#while blending in during the dance

[northernfireart]

Hi!

If you want to and only if you want to, could you do TenRose hurt/comfort prompt or TenRose Victorian era prompt? Once again, only if you can and want to, because I think art demands lots of time and energy - it's a miracle people can draw so much! Anyways, no pressure 💖🪞💌✨🌷

i might do hurt/comfort some time in the future because i find it really soothing, but right now i've been thinking a lot about them attending a ball ever since i drew my last regency request...

[brailsthesmolgurl]

"Pretty thing, isn't she?"

Preview: LnDs boys reacting to other guys hitting on you.

SYLUS

You stood in front of the heavy wooden doors covered in gilt, a gateway exuberating luxury and inviting only the top 1% of the N109's population, which of course, includes Sylus. You had yet to be used to attending such fancy events but Sylus had managed to convince you by being apart of such events, you would be able to establish your name within the N109 zone quicker and that people would learn not to mess with you as much anymore. Perhaps you were not having a clear mind during then but here you stood now, in the middle of a huge banquet hall, in a maroon red dress that makes you feel naked due to how cocooned you feel within the fit.

"Breathe, then maybe you may not feel so nervous." Sylus slipped an arm around you and started to lead you into the highly ornated hall. You could tell that nobody here belonged to the 'average' class as their manners, demeanours and even body languages rotated around the word demure. Escorted to a standing bar table, your partner leaned down just enough for his lips to hover over the side of your ear and you could feel his hot breath tickled against your lobes. "Stay here, I will get us some drinks." And off he went, his tall figure blending into the crowds of dancing participants.

Sylus strutted over towards the bar and casually leaned against it. One good thing about events as such is other than the free flow of alcohol, waiters are built to be more attentive and aware of their surroundings as they do hold a split image of the host of the event. "One whiskey and a glass of lemon soda." The waiter nodded and immediately started to get to work. Sylus then turned around, his eyes scanning the crowds of people and landing on you, the lady in red still standing at the table alone, awaiting for him.

"Eyeing the bird I see?" A voice chimed out of the blue, laced with a thick British accent that any lady would have been charmed over. Sylus's crimson eyes glanced over and caught sight of a man in a tailored suit, brunette hair slicked back and eyes the shade of ocean. "I wonder if she would be pleased to have company for the night." The hint of tease in his voice got the lover of yours quirking an eyebrow, expressing amusement at the man's confidence.

"You can give it a shot." He snarked, one side of his lips tilted upwards to form a smirk. "She does not seem to be the type to let in so easily." The clink of glass onto the table top got Sylus to turn over, grabbing his glass smoothly and tasting the whiskey. "How does a bet sound?"

"Whoever gets her by the end of the night shall be crowned winner then?" The young man downed his vodka shot in one go and he stood straight, adjusting his outfit and shooting his head back to Sylus, who is still smirking in his direction. "It's on, then."

Watching the man walking over to you, each step radiating manly confidence nearly got Sylus laughing, if only the man knew how hard it was for Sylus to get you to just stay with him. "She may be pretty, but she ain't stupid that's for sure." Picking up her glass of lemon soda, he too, started walking towards the table. Seeing you talking to the British man, slightly chuckling got Sylus feeling an ick at the back of his throat and it did not taste good. He made his presence known by loudly clinking the glass of lemon soda onto the table.

You gulped when you saw Sylus had returned, and accepted the glass of lemon soda he had gotten for you. You boyfriend turned over to the British lad and smiled a bit too politely for his usual manners before he spoke. "The moment you had picked her to be your target, is the moment I already knew I won the bet." His eyes gleamed murder under the shine of the crystal chandeliers. "If I were you, I would scamper off immediately before I hunt you down."

XAVIER

It has been a while since you had been on a hotpot date with your lover. Ever since Captain Jenna had assigned him on a mission, it has been hard to match up both of your timings to plan for a date. Hence, once you received the text from your boyfriend stating that his mission had finally met the end of it's trail, you could not hide your excitement and went ahead to book for a hotpot store that had recently opened up just a few streets down. Your sole motivation of booking the store was hearing Tara's praises over the services offered there. She claimed that anyone who goes in would surely come out feeling refreshed and that was what got you sold on making a reservation.

Perhaps, just maybe, the way Tara had phrased that got you picturing a whole different scenario; where an otherworldly hotpot experience was what you were anticipating, with fastidious services and amazing food and offers you a new kind of service. Yet, here you sat, in the middle of a table with tons of half naked men walking around you, serving hotpot dishes. So this was Tara's definition of feeling refreshed. Palming yourself on the forehead, you were figuring why did you bother asking for a hotpot recommendation from one of your girl friends who happens to be single.

"May I help you with something?" A young man, wrapped in biker shorts and an apron approached you and you gulped, eyes immediately avoiding whatever skin he has to show. Seeing your reaction, a chuckled rolled out of his lips and he took a seat beside you, unaware that you already have a boyfriend as Xavier would be slightly late due to an unexpected traffic jam. "Would you like me to give you a massage to ease your tension hmm?"

You gave an awkward chuckle, hands waving back and forth while rejecting his oncoming offer. "I have a boyfriend and I am not interested. I would like to get a menu please." Just by talking to the guy, it left a bitter taste in your mouth, it felt like you were cheating on Xavier although you were barely doing anything. The weight on the couch shifted and you heard a soft thud, seeing the shadow beside you disappearing out of the corner of your eye.

The waiter that had initially served you headed back towards the counter, his other colleagues wriggling their eyebrows at him. "How's it going with that chick, Ken? You manage to ask for her wechat yet?" One of the guys asked, his pearly whites flashing. But Ken shrugged and muttered something about her having a boyfriend. "Well adding her on wechat is not exactly a crime. No harm in storing a cute girl's number in your phone anyways."

A figure walked past them, stopped mid way and approached them. This figure was leaner, taller, and looked more elegant than the other men adorning aprons and biker shorts within the restaurant. "Which girl?" His voice chimed in and Ken responded without much thought, thinking it was one of his colleagues asking for the target. He pointed exactly at you and the stranger's cerulean blue orbs caught yours and his lips pulled into a warm smile. Seeing you being so uneasy within a crowd of half-naked men amuses him. "Easy. If I get her number, does this mean I get to keep her?"

Ken then noticed the source of the voice, a man dressed up in a wool hoodie, with sandy blond hair and dreamy blue eyes and an innocent smile. He holds very effiminate features for a man. Given that the store was not opened for that long, Ken thought he may be one of the newcomers coming for an interview. "Sure buddy, if you get it, I guess you can keep it. But she does have a boyfriend, she said it herself." Xavier chuckled and casually shrugged his shoulders and sauntered over to you. The men stood by the counter and watched intently.

Watching Xavier talking to you and getting you to smile got the men to exchange glances at one another. Maybe they are missing something, or maybe it did hurt their small ego a little. But the moment Xavier got you by the hand and started to lead you out of the restaurant, the men were shocked, eyes widened and jaws slacked at how Xavier could easily get you to comply. Walking past Ken, Xavier stopped to say. "Next time, if you want to lay a bet, don't be such an airhead and at least lay it with someone who does not have a boyfriend already."

RAFAYEL

Getting stuck in a foreign city with little to no guidance is not that rare of an occurrence as Rafayel does enjoy being 'lost' with you. "That is how you can truly get to enjoy a city." Is what he would usually use to comfort you. However, that sentence of his may only work if the both of you are not entirely soaked under the heavy rain. Shivering, hungry and worn out. "Shall we head in there for some shelter?" Rafayel suggested, slender index finger pointed towards the building ahead of the both of you.

With a slight nod, he led you towards the building. It turned out to be a bustling bar within the small town. Locals filled to the brim, chattering in their own mothertongue while enjoying each other's company. "Stay here, I will get us some drinks." Rafayel informed you and headed off after pressing a small kiss onto your left cheek. The both of your arrival certainly did alerted a couple of the locals. Seeing a drenched couple within a bar is a good sign for them to know that you guys are far from home.

Perched against a standing bar table, you studied the crowd that were occupying the dance floor. The crowd are drenched in the bask of neon glow emitted by the LED lights that hung high above the ceilings. Some of them had drinks in their hand as they swayed to the beat while some others were clearly in their own world, striking dance moves that are attracting a spectacle. "Hey!" A voice called out to you and you turned your head, landing your sight on a tall male figure, with hair that are akin to the sunset and with milky pale skin. Upon approaching you, you caught sight of his emerald eyes that sparkled like eccentric jewels under the dim lights. "You dropped this?!"

Looking down at his palm, he held out your phone to you. The music is probably too loud for you to even notice that your phone had fell out of your pocket and landed onto the floor with a thud. "Yeah!" You responded with the volume that hopefully reaches his ears. The ginger haired man smiled and stood next to you and he started striking a conversation with you, asking if you were alone and if you happen to be a local as well. "Oh, I am from Linkon City and I am not here alone!" You smiled awkwardly but also responded out of a polite manner.

A hand that landed at your back made you jumped slightly and you retreated from the guy's vicinity when you realised he was trying to get close to you. "What's wrong?" Feigning shock, he only closed in on you, a smirk creeping its way onto his face. He looked nothing different than a wolf that is ready to pounce whenever he finds the chance to. "Whatever happens in here, stays in here." His statement got your voice stuck in your throat, your chest tightening when you realised that you are about to get jumped by a 'kind' stranger.

"You have to try so hard to get her to pay attention to you?" A mocking voice came from behind you and your heart sighed in relief when Rafayel towered behind you, two glasses in hand and a genuine amused smile stamped onto his features. "I didn't even have to try to get her to come on this trip with me." Rafayel casually handed you your drink and he took up the space in front of you, his height on par with the guy whom had tried to hit on you. Rafayel's eyes gleamed a shade of striking electric blue when he leaned in towards the guy, his demeanour taking a turn towards being protective and establishinig dominance.

This side of Rafayel got your heart lurching for a moment. Seeing such a nonchalant and charming individual taking a turn towards being protective over you got the butterflies in your stomach blindly colliding with the walls of your insides. "Touch her one more time, I dare you." Snapping his finger, the flames of his evol came alive and the guy muttered curses, stepping aback. "I might not be able to guarantee you would be able to leave here in one piece."

ZAYNE

The cardiac surgeon's off day is spent on paying you a surprise visit during your demonstration day. This day in specific is held annually at the Linkon City Hall, where the public are informed about the roles of a deepspace hunter and it is also a day for the organisation to recruit potential new hunters for their task forces. He remembered that day as you stood in front of him, with a brochure shoved into his arms before you sprinted off like a whimpering fox. The piece of paper featured your face on it, posing with your guns, with a huge title pasted above your head that is promoting 'Hunter's Showdown Performance'. Zayne could not help his lips from tugging into a small smile as he stared blankly at your wannabe serious face on the piece of paper.

You stood at the back of the stage, isolating yourself from the rest of the crew as you quietly rehearsed your steps. You were only given a month to prepare for this demonstration and knowing that you are not able to strike to wanderer actors makes it all the more tedious for you to rehearse your steps. Every movement, every swing of the guns and every shot has to be precise and realistic, minus the actual damage to be taken by the other actors. Executing a full 360 turn, you came to a halt when your name was hollered out by someone in the background. "Y/n!" You turned your head and your partner came up to you, his smile wide. "Hey, you rehearsing for your part?"

Upon nodding your head, he proceeded to ask if it would be alright for him to rehearse his part with you. On usual notes, hunters are usually dispatched in pairs and since Tara is not around, hence Captain Jenna decided to pair you up with Christopher. The rehearse took around 15 minutes till he paused, patting you on your shoulder encouragingly. "You got anyone coming over to watch you?" You opened your mouth to speak but a voice chimed in before you could even say anything else.

"Yes." Zayne stood behind you, his features darkened at the sight of the hand of a stranger's on your shoulder. Christopher coughed slightly and retreated his touch, feeling guilty instantly. You were of course, shocked, that Zayne had managed to make time to come and see this silly demonstration of yours. When you gave him the brochure, you were certainly not expecting him to appear in person. You figured he might just watch it via the online link from his office if he happened to not any surgeries scheduled for the day. You were totally wronged.

"You...uhm...never told me you had a boyfriend." Christopher chuckled awkwardly, his hand lightly tapping and rubbing the back of his neck to somewhat soothe himself from the tense stare he was getting from a pair of unfamiliar emerald orbs.

Zayne took this chance to stand beside you and he extended a hand towards the guy, expression still indifferent. "I am Zayne, y/n's boyfriend, it is nice to meet you." Christopher did shook his hand out of respect but did not took long to stay, muttering that he has to get his makeup done and off he went. You could somehow feel dark clouds crowding in above your head, a storm lingering in the back of Zayne's gaze. "Was that the guy that you were supposed to perform with?" His voice was gentle, but he awaits for your answer.

"Yeah...Tara could not make it during this event, hence Captain Jenna got him to pair up with me for the demonstration." Your voice was slightly quivering, thinking that Zayne might be upset with you not openly telling your colleagues that you are already in a relationship. But you came from his standpoint, as Zayne is someone who cares about his privacy, you figured he might not appreciate you going on yapping about you being in a relationship and would much rather keep it low-key and only between the two of you. "I'm sorry I never mentioned about you to any of my colleagues as I thought you would like to keep our relationship private and confidential."

Zayne's eyes caught yours and he smiled warmly, his hand coming up to tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear and he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss onto your forehead. You froze, knowing that at this point you would be receiving tons of stares from your surrounding colleagues. "Y/n, as much as I would like to keep our relationship private, I would not like it if someone were to try to take advantage on you just because they think they could." His palm smoothed the baby hairs atop of your head, his smile still evident as he continued speaking softly to you. "If you find it hard to tell your colleagues about us because of me, I will just let my actions show them what we are."

[sunflowersteves]

um so getting fucked by logan in public place...i mean getting fucked by logan-

(please know the way i'm salivating over this man is downright sinful.)

author's note || babes,,, i feel u. this man is in my dreams 24/7. i lov u for requesting this <3

summary || basically, you defend Logan and he quite literally goes feral.

warnings || fluff, some angst, anti-mutant rhetoric, SMUT [minors dni], P in V sex, praise kink, public-sex, desperation

Logan was used to being alone. It was second nature for him to blend into a crowd and survey the bustling fullness of the night. Usually, he hightailed to the back of the bar, his eyes studying carefully while he nursed the beer in his hand. 

When Logan met you, though, some things changed a bit. Instead of being at the back of the bar, he usually sat right next to you. While he wasn’t much for PDA and often abstained from it, he still let the hardness of his thigh rest against yours. It was such a simple touch, but you knew how much Logan needed to breathe in your presence. It soothed him. 

Tonight was like any other Friday night. You both wanted to go to the bar for a little bit of fun before another mission killed the atmosphere. Logan usually has a beer in his hand and his other subtly resting against your back. His eyes would bore into yours as he watched you talk about your day. It was always something he looked forward to. The ways that your eyes would sparkle underneath the illuminating bar lights. 

The bar was packed tonight, though. Bodies were practically on top of one another—playing pool, dancing to the stereo, or attempting to chat up someone to take home. Your idea to go to the bar had not just been your own. You could hear Logan’s heartbeat race as someone kept bumping into him—despite the very menacing aura rolling off of him. 

So, in response, you were currently nursing a whiskey all by your lonesome. It wasn’t that you were lonesome, it was much of the opposite. Logan had stepped out of the bar for a quick smoke, wanting to calm the nerves that pricked his skin. Logan needed a breather. He never wanted to leave you by yourself—although he knew you were completely fine. He just didn’t want to. You smiled at him with one of those breathtaking ones that caught his breath. 

“Go. I’ll still be here.” You whispered. God, he loved you. It was so evident, yet the years of having a broken heart shattered his ideas of loving someone again. The pain was etched across his chest, back, organs—everything. Add the number of people surrounding him, caging him in had reached an overwhelming capacity. So, he stepped out toward the back and dragged his cigar across his lips. He let the nicotine softly quiet the aches in his chest. 

You sipped the bitter taste of Jim Beam, your body almost shuddering at the hot feeling of liquor going down your throat. You felt the buzz already—not having much of anything to eat despite Logan asking if you had eaten. He handed you a granola bar in the car. He already knew the answer to his question. During a heated discussion with Scott, you had completely forgotten to eat some lunch. 

Logan was as caring as always—rubbing a hand across your wrist to ask if you had anything to eat today. However, your thoughts of him were screeched to a halt from a presence coming straight toward you. 

“Where’d the big guy go?”

Your eyebrow quirks up at the sensation of a tall silhouette behind you. You didn’t respond, though. You and Logan were used to the comments—usually, fans wanting pictures with the well-known X-men. Those you didn’t mind. Men like these, though? The ones that taunt you for your differences, the ones that make your skin itch.

“C’mon. That mutant scum isn’t here anymore. No need to act so tough.” 

You huffed out of your nose in disgust. There was a sizzle underneath your chest that made you want to scream in anger. You held your ground, though, knowing that it wouldn’t help very much. You knew men like these. Any use of your powers could end up with a call to the police and another article about how “violent” mutants are.

Although, not budging made the stranger even more pissed than he was. “You’re too pretty to be with a beast like him. Didn’t you hear, anyway?” This man just wouldn’t stop fucking talking. “The Wolverine hurts anything he touches. He’s a fuck up. A low life. A fucking animal—” 

Now that comment is what made you turn your head. You had heard enough before you slammed your glass on the bar counter. The man beside you jumped in surprise. A scowl on your lips, nostrils flared. “What the fuck did you just say?” 

Logan’s eyebrows twitched as he heard the snarl in your voice. He burnt out the cigar on his skin—slightly wincing at the sizzle of his skin. Worry surged through his chest at the mere idea of your discomfort. A primal need to protect the thing he loves was fogging his brain. The leather of his jacket was straining against the bulge of his muscles as he sauntered back through the bar. His shoulders were taunted back, surveying the bar as everyone’s head turned to you and some guy. 

His eyes widened at the sight before him. You had bunched the collar of the man, lifting him off the floor. Your eyes were wild with anger, your teeth clenched tightly as you spoke to the stranger. “If you ever talk about the Wolverine like that again, I’m going to cut off your head and feed it to your fucking wife—” The boom of your voice echoed through the bar. It was so silent that a pin could drop. 

