, you saw her face, beaming like the sun shines.

“Have a wonderful night,” she said, her cheeks flushed, mirroring the festive glow of the streets around you.

“It already has been,” you replied, your heart full as you returned a gentle, loving smile.

Love. You chuckled.

Maybe that’s what this was.

---

If you got here thank you much for reading my first ever fic! I know there's a lot of filler here which could very easily be removed, but I really just wanted to keep everything I'd written. In the future, I'll make sure everything's more streamlined.

But apart from that I'd love for some constructive criticism. Thanks again!

#winter fluff #aespa fluff #minjeong fluff #minjeong x reader #winter x male reader #winter x reader #winter x you #winter #aespa winter #kim minjeong

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sexxyasia · 4 months ago

Text

side to side [nicholas chavez x !fem!reader]

about: nicholas finds himself becoming infatuated with the girl he's been training and helping workout after months of hanging out and exercising together and decides to act on his feelings and thoughts.

warnings: p in v, language, oral sex (male receiving), public sex, rough sex, degrading, face fucking, use of daddy, unprotected sex, creampie, mentions of porn, nicholas having an extremely high sperm count, kinda bdsm (he's hurting her on purpose and making sure shes in pain) anal fingering, peeping tom type behavior, mentions of self pleasuring, size kink, praise kink and y/n can be any race/ethnicity (theres nothing in this story that ties her down to one thing)

(btw this is loosely inspired by side to side by ariana grande)

"do you think you could handle a few more inches?" nicholas asked as you squatted down.

"uhh yeah maybe like 3-4 but i don't know." you replied bending you knees a few more inches as you worked your thigh muscles.

"oh your doing so well y/n, you hardly even need me at this point" he chuckled quietly to you, you turned your head slightly to look back at him seeing his perfectly white smile and his gaze set on your legs.

a slight groan left your lips on your last rep causing your eyes to shut and nicholas' hands to fly to your hips to help support you, slowly his hands pushed you up.

"slower y/n... slower. you don't wanna hurt yourself in a warm up now do you?" embarrassed you smiled and looked away "oh my gosh i'm fine!" you looked up at him and said.

"you know what... you should work your core today. because it seems like every time we get together all you end up doing is glutes and i'm stuck begging you to work something else!" he remarked in a friendly tone

you nodded and followed him as he walked over to the weights rack. "today i want you to start off with a 20." you rolled your eyes in annoyance "i wanna do something easier." he smiled and handed you a 20 instead of your usual 10.

you sat on the mats that'd been set out and put your knees up. you began doing your usual set of russian twists. slightly moaning between each twist as you feel your ab muscles tighten and burn.

in a hushed tone you heard him let out a light laugh, you looked up at him as he laughed and asked him what was so funny.

"you just kinda sound like someone i used to be obsessed with" he said with a smile.

you moaned a little as you twisted slightly faster. "who? tell me" your face twisting and eyes shutting tightly.

"some pornstar i used to watch and i- nevermind it's kind of embarrassing to talk about." he awkwardly stated as he fiddled with some cleaner and a rag.

your face dropped in confusion. "not what i expected but okay..." you said. he chuckled and looked away.

in all the time he's been your personal trainer he's never gotten so... personal. you felt as if you should say something so that he didn't feel so awkward and embarrassed about it all.

"well when i get bored or can't sleep i use my vibrator... its pink."

he looked down at you and smiled before quickly clearing his throat and looking back away from you.

he obviously didn't feel anymore comfortable after you shared that. you could tell from the way he slightly held his breath anytime you made that moaning sound again.

a noticeable silence filled the space between you as you finished up your set placed the weights on the ground and stood up. he handed you the cleaner and rag to wipe off your weights. "heh, thanks, i was just gonna ask... but you... gave it to me... first" you awkwardly replied in a hushed tone.

he sighed loudly before stating "you know, you should just do glutes again today... right?" nicholas chuckled in an embarrassed fashion. "oh of course," you smiled "that's much easier than core for me." you agreed.

༄𓇼🪩𓇼༄𓇼🪩𓇼༄

after you finished your workout you were completely parched and famished, which you made clear to nicholas throughout the entire day. you toweled off and picked up your weights which you took the weights rack after toweling off.

once you'd finished you walked back to the locker room and showered. since no one else was in the locked room you had no issues being fully nude out in the open. then the door swung open, your hand flew to your towel to cover up your breasts and you backed into a corner trying to hide from whoever just came in. until they spoke you had no idea who it was.

loud footsteps inched closer and closer to your hiding spot before finally, "uhh y/n you left your water bottle on the leg press i thought i'd- whoa where are your clothes?" he said once he'd seen you.

"holy shit nicholas, what if this whole room was filled with naked ladies!" you annoyingly remarked to him. "then i guess i'd have a much harder time keeping my eyes on just you... right?" he giggled back. "and besides, it's 10pm on a saturday. no ones fucking here except teenage boys in pajamas and lonely old men going through a mid life crisis."

you rolled your eyes in response. "i've worked with people here for years. you think i don't understand how this shit works... c'mon baby."

"i thought i'd give it back because you're so thirsty. but it appears theres nothing in here anymore. right?" you shook your head and snatched the bottle out of his hands.

nicholas turned his back and walked toward the bench across from you. once he sat he began to stare at the parts of your body the towel hadn't covered, which was pretty much everywhere since you'd done such a shoddy job covering as much as you needed to, due to the unusual positioning of the towel on your tits. "stop staring freak..." you whispered to yourself while staring back at him.

"i can't help it you're just so fucking sexy... sorry if that was out of line. but what i want to say is 10 times worse." he whispered while getting up and inching closer to you. "then say it, i can handle it... i'm a big girl." you snarkily replied while looking up at him.

by the time he'd started his next sentence he'd been towering over you and lightly stroking your arm. "i've jerked off to the thought of this moment more times than i've ever watched that internet bitch and wished it was you." your breath hitched and heart beat quickened at his sexually vulgar words.

you began backing up until your back hit the wall. "we're in a gym for fucks sake." he chuckled

"what... you scared to get caught, bitch?" he whispered. his intense eyes stared at yours, it felt like a knife to the heart. his piercing gaze left you feeling extremely horny. a feeling you'd never felt for nicholas... ever!

"no i'm not scared... it's just not the right place." you said trying to push further into the wall, practically praying a hole opened up and swallowed you.

"so then you must be a virgin... a really horny virgin. you ever play with your pussy and think of me?" he said while raising his hand up and over your head so

"no" you quickly replied.

"well that's okay, because by tomorrow you're gonna want to." he whispered in your ear.

he ripped the towel you closely held to your chest and threw it behind him onto the ground. your breasts lightly jumped with his quick movement. and your erect nipples stuck up into the air as the cool air hit them.

he brought his thick long pointer finger up to your temple and slowly rubbed it.

the water droplets on your forehead dripped down onto the floor as he lightly stroked your face. "how about this. you suck my cock until i cum in your mouth. then i make you cum so hard you can't feel your legs."

you slowly nodded, his hand traveled from your cheek to the back of your head. he slowly scratched the back of your head as he pushed you down onto your knees. his gray sweatpants were beginning to bulge out of place with his erection. you stared at his slowly growing member in his pants.

"fuck are you waiting for, go ahead and do it already." you pulled down his waistband and calvin klein underwear in one swift movement, placing it under his balls and watching as his cock bounced out and hit just above his belly button.

slowly you placed your hand on the base of his cock. stroking up and down his shaft, causing him to slowly exhale as your small hand rubbed up and down his length. he smiled as you licked the thick and prominent veins on his dick and practically made out with his pink and leaky tip.

his big hand rubbed the back of your head and pushed you down onto his cock, making you gag with the movement. but shortly he allowed you to slowly suck up and down. you teased him as you lightly sucked and hardly moved, making him groan and whimper.

then his hand came grasping your head as hard as possible before he pushed your head up and down his length at a medium tempo. causing him to groan even louder and grip even harder. his thick cock shoved into your throat at once made you choke and breathe heavy. your spit trickled down your chin and onto the brown tile floor of the locker room.

he pulled his length out from your mouth and placed it on your check, allowing you to feel the throbbing on your skin.

a string of saliva from your mouth to the tip of his cock stayed put as he slapped his cock all over your left cheek, leaving them wet from your saliva and his pre-cum.

you looked at his cock, leaky, red, throbbing, and huge where the only things in your mind at the moment. his once light pink tip was a flashy lighter red and his balls were hardened.

he placed his cock back into your mouth. this time both hands on either side of your head and he slowly began to thrust his cock back and forth into your mouth. your eyes lightly watered as you looked up at him.

he paused for a second before talking. "baby, i need you to take my cock. because i wanna cum so bad. can you do that f'me?" he asked. you fluttered your eyes as a response and he smiled down at you.

he began again. this time he pace quickened and his breathing got faster. his cock slammed into the back of your throat causing you to gag and whimper on it. your hands wandered to his lower back as support. as he fucked your throat harder and harder your choking became louder and louder which only made him hornier.

then he pulled his cock out of your mouth. "you nasty little slut, i wanna cum inside that pussy. not that mouth. get the fuck up on that bench so i can rail you how i want." he whispered to you, causing your pussy to become an even wetter mess than before.

you headed to his instruction and got on the bench, bending over it so that he could get a nice view of your ass. "nick, i don't think a bench is the right place, what if it hurts?" you questioned.

"then you fucking ignore it, you shouldn't be thinking about anything but my cock getting all the cream out of that cunt."

you nodded in response.

he hovered behind you and rubbed your ass. his hands spanked you and his nails dug into your soft skin. he groaned at the sight of you flinching under his heavy touch.

slowly, he placed his finger inside of your tight asshole. he pumped it in and out causing you to gasp at the new sensation and got your pussy even wetter. his long thick finger slightly stretched out your virgin asshole.

as your body left a white ring of cream around the base of his finger he groaned and praised you. "good fucking god baby, just how daddy likes it. nice and creamy... good girl."

he pulled his finger out of you and aligned his cock with your dripping cunt. he quickly slid his length into your pussy causing your eyes to cross and back to arch at the feeling.

"yes daddy, mhm fuck me." his length hit your g-spot perfectly, making you squirm around and groan. the way it curved just right made your legs shake and head spin.

when his cock hit deep inside of you it scratched your cervix and caused you to flinch as he thrusted quickly into you. the grip of your pussy around his cock made him whimper and gasp.

"you are such a bad girl baby, such a bad little slut, such a dirty little whore." his way of degrading you rocketed you closer and closer to your orgasm.

his fingernails gripped into your ass even harder and made you flinch, although he told you to ignore the pain, it was all too much. "nick... fuck that hurts, stop!" his nails slowly pulled out of the supple skin on your backside, leaving you relieved from the pain. then he spanked you.

"shut the fuck up you slut. if you can't take a little pain you can't take daddy's fucking cock... isn't that right? you can't take my cock? is it too big for this little virgin pussy?" he taunted.

"no daddy it's not." you disregarded the fact he continuously referred to you as a virgin, even though you hadn't been for years.

his cock felt like a punch in the cervix with how deep and fast he was going. "mhm daddy yes." you moaned out, even though it'd been causing you pain you couldn't help but moan; it felt so good.

his movements quickened and his hips hit against your causing your ass and his lower stomach to turn red from the friction, your breath hitched and his whimpers and groans grew louder and louder.

"fuck yea, im gonna cum inside of you baby... you want that? you wanna be a little cum slut?" although you wanted to answer you know it was a rhetorical question. no matter your answer he was still planning on ejaculating inside of your glistening, needy, wet, tight cunt.

his fingernails dug deeper causing you to squeal and convulse and you got closer to your long awaited orgasm.

then his cum came out in hot heavy spurts inside of your pussy, all over your back, and on the floors. the feeling of his warm seed filling you up forced you to cum just seconds later. the way your pussy contracted afterward pushed almost all of his hot sticky juices to come gushing out of you like a waterfall.

༄𓇼🪩𓇼༄𓇼🪩𓇼༄

he sat down next to you, out of breath and practically still at his climax as little beads of his semen dripped out of his tip causing him to whimper and sigh as it all came out.

"fuck this happens everytime. i cum so much that when i think im done i still gotta jerk some of it out." he joked, he brought his hand to his now half erect penis and stroked it a few times more before more spurts of cum flew out.

"shit i gotta clean that up..." he chuckled to himself

you smiled and sat down next to him. "that was kinda fun..." you whispered in his ear. "that was really fun." he counteracted. "then maybe we should do it again. but next time at my house." you suggested.

he smiled and nodded.

"well thanks nick, now i'm gonna be walking side to side." you joked to ease the tension that was still there.

"i'm sorry it just felt too good." he responded.

after a light silence you finally added. "well after we clean this up, i guess i'll see you in 3 days."

he chuckled and began cleaning up the mess you two had made.

also i was too lazy to proofread soooo mb :o

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scoutswritingcorner · 1 year ago

Note

Hello lovely ~ gonna request what we were talking about~

Alastors antlers shedding♡ literally? Anything you wanna say about it

Shedding Season

Alastor x GN!Reader

TW: Antlers being Shed, Alastor being clingy. 18+ as it does mention Alastor having a rut. Nothing graphic I promise

A/N:This is my take on how he would deal with his antlers shed and how he deals with his rut.

Alastor finds himself needing help with shedding his antlers. You decide to help him out

It started off fine for Alastor, at first it was more of an urge to stay near his lover, you, it didn’t really bother him as he was a busy man and had things to take care of but it got worse after a day or two. The urge to stay in your vicinity got worse as he got even more agitated than before if he strayed away from you or Satan forbid Lucifer or Husker got too close to you. Then it was the constant motion of him rubbing his face into your neck or shoulder when no one was around, you didn’t seem to mind one bit but it agitated him to no end. But the feeling went away once you carefully ran your fingers through his hair, brushing near his antlers and ever so carefully scratching which caused him to pull you closer to him.

Then it was how his body was reacting, how he couldn’t even wear his own coat anymore. It was like every article of clothing was suffocating him and how he hated it so. The best course of action he thought of was hiding in his room away from prying eyes and ears as he snarled out rubbing his horns on one of the many trees in the bayou in his bedroom. He didn’t need you to see how pathetic he looked and felt, his sweet doe would never look at him the same if they saw him like this. He was sure of it. Despite being in his own room, the wind of the familiar bayou felt on his warm body wasn't enough for him. It wasn’t until he heard a knock on his bedroom door that sent his ears turning to the sound and his head snapping up in anger.

“Alastor? Darling?” You called out from the other side of his bedroom door, his heart pounded before he willed his way towards the door ignoring the pain his antlers were giving him. He shakily gripped the doorknob before opening it only a bit. “Yes, Dear?” He asked softly trying to keep his anger at bay as his chest heaved with every heavy breath. You softly smiled at him, “May I come in?” You asked, holding onto the door frame leaning closer to him.

He weighed the options for a moment before eventually allowing you into his room, finally noticing the small basket in your hands, he tilted his head confused. Closing the door behind you he watched as you sat on his chair and waved him over, “Come here you silly deer.” You teased, causing him to huff but he followed your directions as much as he wanted to argue, he knew better. Especially at this moment. You held out your hands to him, the basket on the side of the chair, he slowly held your hands as you pulled him to sit on the ground in between your legs, his back towards the chair.