You could handle comment after comment thrown at you. That, you knew quite well. However, you knew how Logan actually felt about the comments. They called him an animal. A beast. They forced him into something he was always scared of. Himself. You knew him differently. He was Logan. He would make you a cup of coffee every morning, adding a sprinkle extra of cinnamon that he knew you loved. He left fuzzy blankets in his room after the first time you spent the night with him. You commented how itchy his sheets were and ever since, he silently wraps you up in one with an arm attached to your waist. He would place a protective arm in front of you during missions—always assessing the danger to make sure that you would never get hurt. He was so much more than anything they portrayed him as. He was human and everyone—including the team—sometimes forgets that. 

“Darlin’—” You felt your shoulder visibly relax as his large hand enveloped your soft skin. “They’re not worth it.” 

Your heart was beating fast against your ears. You did everything in your power to not throw the man across the room. Your teeth snarled at him—the guy visibly winces, expecting the worst. You slowly lowered him to the ground and let go of his collar. 

“Fucking mutants.” He spits before backing up as far away from the two of you as possible. You turn to move again and the guy gets startled and jumps in fear. Logan squeezes your shoulder to try and ground you once again.

He sees you visibly relax, some regret etched into your features. He knew that you didn’t want to cause a scene but you couldn’t help it. He knew that feeling quite well—when it came to you, he was the same. 

“Let's go home.” 

Logan was silent as the two of you walked out of the bar. You cringed at the pure stillness of the night. You didn’t mean to do more than you should have. It was just an instinct, especially as the vexation flowed through your veins. 

You stop in your tracks for a moment. You opened your mouth to say something which prompted his steps to a halt, as well. “Logan, I’m—” He never let you finish. He grabs your shoulders and shoves you against the brick wall of the bar. You let out a gasp, but it’s quickly swallowed by his mouth on yours. 

His heart is beating fast, echoing against his ears. For once in his life, someone had protected him. Someone had stood up and defended him. Sure, Charles has done that many times, but not from an act of pure love. Charles believed in him. You loved him. 

He has this feeling in his chest. He wantonly has an itch to devour you. He wants to lick the sides of your body and ravish in the pure essence of you. He’d never had this feeling before—this animalistic, pure affection was pounding against his chest. 

“You just couldn’t help it, huh, princess?” He grunted against your ear. His hands caged you in, one resting beside your head and the other deliciously attached to your hip. His teeth nipped at the skin below your ear. “You just wanted to defend your old man, hmm?” He hummed. 

The hand on your hip lowered to your thigh and squeezed the plush flesh. You were wearing a pretty dress tonight, one that you knew he would rip off later. You just weren’t expecting it now. “I just—” He breathed in the smell of your shampoo and it sent a shiver down your spine. “I couldn’t let him talk about you like that, Lo.” 

You let out a whine as he growled against your ear. He was insatiable—unhinged. Something was brewing beneath his stomach that he had never felt before. “Oh, pretty girl. You wanted to protect me?” His lips were at the shell of his ear. You nodded. You almost felt shy now, a direct contrast from earlier. 

Your leg moved to wrap around his own, curling right around his hip. He smirked at the sparkle in your eyes. “Yeah, I know, baby. God, you’re just so fucking good to me.” You were both losing your patience from the pliant kissing and stumbling of limbs. You both were desperate and wanting of one another. 

His lips lowered down your neck. The hand that was caged against the side of your head was now pressed up against your breast. You whined, “They can’t—” You gasped as he squeezed the plush flesh. “They can’t say those things. Made me—” He smiles, lips curling into a little smirk. He moves his arm down to your aching cunt. “Made me see red, Lo.” 

Your hips buck into his hand, the wall scratching against your shoulders as you’re shoved more into the brick. “Yeah? Wanted to hurt him, baby?”

He groaned into your ear at the thought of blood covering your hands from destroying the man trying to insult him. It only fueled more of his fire. He couldn’t take it anymore—mouth still sticking to yours in a gruesome dance across your lips. The saliva spread to his beard, messy and filthy. 

“Wanted—ah—wanted to see him pay.” His hand fully dipped between your panties, bunching up your dress as he lifted you up against the wall. It happened swiftly, yet your mind burned with want and need.

“Fuck. You’re so wet.” He teased your slick entrance, making your legs instinctively pull him closer. “Logan, please.” 

He could smell the way you were leaking for him, spreading the slick around with his fingers. He let out a growl and swiftly unbuckled his belt. He couldn’t wait any longer and neither could you. 

“Can’t wait to fill you. Such a pretty fuckin’ pussy.” He moves your panties with his thumb and swiftly glides in his wide girth. You moan in unison, but you swallow his own and yours with a long kiss on his lips. Your tongues swirl together and you could’ve sworn he pulled you even further. You could feel every inch of him inside of you. He moaned at the stretch of your cunt wrapped around him. “Feel so good, pretty girl. Gonna—fuck—gonna make you mine.”

Your head hits the back of the wall and you start to feel fuzzy in the head. “Lo–” You whine. “Love you.” You whisper into the night air. Something hits Logan in the chest and he can’t help but snap his hips into you even further. 

It makes you see stars, but all Logan can think about is how much he loves you. His chest was burning with something different—something more primal than he had ever felt. It made him want to drool, place his head against you, and live there forever. 

“Love you too, baby.” He grunts. He wanted to do this properly—to be a gentleman. He wanted to take you out to dinner, make sweet love to you, and then tell you those three little words. It completely went out the window when you defended him—when you stood up for him like no one else has. You completely had his back and he couldn’t help but let the happiness burst through his veins. “Love you so fucking much. You know that, baby?”

He makes you turn your head towards him to look him in the eye. You nod immediately, but that isn’t enough for Logan. “Need to hear you, baby. Say it.”

“You love me. I know you love me.” He groans and pumps his cock straight onto your cervix. It makes you squeal at the sensation and he feels the slick run down to his balls. The cold night air made goosebumps on your skin, though, your mind not even noticing. 

“Fuck, I love the way you sound. Don’t be shy, baby.” You fully moan, more than likely the sound echoing across the bar parking lot. “That’s it.” You both were beginning to feel dizzy with love and lust. He couldn’t stop staring into your eyes. He was too immersed in them and he never wanted to look away from them again. 

“Fuck, Logan!” 

“Let go, baby. Let me feel you.” The coil finally snapped as you unleashed the precipice of your orgasm. Your body shuttered against him, all while he was singing praises in your ear. You clench around him so hard that in one thrust, he’s filling you up to the brim. He slowly pumps his salty cum into you, your body convulsing with pure ecstasy. 

You start to giggle in his arms about the whole night. Logan couldn’t help but smile too. You were just too contagious. 

“Let’s go home, Lo.”

He couldn’t help but smile brightly at the thought. He couldn’t suppress the pure joy like he normally could.

“Yeah, okay.” He whispers.

You were home to him. 

He never had to do anything alone anymore. He certainly didn’t have to deal with the demons attached to his hurt heart.

He finally had you.

[pampushky]

Mon Petit Doudou

Pornstar! Charles Leclerc/Pornstar! Reader - 7.4k

here it is!! enjoy! please reblog and share and all that lovely stuff! getting your comments makes my day and seeing how excited everyone was for this made me super happy :)

uhhh anyway. Might be a bit inaccurate, I'm not all that well versed in BDSM stuff so if anything is like... a super negative connotation within the community that's inaccurate (besides one character who has bad etiquette for plot reasons sorry)

anyway lmk what ya think lmao

masterlist |

He was too beautiful to be doing something like this for a living. With those bewitching hazel eyes. The effortlessly styled hair. His athletic build. The sweet slur of his accent as he lowered his voice to a sultry level when he talked to you.

But weren’t you as well? Wasn’t that why you fought so hard for your anonymity? That was why you had only ever allowed your mouth or lower to be seen in any stream or video, combined with the concealer that hid away any tattoos or marks from the prying eyes of those who watched you pleasure yourself on camera. Why you never wore your glasses to any professional shoot. It became a necessity to dress so differently on and off screen.

So why did it feel so weird now? Two of you, the same profession between you as you discuss plans for your… collaboration. Charles smiles at you. Stubbly beard and white teeth, a bit of the foam from his coffee clinging to his mustache. Perfectly styled hair as though he’d just stepped out of a convertible. You know you look similar. The soft cardigan slipping off your shoulders. Exposing the delicate tattoos of rue on your upper arms that circled your biceps and danced up to your shoulders.

Herb-of-grace. Purity. Innocence. How ironic for you, considering what your profession had turned into. From a part-time job to a serious career that often ended up having better benefits and more money. 

Charles leans forward, whispering something in French you don’t quite catch, making you frown as he cackles, leaning back. Other tables at the cafe look at the two of you, and you can see the adoration in their eyes. You look like the perfect couple. In a way, you are, just not a romantic one. A spoiled rotten sub and the protective, sweet dom.

“I think you should let them see the tattoos, no? I think they would like it,” Charles says, shit eating grin on his lips. “What does the rue flower represent again?” Because he damn well knows what it means, he just likes to tease you.

“You’re impossible,” you take a steady sip from your cup, looking down at the journal that you’d brought to jot any ideas or notes down in. “You are aware of that, right?”

“But the people like it.” Charles leans back with a shrug. “So. To continue…”

If only the other tables were close enough to hear any of your discussion. To hear the things he was suggesting. But you couldn’t even protest against most of his ideas— they were appealing. Sponsorship deals that both of you had been offered. Not only would your audience like it, but… well, you would enjoy it as well. You can’t help but the little smile that makes its way onto your lips when he nudges you under the table with his foot. 

“Don’t play footsie with me,” you kick him back gently, making sure to just brush his shin. “Who said it was my foot?”

“Har har.” You roll your eyes, but Charles kicks you again, and you can’t help but laugh with your head tilted back. “And was that your foot, this time?” “Wouldn’t you like to see, hm?” 

The rest of the video series is figured out pretty easily. The safewords, plot, who’s going to edit the videos (Max will. He’s one of Charles’s buddies who you’ve seen edit together the most filthy things from previous collaborations and blending everything together with a straight face while sucking on a fancy bendy straw leading to a tall can of Red Bull). You’re comfortable with it all, even asking if Max would be willing to let you use the straw for your water bottle during filming breaks when shooting more traditional videos. 

“Probably not. He’s very protective of it,” Charles says sagely, watching as you just doodle loops and loops of ink into your journal. “Do you still use the same brand of concealer? Just so I can have it on hand. The other bottle you gave me expired.”

“Ah, no, ended up having a bad reaction with it the last time I used it,” you scratch your neck and shrug the cardigan back on. Covering up the twin rue tattoos. “I’ll text you the new brand. I can bring it, too, because it’s a bit pricy…” 

“Don’t worry about it, I can get it.”

“Yeah?” 

“Of course,” Charles looks down at his phone when you text him the link, frowning more so about how you had thought you’d even need to think about buying it. A bottle of your matching shade is ordered by the end of his sentence. “You know that.”

“Tattoo seals are also a good thing to use,” You turn to reach into your bag, missing the way that he traces over the leafy, flowering tattoos on your shoulders. You push a few of the little stickers across to him, and he raises an eyebrow. “Don’t have to worry about replacing or cleaning the sheets, then.” 

“Hm. My smart girl,” His praise falls easily from his lips, and he doesn’t miss the way your gaze seems to soften for just a second after it. “I’ll let you know,” Charles snaps a picture of a few and pushes them back towards you. “Stream in a few days then? Don’t forget the collar, mon chou,”

You just laugh, leaning back in your seat while finishing your tea. Like you haven’t been discussing an upcoming scene that will take place in your next shoot with your dom over coffee. How you’ll split the costs and whatever monetization comes from the videos, while also letting him spoil you with the tea and pastries you love. It’s almost like a date. Perhaps in another life, it would be such an innocent thing, and not the planning of a semi-niche porn live stream.

Charles trails kisses down your neck, letting his stubble brush against you, chuckling as your skin flushes, leaving a wake of goosebumps and heated skin under his lips. The camera is on, but you don’t exactly see it, most of your face is pushed out of frame with how you’re lying across his lap.

“Are you going to be good, mon chou?” 

One of his hands rubs softly on your back, while you’re laid across his lap. You’re face down, and you know you’re positioned in a way so that the viewers will be able to see all of your body. You squirm gently, and nod, trying to tilt your head back so that you’ll be a bit closer to his face. You lay so that you’re facing away from the camera. Your tattoos have been carefully covered with a mix of concealer and tattoo patches. It’s warm, and you feel safe, your mind fuzzy as you slip into subspace. Your hair falls in small waves around the duvet, like a halo. 

Sitting comfortably against your neck is your newest collar. A lovely burgundy leather with brass d-rings and pressed eyes that have been carefully polished to shine. A few pendants hang off the D-ring, little gifts from Charles to you. The inside of the collar itself is lined with soft velvet, made to stop the skin from chaffing. Admittedly, Charles had splurged on it for you, wanting you to have only the best as he worshiped you.

“Uh uh uh,” His hand moves to cup the small of your back to stop your squirming. “Doudou, they want to see you. Don’t move so much,” He looks over at the screen, where a few messages are beginning to pop in. A few donations pop onto the stream’s overlay, displayed for all to see, along with the chat on the side, displayed by one of his other monitors.

ugh she’s so cute (€5) Is that a new collar? Looks so cute on her!! (€10) awww!! she’s getting so excited!! happy to see you both <3 (€20) Such a good girl, listening so well already (€5) Make her answer the question. Give a sub an inch and they’ll take a mile. (€50)

Charles frowns at one of the more recent messages in the chat. Very rarely did he ever need to punish you for being a brat or acting out of turn. Whenever he did do this, it was always scripted for the viewers. Played up, and a rare event that usually came after a request was put in for it, along with a substantial amount of money. But fifty euros is nothing close to what would substantiate any punishment, so he brushes over it and smiles at the chat as more tips and excited messages drop in.

“Oh, mon chou, they’re so happy to see you again,” Charles whispers, watching as the viewer count starts to grow as people tap on the notification that you’ve both gone live. More comments in the chat pour in. “Yes, she’s been so good lately, haven’t you, ma moitié?”

He runs a hand up and down your back, and then gently squeezes the swell of your ass. You squirm a little bit again and make a needy noise rather than answering.

Make her answer. She seems like a bit of a spoilt sub, needs a reminder of who’s in control. (€50)

The message donation floats on the stream overlay for a few seconds, before being replaced by more donations. The chat is a mix of more praise and excitement along with a handful of confused ‘???’ about the last donation message. It’s the same username as the other donation that had confused him a bit. His mouth quirks down into a frown before he quickly masks it with a little smirk as he looks down at you.  

“Doudou, have you been good?” Charles whispers softly in your ear, leaning down to ask you. His stubble brushes over your skin, and he gently rubs your lower back, encouraging you to speak. “They want to hear your sweet voice, bébé.”

“Uh–huh,” you mumble out, starting to squirm again. “Been good, sir.”

“Yes or no, bébé,” Charles gently reminds you, his touch still reverent around your skin as you lay across his lap, stomach facing down. “I know you have, but our lovely friends watching you don’t.”

“Y-yes, been so good,” your voice is soft, and his heart melts. Charles is already a very soft dom towards you. Never pushing. Never raised his voice. He doesn’t like using any crops or toys that can verge on pain. That’s just what the relationship between the two of you had become. 

she’s so cute!! Aaksfhasl so so good for us!! I just wanna see her cute little face (T^T) She’s so eager to please!! 

The chat is a blur at this point. Mostly compliments for your good behavior and how eager you appear to be to start the steam. Lovingly, Charles rubs your back again. Kisses the top of your head, and then gently starts to finger you open, prepping you for what you’d both discussed for today’s streams.

“There’s a bunch of toys we’ve gotten today,” Charles leans back to grab the little basket of toys, reading out their names and the slightly dry sponsor segments he knows he has to read. He lifts each one to show the camera, and you press your legs together with a whine as he reads out the descriptions the sponsors had given him for each toy.

He tilts his head back to laugh a little bit at your desperation and softly kisses the small of your back. 

“You should have seen her the other day,” Charles looks at the camera, while you let out little squeaks. You’re still on his lap and trying your best to keep still as he gently pumps in and out of you with his ring and middle fingers. “She was so good. Even when she had a plug in.” 

Hot hot hot omg

You squirm slightly at his words. Whining softly. Staying as still as possible just like he’d told you, lost in the sweetness of subspace. The tip of his middle finger brushes against a very special, spongy spot inside of you that has you keening into the duvet on Charles’s bed. 

“Oh? Did I find something?” Charles feigns disinterest while curling his fingers to press just a bit harder into your G-spot. He reaches with his other hand to grab the camera, wanting the chat to have a good view of your folds clenching around his fingers tightly. When he pulls his fingers out, they glisten with your wetness, and your sweet hole tightens around nothing. “Look at you, so responsive for me,”

He brings himself to a slower pace, no longer thrusting his fingers in and out of you with the same rigor as he had minutes before. You wiggle your rear at him again, craning your neck to look over your shoulder at him with a little sigh, your pleading look invisible to the camera. Just as his lips quirked into a small smile over your sass, another donation popped up just as he pressed the camera back onto its little stand. 

What an indignant little thing. Put her in her place, hopefully this helps you grow a pair. (€100)

Charles holds back every childish instance to flash his balls to the camera just to specifically show this donor that he does indeed have a pair, and a rather substantial set at that. You whine again, and without really thinking, he brings his palm down onto your left cheek, the one closest to the camera. It’s not too hard, and it sounded worse than it actually was. You let out a little yelp, and still, your hands fist in the duvet covers even tighter, looking over your shoulder at him with wide, shocked eyes. 

“You know better than to whine, you’ll get what you want,” Charles' gaze softens, and he already feels a bit of regret for spanking you without warning. The collar around your neck shifts a bit, some of the pendants hanging off the D-ring jingle together from how you’d jerked your head back to look at him. The little bell on the collar chimes sweetly, and soothingly, Charles continues to rub your left cheek, leaning down to softly kiss you out of frame. You whine, and he swallows all your noises, before leaning back in, looking at the camera while lovingly soothing the skin where he’d smacked down. 

To some satisfaction, he can’t see any new donations from that particular donor. He’ll make sure you feel nothing but loved, with the two hundred euros the person had dropped on it. Charles just smiles again, letting his hand still on your lower back, continuing with the stream as planned. 

An hour in and he’s had you nearly cumming on one of the rabbit toys sent to you. It’s smooth, and the actual toy part is a lovely mint green color. A very nice one, with several different speeds used to keep you squirming and whining softly under his touch. Small sighs of “—Sir— please—” and “Ch—Charles—” fall from your lips ever so often, and he even manages to coax a loud moan from your lips, which the chat goes insane about. When you do climax, you don’t even have the where-with-all to try and warn Charles. And he doesn’t even mind, he’s always been happy to just let you chase your own pleasure and highs. 