“Need a drink or something to snack on, Love?” You asked him as he shook his head silently, he was rarely ever silent. You reached up and gently rubbed his shoulders noticing how warm his skin felt. “You’re rut is around the corner isn’t it?” He froze at the mention of his rut as his hand reached up to rub at his face. “Yes..I do believe it’s that time of year again, Cher.” He replied the radio static filter from his voice was gone as he let out a deep heavy sigh.

You reached down and grabbed a cold water bottle to hand to him. “Drink up, Al..I’m gonna try and help you get this velvet off your antlers okay?” You whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his head. Alastor could only nod and mumble out a warning but you’ve been through this rodeo with him before. You reached down to get the tools from the basket as well as some of his favorite snacks that you got from Rosie earlier today. “They might shed as well, Al..just let it happen okay?” You carefully brushed back his hair seeing as a few strands stuck to his head that was covered in sweat. He could only reply with a hum leaning his head back against you. You were gonna have to get him a cold rag soon as well.

As you began to slowly and carefully help get the velvet off of his antlers he let out a low groan closing his eyes as sweat covered his face and neck. “Want me to go get you a cold rag, Darlin?” You asked softly tilting his head back carefully watching as he opened his eyes, his everlasting smile had dropped a while ago. “No..not yet..” He whispered out, you went back to silently helping him knowing how overwhelmed he gets during these times.

It was only after you had gotten all of the velvet off of his antlers that something hit the floor with a soft thud making Alastor jump nonetheless. You looked over after making sure you had everything put back up and noticed his two antlers had shed, making him grumble loudly as he leaned his head back into your stomach. “Come on, Al..let me go get a rag for your face and neck.” You whispered slowly getting up as he leaned forward watching you. “Take a sip of water and eat up, okay? I don’t need you dealing with your rut on an empty stomach.” He waved a hand towards you but did what you had asked of him.

The rest of the night was spent with him sitting between your legs as you carefully washed the sweat from his face and neck, whispering soft reassurances as he kept drifting in and out of sleep. Soft jazz playing in the background as his shadow carefully wrapped around your body.

He felt a million times better and he knew that the weeks of his rut would be over soon enough with you helping him with how uncomfortable it made him.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor x gn!reader

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crookedteethed · 3 months ago

Text

18+ -mdni tw: stepcest

ᥫ᭡. stepbrother! rafe teaches you how to kiss.

The oppressive heat of summer hung heavy in the air, suffocating and stifling. The spacious living room was empty except for you, sprawled out on the couch, basking in the warm rays of sunlight that filtered through the large windows. But your peace was interrupted by a familiar figure entering the room - Rafe Cameron, your stepbrother and constant source of forbidden desire.

"Hey," he drawled, plopping down on the couch next to you. "Whatcha up to?"

"Just… nothing," you replied, trying to hide your fluttering nerves. The tension between you was palpable, an unspoken connection that had been brewing ever since your parents' marriage.

"I was thinking," Rafe began, leaning closer with an intense gaze. "Do you know how to kiss?"

Your heart raced at his bold question. "Not really," you admitted, attempting to sound nonchalant.

He chuckled lowly, mischief dancing in his eyes. "Wanna learn?"

A surge of heat rushed through you at the thought of Rafe teaching you how to kiss. "Are you serious?"

"Absolutely," he replied, his voice dripping with seduction. "It'll be fun."

"But why?" you asked, waiting for Topper and Kelce to come out with the hidden camera and tell you that you've been punked.

Rafe's lips curved into a devilish smirk. "Well, as your big brother, I feel it's my duty to teach you."

His words sent a shiver down your spine. You knew this was wrong, but you couldn't deny the attraction you felt.

You hesitated for a moment, weighing the thrill against the potential consequences. But the desire blazing in his eyes - a mix of playful teasing and genuine attraction - made your decision for you.

"Okay," you breathed out, barely audible.

Rafe shifted closer, his body radiating warmth against yours.

"First, you tilt your head," Rafe murmured, his fingers gently guiding your chin. "Then, part your lips slightly."

You followed his instructions, mesmerized by his intense gaze. His thumb brushed your bottom lip, igniting sparks beneath your skin.

"Now, just follow my lead," he whispered before closing the distance.

His lips met yours softly at first, then with increasing pressure. You gasped as his tongue teased the seam of your mouth, coaxing it open "Just relax," he instructed, his hot breath tickling your skin. "Let yourself feel it."

With that, he pressed his lips softly against yours. Instantly, sparks flew between you and your heart raced in anticipation. Rafe's hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as he guided you through the motions of kissing.

"Good," he murmured huskily against your lips. "Just like that, sis."

It was fucked up but, His words were like a drug, filling you with a fire and desire that you couldn't resist. You matched his every move, feeling your body melt into his as the intensity of the kiss grew.

Lips bruising and tongues tangling, you couldn't resist the pull towards each other. Innocence quickly giving way to raw passion, teeth grazed and nips turned into deep kisses.

Your body ached for more, and you straddled his waist, feeling the hard length of his throbbing cock through your clothes.

A gasp escaped your lips as you felt it against your clothed, slick entrance, his throbbing bulge pressed against your core. Just the thought of being filled by him made you tremble with anticipation. As he smirked at your reaction, you broke away from the kiss, panting and wide-eyed.

"See?" Rafe smirked, lips glossy red, "Not so hard, huh?"

You let out a soft laugh, still reeling from the whirlwind of emotions. "That was… amazing."

"Just wait until we practice some more," he said teasingly, a hint of promise laced in his words. The thought of more lessons with Rafe left you craving for more, eagerly anticipating what other tricks he had up his sleeve.

as always, comments likes and reblogs all keep me motivated. 🫶🏾

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 1 year ago

Text

Cherry Wine. aka - Cherry, Part Two.

everything feels like love when you're drunk... right?

pairing - bestfriend!steve harrington x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol consumption. characters who wouldn't even recognise their own feelings if they smacked them in the face.

word count - 3k

author's note - I love it when people walk each other home... if you couldn't tell. I think some of our most honest conversations happen on the street at 3am. thank you so much for all the love on Cherry!! I hope you enjoy this part two. friends to lovers might just be my favourite trope ever. it gets me everytime :(.

as always, if you enjoyed, please reblog!! reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics <3. thanks, angels.

part one. part three. part four. series masterlist. masterlist. inbox.

His eyes are glued to you.

They have been since he watched you pour just a little too much cherry vodka into your red plastic cup.

He keeps trying to catch your gaze across the smoky room, multicoloured lights clouding his vision. There's some sort of punk song playing through a stereo system somewhere, the beat of the guitar thumping through the wooden floorboards and into Steve's bones.

You're laughing, head thrown back at something Eddie has said. He's funny, Steve thinks. But not that funny. He watches carefully, refraining from intervening right up until the moment you almost trip over your own foot and into the curly haired boy. Steve's moving across the room before he can even process it.

"Cherry," he teases, hand snaking around your waist to hold you upright. "You okay?"

You turn in his hold to throw your arms around his neck, looking up at him with big doe eyes.

"Stevie."

You say his name so sweet that he stumbles and almost takes you down with him.

"You okay?" you giggle.

"I'm good. You good?"

"I'm good."

You sway with him for a second, closing your eyes and revelling in the warmth of his hands on the bare skin of your waist.

"You're a little tipsy, huh?"

"Just a little."

"You wanna go home?"

You chew on your lip for a moment, weighing up your options.

"Can we go to your place? I don't wanna face my parents like this."

Steve leans in to press a kiss to your forehead, brushing the hair back from your face.

"Of course. Let's go, hm?"

"Let me grab my jacket. I'll meet you by the door."

You slink off upstairs, leaving Steve alone with Eddie.

"Just friends," Eddie mocks under his breath quietly.

"What?"

"Nothin'."

Steve stares at his friend with a brow quirked, stormy look on his face.

"All I'm sayin' is - I don't look at my best friend like that. Don't hold 'em like you just did. Don't have sleepovers either."

"I've known her since we were kids. It's different."

"I've got friends I've known since kindergarten. I don't kiss them on the forehead."

"I wouldn't put it past you," Steve mumbles, finished with the conversation. "Whatever, man. You don't get it."

"Oh, I get it. You're in love. Steve and Cherry, sitting in a tree-"

"Don't call her that."

"See? You're defensive over her nickname, because you gave it to her. Don't be an idiot, Steve. Life's too short."

"Yours will be, if you don't shut up."

Eddie takes that as his cue, shaking his head as he leaves to go and complain about the music choice.

Steve meets you outside, chuckling when he sees you shivering as you hold your jacket.

"Cherry, put your coat on. You're freezing."

You look up at him, slightly bewildered, and he fights to keep the smile off his face. Taking it from your hands, Steve slips the jacket around your shoulders, hands skimming up your arms to warm you.

"Better?"

"Better."

You slip your hand into his and begin to walk away from the noise, finally taking a deep breath when you're down the street.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," you reply, nudging him with your shoulder. "Feet hurt though. Fuckin' shoes."

You both stop, Steve kneeling down in front of you to unbuckle your heels. You look at him questioningly and he winks, cheeky and full of love.

He slips them off your feet and sits down on the curb, taking his sneakers off and gesturing for you to step into them.

"No, Steve. I chose to wear these, it's my own fault."

"I know, and they looked cute. But now you're going to wear these."

You step into the shoes reluctantly, holding back tears when he kneels and ties your laces tightly. Rising to his feet, he presses a kiss to your forehead before intertwining your fingers again, picking up your heels with his other hand.

You're both quiet, as you walk. Neither of you needs to say anything. It's always been this way. Steve's not good with silence usually, but with you, it's more than comfortable. Sometimes, you'll sit for hours in his bedroom doing your own things, content to just know the other person is there.

"Minnie Lawson kept asking about you tonight."

You try to keep the disdain from your voice as best you can, praying Steve doesn't pick up on it.

He does. He doesn't mention it.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

You keep walking, smiling occasionally when you catch sight of Steve's socked feet next to yours.

"What did she say?"

You mentally kick yourself for bringing it up, but take a deep breath and tell him anyway.

"Kept asking if you were single."

"And what did you say?"

"Told her she needed to ask you herself and that I'm not your secretary."

Steve cackles at this, loud and endearing. The sound makes you grin, whether you want to or not.

"Shit, Cherry baby. What did the girl ever do to you?"

"I didn't mind when she asked the first couple times, but the more she drank, the more she forgot. She couldn't remember if she'd already asked so kept asking again."

He laughs again, squeezing your hand where it still holds his tightly.

"She didn't talk to me."

"Didn't think she would."

He looks at you for a moment too long, your eyes meeting the floor to avoid his gaze.

"Mikey was asking about you tonight, you know."

You'd had a crush on Mikey in ninth grade, the summer after he'd gotten tall and started to look less like four walking limbs and more like a man. He was a nice guy, if not a little boisterous sometimes.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Said you looked pretty. Wanted to know if you were still with the Douchebag."

You chuckle at the hatred in Steve's voice at the mention of your ex boyfriend.

"And you said..."

"That he was in the wind, thankfully."

"Dodged a bullet with that one."

You lean into his arm, savouring the warmth of his skin you can feel through your jacket and his long sleeve shirt.

"Mikey wants to ask you out."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. Is that so hard to believe? You're a catch, you know."

"I don't know. Boys like Mikey never look at me, usually."

"I look at you."

Your breath hitches in your chest. It's like your heart has forgotten how to beat.

"Yeah," you whisper. "But you're Steve."

After a moment, you add,

"My Steve."

You rest your head onto his bicep, still clutching his hand. He leans down to press a kiss into your hair, resting his cheek there for a moment.

"You're worlds apart from boys like Mikey, Steve. He's nice, but he's not you."

You're not sure where all this sudden truth is coming from, but you're wondering if the cherry vodka has maybe hit you a little harder than you first thought.

"And you and Minnie Lawson aren't even in the same league. You've got nothing to worry about."

You both process Steve's words, before he starts stuttering.

"I mean, not that you, not that - it's not like you were worried, I'm sure. I bet you weren't. I just mean... you know what I mean, right?

Thankfully, you do.

"I know what you mean. I always do."

He stops walking, turning to face you on the sidewalk, hand never dropping yours. You're not sure where you are, but you know Steve knows. He'll keep you safe. Always.

"Okay," he breathes.

"Okay," you breathe.

"I love you," he breathes.

"I love you," you breathe.

"I don't want you to date Mikey Carter," he breathes.

"I don't want you to date Minnie Lawson," you breathe.

You both inhale deeply, following the other person's lead.

"I can't stop thinking about the other night," Steve whispers, so quietly you'd have missed if it you weren't so in tune with him.

Your lungs constrict for a second, all the air leaving you at once.

"Me neither."

You're stood in the street whispering to each other, frightened you'll burst the bubble you've accidentally created.

"I feel bad," you confess.

"Why, honey?"

"Because I... I didn't return the favour. I just let you get into bed and fall asleep. Sorry."

Steve's hands come up to cradle your face, eyes searching yours as if he's reading his favourite book.

"I didn't want you to. I told you, it wasn't about me, it was about you. I didn't... I didn't initiate it so I could get something in return."

"Sorry."

"Stop apologising, Cherry. You've got nothing to apologise for."

"Sorry," you reply without thinking, causing both of you to double over into fits of laughter.

Steve wipes the happy tears from your cheeks, gaze never leaving yours. You look at each other for a moment, feeling the atmosphere shift. The world could collapse around you both, and neither of you would notice. It's just you and Steve. Nothing more, nothing less.

He leans in gently, pressing his lips to yours in a featherlight kiss. He tastes like beer and spearmint.

"You're wearing your lipbalm."

"You've been chewing your gum."

He chuckles, kissing you again softly.

"You wanna go home?"

"Please. You're in your socks, and I look like a clown."

He looks at your feet and laughs, the sound much too loud for the early hours of a Sunday morning.

"Let's go, Cherry baby. My warm bed awaits us."

The stars guide you home hand in hand, Steve stealing the occasional kiss when you happen to be looking in his direction. You kick off his shoes by the door, running straight up the stairs to change out of your uncomfortable dress. Steve stops by the kitchen to grab you both a glass of water, bounding up after you and spilling half the liquid in the process.

He stops in the doorway when he reaches his room, breath caught in his throat. You're stood in just your panties, bare back to him, rifling through his drawers to find the soft grey shirt you always steal.

It's a sight he's seen before. Something is different this time.

"Where is it?" you ask, not turning around.

You know he's there. You know he knows what you're looking for.

This is what love is, he thinks suddenly. The knowing. The unknowing. The knowing that the other person knows. The other person knowing that you know. Unspoken knowledge.

"Bottom drawer, left," he chokes out. "Washed it."

You slip it on and turn around, pouting. The boy quirks a brow at you in question.

"Doesn't smell like you. Smells like your detergent, but not you. Will you wear it, when I leave?"

"Yeah," he chuckles, fighting the blush from rising across his chest. "Anything you want, baby."

Steve shrugs off his clothes, slipping on a fresh pair of boxers before sliding into his side of the bed. You're in the bathroom, humming a tune that he can't quite place but knows he heard tonight. He watches you through the open door as you sway gently, ready to jump up and catch you if need be. You pee with the door still open, and Steve chuckles. It's like you've been married for twenty years.

"Can you please turn the fan on? I'm hot."

"Anything for you, Cherry Pie."

You jump into your side of the bed, sitting up to face the boy next to you. It might be 3am, but you're both wide awake, veins buzzing with endless possibility.

"I've been thinking," you murmur quietly.

"Never a good sign."

"Shut up."

You both laugh, and you can't help but grin. What a miracle, you think. To be alive at the same time as a boy like Steve Harrington. To know him. To love him.

"Will you let me return the favour?"

It's a vague question, but Steve knows exactly what you're asking. He chokes on his breath, tilting his head to look at you.

"Babe, you don't have to-"

"-I want to. So badly."

Steve inhales deeply, willing himself to calm down.

"I don't have to, if you don't want me to. But I can't stop thinking about the way you'd taste."

The boy thinks he's died and gone to heaven. Dreaming, maybe.

"Honey... fuck."

Steve nods, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Please. Jesus."

He's breathing so frantically, you're worried he might pass out. The last thing you need is your best friend unconscious.

"Breathe, Stevie. It's just me and you."

"Me and you."

"Always."

He comes back down to Earth, so you lean in to kiss him, all tender and cherry flavoured. Tangling your fingers into his hair, you push him backwards so he's leaning against the headboard. You straddle his hips, plush lips pressing into his neck, his chest, his collarbones. Steve's practically melting, a puddle of love and affection beneath you.

"Let me take care of you," you whisper into his ear, and who is he to deny you when you ask so sweet?

You crawl down his body until you're situated between his legs, thick thighs bracketing you in. You kiss along the inside of the muscle, nipping as you go and revelling in the way he jumps and hisses. It's nice to be the one in charge for once.

You scratch your nails along the bulge in his boxers, smirking when his hips buck up into you. You think, for a moment, that you'd happily lie here and tease him like this for hours, just to see when he'd snap. But this isn't the time for games, so you store that thought for another day.

"This still okay?"

"More than okay," he replies, all breathy and ungrounded. You link your fingers with his and squeeze, and all his nerves melt away.

You don't let yourself begin to think about why he's nervous. You know Steve's a ladies man, you know he's done this many times... so why is it different with you? You wonder if maybe you should talk about it afterwards. You're not sure if either of you are ready for that.

Mouthing at him over his underwear, you hum in contentment at his warmth. He's always run hot, every part of him. It's one of your favourite things.

You hook your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and tug them down, throwing them onto the floor somewhere. The room is dimly lit by the lamp on the nightstand, the lightbulb casting shadows across Steve's slightly sweat damp skin. The fan acts as a soundtrack, white noise breaking up the silence.

You look at him and bite your lip, buzzing with anticipation. It's not like you haven't seen each other naked before, but it's different like this.

"Just... tell me what you like or what you don't like as I go along, okay?"

Steve smiles in adoration, running his thumb over your cheekbone gently.

"Okay."

You wrap your hand around him and curl your wrist, holding back a smirk when the boy whines. It's a pretty sound. You'd like to hear it again and again until he loses his voice.

Leaning in, you lick up the length of him, groaning at the salty musk. His taste, his scent, his sounds... it's all so Steve. He's the centre of your universe, everything around you just Steve Steve Steve.

Taking him fully into your mouth, a hand flies into your hair, tangling his fingers. He doesn't move you, just tethers himself to something real, something grounding. You take him as much as you can, working up a rhythm between your tongue and your hand. Steve's breathing as if he's just ran a marathon, chest heaving and lungs burning.

He finds his voice, suddenly.

"Oh fuck, baby."

"Shit, Cherry. Fuck, just like that."

"That's it, atta girl. Perfect girl. My girl."

"Oh, you're so good. So fucking good."

He tenses, fingers tightening in your hair once again.

"So close, baby. Don't stop. Please."

You double down on your efforts, twisting your wrist in that way you've figured out he likes as you hollow your cheeks and suck. The boy sees stars, vision going white.

The noise he lets out as he finishes will be forever engrained in your mind, a never ending symphony that no orchestra could ever recreate.

He goes lax, collapsing back against the bed as you swallow, never breaking eye contact. You stick your tongue out as proof and he groans, deep and gutteral.

"Kiss me," he chokes, too blissed out to move.

You crawl up his body and press your lips to his, squeaking in surprise when he slips his tongue into your mouth to taste himself.

"Filthy," you laugh, resting your forehead against his.

"You love it."

You shake your head, but can't wipe the grin from your face.

"I love you."

"I love you more."

After a second, you giggle.

"What's funny?"

"I'd like to see Minnie Lawson do that."

Steve laughs, loud and melodic in the low light of the room.

"She's got nothing on you, Cherry baby. No one does."

You process the words, heart stuttering in your chest.

"We should talk about this," you whisper.

"We will," he assures, tugging you into him so your head is resting on his chest. "Tomorrow."

Lines have been crossed, lives have been changed, but the stars above your heads remain the same. They'll always guide you back to Steve.

The lamp flickers, the fan hums, the crickets sing their night time lullabies.

The boy leans down to press his lips to yours. He tastes like cherries and every kiss for the rest of your life.

@allcheesemelts @valerievortex @swiftsgirlfriend @steviespookie @betweenstarsandsatellites @mrsjoequinn @enigmaticloki

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington x bestfriend reader #steve harrington x bestfriend!reader #bestfriend!steve harrington x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things fluff

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cressidagrey · 6 months ago

Text

Looked to the Sky - Chapter 20 (The End)

Summary:

Eira Archeron was neither a Valkyrie, nor a Seer, nor the High Lady of the Night Court. She was, however, Azriel‘s mate with her own mysterious, untrained powers.

Also known as: Azriel tries to court his mate the human way.

Warnings:

THIS IS THE LIGHTNING IN A BOTTLE SEQUEL! SO READ THAT FIRST IF YOU WANNA READ THIS ONE OTHERWISE THIS MAKES NO SENSE!

Definitely NSFW and without @k-godling this would have never happened.

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

Bluebell Cottage. Finally, finally, blessed silence.

It wasn’t that they didn’t love their family. They did. But they could be a lot and right now, Eira could really do with some….quietness. And if that involved Azriel…even better.

Eira couldn’t help the shocked laugh as he hefted her up in his arms like she weighed nothing though, carrying her towards the front door.

“What are you doing? I can walk!” she protested, still giggling.

“One more human tradition,” Azriel responded with a grin. “Isn’t supposed to carry the bride over the threshold?”

She couldn’t help but laugh, but leant back against his solid chest as he did carry her towards the blue front door.

“You are aware that humans do it because they think the big bad faes will otherwise get them?” she asked him with another giggle.

Azriel huffed. "Well, I'm a big, bad, scary fae male," he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "So I believe it to be appropriate."

He reached the door, the shadows opening and then closing it behind them.

"You aren't scary," she disagreed, softly, leaning up to brush a kiss against his jaw. He was her husband now. She was his wife. And they were finally in the privacy of their home. If it was appropriate to kiss him anywhere, then here it was.

Azriel smiled, a soft, tender look that sent a wave of affection through her chest, and he reached the living room. He moved to put her down but she kept a hold of the jacket he was.

"Let's go upstairs," she said softly, biting her lip. Her stomach was knotting with nervousness and... something else. Lust. Excitement. The knowledge of what they were going to do...Gods, she was almost shaking with it.

Eira didn't want to wait. She didn't want to sit down or do some other innocent, mundane, domestic task. She just wanted him. She wanted all of him.

She was practically shaking now, her heart thudding in her chest hard. She was sure Azriel could feel the way it was racing...the way her blood was singing for him.

Azriel looked at her, and though there were still traces of that soft, soft smile on his face, his eyes had darkened. His wings flared wide behind him.

He knew. He knew what she was thinking, what she was wanting…and the way he looked at her made it clear that it was reciprocated. Then Azriel was moving, striding across the room to the stairs, his steps hard and purposeful as he reached them. In a heartbeat, they'd moved up the stairs and into the bedroom, the door closing behind them.

"Tell me what you want, Eira," Azriel said softly as he put her down on her own two feet.

She couldn't reply at first, her words catching in her throat as she looked up into his eyes, the hazel so dark they were almost black.

"I want you," she said, her voice soft. "I want all of you. I'm...I'm your wife now. I belong with you. I want...I want everything."

He tipped her chin up, pressing a soft kiss against her lips. "Everything?" he asked her, his voice soft and velvety. "Everything, Sweetheart?"

Eira felt her legs almost shake a little at the sound of that voice, the way his breath tickled against her skin as he spoke. She felt almost light-headed, the heat of his body and the scent of his skin and the sound of his voice all combined into an almost dizzying combination that left her blood practically on fire.

And...gods...he hadn't even touched her yet.

But first... "I got you something," she blurted out.

Azriel pulled back at that, his eyes wide and the look in his eyes almost comically confused.

"You did?" he said, his voice full of bewilderment as he stood there, his hands still resting gently around her waist.

"Yes, I..." she trailed off, her eyes moving to the shadows, giving them a nod, only for them to appear with that brown paper bag moments later. "I hope it's...right," she warned him. "I needed to ask both Cassian and your mother for help," Eira explained as she broke off a piece of that particular Illyrian Candy that involved nuts and honey, and held it out for him. Peanut Honey Toffee.

Azriel looked down at the piece of candy, then back up at her, his expression a mixture of utter confusion...and deep, overwhelming endearment.

"You...got this for me?" he asked softly, staring at the piece of candy with wide eyes.

"I made it for you. Your mother gave me the recipe when I had Cassian send her a letter," Eira said quickly. "I thought I was supposed to make food for my mate. I hope this also counts," she asked, her voice trembling, as she lifted that piece to his mouth.

Azriel's expression softened even more, all but melting...as he opened his mouth, and let her feed him the piece of candy. Which she did, gently placing it against his lips before he slowly, gently took it into his mouth. His eyes widened at the taste, and a quiet, almost guttural growl escaped his throat.

She felt it. The moment he swallowed...that bond between the two of them blew wide open. And she could feel him. Could feel his elation and adoration, his love for her, his nervousness, his want...His pupils were blown wide and she could only stare at him, her knees trembling, as it felt like pure heat shot straight to her core.

The effect seemed mutual, judging by the way Azriel reached out, almost roughly pulling her against him, his arms going around her.

His lips crashed against hers, harsh and needy and absolutely devouring her mouth, and gods she couldn't even think, her knees buckling, her mind spinning, as she tried to kiss him back, clinging to him as if he was the only thing keeping her tethered to the earth.

"Please tell me I can get you out of this dress," he requested, his voice hoarse. "Please, Eira."

She could only nod, the words failing her as she clutched at him, her eyes going wide and dark and a whimper leaving her lips.

"Yes," she gasped, her skin practically burning, almost overwhelmed with just how much she wanted him right now. "Yes, please," she pleaded.

Later she wondered where he got that patience from. Later she wondered how exactly, he managed to open the two dozen tiny pearl buttons down her spine, without destroying even a stitch of her dress. How he managed not to shred it right then and there, because she wanted him so much and even just holding still, while he pressed kiss after kiss to her neck was enough to make her tremble, her hands clenching into fists.

Later she would have plenty of time to marvel at just how patient and attentive her mate was. How despite the heat and lust and need between the two of them that burned like fire, he was still being slow and careful, despite the obvious signs that his self-control was wearing thin.

But in the moment? She couldn’t even focus on anything. She was just too aware of how hard he was breathing against her neck, the way his kisses started feeling like burns against her skin…

"Bed," he said, his voice rough and low and she shivered.

There were no words. No more words left in her, as her heart thundered in her chest. The bond between the two of them was a living thing right now, a tangible thing, as she could feel his need and want. And she was certain he could feel her own.

So rather than speak she just nodded, clutching at his arms as he lifted her up, and carried her over to the edge of the bed.

He was so gentle, so careful, as he placed her back down. Her dress was a mess, a tangle of fabric pooling around her, the bodice open and the skirt ruffled.

But all she cared about was the way he looked at her, her mate, her husband, her everything, looking down at her like she was the most precious thing he’d ever seen.

He pulled down her dress, near reverently, picking it up and placing it carefully on a chair across from the room, leaving her in scraps of white silk and lace that she had thought would be…

She had thought they would be seductive. Or maybe she had hoped it…hoped that it would…that Azriel would like them. But all they made her feel like was...vulnerable. Exposed.

However as he crossed back to the bed, there was a sharp shiver of want through her.

He stopped in front of her, his eyes roaming over her as if he was studying every inch, studying every part of her, his eyes darkened. Maybe he did like the lace… And then his hands were on her knees, gently pulling them apart, until she was exposed to him, sitting there on the bed, wearing nothing more than scraps of lace.

She felt weak. Vulnerable. Aroused…and her mate was looking down at her like he was starving.

His eyes were almost wild as he looked at her, his body taut, his wings flared out as he inhaled deep, a low, guttural, rasping sound coming from his throat.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he managed to say, his voice rough and hoarse. “I didn’t even know it was possible for someone to be this beautiful…”

She couldn’t answer, could only swallow…but she did fist her hands into the fine fabric of the jacket he wore and pulled him down to cover her with his body... Just to feel his weight, the warmth of him.

To breathe in the scent of cedars and winter…and somehow that calmed that bond throbbing with need and want and desire. Somehow that made it possible to just look at him, to card her fingers through his midnight dark curls, to take in every inch of his face, these beautiful eyes, pupils blown wide, the green just a thin ring…to cup his cheek and press a kiss against his lips, feeling the warmth of his mouth on hers…

She let her own hands roam, one of them pulling loose the buttons of his shirt, the other exploring the broad expanse of his chest, her fingers tracing over the smooth, muscular skin.

His breath was coming in hard, ragged pants as she moved, and she could feel the effect this was having on him, the bond between the two of them practically throbbing...And then he was pulling back, his eyes looking up at her, almost delirious with lust, and gods, that look, that dark, hungry look on his face…

"Pull off that jacket or I'll rip it," she managed to bring out weakly, making him laugh as he sat back on his haunches, pulling off the jacket and the shirt he wore hurriedly.

His wings twitched behind him, spanning wide, and it was all she could see.

Her eyes traced over every line, every muscle...gods, the sight of him, shirtless and sitting between her legs, was almost overwhelming. She could only look at him, her eyes roaming over his chest, the smooth, muscular lines of his stomach, down to the waist of his trousers. His skin was gorgeously tan against the moonlight, the intricate tattoos marking his chest and arms like a work of art…he was perfect.

Her hands came up, almost involuntarily, tracing over those tattoos, the hard, firm planes of his body…she wanted more. More skin. All of him.

He let her, sitting still, as she ran her hands over his shoulders, down to his biceps, tracing over the tattoos along his arm and back up his chest…Azriel was breathing hard now, his eyes watching her every move, almost panting at her touch…

He wanted her. Wanted her more than anything. But her mate was being careful. Even now, as she could sense that last, thin thread of self-control…he was holding himself back.

Being so careful not to scare her… Her hand traced his jaw, her thumb coming up to caress his cheek…and there was a shiver of need, a tug against that bond between the two of them, as he closed his eyes, leaning into her touch…

"I want to touch you," he whispered. "Please, can I..."

She could hear the need in his voice, the plea, and it sent a wave of heat through her body.