You whine, slumping against him, feeling him pull the still-vibrating toy from your folds. Your clit is puffy and engorged, and the chat loves to see how you whimper as Charles brushes his fingers through your folds, holding the camera close to give everyone a good view of your still-twitching cunt. 

so pretty now give her another!! Her whines omg Good Girl <3 (€25)  Such a cute little sub Wish i had a dom to take care of me like she does waaaa

Despite himself, Charles smirks, knowing his face is out of view while he gives everyone a good view of your slick heat. The donor who’d been provoking him hadn’t said anything in a while. He grins at every little noise you make, especially with how you whimper at his touches, still sensitive. But you don’t move away— you know you’re safe, and that he’d never do anything to harm you. You have safewords for that exact reason, and you’d never had to use them outside of practice scenarios Charles would make you do just in case. 

He settles the camera back onto its stand, tilting it down so that the stream can also see a bit of himself. He’s shirtless, wearing a pair of gray sweatpants that hang low around his hips. The waistband of his boxers is visible, showing off the V-line of his lower body, and the happy trail of dark brown fuzz that crawls up his torso. 

“Did you like that one, mon chou?” Charles croons, moving so that he blocks the view of the camera, purposefully hiding your pretty face so that you have a bit of time to reposition yourself. “Hmm?”

“Mhm,” your voice is dreamy, and your head lolls uselessly to the side as he strokes your cheek. “S’good…” 

There’s no need for you to call him ‘sir’ at this moment. He doesn’t even really enforce the title, it’s just something that slips out occasionally while he takes care of you. It’s adorable, in all honesty, the way that you talk when he’s truly gotten you into the hazy, carefree state that is your subspace, never so much as raising his voice when talking to you. That’s his brand. That’s your brand. Just a needy sub and soft dom pairing that verged on Charles having an obsession with you cumming and feeling safe while he’s there. 

The rest of the stream goes about as planned. Charles tries a variety of new toys on you, ranging from a dual-purpose clitoral suction toy that doubles as a dildo to vibrating anal beads that you are not much a fan of, but let him try them on you for the sake of experimentation. It all comes to the grand finale of Charles then having you bounce on his lap as you ride his thick cock, your walls clenching around him as you whine and wail out pleas for him. 

“That’s it, mon chou, you’re being so good for me, always so wonderful,” Charles squeezes your waist, guiding you up and down on his lap as you whine out a sound that might be his name. The camera has a wonderful view of your back, zoomed in to specifically see the way he slides in and out of you. Your cream covers his cock. 

You lean against him, your forehead on his shoulder as you gasp and pant. He can feel the way you’re loosely gripping onto his shoulders, not strong enough to scratch his skin, but certainly hard enough to remind him that you were here, if the warm wetness of your cunt somehow didn’t. 

“Where do you want me? Where, mon chaton?” Charles whispers against your head, and he is rewarded by you looking at him with a hazy glance, just for him.

“I-inside,” you whimper, trying to lean against him further, trying to get him to press his face against yours, stopped only by the fact that he needs to keep your face out of frame.

So he gently moves so that both of your faces are out of frame, his stubbled cheek against yours. Thrusts growing more rapid until you clench around him, trying to milk his cock for anything he may give you. He finishes a minute after, twitching inside of you, and breathing hard as he comes down from his high. In the back of his mind, Charles imagines his cum settling in your womb. Making a baby. Seeing you grow round as the months passed, needing help with simple things. Perhaps it would have if it weren’t for your implant and his vasectomy. Just precautions of the trade. 

Gently, he pulls himself from you, still panting. He brings the camera closer, giving the viewers a good look at how his seed trickles from your folds, mixing with your release. 

hot!! Eeeek!! breeding kink breeding kink She’d look so fucking cute all round with a baby Give her a baby!! (€20)

Charles pauses the camera feed for a few minutes, gently wiping at your core with a warm cloth and praising you endlessly as you mewl helplessly. The chat feeds into his little fantasy. He thinks about you as his housewife. Coming home from a normal office job rather than a studio shoot with other people. Kissing the rue flower tattoos on your shoulders lovingly, while his hands come to hold the little bump of your pregnant belly. 

But with a shake of his head, it’s gone. Because that isn’t your relationship with him. So he turns the camera back on with you settled in his lap, wearing a pair of his boxers and one of his hoodies. You’re curled up happily, face nuzzled into his shoulder, hiding everything away from the camera’s view. He can feel you placing almost sleepy kisses on his neck, along with the contented sighs you’re making. 

As is the normal routine, Charles thanks everyone for their donations, while also allowing viewers to make requests in the chat. Answering questions about the little break from any streaming and videos the two of you would normally do. This is usually when more of the donations sweep in, much bigger ones. The notifications are delayed, and his eyes nearly bulge out of his head when he sees one rather large donation come through. 

I’d like to commission something of the two of you. I’ll be reaching out to your business email after the stream, just to ensure that this tip doesn’t bounce. (€800)

It’s the same username as the donor who had dropped €200 earlier in the stream. Part of Charles feels incredibly uneasy over whatever this commission could entail, simply based on the comments they had made in their previous donations. 

But if they had been able to give over €1000 in a single stream…. Which was nearly a third, if not more, of the total donations…

You shift slightly in Charles’ lap, bringing him back to the present. You’re still lost, he can see that by the distant, glazed-over look in your eyes. What you need right now is a good bath, a bottle of water, and something to snack on while he massages the knots from your back. You can talk about the possibility of something like a commissioned video later.

“That’s…. Hm, we’ll have to see about that, won’t we, bébé?” Charles grins, pressing a chaste kiss against your forehead, before bidding farewell to the stream, and turning off the camera. The donations still pour in for another thirty minutes, and that’s when Charles gets the light ping that everything’s done downloading, right as he’s gotten you to finish a bottle of water. He sends it to Max immediately, who’s already gotten the rough outline of how the video should look. Charles will go over to his apartment tomorrow to work on the specifics of what everything should look like, and then send the link to you for final approval to post. Knowing Max, the Dutchman is likely just starting to wake up as the world is going to sleep. He’ll probably have a mockup done just as the sun starts to rise. 

For now, Charles turns his focus to you, watching as you slowly munch on goldfish crackers, as if deep in thought. It’s funny, really, you’re so lost in your thoughts and somewhat spaced out still. But when you look at him, he can see the little grin on your face as he walks over to you. Letting you curl into his embrace.

“You’re all sweaty.”

“Mm. I was fucking you rather hard near the end.”

That makes you giggle, and you look up at him with a mischievous little grin. “You also spanked me.”

“I did.” Charles swallows a bit of his guilt down. “Are you sore?”

“No. It was… just unexpected.” You fiddle with the strings of his sweatpants, and he plays with the hair at the back of your head. It’s domestic and sweet. It could be a scene from the everyday life of any young couple. Charles feels like he’s in the wrong for wishing it was. “It startled me a bit. Nothing bad.”

“Sorry.” 

You just shrug, and let him help you out of the hoodie. With the utmost care, he peels off the tattoo seals. Wipes away the concealer. And helps you into the shower, washing away any of the stubborn bits of makeup that insisted on staying behind. The rue flowers bloom under his touch, and without really thinking, Charles kisses them, his lips trailing around your shoulders and upper arms as if he’s worshiping some idol. 

It’s the most intimate thing someone’s ever done for you. And Charles realizes he may have just crossed a serious line, looking back at you like a deer in the headlights as you stare at him over your shoulder, with a mildly sleepy gaze. His hands start to shake.

“Why’d you stop?” 

The way you tilt your head is sinful. That someone so innocent and willing to give and submit your body to him also looks at him in such a way. Asking such obvious questions when you already know the answer. Entering a relationship because of your shared profession with him could be catastrophic. You both work in such a niche of your industry when it comes to the kinks and roleplays you’re willing to work through that both of you would be screwed if feelings got in the way of your work. 

“Because we shouldn’t take it any further,” 

“What if I want you to?”

Charles nearly chokes on his surprise. The water is still warm around him. Your hair still has the conditioner in it, just soaking on your scalp as you wait for him to help you wash it out. 

“That’s a bad idea. We shouldn’t.”

“But you were just kissing my tattoos.” Your brow furrows. “That’s hardly the porn we normally shoot.”

“It’s—  it’s not about the porn—”

“Then ask me out.” You say it so plainly. As if it’s that easy… and maybe it is. “I like you.”

“What?”

“I like you. You seem to like me.”

“I do like you!” Charles blurts out. And then blushes violently, his pale skin turning a vibrant pink-red as he starts to rinse the conditioner out of your hair, making you turn away from him so he doesn’t get any of it in your eyes. He still feels guilty for spanking you without much warning. “But don’t you think this could be weird—”

“I think it could be nice.” You sigh, leaning into his touch. Entrusting him to put you back together after breaking you apart. “Don’t you?”

He can’t bring himself to speak after that. Drives you home. You watch him from the window of your apartment as the rear lights of his car fade away. 

The moment Charles is out of sight, he goes to Max’s flat. Pounding on the door hard until the disgruntled Dutchman opens up. He can hear Daniel moving around somewhere in the apartment, talking to one of the cats as Charles stands dumbly at the threshold of the happy couple’s home.

“What?”

“I think I’m in love with her,” Charles blurts out, and Max just scowls further.

“Mate, I could have told you that!” Daniel calls from deeper in the house, as Max pulls the panicked man inside, making him sit down in the cozy living room. Max’s computer set up is pushed into the corner, with a cat tower beside the desk. Sassy currently sleeps happily on the highest little bed, while Jimmy weaves through Daniel’s legs as the Australian offers a slice of pizza to Charles. “What finally made you realize?”

“She— she told me to ask her out. Wait— does that count as her asking me out—?” 

Charles’ voice grows more frantic, and his hands go to his hair as he starts to pace in the living room. Both cats watch him go back and forth, while Max settles at his desk, opening the file to start editing. 

“Who cares? Do it. You’ve been making moony eyes at her for the past year of working with her.” Max grumbles, clearly unamused by the drama of it all. 

“We make porn together!”

“So? That’s how I met Max.” Daniel tilts his head, at which point Jimmy does the same. The Monegasque frowns at him. “Didn’t stop us.”

“You’re both gay.”

“Ouch.” Max’s stoic tone is somehow cutting, even when he’s focused on the screen, pulling up the video Charles had sent to him, and then the outline on the other monitor. “I don’t see how that changes anything. The only difference is that I was Daniel’s editor rather than costar.”

Charles flops onto the couch. Daniel just looks down at the man, before looking over his shoulder at his boyfriend. “And how’d you respond?”

“What?”

“How did you respond to her asking you out?”

His face goes blank, and a look of realization dawns on his face. 

“I panicked?”

“How badly?”

“I kept— okay I responded pretty badly,” Charles admits, and then groans right into his hands, rubbing his face in frustration. He keeps thinking about how he’d kissed your tattoos. Had he inadvertently made you feel like you could ask that? Furthermore, were you really, truly asking that, or were you still somewhat caught up trying to be a good sub?

Images of you sleeping in his bed as the morning sun rises conjure up in his mind, followed by cooking together in the kitchen of his flat, and he can’t help but groan angrily at himself for letting such a fantasy with someone who he could call his coworker appear in his mind at this moment. You, smiling up at him with that coy grin on your face as you sit across from him at the cafe, brushing your foot against his shins while sipping at your cup of tea. Your feet up on his lap while reading a book on his couch, pure domestic bliss. 

“Fuuuuck,” Charles just keeps his hands on his face. “She’s gonna hate me.” 

“She’s not going to hate you,” Daniel tries to comfort him. “Just tell her you need time to think about it.”

“No but— I was also sending mixed messages,” he mumbles, and he hears a long, drawn-out sigh from both Max and Daniel. “I was kissing her shoulders. I— I couldn’t help it, I felt bad, I kinda spanked her without warning earlier in the stream—”

“Gross.”

“I know! But this one donor was getting so pissy about how she was responding—”

“I’m sorry, you let someone who was watching and imagining touching her dictate how you were actually touching her?” Daniel raises an eyebrow, and he folds his arms across his chest. “Dude. You’re her dom, not to mention how many times you’ve been with her. Why would you get so possessive then?”

Maybe he is a bit possessive. Last year, during a studio-based shoot when another dom had been too rough with you, using your blindfold to practically drag you around the set, and spanking you much harder than he had originally implied he would, Charles had immediately cut the camera and kicked the man out of the room, not even letting him get dressed. He’d gone straight to your side after that, checking you were okay for nearly an hour before even considering letting the filming start again. 

That had earned him a bit of a reputation as possessive over his subs, you in particular. The lack of collaborations with any other actors certainly hadn’t helped much either, with your last one being with Daniel almost half a year ago, and that one had been a cuckolding video, where he had posed as the husband watching his wife getting fucked and bred by another man, not even touching you throughout the process besides a scripted kiss at the end. 

Now, Charles feels like he is 1.) the stupidest man on planet Earth and 2.) just passed up on an opportunity that you had presented him on a silver platter. He stares up at the ceiling as Daniel looks down at him. Maxis typing away in the corner, and makes a little ‘hm’ noise, likely getting to the part of the stream where he’d spanked you. 

“Wow. That sounded bad. Didn’t leave a mark though,” Max hums, and then starts to type again, before making a much more distressed noise. “No fucking way— Dani! It’s the fucking guy again!”

“Wha— really?” Daniel dashes over to look at the screen while Charles stays on the couch. “Ugh. What a fucking creep.”

That piques some interest.

“What?”

“Yeah— the guy with the weird dono? Total creep. Tried to commission me into some weird, non-con roleplay. Wanted to do a solo stream for just him, totally ignored all of my rules for that stuff, and outright told me to ‘Just suck it up’ when I used the safeword for some of the shit he was saying about me.” Daniel shivers, and for a moment, Max looks like he wants to strangle the man until his boyfriend squeezes his shoulder. Charles's blood runs cold. 

“What?!” Charles looks over the username again. MattiaBinn. “Jesus fucking—Je le tuerai moi-même pour avoir voulu que je fasse une telle chose avec elle—”

“English, Charles.”

“I’ll kill him myself,” Charles growls, and starts to march right towards the door, “I need to talk to her right now—”

“Or maybe we need to give her time to cool down,” Daniel reaches towards him, holding onto his shoulder and pulling him backward. “She probably still needs some space and to take care of herself after the stream, regardless of how much aftercare you did with her.”

Part of Charles hates that Daniel’s right. Another part of him says that no, you should be letting him take care of you. That’s what his job was as your dom, he was supposed to take care of you and make sure you didn’t experience sub-drop. You deserve only the best, and right now he’s not acting like that. Quite frankly, he’s being a bit of a self-righteous prick about his own feelings for you. 

His phone pings with a notification, and out of pure irritation, he considers silencing it, until he sees it’s an email from a frankly disturbing email address. From: Mattia Binotto. Subject: Commissioned Private Stream.

“Oh, putain de merde,” Charles groans, and quickly scans through the email. It’s exactly as Daniel described. Non-con, harsher treatment, and quite honestly, the opposite of nearly everything Charles did as a dom and that you would agree to. Infuriatingly, your business email has also been sent this. You text him not a second after he’s done scanning it.

Did you also get this?

It seems… uhm, interesting. 

Attached is a screenshot of the email. You’re awake, at the very least. Alert enough to be checking your business email. He texts back quickly. 

I’m not doing any of that.

That’s not the shit I do. Fuck.

…okay. 

Sorry, you seem to be in a bad mood. 

It’s not your fault

Please don’t blame yourself for any of this, mon doudou

I kinda feel like it is…

I didn’t mean to push any boundaries or make you upset about this

I am sorry, Charles.

Charles wants to bash his head against the wall because now he feels like utter shit for making you feel guilty about his own stupidity. Just as he’s about to text you back you send him a goodnight text. When Daniel glances at the screen he visibly winces. 

“Yeah. I’d give her some space.”

Space turns into a week. Instead of the normal collab stream, you do a solo one. Charles ends up watching it. You’ve got an array of toys behind you, most pretty pastel colors or swirling abstract designs that make an odd pit settle in his stomach at the idea of them bringing you pleasure rather than him.

You’re currently fucking yourself on a dildo he’d gifted you, shaped like… certain sweet treat. It was meant to be a bit of a gag gift— the name of it was called the banana split, for Christ’s sake— but seeing you fuck yourself on it made him groan, palming the hardness in his pants as you gasped and whined. You were wearing one of his hoodies too, muffling your little noises into the sleeves. And the chat was loving it, encouraging you to keep going. 

And then the fucking donation showed up from that fucking prick Mattia.

Needy little thing. Do you think you deserve to cum? (€50)

The robot voice that read out the message had you whining, and you momentarily pause, before slowly lifting your hoodie to give the cam a better view, showing the slight bulge in your tummy from the toy resting inside of you before you started to bounce up and down on it again, rutting your hips forward as if that could provide some respite for the high you were chasing. 

“Y-Yes—wanna cum—” Your face is hidden, as per usual, just off-screen, but at the very top, he can see how your chin wobbles a bit as if you’re currently panting with an open mouth, “Please please please please—”

Hold it. Not yet. Needy little sluts only get what they need when they’re good. (€50)

Rage bubbles in Charles’ stomach. Who the fuck did this asshole think he was, first of all, calling you a needy slut, and then acting like you were his to take care of. Charles makes a note to ban him from both of your chats as soon as this is over. 

He can tell by your posture that you look startled, and the chat mixed. Some are telling Mattia to fuck off, while others are encouraging you to listen because Charles isn’t there. You whimper, confused, and Charles nearly screams, sprinting to get to his keys while the stream continues on his phone. He knows how insane he must look, having porn very audibly playing on his phone, but he doesn’t care, not as he starts his car and calls you. He can hear the phone in the background of your stream, and you whine even louder, the wet sounds of you fucking yourself on the toy pausing.

“Fuck, doudou, pick up,” Charles groans, his driving becomes more and more reckless as he gets closer to your apartment. “Pick up!”

The sounds of your stream seem to pause, and there’s a rustle as you move, hopefully reaching for the phone and—

Did I say you could do that, slut? Or are you too stupid to listen to directions? (€50)

Charles roars as he hears you let out a pathetic whine, followed by sniffles. How dare Mattia insult you like that, how dare he make you feel unsafe when you should be feeling nothing but safe and loved. He was going to find him. He was going to find whoever this Mattia Binotto was and beat the tar out of him.