"Anything," she breathed, her own voice almost breaking. “Anything you want, anything you need…I’m yours, I’m yours…”

He bore down on her, fingers slipping off these scraps of lace, a wave of self-consciousness overcoming her...but then he kissed her, and Eira forgot it all. Forgot everything but these broad, gentle hands on her skin, exploring her body...forgot everything but her mouth against her skin as he stared at her neck and pressed kisses to every single inch of her skin.

It was devastating. To feel his hands on her body, his mouth against her skin, leaving not an inch of her body untouched, as he explored her, worshipping her, caressing her, as if she was the most beautiful and precious thing he’d ever seen.

He was murmuring things against her skin, words of praise, words of adoration and love, that left her breathless and shaking and melting beneath his touch…

Azriel sucked one breast into his mouth and she moaned, her body arching and shaking, his thumb pressing over her other breasts...and then suddenly he hesitated. Her eyes opened and she watched as he stared at her body, as his thumb, hesitantly, reverently passed over the thin silvery scar underneath her left breast.

Her eyes widened, a shiver of self-consciousness, of shame, going through her body as she looked down at the scar… Some part of her expected him to look at it with repulsion. Or pity, perhaps. But when her eyes met his his own, his expression was…worshipping. His thumb gently passed over that thin silvery gash. The sight, and feel and touch of it almost left her breathless.

He wasn’t looking at this thin silver scar with pity, or repulsion…he looked at it like he did the rest of her. Like something beautiful, and precious…and his.

And then he pressed his lips to it…near reverently.

His kisses moved lower, down over her stomach...he was taking his time with her, exploring every part of her, as if wanting to commit every part of her to memory. And the more of her he touched...the more of her he tasted, the more her skin became almost feverish…

"Azriel," she gasped. "Please... please..."

"Shhhh," he shushed her. "You don't need to beg, Sweetheart. What do you want?" She shivered when he called her that...gods...he could make her melt with one single word...

"I need you," she gasped out, staring at him through half-lidded eyes. "I need you...need to feel you...I-"

Her hands reached out for him, trying to pull him down, trying to get him closer...

"Do you want to come, sweetheart?" Azriel asked her softly, pressing a kiss against her stomach and she whimpered. "So that you are getting wet and ready for me?"

She whimpered, the touch and the heat from his mouth and the sound of that voice and those words...

Her body was shaking, practically thrumming with tension after all that had taken place...and at the sound of that question, her back arched, a low, trembling yes leaving her throat…

"If you tell me to stop I will," Azriel said softly. "But give yourself a few minutes to get used to it, alright?"

She wasn't even sure to what exactly she had just agreed...only that his head was suddenly right between her legs, his hands gently holding her thighs open as she looked down at him, all dark, messy curls and hazel eyes, blown dark and wild with desire. He looked like he was going to devour her.

And then he was kissing her. Right there, and a strangled gasp tore itself from her throat. "Az-Az riel..." she pleaded, her voice breaking...

She was shaking already, a tremble, a deep, uncontrollable trembling, shuddering through the entire length of her body. His hands were on her thighs, her hips, keeping her legs pinned open, even as his mouth worked magic against her skin…

And all she could do was clutch desperately at the sheets, gasp out broken pleas and half-words, her body wracked with need and desire...

He was devouring her. Suddenly she understood.

As his tongue teased at her in devastating, expert motions, as his lips and teeth and hands worked magic...his worshipful, reverent touches and kisses and licks reduced her to a trembling, panting, squirming mess…

He was devouring her.

She was shaking, her body quivering, arching, writhing against his mouth, but his grip on her hips kept her pinned to the bed, his hands holding her thighs open even as she gasped and moaned and pleaded...

His head was between her legs, her trembling hands tangling into his hair, trying to hold on, but all she could do was shudder and shake as she came apart.

"Good, sweetheart," Azriel praised her softly, pressing kisses against her thighs as she still shook through it. "That's perfect. You are getting so wet for me." She whimpered, her cheeks reddening at his words. Her cheeks were burning, her body shuddering as she looked up at him with wide eyes...still trying to catch her breath, while he was smiling at her...and the sight of him, his face and mouth still wet...

"Azriel...I-" she gasped out, her voice trembling, only to break as she let out a little, shuddering mewl…

He climbed back up over her, settling himself between her legs once again, his body pressed against hers, and like this, she could feel that he was hard. The length of him pressed against her stomach, making her breath all the more faster, making her want.

"Please," she managed to gasp out desperately, beggingly, and he groaned at the sound of it, dropping his head to nip at her neck.

"Please, Azriel..." she pleaded, her fingers tangling in his hair… Gods, he was surrounding her everywhere, pinning her to the bed like this, and his skin...his skin was so hot, practically on fire against hers, and she could feel him shaking, every muscle in his body taut…

One broad hand stroked down her body and she whimpered at his touch, as it slipped between her legs, circling that pearl at the apex of her thighs, and then one thick finger sank into her.

Her own had felt…big inside her. But that was nothing against how Azriel’s finger felt inside her…

As he circled and stroked inside her, her body wracking itself with a shuddering tremble, her back arching as her hips moved of their own accord, trying to get as close as possible, trying to move

"Perfect, sweetheart," he praised her, a kiss pressed against her temple.

"I... please, I-" she begged breathlessly, her hips arching and shaking as he moved that finger in and out, slowly, so damn slow she wanted to scream...but all words escaped her...all she could do was moan, a low, whimpering sound, as her body writhed and squirmed, arching against his touch...she was lost to it, to the feel of his hands, to the feel of him...

"Please..." she managed to pant out again, not even sure what she was asking, the only coherent thought going through her head being need and more…

“Another?” he asked her softly.

Another...she was struggling to even think straight at the moment. All her coherent thoughts were concentrated on that wicked finger moving inside of her...Her eyes met his, wide and a bit unfocused, but with just enough of her mind left for her to nod, albeit breathlessly.

His second finger was almost as devastating as the first. Her breath came out in little pants now, her hands clutching desperately at his shoulders, and she could suddenly feel how close she was to the edge, her body shaking and trembling, as he moved his mouth to the base of her neck and bit.

Her body arched at the feel of his mouth, at the feel of teeth on her neck as he bit and sucked at her skin, surely marking her, sure enough, to leave bruises on her skin...that, and the sight of him above her, the feel of his fingers, moving inside of her...

"Azriel..." she gasped his name, the plea clear in her voice, her body writhing and shaking against his hold…

This time, she was desperate, she was a trembling, writhing mess of pleading moans and pants, as her body felt like it was practically vibrating, as she was right on the edge...and then his thumb came to rub that sensitive bundle of nerves right there…

Eira keened, arching off the bed, her hands fisting into the sheets, her body shaking and tensing, so taut it felt like she was about to snap, as she gasped and panted, her mind going blank as that pleasure, that heat built within her...it was terrifying, like being on the edge of an abyss...

And then she snapped. A sharp, strangled cry tore itself from her throat as her body went absolutely tense for a second...and then relaxed as wave after wave of pleasure swept over her, wracking her body as she gasped and shook and shuddered into that release.

She was dimly aware of his hands coming up and stroking down her sides, his lips against her neck as he praised her, calling her perfect, and sweetheart, and good, as she trembled on the edge of those overwhelming waves...

And she was melting, at the sound of his voice, at the praise, at the touch of his hands and his mouth...

But gods, she was also so, so sensitive, her body feeling like it was on fire like it was over-stimulated...she let out a little whimper, her hands clenching against his skin...

"More," she requested, tipping up her chin so that she could kiss him.

It was a greedy, desperate kiss, all hot and open, and his body was still pressed against hers, and she could feel the heat and hardness of him, burning between them...gods...

He groaned into the kiss at the feel of her, of her lips and tongue, the sound a low, guttural sound, almost bordering on animalistic...

"Are you sure?" he asked her softly, and she swallowed but nodded.

The feel of him, his body pressed so close against hers, so hot and hard against her...he was asking, but she knew he was hurting, she could feel how much he wanted this, needed this as well...

"Please," she whispered, "please, I...I want this...I want you..."

"Shh, sweetheart," he shushed her, pulling back and she leant up on her shaking elbows to watch him divest himself of his trousers.

She could only stare.

That drawing of male anatomy had… definitely not…prepared her for Azriel.

She could just swallow when she took in the sheer size of him.

Her mouth was suddenly feeling dry in a mixture of desire and terror. Her stomach turned into a tight, nervous knot.

"That's...That's not going to fit inside me," Eira squeaked. That was not…that was not…

"It will," Azriel promised with a soft laugh. “Just relax, Sweetheart. We’ll make it fit,” he promised her, pressing a kiss against her unresisting lips.

No, that wasn’t…This wasn't two fingers like she had maybe thought. This was…

“You…you are huge,” she blurted out.

"What every male wants to hear, sweetheart," he said with some amusement, pressing a kiss against her lips. "But I am only slightly above average."

Somehow she didn't believe that. At all.

And then suddenly something else made sense. "Is that what everybody means when they say you have the biggest wingspan?" she asked him weakly, making him laugh.

"I do have the biggest wingspan," he chuckled.

Eira collapsed back into the mattress, making Azriel chuckle as he pressed a kiss against her lips.

“I promise you, it will fit,” he whispered against her lips. “You were made for me, Sweetheart.”

And somehow…somehow that…she was made for him. She was his mate.

“We can try,” she said, biting her lip. “But if it…if it hurts…”

“If it hurts, we’ll stop,” Azriel crooned softly, his body moving over hers, covering her, as he leaned down to kiss her lips. "I promise you, it will fit," he murmured, his hands running along her body. "Just relax, Sweetheart. We'll make it fit."

She whimpered as she felt him notch his cock against her, her folds drenched and overheated and a full-body shiver went through her.

"Don't worry," Azriel murmured against her neck. "I am going to be very careful. Just relax, sweetheart, it's going to feel so good."

Eira swallowed, she was trembling under him, her hands clenching against his shoulders.

She trusted him. She trusted him not to hurt her. To make this good...

And so Eira willed her body to relax, too intense under him, and his hands were stroking gently over her body, his mouth trailing kisses and sucking marks down her neck, his tongue and his teeth leaving a trail of sparks running throughout her body...

She was starting to settle, her head leaning back, her breath coming in shallow pants as desire replaced her previous fear...

"Just relax, sweetheart. That’s all you need to do," he reminded her softly, his voice a little strained, and she nodded.

She tried, she tried to relax, she breathed, but gods, he was so close and so hot...she wanted, she wanted it, but she was still terrified at the same time...

He shifted his weight just slightly and she gasped as she could feel him press against her entrance.

“Please, talk to me,” she panted out, just needed to know that he was right there…

“You just relax, Sweetheart,” Azriel whispered her softly. “Just relax…I am not going to do anything…Just get used to the pressure and weight…”

"Please," she panted out, not even sure what she was asking for, only knowing she wanted more, needing him to move and do something, because this, this pressure and heat and wait was driving her insane… "Please, please..."

He rocked inside her, just a little bit and she gasped.

She gasped, loud, her hands coming up to clutch at his shoulders,

"Shhh," he whispered against her neck, kissing her skin, as he began to move, slowly, so slowly rocking into her, as he kept whispering against her skin...

"You're doing so good, sweetheart," he murmured, "You are so good..."

He felt so big inside her, stretching her so wide, and she whimpered in a sharp, stinging pain as he slid deeper inside her.

His body seemed to react on instinct, stopping, as he raised his head to look at her, his hands coming up to cup her face. "Are you alright, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice, that beautiful, deep voice, full of concern, and she knew, instantly, that he would stop if she wanted him to.

But she wanted this. Wanted to be closer to him, to be his, more than anything else. She shook her head, clinging to him, digging her hands into his strong, perfect arms.

"Don't stop," she pleaded. "Please, don't stop."

“More?” he asked her softly and she managed a nod.

He groaned against her neck, her head arching at the sound of it, and he started moving again, slowly, still so, so slowly, rocking into her. This time, the pain was less, replaced by that all-consuming pleasure. Every time he pushed himself into her, a deep, aching pleasure, something she couldn't have imagined before his body pressed against her.

His body had found a rhythm, a steady pace, an almost torturous back and forth, and she found herself moving again, meeting him, arching against him, needing her body to press against his, to get as close as possible to him.

More and more of him inside her and every time she thought she had taken all of him...more slid inside her, and her body yielded, making space for him somehow.

He panted her name against her neck, and she could feel it as his muscles trembled, as if desperately trying to hold on to that last, fragile thread of self-control...he was holding back, for her, trying to make this as good as possible...

It was so good. How could it be anything else, with the way he was surrounding her, his body, hot and flushed against hers, the way she could hear his low, panting gasps, the way he was whispering her name, over and over, again and again...

She could feel that familiar heat, rising within her, like a wave in the ocean, every time he pushed inside of her, filling her. Every move, every shift of his body, driving her closer and closer to the edge, driving the heat to that point where it trembled on the edge, just like she was...gods...he was moving faster, now, faster, with a steady, almost driving pace, as he kissed against her neck, her shoulder, his hands running up her body to her hair, and...

"Please," she gasped out, her words coming out in little pants, begging, "Please, I need, I need..."

"I know, I know," he groaned against her neck, his hands coming up and tangling in her hair, his pace never faltering, "I know, sweetheart, I got you."

And he did.

It was like an explosion going off inside of her. Wave after wave of pleasure, of white, hot, pleasure wracking her body with a shuddered shock, as she clenched around him, her body convulsing as she arched, writhing against his body, crying out his name.

His body tensed above her, and his hands clenched into the sheets, his breath coming out in a low, guttural groan, as he shuddered, and she could feel him pulsing inside her.

He was panting against her neck, his breath as uneven and ragged as hers, his heart racing against her chest. And, even though she was still trembling, still trying to recover herself from the overwhelming pleasure, just feeling him there, on top of her, with his body flush against hers, was...perfect.

He raised his head, pressing a kiss against her lips, a slow, gentle movement, and it sent a shiver through her, as she raised one trembling hand to cup his face. Gods, he was perfect, so perfect in this moment.

"Are you alright?" he asked her, his voice a low, hoarse hoarse rumble. Her eyes opened at that, and she was hit with a sudden wave of warmth in her stomach.

"I'm perfect," she whispered back to him, a slow, blissful smile spreading on her face. And she meant it, the smile widening as his face brightened.

He smiled at her response, a beautiful, beautiful smile, before he shifted, rolling them over until she was lying sprawled on top of him. He settled with a sigh, burying a hand in her hair and she snuggled into his chest, feeling perfectly safe like this.

Surrounded by her mate.

***

Azriel had never in his life thought that the Mating Frenzy would feel like that.

It was like a wildfire, burning inside of him, driving him mad, as it urged him to hold onto her, keep her close, claim her again, and again, and again...

And he did. Again and again and again. He waited for it to abate, but nothing of that sort happened. He waited for himself to do something, to reach some unspoken limit that would make Eira withdraw or flinch away or tell him no.

But there was nothing.

It was like she was made for him like she could take everything he gave her, everything his body, his instincts, demanded from her, and she just met it with that look in her eyes, that look of sweet pleasure.

Just relaxed underneath him with all the trust in the world, her eyes closing, her body growing lax.

Gods, she let him do whatever he wanted, and her moans, her gasps, her whimpers, they drove him mad, drove him to do more, more, more, as he could never get enough of her...