“M’sorry— wanna be good—”

“You are good,” Charles’ mouth is dry,  right as he pulls outside the front of your flat, with a half-assed park job that’s likely going to get him a ticket if he stays there until morning. “You’re so good, mon petit doudou, just hold on,”

You’re not being good now. Apologize, you useless little slut. No wonder your dom isn’t here. What a spoiled little sub. (€50)

Charles fiddles with the lock, searching for the spare you’d told him about, hidden under a fake rock right off of your stoop. He opens the door, nearly forgets to close it behind him, and screams out your name as he tears through the kitchen.

Find your biggest toy for me. And show us how badly it hurts. Do it if you want to be good for me (€50)

When he manages to get to your room, you’re startled by his sudden appearance, and so is the chat. There’s a new, much larger toy positioned under you, the tip just brushing against your folds. The first thing that Charles does is cut the camera. The next thing he does is end the stream. A final donation, clearly placed before the stream ended appears on the screen, all the notifications from the tip jar making a discordant melody with your hiccuping sobs and Charles’ panting.

The donation makes him see red.

Fuck yourself. Slow. Let me hear you cry. (€50)

You let out a whimper, shaking, as you sink onto the toy, only to be scooped up by Charles. He doesn’t give a shit that he’s knocking around the toys and is probably making his possessive reputation worse. He’s not going to let you hurt yourself because some fucking pervert got in your head, and he’s furious that you’ve fallen for the same manipulation he did. 

“M’sorry— m’sorry, I wanna be good—”

“You’re so good, tu es si bon pour moi,” Charles croons, rocking you back and forth, holding you close as you cry into his chest. “I’m here. I’m here. You don’t have to do any of that. Let me take care of you.”

It takes nearly thirty minutes to get you to stop crying. You keep your face pressed into his shoulder, shaking as Charles soothes you, humming softly to you. He speaks in French, knowing that you enjoy the way his voice sounds when he speaks it. 

“Can you tell me where you are, Doudou?”

“In my bed,” 

“Wonderful job, so smart for me,” Charles praises, kissing your forehead softly. Your grip tightens on his shirt, and he can feel a small huff of air against his skin when you breathe out. “And what’s my name?”

“Charles. You’re Charles.” You murmur. “How did you get in here…?”

“Spare key.” He shifts so that you can look at him, one of his hands coming to cup your cheek. His thumb brushes under one of your eyes, the skin sticky from tears. “I was… I was watching the stream.”

“Oh.” You lean against his chest, letting him stroke up and down your back. You nuzzle into the collar of the hoodie. Charles presses his nose into your hairline, inhaling your scent, while keeping his lips against your forehead. “So you….saw…”

“He’s banned. It’s the same guy from the commission email.” There’s a hint of rage in his voice, which fades the moment your nose nudges under his chin, dislodging him from your hairline. 

“Thanks.” He can feel the curve of your lips turning into a smile as you nuzzle into him further. “My hero. Taking care of me, even when you’re upset.”

“I’ll always take care of you,” Charles’ voice catches in his throat at the admission, pulling away enough to look down at you. You, smiling up at him with that coy grin on your face, and a sleepy look in your eyes. 

“It could be nice,” You murmur again, shyer than before. “You and me, couldn’t it?”

“I think it could be more than nice,” His lips are so close to yours, enough so that he can feel your breath against them. Charles has been balls-deep in you. Has fucked into you until you cream around his cock and sobbed out his name. But this is quite possibly the most intimate thing he’s ever done with you. “Really, really nice.”

The taste of your lips on his is divine as he holds onto your waist with one hand, and cups your face with the other. You giggle when he pulls away to catch his breath, and before he can even stop himself, he’s grinning and pressing you into the bed, blowing a raspberry against your cheek just to hear your shrill laughter and feel the butterflies in his stomach that appear every time you laugh around him. 

“Mon petit Doudou,” He can’t stop the grin on his face as he kisses all over your face, looking down at you with nothing but adoration in his eyes. Your hair is fanning around your head like a halo. Your smile is infectious. And he can see a few blooms from your tattoos under the neckline of your hoodie. His hoodie. “Mine, mine, mine.”

“Yours, yours, yours.” You respond, curling into him happily as the two of you lay in your bed.

[usagii-bun]

PART 3|| ⭑.ᐟ 𝖻𝗅𝗎𝗋𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌| 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝗋 ! 𝖺𝗅𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗆 𝗑 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 — 𝗇𝗌𝖿𝗐 𝟣𝟪+ [MDNI]

— (𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖻𝗒 𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗂𝗆𝗒𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝗇 𝗑.)

PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3

𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒...in which you are a cam girl and he is your favorite viewer OR in which you are a final year college student and he is your new professor ♡

𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌... smut, rough sex, oral sex (f and m),possessive sex, hair-pulling, vaginal fingering, spanking, masturbating( f and m), doggy style, mating press, language (these warnings are for all 4 parts)

also, please do like, reblog, and comment. i love to hear your thoughts about this <33

word count: 10.2k

As you enter the college hall, a familiar blend of nerves and anticipation washes over you, a feeling that has lingered since last night. The memory of your earlier slip sends a wave of heat to your cheeks, and you struggle to reconcile the embarrassment with the thrill of the moment.

'Professor' you had moaned during your cam session, the words escaping your lips before you even realised what you had said. Lost in a whirlwind of illicit fantasies about Alhaitham, you hadn’t registered the slip until it was too late.

Great. They probably think I have a professor kink. A thought that, while tempting to entertain, is one you refuse to acknowledge fully. The mere idea of facing Professor Alhaitham after your indiscretion makes you want to combust or just fucking disappear.

Last night, you had surrendered to the allure of your fantasies about him—four times—each time caught in a delusion about a man who, in reality, would never see you as a viable partner.

One you are his student.

Two, he seems to possess an almost otherworldly quality, as if he has emerged from the ether without parents to guide him.

Three, he exudes an aura that suggests he wouldn’t be interested in dating someone younger than himself.

And four, he is your professor.

He embodies everything you desire in a man: handsome, intelligent, and caring. You shake your head, inhaling deeply to clear the clutter of thoughts centered solely on him. If you’re going to survive this day without embarrassing yourself in his presence, you need to rein in your thoughts and emotions. With a confident smile, you push the doors open, your gaze sweeping across the room until it settles on him at the front.

“Fuck.”

Your resolve crumbles as your eyes lock onto Professor Alhaitham, who appears even more captivating today. The sight of him—tall and composed, absorbed in his notes—takes your breath away. He is already there, exuding an air of calm as he flips through his documents, completely unfazed. Dressed in a crisp white button-up shirt, the top button undone, revealing a hint of his collarbone, and fitted black slacks, he looks effortlessly sophisticated.

His tousled hair frames his face perfectly, and his glasses perch on the bridge of his nose as he reads. 'Please bend me over your desk and take me like the—' Your thoughts freeze as his gaze suddenly meets yours. In that moment, something shifts. His expression remains largely unchanged, yet the flicker of recognition in his eyes sends a jolt through you, leaving your heart racing and your mind reeling.

“Well, well,” he remarked, a dry amusement threading through his voice as he lifted his gaze to meet yours. “It’s so nice to see you on time for once.” The memory of your first encounter flooded back, a moment etched in your mind when he had delivered a sharp insult that stung more than you’d like to admit.

Your cheeks burned with lingering embarrassment, but you couldn’t resist the urge to scoff, rolling your eyes dramatically as you made your way across the room to your usual seat.

“What can I say?” you retorted, a thick layer of sarcasm coating your words. “I wouldn’t want to deprive myself of another opportunity to bask in the brilliance of your lectures.”

A faint smirk danced at the corners of his mouth, his eyes glinting with an intelligence that was both sharp and playful. “Careful,” he replied, his voice smooth as silk, each word deliberately measured. “Too much sarcasm, and the first-years might start thinking you’re only here for my company.”

Maybe I am here only for your company, you thought, directing him a subtle glare that barely masked the tumult of thoughts swirling in your mind. Memories of last night crept in, and you fought to anchor yourself back in the present, pushing aside the alluring distractions that threatened to pull you under.

His casual yet cutting remark sent a wave of heat to your cheeks despite your best efforts to remain unfazed. You opened your mouth to shoot back a snarky response, but the way his gaze lingered on you—intense and probing—made you falter, if only for a fleeting moment.

There was an unmistakable energy in his eyes—a blend of challenge and teasing—that left you feeling slightly unsettled.

“You seem a bit on edge today,” Alhaitham observed, his tone casual, yet there was a note of curiosity beneath it. “Oh, I just didn’t sleep well last night,” you deflected, the lie slipping easily from your lips as you tried to mask the real reason behind your unease. “Too much caffeine before bed.”

Alhaitham hums thoughtfully, a knowing glint in his eyes that sends a shiver down your spine. “Caffeine, huh?” he muses, tilting his head slightly as if weighing your words.  “I suppose it’s easy to blame caffeine for sleepless nights. But you know, it’s often the mind that keeps us awake,” he replies, his voice smooth.

“Maybe you should try clearing your thoughts before bed instead.” He leans in slightly,  “Or do you have other distractions keeping you up?” His tone is casual, but the underlying implication sends your heart racing.

You couldn't show that his words affected you, your mind racing about last night. You felt paranoid like as if he knew but you knew that was impossible as you meet his gaze, a mixture of surprise and intrigue washing over you. “I guess you could say that,” you reply, your voice steady despite the flutter in your stomach. “But it’s not always easy to silence a restless mind, especially with everything going on.” You lean back slightly, trying to play it cool.

You wanted to high five yourself for the sleek answer as you watched his expression change, your eyes focused everywhere but on his. “What about you? You seem like someone who has it all figured out.” Alhaitham chuckles softly, the sound low and almost intimate. “Is that what you think?” he asks, his eyes never leaving you even as you pointedly avoid his gaze. “I might be good at keeping things in order, but even I can’t escape a wandering mind sometimes.” He pauses, watching you fidget slightly. “Though I find that facing what’s on your mind is often more effective than avoiding it,” he adds, his voice dipping just enough to make your pulse quicken.

You shift uncomfortably under the weight of his gaze, heart racing, before deciding to escape the tension. You force a nervous smile as you slowly inch your way towards your desk. "Haha, wise words from a wise man,” you say with a light laugh, hoping to ease the tension, but the moment the words leave your mouth, you cringe internally.

Alhaitham raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “That’s a bit of a shallow observation, don’t you think?” His tone is calm, but there’s an edge of intellectual superiority that stings. “I expected something more insightful.” Your cheeks flush in embarrassment as you finally reach your seat, sinking into it quickly.

You drop your bag onto the desk, hoping the conversation is over, feeling the weight of his comment linger as you try to brush it off. you dropped your bag onto the desk and slid into your seat, opening your laptop to prepare the slides for today’s lesson. The early morning email from Alhaitham had come as a surprise, his note brief and to the point, requesting you to compile his last-minute thoughts into a presentation. He didn’t have time to do it himself.

“You could have sent me this last night, I spent my whole morning putting this together for you.” you whined, the words had slipped out before you could catch them, an echo of your frustration. “Oh, I didn’t want to worry you,” he had replied, his tone deceptively nonchalant. “I kept you late last night with our little dinner.” There had been a pause, a shift in his words.

“You probably had other, more important things to do after that.” Again, your paranoia ate at you. The implications hung in the air like a heavy fog, and heat rushed to your cheeks as your mind drifted back to your cam session, remembering the way you’d moaned his title for your audience. You turned back to the slides, flustered, trying to focus on the task at hand but you couldn't help but reply back. “Well, I would have still had it done,” you said defiantly, straightening in your seat and meeting his gaze.

“Then you would have probably slept throughout the whole morning and ended up coming late for my first-year lecture,” he countered, his voice smooth and unbothered. “Better than listening to you drone on like a monotone robot,” you replied, a smirk tugging at your lips as you leaned back in your chair.

“Touché,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. He straightened up, a glint of something unreadable in his eyes. "But if I’m a robot, then that makes you my delightful assistant—crafted to enhance my teaching.” He says, his large body shadowing over yours as he stood infront of the desk you sat at, he tilts his head as if sizing you up.

“Crafted, huh?” you retorted, crossing your arms defiantly. “Maybe you should send me to a repair shop then; I’m definitely malfunctioning.” You raised an eyebrow, maintaining your playful stance, but the heat of his gaze made your heart race.

For a brief moment, the atmosphere shifted, the playful banter charged with an energy that sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you draw your focus back on your laptop. You didn’t notice the subtle knowing smile that crept onto Alhaitham’s face as he walked around your desk, the air around him radiating warmth.

Then he stood behind you, leaning forward with one hand bracing the desk just beside your arm, the other slipping into his pocket. The proximity was almost suffocating, and before you could stop it, your mind drifted—back to last night, when you’d been in front of your camera, your body on display for your audience. Your face flushed at the memory, heart thudding wildly in your chest.

How could you think of it now? You’d been lost in your own little world last night, playing to the camera, murmuring 'Professor' in a breathy tone that was meant for faceless strangers.

But now, with him standing right here, close enough that you could smell his clean, woodsy scent, the recollection of your voice—his title—was all you could hear. Your breath hitched. The warmth of him, the way he leaned in just slightly, his scent swirling around you—it was almost too much.

Your heart raced, and for a second, the boundary between reality and fantasy blurred. You swallowed hard, biting your lip as your mind drifted to the idea of his body pressed behind you, his hands gripping your waist tightly— surely to leave his hand prints behind as he takes you from behind, the strong harsh thrusts of his hips slamming into your ass, his teeth biting into the exposed skin of your shoulder as he — A soft pat on your head jolted you back to reality, and you blinked, heat rushing to your cheeks.

The touch was so unexpected, so casual, that it shocked you back to the present. “Good girl,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth. “The slides look great. You’ve done well.” The praise hit you like a jolt of electricity, making your pulse stutter. There was something about the way he said it—calm, composed, yet laced with a teasing edge that made heat creep up your neck.

You could feel your entire body react, the tension coiling in your stomach as his hand lingered for just a moment longer than necessary before pulling away. You turned to look at him, to say thank you but instead your words were stuck in your throat. His face was inches away from yours, your eyes widen slightly.

“And also stop letting your mind wander while I talk to you; I’d prefer to think you’re hanging onto my every word,” Alhaitham said, his intense gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

You could hardly focus on the lecture as your mind spiraled into uncharted territory. 'Yeah, I’m actually thinking of hanging onto you as you push me against the wall and take control. ' The thought sent a rush of heat through your cheeks, and you quickly averted your gaze, trying to suppress the flustered smile threatening to break free.

“Right, because your words are the only thing worth hanging onto,” you shot back, attempting to sound more confident than you felt. “Next, you’ll be telling me you could give a TED talk on the art of monotony.” He chuckled softly, the sound low and amused.

“Monotony is a skill, you know. But perhaps I should consider changing my approach, just to keep your attention.” His smirk widened, and you could see a glint of mischief in his eyes as he added, “Or perhaps you need a more stimulating environment to stay engaged.” As he stepped back, the distance between you returned to its normal state, but the warmth lingered in your cheeks, along with the remnants of the heat his proximity had ignited.

For a second, you were grateful he couldn’t see your face when he turned his back towards you—flushed as it was with the sudden flood of thoughts—thoughts you shouldn’t be having in a classroom.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to focus on the task at hand, even as your heart raced, and your mind replayed his words. Good girl. You wanted to melt into the floor. The lecture began soon after, and despite your best efforts, your thoughts kept drifting.

Alhaitham’s voice was steady, commanding the room with his usual composed authority, but you found it hard to concentrate. Instead of taking notes, you doodled absently in the margins of your notebook, your mind wandering between the slides and the lingering warmth of his touch, the teasing praise he’d given you.

You had barely noticed the end of the lesson when the shuffle of students leaving the room pulled you back to reality. As you began to gather your things, Alhaitham, ever perceptive, leaned over and plucked the sheet of paper you’d been doodling on from the desk.

“Doodling, I see?” His voice carried that same air of dry amusement, his brow arching slightly as he looked at the aimless swirls of ink. “Not exactly an artistic masterpiece, I suppose you’d rather doodle than listen to me" he said, his voice smooth and teasing, “I could always give you a bunch of thesis papers to mark instead.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to resist. “Wouldn't want to ruin your flawless teaching reputation, Professor.” You gestured dramatically toward the stacks of papers on his desk. He tilted his head, a teasing glint in his eye.

“At least I’m not the one doodling during a lecture, potentially ruining my students’ futures.” He crossed his arms, feigning a look of mock disappointment. You let out a soft laugh, reaching to take the paper back, but he held it just out of reach, his expression maddeningly calm.

“I’m not here to make your lectures look good,” you shot back, sarcasm dripping from your voice. “I’m here because I have to be.” He gave a quiet chuckle, folding the paper and slipping it into his pocket like it was something valuable.

“Well,” he said, that same infuriating smirk tugging at his lips, “you’ve been doing quite well, as my assistant. Though I have to admit, your work ethic sometimes leaves room for improvement.” You narrowed your eyes at him, the subtle possessiveness in his tone slipping past you entirely.

“My work ethic?” you echoed, giving him an exaggerated look of mock offense. “I’d say you’re lucky to have me.” His smirk widened, the faintest hint of something unreadable flickering in his eyes.

“I never said otherwise.” There was a brief pause, and then, casually—almost too casually—he added, “I enjoyed your company last night.” Your heart skipped a beat.

He’d said it so smoothly, without a second thought, but it lingered in the air between you, heavy with implication. Your mind raced back to last night, the way he’d looked at you when you’d shared that quiet moment, the conversation last night felt just a little too intimate.

For a moment, you hesitated, unsure of how to respond. And then, with a small, teasing smile, you asked, “And... what would that make this, then? Another ‘company outing’?”

Does that mean he sees you more that his student ? Maybe he now saw you as a friend, that was a good step to getting closer to him ? Correct ?

He paused, his eyes flickering with something deeper, something darker. “Another… occasion for your assistance,” he replied smoothly, though the weight of his words seemed to carry a deeper meaning. “In a slightly different context.” Your breath caught at the subtle, suggestive undertone in his voice.

The way he said it—so calm, so controlled—made your heart race faster. “But not today. I have other plans for us,” Alhaitham said, his voice low and deliberate. Your brows furrowed as you processed his words, the weight of it hanging in the air.

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Oh really? Should I be concerned or flattered?” you shot back, sarcasm lacing your tone, though the flutter in your chest betrayed your casual front.

Alhaitham’s lips curved slightly. “Depends on how much you enjoy surprises,” he replied, his gaze still holding yours, the tension between you unmistakable.

“But what kind of surprise?” you asked, a hint of sarcasm in your tone, raising an eyebrow at him. Alhaitham’s gaze remained steady, lips curving into a faint smirk.

“Marking,” he replied simply, his tone casual, though there was an edge to it you couldn’t quite place. You blinked, unimpressed.

“Marking? That’s the big surprise?” He shrugged, leaning back slightly. “What? It’s important work,” he said, his voice laced with amusement, but the way he said it made you feel like there was something more lurking beneath the surface.

The walk back to his office was thick with tension, the quiet hallway amplifying every footstep. The college was nearly deserted, only the hum of distant lighting and the faint echo of their steps filling the space. The cool evening air filtered through the open windows, contrasting with the warmth that radiated between them.

Alhaitham towered over you, the height difference making you feel small but far from insignificant in his presence. When he unlocked the door to his office and gestured for you to enter, you weren’t prepared for what you saw—a pool table, sleek and out of place, dominating the room.

His office was a mix of academic and personal space, bookshelves lining the walls, his desk neatly stacked with papers, but the pool table stole your attention. You raised an eyebrow, glancing at him.

"Oh well this is new...I didn’t exactly peg you for someone who plays pool." Alhaitham grumbled, running a hand through his hair.

"Professor...Kaveh’s doing. The idiot’s redoing his office and shoved it in here until he’s done." His tone was laced with annoyance as he shrugged off his coat, tossing it onto a nearby chair.

He moved with calculated ease, and when he turned to lock the door behind him, his gaze lingered on you, darker than usual. You stood there, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot, feeling the weight of his attention.

You chuckled softly, taking a moment to admire the table’s polished surface. “I’ve never played before,” you confessed, glancing up at him. His usual detached demeanor softened slightly, something unfamiliar flickering in his eyes. "Well, why don’t I show you how it’s done? It’s Friday, after all. We can relax today instead of working." he said quietly, walking toward the table.

His voice was calm, but there was a dangerous undercurrent that made your pulse quicken.

"But what about the papers you wanted to mark ? 'The suprise' Don't you need to submit them soon?" you question, Alhaitham gazed back up at you and than at the clock on the wall.

"It's past my work hours. Once it hits five and I have no other obligations, I clock out." He says nonchalantly, your brows furrowed as you remember all those days he kept you way after 5 doing tedious and even sometimes silly tasks that kept you with him in his office till 7 or even later.

You didn't say anything as the thought of spending more time with him, just the two of you in this quiet office, sent a thrill through you. You glanced around, noticing how the dim lighting created a cozy atmosphere “You know what? Why not?” you replied, a grin spreading across your face as you finally relaxed to the idea or playing a simple game of pool with your professor.

Alhaitham smiled back, and you could feel the warmth of his gaze as he moved to set up the game. As he lined up the balls, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement.

This was an opportunity to see a different side of him, to explore the uncharted territory that lay between you. “Let’s see if you have any hidden talents,” he teased, a playful spark in his eyes a contrast to his usual dull and bored gaze.

You watched him as he lined up the balls, his movements so fluid and confident. There was no turning back now. The tension in the room seemed to thicken with every second as he handed you the cue stick, his fingers brushing against yours for a moment, sending a spark of electricity through your skin.

“Stand here,” he instructed, guiding you to the side of the table. “Grip the cue like this.” You tried to follow his directions, but your hands were unsteady, and your mind was racing too fast to fully focus on what he was saying. The room felt smaller, the air heavy and warm.

You could feel his presence behind you, the soft hum of his voice brushing against your ears as he explained the game. You attempted to hit the ball, but it only wobbled awkwardly across the table. Heat rose to your cheeks as you let out a nervous laugh, glancing at him sheepishly.

“I told you I wasn’t any good at this.” Alhaitham didn’t laugh. Instead, he stepped closer, his gaze locking onto yours in a way that made your breath catch. “It’s alright,” he murmured, his voice lower now, almost a whisper.

He walks towards you but pauses. "Can I show you how to postion yourself?” His words were simple but they made your heartbeat faster. With just a simple nod of your head, Alhaitham slid behind you, you felt the warmth of his body pressed against yours— his chest pressed against your back as his hand reaches for yours that held the cue.

Your heart pounding in your chest as your hands turned clammy, trembling slightly under the weight of his. His large hand enveloped yours on the cue, steadying it. Your legs felt weak beneath you, and the strong scent of him washed over you like a wave, almost intoxicating. His chest pressed against your back—much closer than necessary—much closer than needed and the warmth of his breath ghosted across the nape of your neck, sending a cascade of goosebumps down your spine.

His grip tightened around your hand, guiding the cue, while his other hand held yours at the end of it. He bent forward, pressing his body against yours even more as he aligned you with the ball, leaving no space between the two of you. Your eyes widened, the sudden realization hitting you that you were completely caged beneath him, his strength and presence overwhelming.

Your mind raced, thoughts spinning out of control, each one more dangerous than the last. You were dangerously close to your professor, in a position you shouldn't even be in, it felt very intimate.

You had to leave before you overthought things, before you said or did something you'd regret.

“P-Pr-professor, it’s getting late,” you stammered nervously, trying to find your voice, but it came out as little more than a squeak. Instead of releasing you, his grip on your hands tightened, keeping you firmly in place as he aimed the cue at the ball.

“Oh?” he murmured, his voice deep and unsettlingly calm. He leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear as he added, “Late, you say?”

Before you could respond, he cut you off with a chilling whisper.

“Are you getting late to go record yourself?”

Your heart stuttered, skipping a beat as your body went numb. A cold shiver ran down your spine. “W-what?” you whispered, your voice barely audible, as panic surged through you. He smirked, the curve of his lips brushing your ear as he readied your hands and his to hit the ball.

“Do I have to repeat myself?” His voice was smooth, teasing. “Maybe I should be clearer. Are you getting late to go record yourself... and play with your cunt while thinking about your professor?” Your breath caught in your throat, a gasp stuck in your chest at the revelation of his words and the use of such a profanity coming out of his mouth.

As if on cue, he suddenly hit the ball, the clinking sound of the collision echoing in the tense silence. You stood there, frozen, pale as a ghost, your mind struggling to process what he had just said.

“H-how?” you whispered, your voice weak, barely holding on. “I’ve known you as Ms. Bunny for a while now. Three months, to be exact.” His voice was low, almost conversational, as if he were discussing something mundane. “I was never into things like cam girls, but you... you caught my eye. And as if fate threw the ball into my court, you walked right into my hands. My perfect little bunny.” Your breath hitched, your grip loosening on the cue as it clattered softly against the table.

His hands slid slowly, deliberately down your sides, his fingers tracing the curve of your hips, sending another wave of shivers through you. His lips hovered near the nape of your neck, so close you could feel the warmth of his breath, as if he were on the verge of kissing you. And in that moment, everything in you screamed to run, but you couldn’t move—trapped beneath him, caged by his words and touch. You were like a bunny caught in a wolf’s den—small, trembling, and helpless, every instinct telling you to flee, but your body refused to respond.

Your pulse thudded in your ears, drowning out everything else as your breath came in shallow, uneven gasps. His presence towered over you, predatory, his touch both dangerous and deliberate, pinning you in place as if he could snap you up in an instant.

The air around you thickened, suffocating, as if the walls themselves were closing in. His breath on your neck, hot and teasing, sent another shiver coursing through you. You felt exposed, vulnerable, as though you were laid bare in front of him, no escape in sight.

His every movement was controlled, his hands firm and sure, while you were frozen, like prey paralyzed under the hunter's gaze, knowing you were outmatched yet powerless to resist. You felt his hands tighten around your waist as he suddenly turned you to face him, the movement both swift and controlled.

Your heart pounded violently, and before you could catch your breath, his thumb brushed against your bottom lip, pressing gently. His gaze locked onto yours, dark and unreadable, as if he could see through every defense you tried to put up.

"You're going to report me to the college ?" your voice trembling as tears threatening to spill from your eyes as your whole life flashed before your eyes—ruined.

“Report you?” he murmured, voice smooth like velvet, but the underlying tone was sharp, dangerously confident. “Why would I do that to my favorite student… and cam girl?” His thumb pressed a little harder against your lip, teasing, his eyes dragging slowly over your face as if savoring your reaction.

You were trembling, every inch of you on high alert, but then his next words slipped past his lips, low and intimate, sending a wave of heat straight to your core.

“You’re too valuable to me in both of your roles,” he whispered, leaning closer, his breath grazing your skin. “But I wonder…” He paused, his thumb pulling at your lip ever so slightly.

“Do you tremble like this when you’re thinking of me late at night?” Your thighs squeezed together involuntarily, the tension overwhelming, a response you couldn’t hide from him.

He smirked, clearly aware of the effect he had on you, his gaze never leaving yours as he leaned in closer, his presence suffocating in its intensity. Your stomach dropped, your entire body flushing with heat as you remembered last night—your body tangled in sheets, your lips parting with a moan as you fantasized about him.

You had no idea he was watching, no idea that he was aware of how deeply you wanted him. His eyes darkened with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.Your mind raced, a whirlwind of shock and confusion.

You felt exposed, vulnerable, as heat rushed to your cheeks. His gaze burned into yours, every word he said weaving a thread of tension that seemed to wrap tighter and tighter around the two of you.

“Every moan, every sigh,” he whispered, his voice dark and dangerously soft, “it intrigued me. You’ve always had a way of captivating an audience, captivating me.” The air between you crackled, the heat of his body so close to yours igniting every nerve.

His pale turquoise eyes, ringed with that striking shade of orange, roamed your face, lingering on your parted lips, on the flush of your cheeks, and the way your breath hitched in anticipation. His thumb traced your jawline slowly, sending shivers down your spine.

You couldn’t move, couldn’t think—only feel the magnetic pull of his presence, the intensity of his gaze. “I know you desire me as much as I desire you,” he stated, voice deep and sure, his eyes drinking in your reaction, locking onto the tears that glossed your wide eyes.

His words sent a surge of heat rushing through you, and before you could deny or confirm, his hand was already moving, trailing down your neck, fingers grazing the edge of your shirt. The tension built with each passing second, and just when you thought you couldn’t take it any longer, he leaned in.

His lips hovered over yours, his breath warm and teasing against your mouth. You felt every inch of him so close, his chest brushing against yours, the heat of his body seeping into yours. He hesitated for only a heartbeat, giving you a moment to pull away if you wanted to—but you didn’t.

Instead, you found yourself leaning in, closing the gap as if drawn by an invisible force. And then his lips captured yours. The kiss was slow at first, his mouth moving gently against yours, testing, teasing. But the moment you responded, his grip on you tightened, pulling you closer, the kiss deepening with an intensity that sent your heart racing.

His other hand slipped to the small of your back, fingers pressing against the fabric of your shirt, urging you closer to him. As Alhaitham’s lips moved against yours, the kiss deepened. His tongue slid between your parted lips, meeting yours in a slow, sensual dance. The heat of the moment overwhelmed you, and you responded instinctively, your tongue tangling with his in a battle for dominance that made your head spin.

Every touch of his tongue against yours sent shockwaves through your body, a fire igniting in your core as you pressed closer to him, seeking more. His large hands roamed over your back, one sliding up to grip the back of your neck, holding you in place as he kissed you deeper, almost possessively. His other hand trailed down your side, fingers grazing the edge of your exposed skin, sending goosebumps across your body.

The kiss was intoxicating, and every movement of his tongue against yours sent a surge of electricity through your veins. His lips parted slightly, and his tongue dipped back into your mouth, exploring you with an almost deliberate slowness that made you weak in the knees. The warmth of his breath mixed with yours, the taste of him lingering on your lips as he pressed his body closer, trapping you against him.

You moaned softly into the kiss, the sound swallowed by his mouth as his hand moved to your waist, pulling you against him in a way that made your heart race even faster. His grip tightened as his tongue teased yours, the sensation of it sliding against yours both tender and demanding, filling you with a longing you hadn’t felt before.

You felt utterly consumed by him, the tension between you unbearable as his mouth worked expertly against yours, stealing every thought from your mind. Just as he reached to unhook your bra, his lips still pressed against yours, there was a knock at the door. Alhaitham paused for a moment, but instead of pulling away, he groaned lowly against your lips, his tongue still teasing yours as he kept you trapped in the kiss.

His hand, which had been ready to undo the clasp of your bra, stayed firmly in place as he pulled you even closer, as if refusing to be interrupted. He clearly wasn’t finished yet. You whimpered softly, the knock on the door barely registering as your senses were overwhelmed by his touch and the intoxicating way his tongue moved against yours.

Another knock echoed through the room, louder this time. Alhaitham swore under his breath, finally pulling away from the kiss but not letting go of you. His forehead rested against yours for a brief moment, his warm breath mingling with yours. "I locked the door," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, as if to reassure you that no one could just walk in.

But the knock persisted. With a frustrated sigh, Alhaitham glanced toward the door, clearly annoyed at the interruption. His eyes, now darker with unspoken desire, flickered back to you. "Get under the desk," he ordered softly, his voice carrying a weight that left no room for argument.

"You’re not exactly in a presentable state." You scrambled to obey, quickly adjusting your half-open shirt and ducking under his desk. The tension in the room was palpable, your heart still pounding from the kiss as you crouched down, hidden from view.

Alhaitham straightened himself up, his movements smooth and composed, though you could tell he was still agitated. His fingers combed through his hair, and with a deep breath, he crossed the room, unlocking the door and opening it to reveal Kaveh on the other side.

Kaveh strolled in uninvited, his presence filling the room like an obnoxious breeze. His platinum blonde hair caught the dim light of the office, gleaming as he leaned against the doorframe. He wore sleek trousers, the fabric light and fine, like silk. They crinkled softly as he shifted his weight, standing with one hip cocked. His shirt, loosely untucked, made him look both casual and out of place at this hour. The texture of his trousers was smooth, almost shimmering with the light sheen that played across the fabric, emphasizing the ease with which Kaveh carried himself.

Alhaitham’s jaw tightened in irritation. Without missing a beat, he subtly moved back toward his desk, his eyes glancing down at you hidden beneath it. Your heart raced, pulse quickening as you pressed yourself further into the shadows.

"Really, Kaveh," Alhaitham said, his voice carefully composed though laced with clear annoyance, "was there something urgent you needed?" He casually lowered himself into the desk chair, positioning himself in front of you.

As he did, his thighs brushed against either side of your face, enclosing your head between them. Your breath hitched, eyes widening in shock at how intimately close you suddenly were. The warmth of his body radiated against you, and the scent of him was stronger here, enveloping you entirely.

Your cheeks flushed with heat, your pulse racing at this unexpected situation, and you had to fight to stay still, afraid even the slightest movement would give you away. From above, Alhaitham sat calmly, looking at Kaveh with practiced nonchalance, though the tension in the room was palpable.

He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back slightly in his chair, though the motion pressed the hard surface of his leg brushing against your chest as you tucked yourself away.

The space was small, the cool wood above your head a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from Alhaitham’s body. Your breath was shallow, heart pounding as you tried to settle into the cramped space. You could feel the steady rhythm of his pulse under your palm where it rested on his thigh, the taut muscle flexing as he moved to close the gap between his chair and the desk.

His thigh muscles were hard under your hand, and the scent of his clean, crisp cologne was intoxicating in such proximity. The subtle shift of fabric against your cheek made you hyperaware of how close you were to his crotch. “Alhaitham,” Kaveh huffed our, annoyed, “What’re you still doing here? I figured you’d have packed up like everyone else. Or are you hoping to sulk in solitude all night?” Alhaitham’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I prefer quiet. Unlike some people.”

Kaveh’s gaze darted to the pool table shoved against the far wall. “Speaking of quiet, how’s your student? I haven’t seen her around. Skipping out on you already?” He smirked, and Alhaitham’s jaw tightened. “She’s too busy working on her ‘mediocre distractions’ to bother showing up,” Alhaitham quipped dryly, a hint of annoyance bleeding into his voice.

He clearly didn’t like being put on the spot, and the casual insult about you grated on your nerves. Without thinking, you bit down on his thigh—just enough for him to feel it, just enough to remind him you were still there, listening.

He jolted, his leg twitching under your bite, a low gasp escaping his lips. The sudden rush of sensation caused his composure to falter, his fingers gripping the edge of the desk briefly. His sharp intake of breath made his pulse quicken, and you felt it through the taut muscles under your fingers.

Kaveh’s eyes narrowed, catching the subtle shift in Alhaitham’s expression. “Did you just hurt yourself sitting down? You’re not that old, are you?” Kaveh teased, eyes flicking from Alhaitham’s tightly clenched hands back to his face. “I... hit my knee,” Alhaitham muttered, the words forced, as if he were struggling to keep his voice steady.

“Waiting for you to leave is apparently hazardous to my health.” Kaveh scoffed, but his eyes twinkled with amusement. “It’s amazing you even have any patience left. Though, you really shouldn’t insult your assistant. From what I’ve seen, she does all the heavy lifting around here.” A wave of irritation surged through you, but your biting had only seemed to amuse Alhaitham more.

His thigh tensed beneath you as his fingers briefly brushed against the underside of the desk, almost as if warning you to stop. You could feel the heat pooling low in your belly, torn between the embarrassment of the situation and the thrill of knowing that Kaveh was completely oblivious to your presence, hidden between Alhaitham’s legs.

“You’ve got no room to talk, Kaveh,” Alhaitham retorted coolly, trying to regain his composure despite the lingering sensation of your teeth on his skin.

“How are your selfcations going? Found anyone to tolerate you for longer than five minutes yet?” Kaveh’s face twisted into a mock pout. “I won’t grace you with my presence for a week, so enjoy the silence. And don’t forget to water my plants while I’m away.”

As Kaveh turned to leave, his eyes lingering on the desk for a moment longer than comfortable, Alhaitham shifted in his seat, pulling his chair closer to ensure you stayed completely hidden. You were tucked tightly between his thighs, your lips so close to the heat of his growing arousal that you could almost feel it through his trousers. The tension was unbearable, your heart thundering in your chest as you struggled to stay still, your mind racing with the illicit nature of it all.

Kaveh finally let out an exaggerated sigh. “Well, I’ll leave you to your brooding. But don’t think you can insult your student without consequences. She’s probably the best thing you’ve got going for you.”

With a wave, Kaveh sauntered out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Alhaitham exhaled heavily, his body relaxing only slightly. His hand fell to your head, fingers threading into your hair, gripping just tight enough to send a shiver down your spine. You looked up at him from your position between his thighs, your face flushed, breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

When he glanced down at you, there was no mischievous glint in his eyes—only something darker, more consuming. His gaze roamed over your swollen lips, the rise and fall of your chest, and the way you still knelt between his legs, completely at his mercy.