She was pliant and soft, her body arching and yielding to his touch, so perfect, so sweet, every touch sending another wave of heat through him, like it was just stoking the fire further, making him want her even more…

He was quite sure the only reason that they didn't starve or had a serious case of dehydration, was the shadows that plied them with food and drinks whenever they took some sort of break.

Which they only did rarely, because all of his attention was on her, on her sweet mouth, those beautiful eyes, her delicate body, all of it that he could touch, taste whenever he wanted...

It was endless, all-consuming, the way he claimed her, the way his body demanded her, again and again, until she was panting his name, whispering pleas and promises against his skin...

And even in that, in that mindless, endless desire, the way he wanted her, he was conscious, always conscious of the way she felt, the way her body responded to his, the way she trusted him and gods, he wanted to soak in that trust, drown in it.

His body demanded, needed more, more of her, more of her body, her sweet moans, the way she shivered and arched against him.

He lost track of time, of what day it even was, his mind consumed by the desperate need to touch her, taste her, bury himself inside of her, again and again...

Over and over, the days passing with their bodies tangled together, his name a chant, a plea against her lips, her body a sweet, sweet haven for him, a paradise, that he could simply lose himself in...

Gods, he would never be able to have enough of her, of feeling her, of the way she trembled, and gasped, and moaned, the way her skin flushed, the way her body clenched around him...

He wasn't even sure how long it had been...longer than a week, because the last time Rhys had tried to check in on him, he had forced him out of his mind, too busy between Eira's thighs...Rhys had pulled back like Azriel had burned him and hadn't appeared again.

Not that he even noticed, too occupied with the heat of her body, the softness of her skin, the feel of her around him, every inch of her body like the most delicious food, that he could simply not get enough of…

He woke up, curled around her back, one wing stretched over her.

Eira was still asleep, hair mussed...he had managed to pull the flowers and hair combs out of her sometime during the days that followed their wedding...had even managed to take a bath with his mate, which had then ended up with him taking her from behind, her body draped against the cool marble of their bathroom...

She looked so peaceful, sleeping there, her body boneless with exhaustion, her skin marked with love bites and bruised he had sucked into her skin much to her delight. The sight of her like that, with the evidence of his mark clearly visible on her…

He groaned, his body already reacting to the sight of her, to her smell, as he wrapped his hand around her hip and pulled her closer, shifting her body until her back was flush against him, his front pressed against her perfect, soft back.

Gods, she was so warm, even through the blankets, and he couldn't resist burying his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling her sweet, sweet smell. Snowdrops and almonds and ice and...he buried his nose tighter against her pulse point, inhaling again, a soft hum coming from her.

Cedar and Winter, his own scent...but that wasn't...He breathed in again.

He could smell...something soft and sweet, like a bud just opening...Eira's scent changed. Already.

Changing into something richer, something...fertile.

Changing with the scent of a new life having taken root in her womb.

He paused, his hands going still, as that realization hit him. Gods...he could already smell it on her, the change in her scent, the change...proof that she was...pregnant...

"Azriel?" his hand snapped up and he stared at his mate, at his wife, at the mother of his child, her eyes blinking open, eyes still drowsy with sleep.

Gods, she looked so sweet as she looked up at him, and it was like all the air just vanished from his lungs… His hand trembled slightly as he raised it and touched her face, her soft skin against his fingers, his mind still trying to comprehend the idea that she...that they were...

"Are you doing alright?" he asked, his voice sounding a bit raspy, and her eyes softened, her lips pulling up into a slow, sleepy smile.

"Mhmm," she hummed out, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment, as she snuggled tighter into his chest. "Just sleepy," she answered, her voice sleepy, but content, as she burrowed closer to him. "Warm..."

He buried his nose back into the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent like a starving male, his hands sliding down underneath the blankets until he could touch…

He ran his hands over her body, gently, just feeling her, just touching her skin, feeling his palms slide over her hip, down her curves, down to her stomach...right where the scent was coming from, thick and powerful, the scent of a baby, their baby, taking root within her womb...

It was like that thought, that knowledge was making his mind short-circuit, like he could barely even think, let alone process it...he just...wanted to touch and hold her, to keep her safe.

"You're changing..." the words came out against her skin, mumbled like a prayer, the realization driving him mad. She was pregnant, she was creating life within her womb...

"Hmmm?" she hummed out, her eyes still closed, a small smile on her face, so blissfully ignorant of what that scent meant. "What do you mean?" she asked, and his heart ached at the adorable confusion in her voice.

"I can smell it," he said back, his lips still against her skin, still breathing in her scent. "The change in your scent..."

Those beautiful, beautiful, grey eyes of hers blinked open slowly, a bit more alert now, though still confused. "Change in my scent...?" she repeated, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion for a moment. "I smell different?"

"You smell fertile..." he said, his hands still on her stomach, running in slow, almost reverent caresses over her skin. "The scent's changed...already...proof that...that you're...pregnant..."

Those sweet, grey eyes of hers widened at his words, and his heart ached for a moment, as a flicker of disbelief passed through her expression. He waited, barely able to breathe, for her response.

Her eyes darted up to his for a moment, searching his expression. "...are you sure...?" she asked back in a whisper, her body tense for a moment, but her voice hopeful.

"I'm sure," he answered, his hands rubbing over her stomach once more. "The change...it only happens...in pregnant females...you're...you're carrying our baby, Sweetheart..."

That was it, the moment, the moment when he saw that realisation, that knowledge settle onto her, the moment he saw acceptance and hope and joy all flicker through her expression, before...before the tears started welling up in her eyes...

"We…we made a baby?" The words came out as a soft whisper, so hopeful, so sweet, that it was like a dagger to his heart.

Azriel's breath hitched in his throat, and his hands tightened their hold on her body, as he nodded in response. "Yes...we made a baby," he answered, his voice as soft as hers.

And then it was like the dams had broken, tears starting to pour from her eyes, as she let out a choked, broken sound, her body shaking against his.

She wasn’t upset, wasn’t sad, didn’t regret the baby they had made…he could feel a wave of almost relief wash over him from their bond, and then, a fledgling, sweet feeling of happiness.

Azriel gently pulled her closer, until he was cradling her in his arms… "Shhh...shh...it's alright," he soothed her, whispering against the top of Eira’s head, as he tried to bring her back from her tears. "It's alright...don't cry, sweetheart...shh..."

But she was just crying harder, now full-on sobbing in his arms, her hands coming up to grip onto his shirt, her face buried against his chest… He held her like that, tight against him, his nose buried in her hair, as he let her cry it out, whispering soft, hushed assurances against her hair, trying to soothe her and himself at the same time.

"We...we made a baby?" she repeated, her voice coming out in hiccoughs against his chest, and he felt a pang of pain at the sound of it, at the hope, joy, and disbelief, he could hear in that soft, broken voice...

"Yes, sweetheart," he said, his voice a soft comfort in her ear, "yes, yes we did...we made a baby...you, you're pregnant, we're having a baby..."

And her sobs changed, that word, that truth, like a soothing balm over a wound, as she kept repeating it, through her tears and hiccoughs, like she was trying to make herself believe it...

"I am pregnant...we're having a baby..." she whispered out, over and over, and gods, it was the sweetest sound in the world, her voice, the words out of her mouth, and he could feel his own tears starting to burn in his eyes, at the sheer, raw joy of those two facts...

He just held her there, cradling her tight in his arms, stroking her back, and her hair, whispering more soothing, loving words to her, as she cried, as she repeated it over and yet again...

Eventually, the tears dried, her sobs subsided, her body tired and boneless against his chest. "Are you alright, sweetheart?" he whispered against the top of her head, as he held her against his chest, stroking her hair with gentle, soothing caresses.

"I'm..." she muttered out, her voice still a bit raw. "I'm just happy." she lifted her head up with a smile, her grey eyes a bit swollen, a few tear tracks still visible on her face, but her eyes so full of joy and life, as she stared up at him with a shaky smile, her hand coming to rest on the side of his face. "I'm so, so happy, Azriel..."

He felt his heart clench in his chest at the sound of her voice, at the absolute, pure joy in her tone, as he nodded, a few tears of his own slipping from his eyes now. "I'm happy, too," he said, his voice low and rough, as he bent his head and gently pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I'm so, so happy, sweetheart..."

Babies? the shadows whispered, suddenly appearing behind him.

Azriellaughed as he looked behind him, staring into the shadows. "Yes, babies," he said quietly, gently pulling his mate even closer, as he stroked her cheek with his hand. "We're having a baby..."

The shadows wriggled like they were dancing on the spot with sheer, pure excitement, coming to wriggle all over Eira, pressing against her naked skin.

"Hey," he snapped at them, gently batting them away from his mate. "Careful," he hissed, his hands carefully pushing the shadows away from the soft skin of Eira's stomach.

"It's fine," Eira protested, a hint of a smile on her face, as she looked down at the shadows. The shadows writhed around her hand, wrapping itself happily around her finger before pressing against her stomach once more. "They just....want to be close to their new friend," she said, her voice soft, her gaze warm as she looked down at the shadows.

Azriel groaned, his annoyance fading away at her words, as he looked down at the shadows, at the way they were wriggling happily against her skin, his mind picturing the image of them happily playing with the baby, once it was born...

"Just be gentle," he told them firmly, his eyes fixing back onto the shadows, the way they were wriggling around her, clearly delighted at the revelation that her womb, that her body, was making a new life within her…

They writhed, the shadows all coming together to form one large, singular one, which reached out, and very gently, barely touching against her stomach. Eira reached out as well, her fingers gently wrapping around a part of the shadow, which pressed against her hand, as if in greeting.

Azriel let out a soft breath, as the sight of that interaction sent his heart into a spin. The shadows were...happy. Delighted. They liked her. Hell, they loved her. He had never seen them interact with anyone like...like they were interacting with Eira...

And the way she was gently stroking the shadows...it was clear his mate loved them just as much as they loved her. That...that was probably the last thing he could have foreseen and yet, the sight of it...it made his heart sing within his chest.

Notes:

It's always bittersweet to come to the end of a story. I did really enjoy the last three weeks though and appreciated ever comment and ever like or kudos, every favourite and every bookmark.

While Looked to the Sky has now ended, The Prophecy is as always, ongoing. So every thought, prompt, comment, throw them my way! I'll add them to my horde of plot bunnies

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x oc #azriel x reader #azriel fanfiction #azriel fanfic #Azriel x Archeron!Reader #the prophecy #Looked to the sky

436 notes · View notes

kaleldobrev · 1 year ago

Text

Possessive

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x F. Reader

Summary: Ben is highly against when other men hit on you

Original Prompt: Requested by anonymous | HEYYY THERE. First of all- I love your work so freaking much. Second of all- if you’re still accepting requests I was wondering if I could ask for a soldier boy x reader where they’re out at a bar and some creepy guys hits on her?? Basically how Ben would react and everything. THANK YOU SO MUCH LOVE <333

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Cursing (21x) & Possessive!Ben

Authors Note: I re-wrote this I think like a handful of times cause I honestly wasn’t happy with it. But now I am finally happy with it | I really hope you guys liked the way this turned out | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

“So tell me why you fucking dragged me here again?” Ben asked, walking very close behind you that he might as well be attached to your back.

“Hughie’s birthday,” you reminded him.

“Remind me again why he invited me?” Ben asked. “Because we aren’t really buddy-buddy babe.”

“Because believe it or not, he doesn’t hate you,” you said. “Besides, even if he didn’t invite you, I would have dragged you here anyway cause he said I could bring a plus one. And you my guy, are my plus one.”

He rolled his eyes. “I seriously do not want to fucking be here. I have other things I could be doing than hanging out with your friends.”

You turned to him, cocking a brow. “Like what? Smashing bennies on our kitchen counter while you watch re-runs of M*A*S*H?”

He furrowed his brow, hating that you knew him all too well. “Fuck you,” was how he chose to respond.

“Fuck you too,” you smirked. “Now let’s go grandpa,” you said, taking his hand in yours and making your way to the back table where your friends probably already were.

“Y/N!” Hughie exclaimed, holding a beer in his hand. “You made it!”

“Of course I did,” you smiled; him and you exchanging hug. “I wouldn’t miss actually seeing Butcher let loose,” you winked.

“You’ve seen it plenty of times luv,” he said, picking up a shot of vodka.

“Yeah but, that was when strictly murder was involved,” you clarified. He shrugged his shoulders in response, knocking back the shot.

“Hey. I’m shocked you actually came,” Hughie said, gesturing toward Ben.

“She dr—” he started to say, but changed his mind when he saw you, looking at him with the biggest ‘do not piss me off’ look. “Wouldn’t have missed it.”

“So, what’s everyone drinking?” You asked.

“White claw as usual for me. But we have beer and vodka shots too,” Annie replied, gesturing around the table as your eyes followed the drinks.

“Anyone in the mood for some rum?” You asked. “Kinda in the mood for a rum and coke myself.”

“You’re always in the mood for rum and coke,” Ben mumbled. “Rum and my coc—” He mumbled again, but you quickly cut him off, not wanting him to finish his sentence.

“Okay!” You clapped. “I’m gonna go get some rum and coke. Ben, you wanna come with me?” You asked, turning in his direction.

Ben weighed his options: he could either sit at this table making small talk with your friends that he had nothing in common with, or he could go with you to the bar and maybe have the chance to convince you to have a quickie in the bathroom. “I’ll come with you.”

“Perfect!” You clapped again, aggressively taking his hand as the two of you started making your way toward the bar.

As soon as you and Ben were out of ear and eyeshot, Annie was the first one to break the silence. “So, what’s going on with them? Because whenever I bring up their relationship she always changes the subject.”

“They aren’t in a relationship,” Butcher clarified. “Not a real one anyway.”

“I mean, friends with benefits is kind of a relationship,” Annie said. “I mean, it’s not like the two of them don’t have feelings for each other ya know?”

“How do you figure?” Butcher asked.

“You don’t see the way the two of them look at each other? Those are more than ‘I only fuck you cause you’re convenient eyes’,” she explained.

“He doesn’t love her. Dont think the cunt is even capable of love,” Butcher replied, taking another shot of vodka.

“Did you actually want rum and coke or did you just want us to have some alone time?” He smirked. “Come and cock if you will.”

“Why does everything that comes out of your mouth sound disgusting?” You asked, not nearly as disgusted as you were over a year ago when you had first met him. Because you had been around him for as long as you have, you had basically become desensitized to basically everything he had said or did. Him walking around naked? Just an average Tuesday. Him snorting coke while you make pasta? Just an average Friday.

“I thought you liked the things that came out of my mouth,” he winked.

“We are not doing this right now,” you warned him.

“I mean we could. Your heart is beatin’ rather fast right now. And your cheeks are turning that pinkish color they usually get whenever you wanna jump me,” he smirked.

“Either go and sit down or stay quiet. Cause I don’t need these random people in this bar to know about our sex life,” you whispered yelled.

“Where’s your sense of adventure Sweetheart?” He smirked again, starting to tug on your empty belt loop on your jeans.

“Ben,” you whispered through gritted teeth.

“What?” He asked, whispering in your ear. “It’s not like anyone’s paying attention to us. This bar is fucking crowded.” He pulled you close, and kissed your neck; which caused you to let you a tiny moan. “There she is,” he smirked against your skin.