“And you,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, sending a shudder through you, “biting my thigh like that—what were you thinking?”

The look in his eyes was intense, magnetic, pulling you in. His fingers tightened their hold on your hair, tugging lightly as he leaned forward just enough that your breaths mingled, warm and shallow.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper as you replied, “Maybe I wanted to see how you’d react.”

His lips quirked up, not in amusement, but in acknowledgment of the challenge. “Dangerous game, little one,” he whispered, his thumb brushing against the corner of your lip, smearing the remnants of your earlier kiss. 

Alhaitham leaned back in his chair, the creak of the leather barely audible over the heavy, charged silence in the room. The air felt thick with tension, your face now so close to his growing arousal that your breaths mingled with the scent of him. The heat radiating from him made your pulse quicken, and when his hand moved to his belt, your heart stuttered in your chest.

His hand was steady, the fingers long, elegant but strong, with a certain grace as they worked the leather through the buckle. The light from the overhead lamp cast shadows across the veins on the back of his hand, tracing the subtle ridges of muscle. The buckle clicked open, and his fingers deftly undid the button of his trousers, the fabric parting to reveal the dark material of his boxers beneath.

He was thick and large underneath the thin material, your eyes trailing from the tip and towards the end— where his heavy balls with with cum laid beneath the thin material that covered it.

He paused, his eyes dropping to meet yours. There was no hesitation in his movements, but his gaze—intense and searching—lingered on you, as though he were gauging your reaction, watching for the smallest flicker of apprehension. But your eyes, heavy with arousal, met his in silent understanding, the tension crackling between you like a live wire.

His voice was deep, low as he commanded, “Just your mouth.”

A spark of nervousness shot through you at his words, and before you could stop yourself, you whispered, “What if someone walks in?”

A quiet, almost condescending chuckle slipped from his lips as his fingers slid into your hair, gripping just firmly enough to send a shiver down your spine. “You seem to thrive on the thrill of it,” he murmured, his tone as sharp as ever but layered with something darker, something that made the ache between your thighs all the more unbearable. “Now use that smart mouth of yours efficiently.”

His words settled over you like a challenge, and despite the flush of nerves still heating your skin, you leaned forward. Your lips ghosted over the soft fabric of his boxers, a tentative kiss pressed to the tip of the hard cock beneath. You could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles tensed under your touch, but his grip on your hair remained steady, guiding, controlling. His breath hitched as your lips moved lower, your mouth parting to mouth along the outline of him, and you could feel the power shift in the way his fingers flexed in your hair.

This was different from anything you'd ever experienced before. The intimacy of it, the raw tension—it was overwhelming, and yet, you found yourself craving more, your pulse pounding in your ears as the space between you dissolved into something electric.

The fabric of his boxers was soft against your lips, but beneath it, the hardness of his cock was undeniable, pulsing with heat. You could feel his body tensing with every kiss and suckle you placed along his length, teasing, testing. The scent of him filled your senses, heady and intoxicating, and the weight of his hand in your hair kept you grounded, pulling you deeper into the moment.

Alhaitham’s breath came out in a slow, controlled exhale, but there was a tension to it, a subtle hitch that betrayed his usually calm exterior. He leaned back further in his chair, his eyes dark and half-lidded as he watched you. His grip tightened, fingers threading deeper into your hair, guiding you, though not forcefully. It was a subtle command, the unspoken desire behind it clear as his thumb grazed along your scalp, sending shivers down your spine.

You pressed another kiss to his boxers, this time bolder, your lips lingering a little longer. The heat radiating from his skin was almost overwhelming, and you could feel your own pulse quicken in response. Your heart raced, your body humming with a mix of nerves and anticipation as you leaned closer, letting your breath warm the space just above the waistband.

"Good," he murmured, voice low, vibrating with something restrained. His other hand had moved to his side, resting casually on the arm of his chair, but his fingers twitched, betraying the tension running through him. "But don’t be afraid to commit. I didn’t peg you for someone who holds back."

Your breath hitched at the sharp edge to his words, his usual intelligence now infused with a sensuality that made your knees feel weak. You pressed your lips more firmly against him, the friction of the fabric between you and his skin making your core throb with desire.

Without a word, you let your hands move to his thighs, your fingers sinking into the fabric of his trousers. The texture was smooth, fine, yet beneath it, the hard muscle of his legs tensed under your touch. You couldn’t help but bite your lip, the sensation of his powerful body so close making your pulse race, your thoughts scatter.

Your lips brushed lower, tracing the waistband with delicate, feather-light kisses. You could feel him shift, his grip in your hair tightening slightly, his breath coming faster, though he tried to keep it controlled. The anticipation in the air between you both was almost suffocating.

You let your teeth sink into the waistband tugging at it lightly as Alhaitham lifts his hips to help you remove the material. His hard cock gently tapped agaisnt your cheek when you had pulled the boxers down, precum streaked your rose tinted cheek. 

Your eyes widen at the site of his cock that was mere inches away from your drooling mouth. The vein around his shaft throbbed in arousal, the pearly white liquid of his precum threatened to spill as his heavy balls pulsed with the need for your attention.

"Just like that," he whispered, the approval in his voice sending a wave of heat through you. His thumb grazed the nape of your neck, gentle but insistent, a subtle reminder of who held control, even as he unraveled beneath your touch.

You couldn’t believe this was happening, couldn’t believe that the man you had admired from a distance, the professor who had always seemed so untouchable, was now leaning back in his chair with his belt undone, his hand in your hair, letting you unravel him piece by piece. His dark eyes bore into yours, full of something that made your stomach flutter and your breath catch in your throat.

"Now," he said softly, his voice a low growl that sent shivers through your entire body, "let's see if you can use that mouth for more than just smart remarks." His fingers flexed in your hair, his gaze never leaving yours as he waited, tension coiling in the air between you both, thick and electric.

Your lips part, breath catching in your throat as you first press a gentle kiss on the rosy tip of his cock, your tongue peeked out from between your lips as you gave his slit a gentle kick, Alhaitham hissed at this fingers tighten around your hair, your eyes stare up at him with innocent as he groans.

You now decide to let your mouth to wrap around the mushroom tip, your tongue swirled around it, tasting the precum.

“fuck, your mouth’s so warm, bunny.” groaning so lowly, Alhaitham leaned his head back on the leather chair. caressing the top of your hair, strands in between his long digits, heavy breathing — and quiet whimpering. 

You decide to be bolder as you let the whole length slide into your mouth and down your throat, your eyes briming with tears as his cock twitched in your mouth as you tightened your lips around his length and pulled back up, licking the beautiful rosy tip, kitty-like, right on the line of it while you looked at his teal-eyes from under his desk. 

 You carefully moved to not let any of your saliva nor his pre-and-soon-cum spill on his pants as you take him once again, the weight of him pressing heavily against your cheek. He’s thicker, heavier than you imagined—far more than any of the toys you’ve ever used—and the heat radiating off him is intoxicating. For a brief moment, uncertainty flickers through you, but when his fingers tighten in your hair, drawing your attention back to him, that hesitation melts away.

The warmth of his skin seeps into your mouth as you stretch your lips around him, taking in as much as you can. The reality of him, so solid and present, fills your senses, overwhelming in the best way. He twitches against your tongue as you move, and the way he lets out a low, satisfied sigh makes something stir deep inside you. “That’s it… just like that,” he murmurs, voice thick and breathless, his fingers flexing in your hair as he gently guides your movements.

You can feel the tension in his thighs as you press your nails into them, steadying yourself, but also earning a sharp intake of breath from him. The sensation of your teeth lightly grazing him causes him to tense, his hips jerking slightly in response. You try to take him deeper, but there’s no way to fit all of him—he’s too much and he didn't want you to use your hands on his cock— just your mouth, you work him slowly, savoring every reaction he gives you, every rough inhale as his hips move in rhythm with your mouth.

His voice is a low rumble above you, his words like velvet. “You’re even better than I imagined…” he mutters, his gaze fixed on you, dark and intense. His eyes drink in every detail—your lips stretched around his cock, the soft flush spreading across your cheeks. “All those nights watching… and now I have you here, real, and mine.”

A shiver runs down your spine at his words, heat pooling in your stomach as you moan softly against him, the vibration pulling another low groan from his chest. His reaction is instant—his hips pressing forward as he sinks deeper into your mouth, his fingers tightening their hold. You can feel him twitching against your tongue, responding to every little movement, every swirl of your lips.

Then, without warning, you feel something press firmly against the apex of your thighs—on your clothed cunt. The tip of his shoe, pressing into you through your clothes, the pressure sudden and overwhelming. Your eyes widen, a gasp caught in your throat as pleasure jolts through you. The heat between your legs intensifies, and you instinctively grind against the pressure, trying to relieve the ache building inside you. It’s too much, too soon, and your mind spins from the intensity of it all.

His voice drips with control, low and commanding as his hips begin to move faster. “You like that, don’t you? The thrill of being caught… the thrill of being under me.” He’s watching you closely, every flicker of your eyes, every twitch of your body, his own arousal spiking at the sight of you on your knees, lips wrapped around him. 

Suddenly, his cock is deeply down your throat as you gag repeatedly. his fingers wrapped around your hair, holding it still while thrusting his hips up and beneath him, the ultimate choking mess, gasping for air, mumbling all sorts of pleading languidly — on the verge of tears and apparent faintness from the feeling of Alhaitham in your throat and the stimulation on your cunt.

 "keep still and let me cum in your mouth pretty mouth, my sweet bunny." Alhaitham grunted, his eyes taking in the site of you. 

Sweat beading up up along your forehead, your mouth shoved with his cock, your eyes blurring with tears, shirt hanging on your body exposing your bra, your fingers digging into his thighs and the site of you rutting your cunt against the sole of his shoe is what tips Alhaitham to the edge. 

His release is sudden, hot and thick, spilling into your mouth. You struggle to swallow it all, the salty taste flooding your senses, but you do your best, even as it becomes difficult to breathe. You can feel him throbbing in your mouth, your lips still wrapped around him as his hips stutter to a stop, his chest heaving above you. His cock still in your mouth as it slowly softens but not completely. Your tongue desperately lapping up at his tip and he hisses from the overstimulation.

Alhaitham looked down to stare at your disheveled self, reddish swollen lips, doe eyes, watery eyelashes and finally letting you breath, patting your head. a string of saliva — and semen — connecting your lips to his tip, as you still rutted agaisnt his shoe, your arousal evident as it slowly leaked from beneath your skirt and glistened alongside your thigh. 

When he finally pulls away, your mouth feels empty, your lips swollen and wet. You’re dazed, your heart still racing from the intensity of it all. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, tracing the wetness there, his gaze dark and heavy as he takes in the sight of you—your face flushed, your chest rising and falling as you try to catch your breath.

“You did well,” he murmurs, his voice soft but full of satisfaction. The praise going straight to your cunt. 

 A small smirk plays at the corner of his mouth. “Better than I could have imagined. I’ve waited for this… and it was worth every second.”

As you catch your breath, his thumb lingers against your lip, pressing down gently as if to remind you of what just happened. You’re still trembling slightly, your legs weak beneath you, your body still buzzing with a mix of lingering pleasure and adrenaline. His gaze doesn’t leave yours, and when his hand falls from your lips, it moves to your hair, fingers threading through it, pulling you just a bit closer.

His leg, still pressed firmly against your sensitive core, shifts, sending another wave of heat rushing through you. But before you can fully register it, his hands slide down to your waist, gripping you tightly and pulling you up from your knees. Your body moves as if on instinct, and suddenly, you're on his lap, straddling him, your thighs bracketing his hips as he settles you against him as you felt his cock agaisnt your clothed pussy. 

The world around you feels like it’s spinning—his hands are warm and strong as they hold you, his touch both commanding and careful, guiding your every movement. Your breath hitches as you feel the firmness of his chest against yours, his shirt slightly rumpled from how hurried everything had been. His belt is still undone, pants half-open, and the closeness of your bodies ignites something deeper within you. The friction of his cock brushing against your clothed mound as he adjusts you sends sparks up your spine, causing you to let out a soft, involuntary gasp.

His hands splay across your lower back, holding you flush against him, and the warmth of his body sears through the thin layers of fabric between you. His gaze never leaves yours—those sharp, intelligent eyes darkened by desire, searching your face, watching your every reaction. His lips quirk slightly, the hint of a smirk on his face, but there’s something else in his expression now—something raw, almost hungry.

You can feel his breath on your lips, warm and teasing, as he leans in closer, his fingers trailing up your spine, settling just between your shoulder blades. His mouth hovers near yours, but he doesn’t kiss you—not yet. He’s waiting, drawing out the moment, letting the tension coil tighter between you. Your heart pounds in your chest, every beat echoing in your ears as the heat between your legs grows, your body responding to his closeness, his touch.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down your spine. His eyes flick down to your slightly parted lips, swollen from the earlier kiss, then back up to meet yours. “I knew you’d feel like this… but having you here, in my lap, like this… it’s better than anything I could have imagined.”

His words send a rush of warmth through your body, and you feel your breath catch in your throat. You’re acutely aware of the way his leg presses against you, the friction building with every slight shift of your hips. His hands, firm and confident, guide your movements as he leans back in his chair, settling you more comfortably against him. The pressure between your legs is almost unbearable now, and the way his body responds to yours—his growing arousal pressed against you—only heightens the sensation.

As your hips move slightly, the friction intensifies, and a soft moan escapes your lips before you can stop it. His gaze sharpens, his fingers tightening their grip on your waist as his cock presses up against you, sending another pulse of heat through your core. His smirk grows, eyes gleaming with that knowing look as his fingers trace slow, deliberate patterns along your back.

“You like that?” His voice is a soft tease, laced with amusement, but also something deeper, more commanding. “The way I touch you… the way your body reacts.” His lips brush against your ear, the heat of his breath sending chills across your skin. “You’ve wanted this for a while, haven’t you? To be here, with me.”

His words stir something within you, a mix of excitement and vulnerability. Your body answers before your mind does—your hips rolling instinctively against him, chasing that friction, that warmth. His hands guide you, controlling the pace, slow but deliberate, teasing you, making you want more.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a near whisper. His eyes flick down to your lips once more before he closes the distance, finally pressing his mouth to yours in a kiss that’s slow and deep. The kiss feels different this time—more deliberate, more consuming. His lips move against yours with a steady, confident rhythm, and you melt into him, letting the kiss drown out everything else.

The room around you seems to fade away—there’s only him, the heat of his body, the way his lips claim yours, and the delicious pressure of his cock gainst your most sensitive spot. Every nerve in your body feels like it’s on fire, your senses overwhelmed by the feel of him, the scent of him, the sound of his breath mingling with yours.

When he finally pulls back, his thumb brushes gently across your bottom lip, swollen and slick from the kiss. 

 The silence in the room was thick, a comfortable intimacy hanging in the air between you, making every heartbeat feel amplified. 

As you looked into his captivating light turquoise eyes, you didn't think before you let the words slip past your lips.

“Would you like to watch me stream in person?” 

[claws-and-quills]

Hot Blooded

A/N: This takes place during Days of Future Past. There's just something about Logan dressed in those tight ass jeans and wearing that silk button-up that just does something to me.

CW: Breeding Kink, Some Choking, Oxygen Deprivation, Overstimulation, Oral (female receiving), Unprotected Sex, Mentions of Blood, Marking, Primal Dom!Logan, Jealous!Logan, implied age gap, established relationship, Mentions of Male and Female Anatomy

Genre: Smut, some Fluff at the end

Pairing: DOFP!Logan x Fem Reader

The club was packed shoulder to shoulder with a sea of dancing bodies. 70's disco blared over the speakers loud enough to make the bones in your body vibrate with every beat of the bass. Sure, you and Logan had been sent back into the past to fix and repair things between Charles and Erik, but that didn't necessarily mean that you were going to be a stickler the entire time. What better way to blend in than this? While you were jovial and lively, Logan remained more on the stoic side of things.

He watched you closely while you leaned over the pool table. His eyes slowly dragged across the curves of your breasts and waist, then along the curves of your ass and thighs. The spandex pants you wore clung to your curves in all the right places. His eyes trail back up along the length of your legs and the subtle curve of your back just above your hips. Reaching into the front pocket of his jacket, he pulls out a cigar and places it between his lips. Lighting the end of the cigar, he takes in a slow drag from it; the smoke slowly curls and swirls into the air from the flame.

“It's not rocket science, bub. C'mon, it can't be that hard, now can it?” He husks, smoke slowly billows from his mouth and nose as he speaks. You could feel his body against yours as he leans over you, resting his hands over yours to help you line up your shot against the number 2 ball. “Nice and easy, draw back, and shoot.”

The cue ball collides against the 2 and sinks it into the corner pocket. “Good girl. Now, let's see if you can do it to the 4 ball. Just like I showed you.” He pulls away to watch you. Your heart was pounding in your chest and ears. Parts of you wishing he hadn't pulled away. The overpowering aroma of rustic oak, leather, mint, and tobacco lingered in your senses. He smelled heavenly to you, and looked even better. You lift your gaze to be fixed on him. He was a fine piece of work indeed. Your eyes follow him as he walked around to the other side of the table, his eyes trained on you. There's a cocky smirk at his lips as his eyes trailed down to the teasing amount of cleavage your crop top had been showing off.

“Enjoying the view, Logan?” You finally ask with cocky confidence as you line up your shot against the 4 ball. Cursing under your breath as it rolls just short of the pocket. Perhaps you had spoken too soon, not that you minded. Despite his stoic exterior, Logan looked to be in his element. He was already a few beers deep into the evening and seemed to be enjoying himself with you even though you had to practically drag him out here.

“Don't go gettin’ too cocky now, bub. There's still plenty to go. We're just gettin’ started,” he exhales another plume of smoke before grabbing up his poolstick. You couldn't help but stare and drag your eyes across his body. The way his hair was slicked back, the first two buttons of his shirt were undone, showing off a teasing amount of hair on his chest. His dog tags hung lazily around his neck, drawing your attention to them. A familiar heat began to grow between your thighs, but who could blame you? There was something about seeing this side of Logan.

You prop yourself up onto a stool that sat catty-corner to the pool table. Grabbing up your bottle of beer and tipping your head back, you take a long drink while watching Logan. He was definitely beating your ass at this game of pool, but you didn't mind it. In fact, you were enjoying yourself a little too much to even care if you lost this game. You were far too engrossed in the atmosphere. The blaring music, flashing lights, the sea of bodies that covered the dance floor, the stylish clothes, but most of all, you got to have this moment with Logan. You watch intently as he sank several of the striped pool balls into the pockets around the table.