“Okay. I need you to go sit down,” you said, Ben still very much kissing your neck.

“You really want me to go and do that when we can go into the bathroom and have a good and quick fuck?” He whispered.

His offer was tempting, more tempting than you would have liked to admit. But you had to restrain yourself, at least right now — because you didn’t want to get fucked in a dirty bar bathroom. “Ben,” your voice stern.

He knew that voice all too well, and he immediately stopped what he was doing. “Fine,” his voice annoyed. “Gonna go sit by your friends.”

“Ben, you can still stand here. Just keep your hands to yourself,” you told him, but he was already half way across the room. “Fucking child,” you whispered, full well knowing that he would still be able to hear you.

“Pain in my fucking ass,” he mumbled to himself.

“They’re been over there a long time,” Hughie said, trying to see over the sea of people. “Oh wait! Here they come.” But instead of you and Ben coming back toward the table, it was just Ben; and everyone looked at him with slight confusion. “Where’s Y/N?”

“Getting her rum and coke. Weren’t you paying attention?” Ben slightly snapped.

“Jesus,” Hughie mumbled.

“I think what he means is, I thought you were getting one with her,” Annie said.

“Trouble in paradise?” Butcher asked slightly smirking; holding up a shot of vodka for Ben to take. Ben just rolled his eyes and took the shot. “That’s what I thought.”

“Can someone fucking move so I can sit the fuck down?” Ben asked, his voice full of annoyance.

As you waited at the bar for yours and Ben’s drinks, you tapped your fingers along to the music that was playing even though it was very muffled sounding due to the immense crowd in the bar tonight. “Hey little lady,” you heard a male voice say, but you ignored it, thinking that he was probably talking to the girl next to you. But then you felt an aggressive tapping on your shoulders. For a split second you thought that maybe it was Ben, but you knew he would never do something like that to you.

When you turned around, a man about a few inches taller than you stood in front of you. “You talking to me?” You asked.

He scoffed. “Yeah, who else would I be talking to pretty lady?” His words made you shudder. “Cold?”

“Uh yeah…I uh…I run a little cold,” you lied. Fuck, he noticed the shuddering, you thought.

“You can borrow my jacket,” he said, starting to take off a leather jacket that reeked of menthol and cheap whiskey.

“No I’m good, thanks though,” you said, trying your best to be nice. “Besides, I’d never see you again, so you would never get your jacket back.”

“See, I fully intend on seeing you Sweetheart,” he said. “In more ways than one,” he winked. Again, you felt your body shudder. “Are you sure you don’t want my jacket? It’s honestly really fucking hot. Kinda like you.”

Oh sweet baby Jesus, you thought. “I’m good honestly. And plus, I’m sure my friends have a jacket I can borrow.”

“Your friends uh?” He cocked a brow. “They as hot as you?” You honestly didn’t know how to answer that, so you just stood there a little dumbfounded. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll give you my number and we can meet up later for a little party.”

“I don’t thin—” you started to answer.

“And before you say no. I’m sure you would love it, it’s a sex party. Like uh, that Herogasm. Ever been to Herogasm?” He asked.

Of course you’ve been to Herogasm; but it wasn’t for pleasure on any account (as that kind of thing wasn’t remotely your thing). You were strictly there to make sure things didn’t go more south than they already did. “That’s not really my —”

“I really think you’d enjoy it,” he said. “The guy who created it must of been such a freak.” You have no idea, you wanted to say.

“Soldier Boy,” you said, and the man looked at you with slight confusion, furrowing his brow. “Created it…Hero…gasm…”

“Oh shit he did! Man, that guy is a fucking legend,” the man said. “Hey, you think he would still be going to those if he didn’t get killed in that nuclear thing in Ohio back in the eighties?”

“I honestly wouldn’t know,” you said, starting to actually get embarrassed.

“Anyway, enough about that guy. Have you ever had a threesome?” He asked, abruptly changing the subject.

“Hey Sugar,” you heard Ben say from behind you.

“Get in line pal,” the guy said. “She’s with me.”

Ben raised a brow out of amusement. “Oh she is, is she?”

“Yeah and—hey, has anyone ever told you that you kinda look like Soldier Boy? Man, he was my favorite,” the man said. If Ben’s ego couldn’t get any higher…

“He gets that a lot,” you chimed in.

“Shit, you two know each other?” The man said, looking back and forth between you and Ben.

“Yeah,” Ben said. “We’re real familiar with each other. So why don’t you scam before I break your nose for hitting on my girlfriend here?”

The man couldn’t help himself but scoff. “Girlfriend? Dude, you wish.” Oh no.

“Excuse me?” Ben asked. “I don’t think I heard you quite right.”

“Of course you didn’t, cause you’re an old, fucking —”

Ben’s hands went into fists, and you felt him start to push past you, but you stopped him by pressing a firm hand on his chest, which was starting to get unbelievably hot. “Let’s go sit down. Annie just texted me asking me where we are.”

The drinks that the bartender made you and Ben got slid toward you, and you picked them up, attempting to hand a glass for him to hold to replace one of his fists. “Don’t wanna worry her now would we?” Ben said, his voice still full of anger, but it was attempting to sound calm.

“You’re pissed at me aren’t you?” Ben asked, as the two of you started making your way toward the table.

“Why do you think I’m pissed at you?” You questioned.

“Because I didn’t let you handle that yourself,” he answered. “I know you’re all about feminism or whatever, but I didn’t like the way he was talking to you.”

“I admit what you did was slightly more alpha than I would have liked but, I’m not remotely pissed at you,” you told him. “It was kinda…hot actually,” you confessed. “I’m just more intrigued by the choice of words you used.”

“What words?” He raised a brow, the two of you stopping in your tracks mere feet away from the table.

“The fact that you called me your girlfriend,” you said. “You could have just said friend, but you choose to use the word girlfriend.”

“Jesus Christ,” he rolled his eyes. “We are not having this conversation now.”

“But you can grope me in a crowded bar?” You asked, cocking your head.

“That’s different,” he said.

“H-okay, I’m not gonna touch that. But seriously? I think we should really talk about this at some point because you’ve been doing that a lot lately,” you said.

“Doing what?” It was his turn to cock his head, and look at you with slight confusion.

“Calling me your girlfriend,” you stated.

He rolled his eyes again. “Tell me one time before this time that I called you my girlfriend.”

“Literally yesterday,” you responded all too quickly.

“Because some creep was hitting on you. To be fair, you call me your boyfriend,” he said, trying to turn this conversation in his favor somehow.

“I have never once called you my boyfriend,” you stated.

“You did. Yesterday when you were on the phone with your mom,” he told you.

“A conversation that I told you not to listen in on might I add,” you retorted.

“Okay, that’s besides the point. Point is —”

“Look, I’m gonna make this simple. Do you want me to be your actual girlfriend or not?” You asked bluntly, cutting him off.

“What?” He asked, for some reason acting like he was confused.

"I'm tired of beating around the bush okay? We like fucking, we already live together, and we genuinely like spending time with each other. So, why not just make things official?" Ben knew that you had a point. "So, do you want to be my boyfriend or not?"

"Yes," he replied, sounding slightly annoyed.

"What?" You asked, sighing.

"I wanted to be the one to ask," he mumbled.

"Fucking Christ," you mumbled.

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bumblebeesfromvenus · 7 months ago

Text

Aphrodite sends her regards 💋

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

This is absolutely filthy. 'Tis blasphemous, even.

The order is here -> 🎂

NSFW. proceed with caution. Aphrodisiacs, dry humping, nipple sucking, cunnilingus (from the back 🗣), unprotected PiV, creampie, LOTS OF AFTERCARE <3

♡

When you come home, you find John staring at a gift he got from Johnny. After some shared thoughts, you decide to try the aphrodisiacs. You're not prepared for what comes next (you).

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

When you walked in, your gaze landed on John, and your face scrunched up in confusion. His shoulders were squared, arms crossed over his broad chest, and his brows furrowed while he stared sharply at something on the counter. A small, sleek box sat on the granite.

Were those chocolates?

You unfroze from your position.

"John, honey, why are you intimidating the pralines?" You asked, raising your brows at him.

He didn't move but his gaze shifted toward you and a deep sigh escaped his lips.

"A gift from Johnny." He replied gruffly, averting his eyes back to the chocolates.

Your brows furrowed and you grimaced as you stepped closer.

"He does know it's August, right? He's both too late and too early for Valentine's." You murmured, sliding the box over to you and inspecting it further.

John let out an amused scoff.

"You think Johnny'd get me somethin' for Valentine's?" He mused, an almost offended chuckle falling from him his lips

. You shrugged, running your fingertips over the golden writing on the box.

"I don't know what you guys do on Base."

"Definitely not get each other chocolates for Valentine's." John grumbled.

"Aphrodite's Ambrosia..." You read, your brows scrunching together once more.

His lips formed a tight line before he spoke.

"They're aphrodisiacs." He stated, scratching his beard.

Your head snapped towards him and your jaw slacked.

"Excuse me?"

He only motioned to the tiny subtext with his hand. Your eyes turned into saucers the more you read.

"Why the fuck would Johnny gift you aphrodisiacs?!" You shrieked bewildered.

John sniffed, leaning back against the counter and supporting his weight with his hands.

"Apparently," he began, putting emphasis on the word, "I've been a tight arse that, quote, needs to get laid."

If your jaw wasn't on the floor already, it sure as hell was now. You snapped your mouth shut and looked back at the pralines, staring you mockingly in the face.

"I.... suppose we've both been busy lately, but I didn't think it was this bad." You mumbled under your breath.

John sighed.

"I mean... I felt fine." He said softly, scratching his head before smoothing a hand over his beard.

There was a beat of silence.

"How do we even know they work?" You asked, opening the box.

"Johnny said he's... used 'em himself." He forced out, clearing his throat.

Your nose scrunched up as you removed the thin paper covering the sweets.

"I did not need to know that."

"Sorry."

You revealed the smooth chocolates in the shape of hearts. You wanted to scoffed at the cliché. John peered at them over your shoulder.

"They don't look... terrible." He hummed.

You chewed on your lower lip as you weighed your options.

"Do... do you want to try them?" You asked quietly, glancing at him.

John's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He was stunned into silence for a moment.

"Well... can't hurt, can it?" He chuckled, unsure.

"The worst that can happen is we both have to call in sick tomorrow, right? Maybe they don't even do anything." You argued.

John hummed.

"They do look pretty tasty.." you trailed off. John sighed and dragged a hand down his face.

"... How d'you wanna do this?"

You thought for a moment, eyeing the pralines.

"I'd say we get settled on the sofa, have a phone nearby just in case. Maybe some water." You proposed, tapping your fingers on the counter.

"Yeah, alright. We can do that." He let out another sigh and grumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like fuck's sake, Johnny.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

You were now both comfortably on the sofa, water and a phone in reach. The little box of chocolates sat in front of you tauntingly, your eyes never leaving the coffee table it was situated on.

"Well, here goes nothing." You said, picking up one of the sweets up.

"Cheers." You tapped it against John's praline before popping it into your mouth, him doing the same.

The chocolate was sweet and tart, melting on your tongue. The filling must've been a mix of raspberry, vanilla, and truffle. It almost felt too luxurious to be eaten unceremoniously on your shared sofa.

"Oh wow. these are good." You marveled, chewing still.

John hummed in agreement, a pleasantly surprised expression on his face. The chocolate went down smooth with a slight kick to it.

You sat in awkward silence, waiting. John cleared his throat and sunk back into the sofa, fiddling with his fingers.

Maybe you shouldn't have skipped the instructions. You didn't know how long it took until they kicked in if they did anything at all.

"Feel anything yet?" You asked, studying his expression.

"Uh, no. Nothin'." He replied with a tight-lipped smile.

You sat in awkward silence for a while, staring holes into your living room wall while the air felt like an unbreathable fog the more time went by. As you waited, it felt like the temperature in the room turned from comfortably warm to swimming lava in the pits of hell.

"It's gettin' a bit hot, though, ain't it?" John asked, wiping away the thin layer of sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand.

"Yeah, I feel like my blood is boiling." You replied, fanning yourself in attempt to cool down.

"I'll open a window." You mumbled, getting up from your spot to let some air in.

Meanwhile, John's gaze was glued to your ass and he could almost feel his mouth water at the sight. When you leaned forward out of the window with a content sigh at the gentle breeze, John let out a disgruntled groan when the action made your rear look even nicer.

You turned to him with a worried look.

"Everything okay?" You asked softly.

He gave you a forced smile.

"Yep, never been better."

Your brows furrowed and you looked him up and down before your eyes landed on the prominent bulge in his pants.

"Huh, so they do work." You said with a little smirk, amused.

"And you don't feel anythin'? Not even a little bit?" John asked, almost a little pained as he tried to adjust himself so the zipper wouldn't press down on his boner.

"No, not really." You shrugged, plopping back down next to him.

You eyed the chocolates for a moment.

"I think I'll have another one."

His eyes widened a little, his brows rasing.

"... are you sure that's a good idea?" He questioned hesitantly.

When he glanced over to you, you were already munching on another praline. You stopped your chewing, feeling like a deer in headlights.

".. what?"

"Oh, nothin', nothin'." He waved it off but kept his eyes trained on you.

"It's criminal how delicious these are." You moaned at the taste, licking the chocolate of your fingers.

"Fuckin' hell. You're killing me over here." He groaned, palming his aching cock.

You giggled, a little mischief in your tone, before you spoke.

"I mean, if you want another taste.." you trailed off, a teasing smirk on your face.

John swallowed thickly, his gaze falling to your lips before he quickly reached out and all but yanked you into his lap, making a startled noise rip from your throat.

"John-"

your protest was cut off when he smashed his lips on yours and sat you right on his throbbing bulge. It was like the moment he touched you, there was a roaring fire being lit inside of your veins.

A broiling cauldron in your lower belly that would bubble over any second. You groaned into the kiss, wrapping your arms around him while not being able to resist the urge to grind your pulsating cunt over his clothed dick.

His hand was tightly wound in your hair, the other on your lower back moving you forward in steady movements. His beard tickled your face as he devoured your mouth, shoving his tongue past the seam of your lips.

There was clashing of teeth and spit smearing over his mustache, grunts ripping from his throat. You continued to drag your hips over his cock and you swear you've never been this wet in your life.

It felt like every single nerve in your body was lit on fire, and your only salvation from burning alive was John's touch.

Your heaving chests were pressed together all while you were rutting against each other like desperate teenagers. Your hands found their way into his short hair and tugged, pulling the prettiest moans from him.

John pulled away for air, admiring your puffy and glistening lips while you looked at him with half-lidded eyes.

"Fuck... my pretty fuckin' girl.." he growled, using a harsh tug on your hair to turn your head so he could attach his lips to your neck.

You whined at the addicting feeling of his beard scratching your throat while he sucked pink and purple marks on your skin.

Your hands found their way under his shirt, raking your fingers through the thick blanket of hair that littered his stomach all the way up to his chest. John groaned against your skin, only pulling away to quickly discard his top.

The sight only made your mouth water more. His sculpted torso covered with a layer of soft fat that made you want to dig your teeth into his flesh. Your shirt soon joined his, thrown somewhere behind the sofa, while he fiddled with the clasp of your bra until your pretty tits were freed.

John didn't waste any time, taking one of your nipples into his mouth and sucking while his hands dug into the pudge of your waist to hold you steady.

Your head was thrown back in pleasure, the swipe of his tongue over your sensitive bud making goosebumps rise on your skin. His beard was only adding to the sensation with its prickly texture.

He switched to your other breast, giving it the same worshipping treatment while you tugged at his belt. He hummed against your skin, making your moans louder at the vibration.

"Fuck- John, I need you.. now, please.." You begged, your breath catching in your throat every so often. John's lips glistened with spit when he detached himself from you.

"On your hands and knees, sweet thing.." he heaved, bringing his hand down on your ass.

The impact made you jump, but the whimper that left your throat made him smirk. You both shimmied out of your remaining clothes, although it was more a desperate clawing at the fabric.

You situated yourself on the sofa like he instructed and arched your back to nicely present yourself for him.

Throwing a look at him over your shoulder, you waited in anticipation when he came up behind you. His large hands took handfuls of your ass, kneading the flesh. When he pulled the globes apart he moaned at the sight of your dripping cunt.

He leaned down and kissed from your thighs all the way back to your rear before sinking his teeth into the fat, making you squeak. He chuckled, the sound vibrating against your skin before running his tongue over the spot to soothe it.

You were getting desperate, whining at him just to do something. He was still crouched behind you, marking your thighs just as he had your neck.

Before he could come back up, you gripped his hair and pushed his face right into your pussy. He groaned into your folds at your boldness but went right to licking up all the divine nectar that had spilled from you. You let out a filthy string of moans, feeling his tongue circle and tease your clit.

"Couldn't be patient, could ya?" He teased, swiping his tongue through your slit.

Your grip on his hair loosened as you began to lose your composure. His beard scratching your thighs, his hands groping and spanking at your ass and just the way his face fit so perfectly between your legs made you mewl. The slurping noises were obscene, only adding to your arousal.

His tongue dipped past your entrance, and a shudder ran through. You knew he was enjoying this as much as you were, doing his best to push you to the edge. John was groaning into your cunt like a starved man being blessed with his first meal in years. The vibrations made you cry out as you began to grind your hips back against his face.

"Jus' like that, take what you need." His words were muffled, but even if they weren't, you doubted much would register in your mushy brain right now.

He dragged his tongue back to your clit and took the little bundle of nerves between his lips before sucking on it.

A scream, almost, a noise you'd never heard leave your throat tumbled from your lips, and your eyes squeezed shut while the string of pleasure in your belly was awfully close to snapping.

"F-Fuck, John- I'm... gonna-" You choked out, cries of his name leaving you while he pushed you over the edge.

The string that was holding you together snapped, your hips bucking as he helped you ride out your high. Your thighs were shaking, and your breaths were rapid. John moaned at the taste of you and eagerly licked up everything you were willing to give him.

You only had little time to recover as John leaned his weight on you and turned your head to catch your lips in a kiss while his hard cock pressed against your soaked pussy.

You hummed when you tasted yourself on his lips.

"Fuckin' divine." He mumbled into your mouth.

You managed to crack a smile, and the pad of his thumb gently brushed over your cheekbone.

John helped you lay on your back, making sure to put a pillow under your head for support. No matter how desperate and sex drugged he was, he still made sure to take care of you.

Your face was hot with a thin layer of sweat on your forehead. He laid your thighs over his and let his dick rest on your cunt, only slightly rocking his hips.

"Are you ready?" despite him trying to keep his voice in check, his dilated pupils and heavy breathing were a dead giveaway that he needed you more than anything.

"Please fuck me... I need you so badly... and I know you do too.." the last part of your sentence was accompanied by a small mischievous grin on your end and John chuckled, the grip he had on your wide hips tightening ever so slightly.

"Minx."

He pushed inside of you a second later, stretching your thoroughly soaked walls. Your breath caught in your throat and your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

John didn't look much better, shaky moans falling from his lips until he fully bottomed out. His core tightened and he let out a strained grunt at the feeling of you wrapped around him.

"You're gonna be the fuckin' death o'me, dove."

He withdrew his hips, pushing back inside of you.

"Oh, shit.." You moaned at the feeling and grasped his hands that were keeping their bruising grip on your hips.

John set a steady pace, dragging his cock against all the spots that made you see stars. You practically sunk into the sofa, letting the euphoria take over you while John took what he needed from you.

"You're perfect, fuckin' made for me, weren't ya, honey?" He said through heavy breaths, his hips and balls slapping against your ass.

All you could manage was a weak nod and some moans that were music to his ears. The way all of you rippled with every thrust, your face scrunched up in pleasure and your hands gripping his so tightly.

It was so endearing, how he could fuck the breath out of you and your first urge was to hold his hand. He sped up his pace, feeling ecstasy crawling up his spine, gnawing on his bones.

"You feel so good- Fuck!" You babbled, mewling when the tip of his cock nudged that one spot inside of you.

He continued to fuck into you with sharp breaths, intertwining your fingers to ground himself. His other hand wandered between your legs, circling his calloused thumb over your slippery clit.

The sensation made your clench around him, knocking the air from his lungs. His eyes closed and his thrusts became deeper and harder while he tried to bite back his moans.

"Fuckin' hell.." he groaned. You were all moans and no thoughts at this point.

The only thing on your mind was how the peak of your second orgasm was at least twice as high as your first. You wouldn't be surprised if you were drooling, too. John's hips bucked, and he slightly shifted his weight forward, his movements becoming sloppy as he came closer to his climax.

His grasp on your hand tightened and with a strangled string of moans he spilled inside of you just as you came yourself, shuddering at the feeling of his thumb on your clit.

"H-Holy shit.." you moaned, your voice shaking. John worked the both of you through your high with a heaving chest.

"For the love of Christ.. feel like my cock's gonna fall off." He chuckled breathlessly, drawing a fucked-out giggle from your lips.

"Do you feel better?" You asked softly, stroking his knuckles.

"Yeah, I do. But we don't know how long that stuff's gonna stay in our system." He replied, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow.

"Hopefully not too long, because I don't think I can do that again." You laughed breathlessly, making him smile, his eyes crinkling.

"C'mere." John leaned over you and gently caressed your cheek while pressing a kiss to your lips.

You hummed fondly, smoothing a hand over his beard. He slowly pulled out of you with grunt, making you whimper at the feeling. His cum dripped out of you, leaving milky streaks on your ass.

"We should get cleaned up." You mumbled, trying to keep your eyes falling shut.

"Stay with me, love. We still have to get some supper in your belly, hm?" He cooed, tapping your cheek.

John pulled his underwear back on and went to get some paper towels to wipe away the mess of your combined juices before you would completely ruin the sofa.

A note for next time; definitely lay out a towel.

He helped you sit up and handed you the glass of water you'd put out previously before chugging a bottle himself. John handed you your shirt, which you promptly pulled over your head to keep you nice and cozy.

"Any dizziness today?" You asked him, setting down the glass.

Sometimes, the blood would rush to his head during sex and leave him dizzy and nauseous.

"No. No dizziness today." He answered with a smile, gently taking you by the back of your neck to pull you closer so he could press a kiss to your cheek.

You hummed and let yourself fall against his side.

"A shower and then some leftovers?" He asked, glancing down at you snuggled into his side. You nodded and let out a sigh, making him chuckle.

"But first-" he began before you cut him off.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll go pee." You grumbled, getting up from the sofa.

"Good girl." John praised, pulling you down for another quick peck on the lips before letting you go.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

The water was a comfortable temperature as it washed away all the sweat and stickiness of sex. It was nothing major, only a quick rinse so you could go to bed later feeling nice and refreshed.

John helped you get rid of the mess between your thighs while you made sure to throughly scratch his scalp while washing his hair.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

After that nice shower, John settled down on the sofa, any remaining messes already taken care of by him.

"I'll go heat up dinner." You said softly, watching as his head turned to you and he made an effort to get up.

"Let me-"

"It's alright. I need to take care of you too, no?" You smiled, taking his face in your hands.

He sunk back into his spot with an adoring smile. You pressed a kiss to his forehead, the tip of his nose, and finally, his lips. He hummed softly into the kiss and gently held your hips before letting you go get the much needed supper.

You clearly labeled the box of chocolates to avoid any future mishaps and put them away in a cabinet before heating up some leftover lasagna in the microwave.

"There you go, for my bear." You smiled, handing John his plate.

"Thank you, love." He replied softly, opening his arms for you.

While you were busy with dinner, he picked out something to watch. It didn't really matter, though, because the moment you'd finished dinner, you fully crawled into his embrace, cuddled close, to let your sore body rest.

"I love you so much." You slurred, letting your cheek squish against his shoulder.

You couldn't see the soft smile that graced his face, but you could feel the kiss to your temple and the shapes he traced on your back.

"I love you more, my little dove." He said quietly, the sound a soft rumble in his chest.

You relaxed in his arms, letting sleep take you to your destined dream, listening as his breaths evened out when he, too, found the very deserved rest.

Whether you'd wake up on the sofa or your shared bed, as long as he was right beside you, that was all you needed.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Phew 😵‍💫 probably one of the filthiest things I've ever written lol

I hope you liked it!!

More of my CoD works -> 💫

I don't have a CoD taglist yet, but let me know if I should make one!! <33 🩷✨️

#bumblebeesfromvenus #captain john price #john price smut #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #john price #captain price x reader #captian price #captain price #captain johnathan price #cod x reader #cod smut #price mw2 #john price x you #captain price x female reader #captain price x you #price x reader #price x you

784 notes · View notes

diodellet · 4 months ago

Text

cw: sorry for writing more bedroom shenanigans, it will happen again. unbeta'd, all mistakes are mine. probably some scientific inaccuracies, except for the inertia bits, that i understand. established relationship things and some light swearing. it's all lighthearted 😇

who needs morning alarms when you're partners with naga!jamil?

the first thing to wake you up is the cold press of his scales against your skin. which is the beginning of the end, sad to say. being part-reptile, of course his instincts bring him to search for the closest heat source. as the warm-blooded one in the relationship, you will make do.

which leads to your current predicament - not the comforting feeling of sleeping in his arms, the upper body situation is all fine and dandy on this side, you like the fabric of his sweater, you (both) deeply crave this kind of skinship, it's all good up here! - his coils are twined around your legs, heavy enough to pin you in place, leaving you vulnerable to the cold of the room. as your eyes crack open, what greets you is the dim blue glow of dawn. of course.

in this world of magic, you'd think they'd have created a kind of blanket that doesn't become utterly useless after several hours of shifting in one's sleep. with your limited movement, you manage to free one arm.

"jamil." you shake his shoulder.

"hmm?"

"can you get up, please? i need to shut off the ac."

to your dismay, he makes a vague sound of protest, curls his arms more protectively around you.

"jamil." he can't seriously be going back to sleep.

"it's still early, and you're all nice and warm..." and wasn't that the twisted miracle of this situation? the fact that you woke up before his alarms?

his languidness has got to be a joke. you've seen him move quicker than a bullet. snakes can haul ass when the situation calls for it. you weigh your options, you could yell 'spider' and risk the consequences of a freshly-awoken-and-panicking jamil.

or you could just freeze. who needs legs? who needs to move? the way his fingers idly stroked against the flesh of your stomach was nice and comforting -

"bullshit, you're also freezing...!" he just liked to see you struggle, didn't he? you try kicking your legs in a last bid to free yourself only for his coils to shift and properly entrap you in their grip.

oh that was unfair, being comprised of mostly muscle and having quick reflexes even when half-asleep. damned naga anatomy.

you heave an exasperated sigh through your nose, not even bothering to hide your annoyance.

jamil's breath fans across the back of your neck. "didn't you want to spend more time together like this?" he asks, faux-dejection creeping into his voice.

the skin of your nape erupts in a flurry of goosebumps, definitely not from the cold. you feel like you're burning, and you're not sure if that's a good thing.

so you decide to roll off the bed and take him down with you.

tagging my fellow jamilnatics: @viperwhispered @twstgo @crystallizsch @jessamine-rose @just-a-little-silly

(if any yall wanna be tagged for future jamil writing, just lmk through the replies. i know in my bones he will strike again)

#dellet-writings #dellet-asides #jamil viper x reader #jamil viper #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #how would actual blankets work for nagas... are they like giant quilts?#or just a big sock for em to wear to bed??#is buying a heat lamp like the only viable option if ur s/o is a giant half-snake??#yes i know he has a body pillow in his room. yes i believe he retires it and makes u his pillow when u get tgt #just wanted to put this out as fast as i could #i know that if it stayed with me for longer it would have bcome a monster[redacted] wip of its own

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burrowdarling · 2 months ago

Text

Playing Games

Summary: You head over to Joe's apartment for what you thought would be your usual hangout, things get competitive between you two in a whole new way.

Pairings: lsu!Joe x bestfriend!reader

Warnings: descriptions of sex (p in v), no protection (wrap it before you tap it), weed smoking, praise, MDNI

Note: Hi! Happy victory Monday 🧡 I got a bit carried away while writing this one, I tried to proofread the best I could so sorry for any mistakes. This is my longest fic to date, I hope you all enjoy it!

Word Count: 4.1k

Check out my Masterlist here!

Taglist: @burrowbarbie @definitelynotdomanique @one-sweet-gubler @plushkhiii @enchantedinfinity @iosivb9 Feel free to comment or message me if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

You arrived at Joe’s apartment for your usual weekly hangout, your bag slung over your shoulder as you used your spare key to let yourself in. You always brought your things for the next day, just in case you decided (or inevitably) fell asleep here. It wouldn’t be the fist time, having some of your clothes stashed here for those times. Joe didn’t seem to mind, appreciating that you guys had established a close enough friendship to do so. There was also a small part of him that wished you kept more of your things there.

You heard his footsteps padding down the hallway, towel drying his hair with sweatpants sitting low on his hips and his t-shirt slung over his shoulder. You took the time he was distracted to look at him a little longer than a best friend should. You’ve had the biggest crush on Joe since you guys met when you were younger, rekindling your friendship when Joe transferred to LSU. You stayed in touch before, but it was hard to make time for each other when you were apart, now it’s hard to imagine how things used to be between you two.

Joe looked up and held your gaze, smilings as he dropped the towel onto the back of the kitchen chair in front of him. He stepped closer to give you a quick hug, feeling the small droplets of water that remained across his back. He pulled away, reaching behind you to grab a drink from the fridge.

“Hey, I didn’t hear you come in” Joe spoke as he pulled his t-shirt over his head while heading towards the couch. You watched as his taut back muscles flexed as his arms went over his head to pull the short down, knowing how much work he put in day after day to have those. His work ethic was something you had always admired about him.

Joe settled in on the couch, propping his socked feet up against the edge of the coffee table and picked up his controller. He slipped the hat he left there backwards onto his head, letting out a content sigh as he settled in. You took his comfort as a cue to follow him, replying as you went.

“I wasn’t here long, we had some perfect timing” you said as you settled on the other side of the couch. You sat criss crossed with your back against the arm of the couch, facing towards Joe when you noticed the joint tucked behind his ear. He must’ve done that before you came over, knowing it was something you both liked to do from time to time. It wasn’t often that either of you smoked, but it was something that always eased the tension you felt in the room with Joe.