The atmosphere of the nightclub almost hypnotized you. It was so easy to lose yourself. Your body swayed slightly in rhythm with the melodies of the songs that blared over the speakers. It wasn't until you heard an unfamiliar sound of someone clearing their throat that you tuned back into reality. Your brows furrowed slightly at the sight of an unknown man leaning against the table. He rested an elbow on the table, his eyes trained on you which made you shift your weight and lightly tug at the hem of your top, adjusting its position to try to cover yourself from the prying eyes of the stranger.

“What's a foxy mama like you doin’ sittin’ here all by yourself? You look like you're ready to be jivin’. C'mon, let me show ya a good time.” The man gives you a wink and steps closer to you. The expression you held didn't seem to be enough to deter him away. “C'mon, don't be playin’ hard to get. A fine piece of ass like that oughtta be down for a piece of this. C'mon, babe. What's it gonna take?”

You feign a fake smile, setting your beer down and gesturing with your head towards the pool table where Logan had just aggressively struck the cue ball against the striped 9 ball. “It's gonna take you gettin’ through him. You're welcome to be my guest, but truthfully, I really wouldn't advise it.”

The man follows your gaze. He let's out a hefty snort of laughter. Something about his body language told you that this wasn't going to end well. “Pffft, you have got to be trippin’. Don't tell me you seriously came here with your Pops. Hey! Hey Pops! You mind if I borrow your daughter here for a quick sec?!” The man calls out over the music towards Logan. You swallow dryly at the death glare that glazed Logan's eyes. His eyes narrowed at the close proximity that this stranger had to you. In that moment, the small crowd of people that had been occupying the pool tables and dartboards had shifted their attention towards you, Logan, and this stranger.

Logan sets the poolstick down across the table. His movements were rigid and deliberate; his eyes never leaving from the stranger as he approached the table you sat at. He reaches in front of the stranger, placing himself in the middle of you and him as he grabs his glass of whiskey and tosses it back with ease. He stands there in silence for a few moments before curling an arm around your shoulders. There's a smug smirk at Logan's lips as he does so, as though daring this fool to say something else. You lean into his embrace, wrapping an arm around his waist after sliding your arm underneath his leather jacket. He arches a brow at the stranger, inclining his head just slightly. You could feel how the muscles along his back and sides tensed and flexed with the movement.

“Perhaps you didn't hear me the first time, Pops. But since you're right here, guess I'll go ‘head and ask ya again. You mind if I steal your daughter away here for a little bit? It's a Saturday night, and she is just lookin’ foxy as hell. And you, well, you look like maybe you can use a night to yourself. Y'know, can go get your jive on.” The stranger very stupidly jokes towards an unfazed Logan. The corners of Logan's mouth pull into a tight smile, causing the corners of his eyes to crinkle slightly as he forces out a hearty laugh. This leads to the stranger and his subsequent group of friends to also erupt into laughter.

“I heard you loud and clear the first time, bub. Either you're incredibly ballsy, or incredibly stupid to ask me the same question twice.” Logan gently pulls away from you to step towards this stranger. Logan towered over the man with ease. “Now…do yourself the favor, and get out of here kid.”

You watched intensely at the exchange between the two. Of the years you've known Logan, never had you ever seen this side of him before. Seeing this side of him had you turned on and wanting more. Judging by the body language on Logan, this wasn't going to end well at all. You slide off the barstool, moving to stand beside Logan. “Lo…just leave this putz be. He's not worth getting riled up over. Besides, we have a game to finish.” You press your body against his arm while rubbing his chest. You could feel the way the muscles of his pectorals rippled and flexed. A groan falls from your lips as the stranger opens his mouth again, and Logan gives you a look worth a thousand words.

“Look, I'm jus’ sayin’, dude. An old man like you can't possibly keep up with a fox like her. So why don't you go back to your little game, an’ let me jus’ take–” Before the stranger can finish his sentence, Logan slugs him across the jaw, followed by kicking the knees out from under the man. You cover your mouth in both shock and amusement as the scene unfolds before you. The stranger is obviously dazed and confused on the ground. Logan snatches him by the scruff of his collar with a menacing snarl.

“Now listen here, bub. I tried to be nice. I did. But you just don't know when to shut the fuck up. Keep your fucking hands and eyes off my girl. Get out of here, you're not worth the fucking time,” Logan threatens, kicking the stranger in the ribs. The poor putz scrambles to get to his feet, tripping on his own feet while shooting a death glare towards Logan. He returns his attention towards you, snaking an arm around your waist to pull you against his body. You knew damn good and well that Logan wasn't one for public displays of affection, but his possessiveness over you turned you on beyond comprehension.

“Someone is getting jealous. He isn't even worth getting riled up over, Lo. Let's just enjoy ourselves while we can.” You say lowly while rubbing his chest. A small smirk tugged at the corners of your lips while you fiddle with the button on his shirt. He could smell the arousal that pooled between your thighs. “Or…we can ditch this place all together.”

“I thought you'd never ask.” He husks under his breath. Inclining his head, he gestures for you to head towards the exit of the club. His eyes were now trained on you as he followed closely behind. Every step he took was calculated, deliberate, and held purpose. Once outside, he shrugs out of his leather jacket to offer it to you as you both approach his motorcycle. “Once we get to the hotel, that ass is mine.”

A high pitched yelp escapes your lips at the sudden sting of his hand colliding against your ass. The spandex pants you wore didn't help one bit. The small layer of fabric didn't provide much protection for your ass. The skin there burned from the initial impact, but you knew you wanted more. You watch as Logan gives you a satisfied smirk while swinging a leg over his motorcycle while he waits for you to get situated behind him. You wrap your arms around his waist, resting your hands near the insides of his thighs. As he kick starts the engine, the vibrations of the rumbling engine made you want to squeeze your thighs together. Once you nod against his back, he revs the engine, speeding out of the parking lot.

The wind whipped through your hair as Logan weaved through the traffic on the streets. The night life was so much different from what you were used to back home. Parts of you wished you could stay in this time, this moment. You pull yourself closer against his back, one of your hands crept closer towards the inseam of his jeans and inching closer towards the ever growing bulge hidden beneath the fabric of his jeans. You eagerly palm his hardening cock through his jeans. A soft ‘fuck’ falls from his lips, only to be swept away in the icy wind of the night. The ride back to the hotel felt like it would never end. Throughout the entire ride, you agonizingly teased him and palmed his throbbing cock to the point the sexual frustration was beyond evident in his eyes. He brings the motorcycle to a screeching halt in the parking lot of the hotel, where he eagerly disentangles himself from your arms.

“You're fucking mine. You've been driving me crazy all fuckin’ night dressed like that.” Logan growls as he stands and pulls you against his chest. His lips crash into yours for a feverent and needy kiss. His hands grips your hips, nails digging into the tender flesh just above the waistband of your pants.

“Then make me yours. I'm all yours.” You breathe into the kiss. The primal growl that came from Logan, rumbled through his entire body. The hunger in his eyes made every fiber in your burn. You needed him to fuck you, to claim you. Using his height and body, he guides you to back up towards the entrance of the hotel. Once you manage to turn your back to him, he's following behind you again like a hungry wolf that's ready to devour you.

Your words drive him over the edge. He fumbles with the key-card to get into the room. His lips and breath are hot and demanding against the hollow of your neck. Once the door is open, you both nearly tumble to the floor in a frenzy of needy touches, kisses, and hands roaming across the spanse of each other's bodies. Logan's hands find their way to the bottom most curves of your ass, hefting you up against his body. Your legs wrap around his waist as he pushes you against the wall in a heated kiss. His teeth scrape against your lower lip, asking for entrance into your mouth. Obeying, your lips part and his tongue eagerly roams and explores the inside of your mouth. The kiss swallows your pitiful and needy moans as you taste Logan. You could still taste the faint remnants of whiskey and cigar on him, but it was intoxicating. Your hands eagerly work away the buttons of his shirt, roaming across his chiseled chest.

He slowly ruts his hips against yours. The friction elicits a heated whimper from you. “Logan, please…” you plead pitifully, raking your nails down his chest.

“Please what?” He growls while sucking on your lower lip. “Use your words.”

“Fuck me, Logan. Fuck me. Make me yours. Ruin me…” Another gasp falls from your lips as you're carried over to the bed, where he roughly sets you down. His lips crash against yours again; his hands grip your hips with a bruising strength before roaming up your body to just below your breasts. His fingers hook the hem of your crop top, pulling the fabric up and over your head and arms. Another moan is pulled from your lips at the rough sensation of his beard against the sensitive skin between the valley of your breasts. His mouth leaves a trail of hot kisses down your chest and abdomen, his tongue dipping into your navel before sinking his teeth harshly into the flesh just above your hip.

“Logan…Oh fuck…” you mewl helplessly as you lean back onto your elbows and kick your shoes off. He merely responds with another primal growl, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your pants and eases them down your thighs, tossing the garments somewhere across the room. Your eyes flutter as he kisses and nips a trail along the inside of your thighs. The scruffiness of his beard scratches at your skin, making you involuntarily try to close your legs, but he growls in protest, curling your legs over his broad shoulders. He locks gazes with you while placing a hungry but chaste kiss over your clothed clit. The dampness of your arousal against your panties grew more with every aching second that passed.

“Keep those legs open. I'm just getting started with you,” he commands through a husk against you. Using two fingers, he tugs your panties to the side to expose your glistening cunt. The hunger in his eyes grew more primal as he eagerly dipped his head into you. His tongue dragging agonizingly slow through your slick folds. His moan vibrates against your clit and quivering pussy as his mouth encases your clit. His tongue draws tight, deliberate circles around your bundle of nerves. He pulls away just enough to grab your panties into his other hand, tearing the flimsy fabric in half and tossing it haphazardly over his shoulder. Your fingers find their way into his hair, gripping tightly and guiding his head back towards your needy cunt.

“Oh fuck…fuck…Logan…” you mewl at the sensation of the heat of his mouth against your clit. Your eyes flutter again as his tongue works you like a puppet. Every flick against your clit sent bolts of electricity through your body. He groans against you at the sensation of your nails digging into his scalp. Without warning, he plunges two thick fingers into your sopping pussy, earning a pleasurably pained squeal from you. A soft whimper escapes you as he pulls his fingers out, only to ram them into you again, this time deeper. Your walls flutter around his fingers, signaling to him to slowly fuck his fingers in and out of your needy cunt while he continued to eat you out. Soon enough, the room is filled with the squelching sounds of your pussy being ravaged by Logan.

With every pump, twist, and curl of his fingers, the fire in your belly grew hotter and hotter. You began to instinctively grind your hips onto his fingers and mouth. The harshness of the stubble on his chin left your legs trembling. With every flutter of your walls, Logan worked his fingers deeper into you, curling them upwards against your g-spot. The sensation makes your vision go white for a split second as you beg for him to do it again. He flicks his tongue against your clit in rhythm with the way he fucked his fingers deeply into you. This was enough to make the coil in your stomach become harder to control. Your thighs began to tremble and shake, the walls of your pussy convulsing as your orgasm grew nearer.

“L-Logan! Oh fuck!” You cry out helplessly as the first wave of your orgasm rocks through your body. He pulls his fingers out, your squelching orgasm following right behind. There's a dark chuckle that rumbles in his chest as he eagerly laps up your orgasm. Your legs tremble uncontrollably as you try to push him away. The sinful sounds of your squirting orgasm splashing against his chin and onto the floor fills the room. You cover your mouth to muffle the squeal that is pulled from deep within your chest. With every panting breath, your chest rises and falls, gasping for air.

“Fuck…you're doing so well. So good. I'm not finished with you.” He spoke gruffly. You lift your head to gaze at him. His chin, throat, and chest all glistened with remnants of your orgasm. His hair was a disheveled mess; his shirt bunched up and wrinkled around his waist. You swallow thickly at the prominent bulge in his jeans. He makes quick work of unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it somewhere across the room. His eyes drank in your form, dragging across the curves of your body. “Turn over. Hands and knees. Now.”

Just as you turn to get onto your hands knees as commanded, you hear the familiar clink of his belt buckle falling against the floor. After kicking off his jeans and boxers, he kneels behind you, swiping his fingers through your pussy once again. You grip the sheets in your fists at the sensation of him slowly dragging the head of his cock through your slick folds. Lining himself up properly, he slams into you, snapping his hips and burying his entire length inside of your sopping cunt. He snakes an arm around you, his hand finding your throat, digging his thumb and index into your pulse. He leans into you, forcing your knees deeper into the mattress as his chest presses against your back.

“When I'm finished with you, no other man is gonna lay his eyes on you. Everyone is gonna know just who you belong to.” He husks against the shell of your ear, earning a needy whimper from you. As he sits back up onto his knees, he drags his nails down your throat and chest, across your abdomen, and up onto your hip. He sinks his thumbs into the dimples just above the crest of your hips, pulling out of you, only to slam into again. His movements are forceful, powerful, and deliberate. Each snap of his hips rocks your entire body.

The grip he used to hold onto you with was bound to leave bruises, but you didn't care. You wanted him to mark you as his own, to claim you, to ruin you for any other man. Small, pitiful squeaky moans escape you with every thrust that rocks through your body. The room is soon filled with the sounds of the bed creaking, mixing into the symphony of pitiful squeaks and moans that Logan is able to force out of you, and the sinful sounds of skin colliding against skin. You pant raggedly, gripping the sheets tightly and biting onto the corner of a pillow as tears pricked the corners of your eyes.

He drags a calloused hand up the length of your spine, stopping at the nape of your neck, where his fingers become entangled into your hair. He tugs harshly, pulling your head away from the pillow, your mouth falls open into a small ‘o’, a symphony of broken profanities fall from your lips. You manage to catch a glimpse of him from over your shoulder. The veins in his arms bulged slightly under his skin, small beads of sweat decorated his chest in a slick sheen of moisture that made his skin glisten in the pale moonlight. His hips snap against your, hitching forward as he grinds his cock deep into your sweet, tight, pussy.

“Fuck…you feel so good on my cock. You're taking me so well. Look at you…fucking beautiful.” He husks while leaning down to kiss and bite the back of your shoulder. His canines sank deep into your flesh, threatening to draw blood. You cry out helplessly at the searing pain. Hot blood pricks at your skin; the pain is soothed at the sensation of Logan's tongue tracing the rapidly bruising skin with his tongue. A shaky whimper falls from your lips as he pulls out, resting on his knees. “Turn over. Wanna see that pretty face while I fuck a baby into that tight, little pussy.”

Your legs felt like jello beneath you. He releases your hair, grabbing onto your hips to help roll you onto your back. His eyes rake over your body, snarling grin as he licked his lips. Your blood still fresh on his tongue; the metallic taste drove him wild. You weren't sure what came over Logan, but you wanted everything he had in store for you. Cupping a hand under one of your knees, he hikes it up onto his hip, placing his other hand on the mattress next to your head as he buries his entire girthy length into you again. Your eyes flutter at the sensation of being filled by him again. Your chest rose and fell with every gulp of air you tried to suck down while he fucked you into the mattress. Small grunts and growls fell from his lips, mixed in with small words of praise towards you.

You curl your legs around his waist, pushing him in deeper. This encourages him to lean over you completely, his forehead pressed against yours. His dog tags dangle carelessly around his neck, swinging with every hitch and snap of his hips against yours. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you pull him into a needy and breathy kiss. Your tongues meet in a flurry of passion, allowing you to taste the remnants of your orgasm on his breath. His hand finds its way back to your throat; his fingers digging into your pulse and making your head spin at the sudden lack of oxygen. Your eyes flutter as a familiar coil begins to twist in your stomach. Within seconds it's impossible to hold back. Your walls flutter and contract around his cock as your second orgasm surges through your body, blurring your vision.

“Oh fuck. Such a messy girl. So fucking messy.” He groans against your lips. Slowly, he moves his head to the valley between your breasts. His breath is hot and needy; his tongue swirls around the tender bud of one of your nipples before sucking it into his mouth. Your back arches upwards into him at the sensation. His hand slides down your side and onto your other breast. The roughness of his hand felt heavenly on your silky smooth skin as he massaged your breast, rolling and pinching your nipple between his thumb and index finger, earning a high pitched squeal from you.

Within moments, he switches the positions of his hand and mouth. Your nipples grow hard and achy at the attention. Your thighs quiver and tremble around his waist. You knew there was no way you could last much longer. Every fiber in your body felt ablaze as you chanted his name like a sinful prayer while your eyes flutter. Gripping his hair, you eagerly pull his head from your aching breasts. A string of saliva being the only thing still connected between his demanding mouth and your aching nipple.

“Lo…fuck…please…” You pant, unable to form a coherent sentence. The coil developing in your abdomen was growing tighter. There was born possible way you could cum for a third time, but the hungry look in Logan's eyes said everything his mouth didn't. The way his hips stuttered against yours, you knew that he was getting close to his orgasm as well.

“Fuck…M’close too…gonna fill you up, pretty girl.” He growls, gripping the headboard in his fist until his knuckles turned white. You drag your nails down his back, digging your heels into the back of his thighs. Your walls clench around him tightly, sending him over the edge. You gasp as his claws sink into both the mattress and the wall as he paints the inside of your quivering cunt white. The searing warmth of his cum fills and warms you straight to the core. Your nails sink deep into the flesh of his shoulders as your third orgasm wrecks your body, filling the room in squelching sounds.

His hips slow against yours, slowly coming to a stop as he pants heavily against your shoulder. Your legs slowly fall from his waist, trembling uncontrollably from the overstimulation. A small ‘fuck’ comes from his lips as he lifts his head to gaze down at you. Once you both come down from your highs, he retracts his claws and pulls you into a tight embrace, tenderly caressing your arms and back.

“Fuck…did I hurt you? Shit…” He peppers your cheeks in tender kisses as he cradles you. His thumb tenderly caresses the bruising and bleeding bite mark he left on the back of your shoulder. “I got too carried away…”

“Ssshhh….it's okay. I…I liked it…” You assure him and rub his chest. He presses a tender kiss to the crown of your head as he stands up, still cradling you on his arms and walking with you to the bathroom for a much needed hot bath.

“Still though…I got too carried away, bub. Way too carried away…” It was the closest to an apology you'd probably get out of him, but you were satisfied with that. He let's you lay against his chest in the hot water, his thumbs drawing small circles on your hips. You lean into the crook of his chest, sighing contentedly while pressing a chaste kiss over his heart.