You felt extremely comfortable with him, it was more of the realization that your feelings for him weren’t going anywhere any time soon that made things harder, particularly in times like this. Joe was so laid back in this moment, no stress of classes or the season on his mind to weigh him down. Your time together was his priority and it put off an energy that made you want to be closer to him. The hard part was discerning the lines between what a best friend would do and when it felt like something more.

Joe must’ve felt your gaze on his face, slipping the joint into his fingers as he looked to face you. He toyed with it between his fingers before saying, “I was gonna head out for a smoke before we started anything, would you wanna join me?” Joe asked as he started to stand up.

You nodded your head, trying to keep your emotions in check as you followed Joe out onto his small balcony. You each took a seat across from one another at his small patio table. Joe took out the lighter from his pocket, bringing the joint to his lips as he lit the end of it. Joe took a good inhale, pulling it away from his lips as he held his breath for a few seconds. He let the smoke exhale from his lungs and oast his lips, blowing it straight up in the air.

You felt your own breath catch in your throat at the sight of his exposed neck, wanting to drag your lips across it and mark it up to your heart's content. Joe passed the joint over to you, along with the lighter. You thanked him before repeating the actions he just did moments before. You didn;t smoke much, not loving the burn in your chest or how it could send you into coughing fits. You did love the way it made you feel, though this time would be one of the coughing sprees. You could feel your cheeks stat to heat, a small wave of embarrassment as if you couldn’t keep up washed over you.

Joe chuckled as he passed you his water and extended his other hand for the joint as a trade, nodding a silent thank you to him before downing some to give your throat some relief. You could see the gears in Joe’s head turning as he fiddled with the joint between his long slender fingers.

“I have an idea that might help you out and help you not cough so much. Do you trust me, sunshine?” you smiled at him from the use of your nickname. It was one Joe had given you years ago due to your happy-go-lucky nature and positive attitude, having stuck ever since.

“Of course I do, I would trust you with anything Joey” you said honestly. You meant it wholeheartedly, knowing he would never intentionally hurt you.

Joe nodded and he lit the joint again, and brought it to his lips to take an inhale of his own, motioning for you to move closer. You scooted your chair as close as you could with the proximity of the balcony. Joe exhaled the hit he took before preparing to take another, a look of confusion crossing your features.

“I’m gonna need you to open your mouth a bit and relax for me. Trust me remember?” Joe asked sweetly, not giving your brain much time to process his request and just doing what you were told.

Joe took another hit, this time leaning over in your direction. The next thing you knew Joe’s lips were ghosting dangerously close to yours, feeling the smoke exit his mouth and fill your own. In the haze of his actions, you could hear Joe instruct you to slowly inhale what he’d given you. You did so, holding it for a few seconds before exhaling. You didn’t feel the same burn you did before and there was no cough after, just the effects you liked to feel after you smoked.

“Again,” you said before you could overthink it. Joe nodded and did as you asked, feeling yourself become more weightless as time went on. You and Joe chatted about nothing and everything while you smoked, catching the other up on anything they might have missed during your short time apart. By the end of the joint, Joe took the last hit while you were sat feeling like you were on cloud nine and let the realization hit you on how close you had come to locking your lips with his. There was so much charge behind the action, with his mouth so close to yours, it was a true test of willpower to not have closed the small gap and crossed over that line with him.

Joe was feeling a similar feeling, kicking himself for letting things get as close with you as he did. He never wanted you to feel uncomfortable with him and knew it would allow you to feel good without the added repercussions, he was always trying to make you feel good.

You took a minute to compose yourselves before making your way back into the apartment. You sat closer to each other this time, your legs grazing one another as you sat. Feeling the slight heat of his body against yours had your mind racing. The buzz from your high made you feel like you were tensionless, Joe’s energy pulling you into him. You couldn’t get your mind off his lips and what it felt like when they brushed against your own ever so slightly.

Joe handed you a controller, bringing your thoughts back to the present, thanking him lightly. He picked up the remote and started to get everything going.

“I figured we could fuck around with some Madden, it’s been so long since we played together” Joe said, reminiscing on how you guys loved to play when you were younger. Joe had the advantage having been better at video games than you ever were, but he’d always help you out. You nodded shyly, smiling to yourself as you thought back to similar memories when everything with him was easier.

You fiddled with it in your hand as he started to get everything set, wandering into the kitchen to find some snacks for you both to have on hand. Even doing the most mundane things this man was so distracting. You focused on the controller in your lap, trying to memorize where every button was instead, it being some time since you used one, in an effort to calm yourself.

You guys played a couple games, getting your bearing in your current states. You both were giggling throughout it all, making everything into a joke whenever you had the chance to do so. Joe’s laugh was like music to your ears. It was so contagious you found yourself laughing along with him, even if it was at nothing. You were unsure when the tension became palpable in the room, the air seeming light between you two for the majority of the evening. You felt your bodies drifting closer as you guys laughed, ending up slouched into one another. The feeling of Joe’s body on yours had your mind reeling with the most inappropriate thoughts about your best friend.

You let your eyes wander over him, taking him in as he played. Your eyes scanning over him, lingering too long in places they shouldn’t. You thought about what things would be like if you were on the same page with each other. If Joe really felt the same about you, desiring your body the same way you wanted his. You wondered what he thought about when he pleasured himself, what he liked. Your body reeling at the thought of Joe’s hand gripped around his cock, his mind filled with thoughts of you. It was as if Joe could read your mind, sensing exactly where your thoughts were headed. You couldn't help but think and hope that his mind went there too, wanting you in all the ways you desired him.

“What do you say we up the stakes, hm?” Joe spoke, cutting through the silence like a knife. His voice pulled you out of your thoughts of him to the one in front of you, the lines between the two starting to blur.

“What’d you have in mind?” you asked, feeling your competitive nature shining through at his idea. Bringing your attention there instead of where it shouldn’t be.

“What if instead of just a winner or loser, we make it into strip madden” he said so matter of factly, Joe’s idea causing your mind to go blank. You had to think for a second if he really jus said those words out loud.

“Do tell, Burrow” you questioned as passively as you could muster, trying not to let your overt excitement show through.

“Every time the other person scores, you have to remove an article of clothing. If it’s something special like a 2-point conversion or an interception, it's an extra piece of the opponents choosing” Joe finished confidently, laying back on the couch as he spread his legs further apart. You couldn’t help your eyes trailing down to the lower half of his body, the weed lowering your inhibitions. You figured you didn’t have much to lose at this point, Joe seemed as engaged and turned on by the tension in the room as you were.

You took an inventory of all of the layers you had on. You were wearing a hoodie and t-shirt, thanking yourself for it being the day you decided to wear a bra for an extra layer. You had on some leggings, underwear, and socks. It didn’t feel like much, but it felt fairly even to what Joe was wearing.

“You’re on, may the best player win” you said, taking a sip of your drink.

“I intend to have you naked for me by halftime”Joe said so matter of factly that you almost spit it right back out. How was he being so cool in this situation? You could already feel yourself crumbling for him.

“We’ll see about that” as composed as you could sound, keeping your focus on the screen. If you looked in his direction, you feared it would be game over before it even started. Joe lightly coughed to get your attention, his hand stuck straight out for a handshake. So you’d have to look at him AND touch him? He was smarter than you thought.

You shook on it to make the deal official and took up spots on opposite ends of the couch. You were hoping the slight distance you put between you would help to clear your mind a little. You hadn’t played in so long, hoping you could do well enough to get Joe to lose some clothing. Joe started up the game, scrolling through the different options for teams.

“I call the Bengals though,” you said with a playful smirk crossing your lips. Joe gestured as if to say ‘go right ahead’, opting to play as the Lions instead. You messed around, trying to pick the exact uniform you wanted before settling on the all-white one. Joe set the rules for the game, turning towards you and dropping a wink as he hit the start button. You inhaled a deep breath, giving yourself the strength to hold your own.

Joe scored the first touchdown fairly early on, with you opting to go for your socks first. You were intending to play hard to get, it was one of the only things you really had to hold on to if he was going to beat you. You slowly pulled them off one by one, wiggling your eyebrows at him while you did so, earning a small chuckle from him as he shook his head at you.

“You’ll have to score more than that to see what’s underneath, Joey” you said with a sing-song tone to your voice. You were enjoying this, watching his eyes darkness with lust as he looked at you. It was as if he was seeing right through you anyway, able to see every dip and curve of your body in his mind.

“Oh I intend to, I told you what my goal was and I’m not giving up on it” Joe said confidently. You felt your confidence waver slightly, feeling like this wasn;t just a game to him anymore, but a reason to have you where he wanted you.

“If you wanted me naked for you, all you had to do was ask me,” you said quietly, not as confident as it was in your head. The lines between friendship and more were essentially nonexistent at this point, both of your highs wearing off and the sober truth coming to the surface.

“Believe me I do, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted you. I’m also not a quitter and intend to draw this out fair and square, a deal is a deal after all” Joe said as he turned his focus back to the TV, leaving you breathless and thoughts spinning. His confession had heat shooting straight to your core, feeling yourself getting wetter with each second that passed.

By halftime, the game felt unfair despite having more layers on than Joe at the start. You managed to score two touchdowns, which felt like a victory in itself. Having copied your ideas to go socks-first, he was left shirtless which you weren’t complaining about. You, on the other hand, were left in just your bra and panties, watching as Joe had to try his hardest to keep his gaze fixed on the screen.

You could see the hard outline of his cock straining against his sweatpants, envisioning what it would look like to have your hands wrapped around it. Wondering if he would be too big to take in your mouth, needing to use your hands to take the rest of him. You squeezed your legs tighter at the thought, the movement not going unnoticed by Joe. You were silently wishing he chose to let you score more points to put you out of your misery. You felt like your skin was electrified with the amount of tension that was in the room. Just as the next half was about the start, you felt Joe move on the opposite end of the couch.

“Fuck the game, I’m taking you now” Joe said with a groan as he shifted over to your side, leaving you no choice but to end up underneath him.

Your breath hitched in your throat as your mind tried to process what was happening. The number of times you imagined this scenario in your head was too many to count, trying your hardest to be in the moment while it was happening. You were sure you had soaked through your panties by now, praising yourself for choosing a cute matching lace set this morning when you got dressed.

“Do you know how hard it was to just sit there and watch you play in this little excuse you call underwear, hmm?” Joe teased, his voice low and sultry. He brought his hand down to touch your bare shoulder as he inched closer to the strap of your bra.

“It seems like you’ve been enjoying the view of this little excuse just fine if you ask me” you chided back as you brought your own hand to his shoulder, letting it fall slowly down his chest. Your touch was feather light, a shiver coming from Joe as he let his eyes close just for a second to revel in the moment of having your hands on him.

“Once we fully cross this line, I don’t want to go back to how things were with you. If you want out, now is your time to say so and we can forget all of this happened” Joe said with a sincere concern in his tone. You could tell by the look on his face that he meant every word he said, even if it would crush him to go back on things with you.

“I feel like we crossed that line hours ago and I have no intention of wanting to go back if you’ll have me Joey,” you said honestly as you locked eyes with each other. You gave him a nod and that was all it took. It was as if a cord of restraint had snapped within him, his head dipping down to your neck as his lips trailed kisses all along it. He found your sweet spot almost instantly, earning a moan from you that you tried your best to muffle with the back of your hand against your mouth. Joe stopped, moving his lips to your ear as his hot breath fanned over it.

“Don’t you dare quiet any of those sounds, I’ve wanted to hear what you sounded like beneath me for so long, don’t hold out on me now. Let me know just how good I’m making you feel sunshine” Joe said as he made quick work of trailing his hands down your body to your center. You let a loud moan escape your lips as your back arched up into Joe, a triumphant smile across his face.

“Is it bad to want to skip all of the other stuff and have you in me now?” you asked a bit shyly, hoping you weren’t coming off wrong. “Not that I don’t want to do everything else, considering I’ve imagined what it would be like to have my mouth on your cock.”

“Jesus, sunshine, you’ve got quite the mouth on you huh. As long as it means we can go back to it later, I’ve been dying to fuck you” Joe said as he moved his fingers to slip them into the waistband of your panties, slipping them down your legs and tossing them somewhere across the room. He dropped his face to be between your thighs as he licked a quick strip through your folds, a gasp coming from you.

“I had to get a taste of you first, though and you bet your ass I’ll be going back for more later. I plan on having you be a mess below me and above me” Joe said as he made quick work of taking off his boxers, coming back to be above you on the couch. He lined himself up at your entrance, pausing to meet your gaze first.

“This okay?” he asked, wanting to make sure one final time. It was sweet how much he cared for you, always making you feel safe despite the situation.

“It’s perfect, Joey” you answered, your voice full of adoration for the man above you. With your reply, he slowly pushed himself into you. Your breath hitched in your throat before letting out a long moan. You heard Joe groaning above you as he moved himself deeper, allowing you time to adjust to his size.

“God Joey you’re so fucking big” you moaned out, letting your head fall back against the couch and your eyes close.

“Eyes on me sunshine, I know you can take it” Joe talked you through it, eliciting sounds you didn’t even know you could make at his words. “I don’t know if I’m gonna last long, you’re so damn tight.”

“That’s okay, that’s what another round is for” you joked back, bringing your hands to his back as he started to move into you at a quicker pace. You dragged your nails down as he hit just the right spot, the feeling only making him fuck you harder. Joe was putting any of the other guys you had been with to shame, the expectations in every fantasy you’ve had being surpassed with flying colors.

“Fuck Joey, I’m gonna-” you didn’t finish your sentence before you felt one of his hands make its way down between you, his thumb rolling small circles on your clit. That’s all it took to send you over the edge, moaning out his name as you rode out your high.

Joe finished soon after, the feeling of your walls tightening around him becoming too much to hold back. He pulled out quickly, finishing himself on your stomach with a few quick strokes of his hand. Your name fell from his lips as he tucked his face into your neck, leaving a few sweet kisses on your skin. You both took a few moments to catch your breath, lying and holding each other's soft gaze.

“What do you say we get you cleaned up in the shower, as much as I love what a mess I made of you” Joe asked, a hint of desire lacing his words. You simply nodded, feeling too worn out to speak. Joe chuckled, scooping you up into his arms and carrying you to the bathroom. He sat you gently on the counter while he started the shower and grabbed an extra towel.

“What does this mean for us?” you spoke up, voice soft and mellow. Joe turned to look at you from across the bathroom, making his way over and standing between your legs.

“I’d love to take you out on a real date, make you mine officially” Joe responded, brushing a stray hair from your face to tuck it behind your ear.

“I’d love that, though I feel like I’ve always been your girl” you said, full transparency in your words. Joe leaned down to meet your lips in a sweet slow kiss, the full gravity of the situation settling in the room between you.

“And I’ve always been your guy, sunshine,” Joe said as he parted from you and helped you into the shower. This was not the way you anticipated your weekend to go, but you wouldn’t change playing the game for the world.

#joe burrow #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow bengals #joe burrow x reader #nfl imagine #joe burrow imagine #nfl #joe burrow fic #joey b #joe shiesty #joe burrow smut #joe burrow lsu #joe burrow fanfiction #best friend joe burrow

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