“I love you, Logan…”

“I love you too…”

[amirasainz]

Request: Hey!! I just saw the Video of Carlos and his father driving hot laps together. Could you maybe write one where Carlos is doing it with his girlfriend, but she is the one driving. But he is like super terrified, cause his gf is the definition of passenger princess. Thank you

Of course! Enjoy reading and send me some requests!!!

-XoXo

Hot Laps

It was a radiant day on the Austin track. The sun was beaming, and not a cloud marred the sky. It was the perfect day for some exhilarating hot laps in a Ferrari, in your opinion. The air was filled with the scent of rubber and gasoline, a symphony of engines roaring in the background, setting the stage for an unforgettable experience.

When the Ferrari media team first approached you and Carlos with the idea of doing some hot laps together during the next race weekend, you were apprehensive. Not that you didn’t trust Carlos with your life. But driving leisurely through the picturesque countryside of Spain and racing at 200 km/h on a track were vastly different experiences. After much persuasion with promises of “Mi amore, I swear I won’t go too fast” and “I promise, I’ll buy you the new Valentino bag when we’re back in Monaco,” he finally convinced you.

However, the moment you both confirmed that you would be doing the hot laps together, Silvia altered the entire plan. “Sorry Carlos, we just think that the fans would enjoy seeing YN drive this time.” And boy, did you love that idea. Now, Carlos was the one hesitating.

You obviously had a driver’s license and your own car, but that didn’t mean you were an exceptional driver. Throughout your relationship, you had proven more than once that you were destined to be the Passenger Princess, rather than the driver. For instance, there was the time when you managed to knock down a road sign. While Carlos sat with a shocked expression next to you, clutching the door handle for dear life, you simply said: “Oopsie daisy,” smiled at him, and continued driving. Or the time when you attempted to parallel park, but after 30 minutes of trying, you had to call him for help.

So one could understand why Carlos was reluctant to let you drive. Now it was your turn to convince Carlos with “I promise I won’t go too fast” and “It will be so much fun, I promise.” What finally swayed him was the promise of “the best sex ever. Throughout the. Whole. Night.”

When the day finally arrived, you were more than ecstatic. The anticipation had been building up, and you could hardly contain your excitement. After the team let you on the track and you were securely strapped into the car (yes, Carlos checked the seatbelt several times), you were finally ready to go. The Ferrari’s interior was a blend of luxury and raw power, the leather seats hugging you tightly as you gripped the steering wheel. The dashboard was a marvel of modern technology, with a digital display that showed every detail of the car’s performance.

You started off slowly, which relaxed Carlos. However, on turn 7, you floored the throttle. “Ay! No, no, no, mi amore. Too quick, too quick!” Carlos screamed. While he tried to grab anything within reach, you were having the time of your life. You drifted and cruised on the track, the tires screeching as you took each turn with increasing confidence. Carlos’s screams of “The wall! The wall!” and “BRAKE!” didn’t deter you from your little joyride.

As you navigated the track, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of adrenaline. The wind whipped through your hair, and the roar of the engine was music to your ears. You glanced over at Carlos, who was gripping the sides of his seat, his knuckles white. His eyes were wide with a mix of fear and amazement, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction. The track’s twists and turns became a thrilling dance, each corner a new challenge that you eagerly embraced.

When you went for the last lap, you went too wide in turn one. Before you could hit the wall, Carlos grabbed the steering wheel, putting the car back on track. While you giggled like a schoolgirl seeing her crush, Carlos muttered: “Querido Dios, por favor dame fuerza y déjanos vivir otro día.”

Finally, the lap was over, and you brought the car to a stop. Carlos immediately undid his seatbelt before jumping out of the car. He lay flat on the track, taking huge breaths of air. You rounded the car, seeing your boyfriend lying on the asphalt. The rest of the team, who had been watching the whole ordeal, were laughing in the background.

“Carlos, why are you lying on the floor?” you asked with a smile, kneeling down next to him. Carlos took your hand before answering seriously: “Mi vida, I love you with my whole heart. But please, never ever drive a car again. You’re the perfect passenger princess, okay.” His request made you laugh so hard that tears escaped your eyes. Perhaps he was right. You ARE the perfect passenger princess.

As you both walked back to the team, Carlos still a bit shaky, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment. You had faced your fears and had an unforgettable experience. The team congratulated you, and even Carlos managed a smile, albeit a nervous one. You knew this would be a story you’d both laugh about for years to come.

Later that evening, as you both relaxed in the hotel room, Carlos recounted the day’s events with dramatic flair, making you laugh all over again. The memory of the hot laps became a cherished moment, a testament to your adventurous spirit and the bond you shared. You realized that while you might be the perfect passenger princess, you also had the courage to step out of your comfort zone and create unforgettable memories.

[lokisgoodgirl]

My Girl [Loki x Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: [Oneshot] Literally just smut. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Avenger!Loki. Language. (Slightly) Possessive Loki. Loki tying his hair up during sex. (w/c 1.8k)

Loki surfaces from between your legs, strands of loose hair grazing against the delicate skin.

Your eyes are sealed from pure pleasure, the feeling of his wet lips working up one trembling thigh making you mewl his name in broken breaths. Five? Seven? You’d lost count.

He chuckles quietly to himself.

His fingers dance down your hips where they were hooked beneath your legs, a final biting kiss signalling the understated finale of his favourite repertoire.

“How tempting it is," he rumbles softly, " to see if you can take one more."

You open your eyes, lessening the punishing grip on his forearm.

Loki’s hair is a mess, mussed and wild from your fingers tangling through its lengths. It surrounds his angular features with the lustre of a Raphaelite halo, blended back into the darkness.

The glow of fairy-lights draped around your bedposts illuminate the glint in his eyes. Dark shadows caress the carve of his cheekbones as he sits back on his haunches, stroking himself leisurely.

He’s always hard when he pleasures you. However long it lasts.

As tempting as it is to watch him work, you find yourself rising; leaning forwards to catch him in a hungry kiss. “I need you,” you pant into his open mouth, fingers finding their way to the fist snug around the base of his cock.

Loki pauses, smouldering down. Your legs are spread open, bent at the knee. He kneels between them, the muscled expanse of his torso rising like rock from the sea.

All you want is him. All of him, always.

“Need me?” he purrs, feigned incredulity followed by a slow tut. “I must do better if my girl is still not satisfied.”

You place a loving slap on his shoulder.

The god bites his lip, gaze dropping to your breasts while his palms slide up your waist. They cup your curves, thumbs toying with your nipples as he pushes you lightly back to the pillow.

“I need you inside me,” you specify with an air of playful sarcasm.

Loki’s dimples flash while your eyes drop to his manhood, thick and hard and ready to fuck you.

“See what you do to me?” he says with a squeeze of his hand around the tip of his cock.

A pearl of pre-cum sparkles. The guttural sound which rumbles in his throat makes you clench.

You can feel a fresh rivulet of desire descend between your folds. Slowly, you work back to his delicate smile, a ring of moisture still glistening around his mouth. It’s smeared up his cheeks. Long winds of hair cling to his jawline, sealed to your arousal on his skin. He peels one off with understated grace.

Loki rakes a hand through his hair; wild again. Waves fan out like onyx flame behind the chariot of his devastating features, each tendril like the stroke of a madman’s brush.

He releases his grip of himself, and with one purposeful pump of his powerful thighs a hand lands on the mattress by your shoulder. You raise a foot, helpless to resist a brush of it against the curve of his ass as he hovers above. The god’s other hand sinks into the bed on your left with a soft thump.

“You are perfect,” he murmurs, nose brushing down your forehead, your eye socket, before his lips fasten to your own.

You can feel the hard column of flesh between his legs press upwards against your slit. It pulses eagerly. He slides back and forth, sending sparks of pleasure zinging through your core. With every wax and wane of his all-consuming kiss, he gyrates. Ragged breaths heave in his chest with each clench of his muscular ass, the pull of his foreskin against your heat building a growl.

Delayed gratification is a drug for your god. And you, his girl, indulge him.

He breaks from your lips, a strand of saliva dangling as his forehead rests against yours.

The veil of his curls shields you in darkness, only the hot mist of his heavy pants filling the space between you. It’s all you can do not to reach down and guide his cock deep inside. Right now, it might be the hardest thing you’ve ever done. But you allow Loki the theatre of his seduction. Encourage, even.

He’s desperate for you. It shows.

And you love it.

Your fingertips comb past his temples, the flash of half-lidded eyes coming into view.

His eyebrows rise a fraction, a strangled yes from your lips all the encouragement he needs. With a shift of his hips, Loki’s eyes flutter closed as the crown of his cock squeezes inside your cunt.

A deep groan fills the air, his mouth hanging open.

A long curl drips over his parted lips, buffeting gently with every pant as your lover bottoms out.

He thrusts slowly as you buck your hips to meet him, rolling as one. Thick veins in his cock tug your delicate walls, flushed with the glorious weight of his need.

Your god’s hair swings around your face, dirty mutterings of devotion blasting the shell of your ear. That velvet voice absorbs into your soul like wine on tissue paper. Nothing feels as good as Loki’s cock. The way it massages the hidden depths of you, the pull of his pubic hair against your clit; the way that he can flick his hips that makes your eyes roll back.

The way he fills you so completely. He knows you; his girl.

Loki leans back on his knees, fingers wrapping around your hips and raising them. He slides in and out, enjoying every drag of your walls along his pulsing length. Those long digits knead down your thighs, spreading. Your chin is tilted to the ceiling, drowning in love-drunk chants of his name before Loki grunts.

His fluid thrusts slow.

You look up, frowning gently as he raises a hand to his side.

The god’s heavy smoulder hangs in the air like woodsmoke, chiselled torso towering over you; jet-black mane hanging sluttishly around the dagger of his jaw.

“Loki wha-” you slur, beginning to rise to your elbows. The will is knocked out of you with another of your lover’s glacial, mind-bending thrusts.

You fall back to the pillow with a gasp of his name.

“I simply wish to observe it, unobstructed,” he drawls stoically – only a tiny quiver in his voice betraying the heightened arousal searing through his veins. The warm glow of the fairy-lights is interrupted by a flash of green.

You squirm, clenching around Loki’s cock as a single circular hair-tie appears between the god’s thumb and forefinger.

“Observe what?” you manage to pant as you paw at his chest. Your pads catch in waves against the flex of his abdominals.

Loki casually sweeps his hair back from his shoulders.

Gripping with one hand, fingertips rake the tendrils cascading over his brow. He draws it back, winding the sex-dampened hair into a messy bun. You clench again.

The angles of his jaw slice into view, gatekeeper to the long thick of his neck. Veins strain beneath skin. The blood pumping within them pulses to the beat of his cock. He tilts his head.

“This,” he says darkly.

He slides his hands under your legs, hoisting them onto his shoulders. There’s a slurp as Loki’s tip pops from your entrance.

The sudden emptiness makes a gnawing hunger stir deep in your belly. The god’s cock presses gently against the squelch of your sex as he positions you with ease, fingertips sinking into the plump muscle of your calves.

Your eyes squeeze shut as Loki pushes inside you – so deep that you think you might break.

He pauses, and you can feel the primal weight of his stare roaming your face. You know that your skin is hot, that the backs of your thighs pressed against Loki’s chest slap with sweat and sex. You know that your face is contorted in pleasure, that he is fighting the urge to slam into his climax like the wild beast he is.

With difficulty, your eyelids open. Strands hang loose from his bun, flirting against his cheekbones; already falling free. Dark lashes fan against his cheek as he slides out your pussy with an obscene squelch. A deep frown appears on his forehead while he watches it disappear again, slowly.

So slowly.

“F-f-fuck-k,” he groans loudly.

A muscle in his jawline bobs as teeth clench, and you remind yourself with a prayer of thanks that Loki buried deep in your cunt is the most beautiful sight in the universe.

His fingers move from your calves to your wrists, drawing them above your head. Instinctually your digits curl around the cool metal bars of the bedstead. The god’s grip tightens, just for a moment.

“My girl,” he rumbles as he stares deep into your eyes. In this moment, more than any other, you are his.

Loki leans forward, his tongue demanding entrance and you melt into him. The weight of him bears down, squeezing air from your lungs as he fucks into you. Bucking your hips, Loki slips deeper. An untoned moan rips the air, his thrusts tripping as one of his hands palms your breasts.

You groan his name, sobbing the syllables as the fingers of his right hand curl tighter against your wrists.

More rogue strands of hair have fallen from his top-knot, sticking to his shoulders. One swings against his cheek, eyebrows peaked as climax threatens to overwhelm him.

“Do you w-want me to fill you, darling-” he grunts rhetorically, a whine snaking from his throat.

You yank your wrists from his grip, making Loki’s hand fly to the frame. It rattles the metal, the bed beginning to shake. “Fucking fill me, Loki” you cry so loudly the whole floor could hear. But you don’t care.

“Fill you with my...se- seed? My raw power, my n-norns, fuck-k-k,”

“-dripping out of me, down my thighs- Loki...please,”

Loki shudders, the ripples of his obliques between your legs making your vision blur.

You clench a final time around his cock, Loki’s head falling back. Dark tendrils fall with abandon from his topknot now, sticking against his brow. His whoreish slut-drunk form on full display as he releases a thundering rip of your name.

Hot cum throbs in a gush against your walls, the judder of your lover’s hips delivering a final wave of pleasure to your deepest centre.

Your calves tighten around his shoulders as Loki falls forward. His face buries in the curve of your neck, gyrating slowly as you milk him to completion.

Cum wells around your entrance, the filthy slurp complimenting the wet lap of Loki’s kiss. He purrs against your mouth as climax ebbs, lower your legs gently by his sides.

“My girl,” he hums quietly, before placing a kiss on your collarbone you already know will bruise.

“My girl.”

(thanks @glitchquake for reminding me Loki with a bun was hot AF❤️

Tags (cont in comments)

@lokischambermaid @meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @glitchquake @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @fandxmslxt69 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @thenotoriouserg @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @liminalpebble @joyful-enchantress @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @kellatron55 @mrs-illyrian-baby @icytrickster17 @multifandom-worlds @buttercupcookies-blog @goddessofwonderland

[vilnmelling]

WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT THE SUMMONING

Everyone talks about the Lords in Black's costumes in the Summoning, and the fact that the dance moves rotate in a pentagram, but you know what CRIMINALLY few people talk about?

The dance moves themselves, and how each of the Lords execute them differently.

Pokey's moves are very grand and theatrical, and there's a certain enjoyment in a lot of them. The way he does some of them makes it look like he thinks HE'S the one in the middle; he's the one the show is all about. Pokey's not just dancing for the summoning. Pokey's putting on a show, his own musical performance (sounds familiar?)

Blinky's the stiffest and most static with his moves. His legs are straight the entire time, and unlike the others, he doesn't move his head that much for some moves. Between the spouts of singing and dancing, he moves the least. Perhaps because Blinky's not often the one getting personally involved. He's not the one your attention is pulled to when he's doing his evil shit. No, you're the star, he's just watching. Therefore, he's not extravagant or fluent in his dancing. He's static, so he can still watch. (I also must point out how he frames his eye during his first move)

Tinky's fucking erratic. His moves are BIG, and they're uncontrolled. He looks like he's barely in control of his own limbs (during the "Whatever we want" part, his arms look like they're about to pop out of their sockets), and during many moves, he wiggles his head in a way that makes him look like one of those bobble-headed dolls. On top of that, he's very bouncy on a lot of the choreo. Tinky's pure insanity in the way he moves.

Nibbly's by far the smoothest and most fluent. Very few of his moves are sharp, all of them kind of blending into each other. They give the feeling that if motions of the human body would make sound, Nibbly's dancing would almost be quiet. You can see this the very best in the way he does the choreo for the "La la la la la, la" — especially in the proshot! Overall, there's an eerie sense to the fluidity of his movements, almost like he's a predator sneaking up on a prey.

Wiggly's sharp and precise as hell, but not in the same way as Blinky. While Blinky's a static and still kind of sharp, Wiggly's an eye-pulling and threatening kind of sharp. How sharply and precisely he's dancing here, that's how sharply and precisely he could snap your neck if he wanted to. Simply by looking at his dancing, you can tell that he's the leader, and that oh yeah, you're being threatened right now. (Another detail to note: in the move where they lean back and forth, putting their hands down and up, Wiggly's the only one who points his fingers downwards instead of upwards, once again mimicking his tentacles (another nother thing to note: his hands never leave the tentacle imitation, AKA Jon's index and middle finger are always stuck together)).

This has been a dancer's take on the Lords in Black's dancing during The Summoning, thanks for tuning in

[kamiversee]

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ F*CK THE LIST

✧.* CHAPTER 1 || Fuck How it Started

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A continued tale after Gojo Satoru's blackmailing seemed to have much more to it than meets the eye.

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ prequel, backstory, suggestiveness, language, mentions of alcohol, implications of dark themes, etc.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 4.8k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——DRUNK, DAZED, AND STUPID, was Gojo’s first impression of you. While you may not remember it in the slightest, his first time laying eyes on you was at a party during both of your freshman years of college.

You were with a group of friends— friends you no longer have today but, a big group of them nonetheless. The party was jumping with music and people were dancing all packed together like sardines. Above the loud music, there was a particular sound of laughter that made Gojo’s ears twitch.

Looking back on it, he doesn’t remember too much who he was with at the time but he does remember the very second his eyes met the source of such giggles. Everything was noisy and dizzying, vibrant and almost burry, and then… and then there was you.

It’s a bit cliche but, Gojo did pause his dancing when he found that you were the source of the single laugh that caught his ears outside of people talking and music baring. Again, you likely don’t remember it in the slightest but— your eyes met him and his eyes met yours moments after he’d turned to you.

There were maybe two or three people dancing in between you and him but he was tall and everything about you seemed to lull him in. You had the prettiest smile on your face and although your eyes were locked onto his, it was clear your attention was on your friends surrounding you.

Six seconds. For six seconds exactly did you and Gojo hold eye contact with one another in the middle of some random party. 

Nothing eventful happened between you and him that night.

You hadn’t attracted him or anything. Honestly, the only thing Gojo felt spark within his chest was pure and profound curiosity. Call him a moth and you the flame with the way you turned your head back toward your friends had him wanting to reach out to you. It was like his heart took a step forward before his brain or body— curiosity blooming at the most purest level.

Captivating, you were. And that’s at the very least of words that could be used to describe you. But, perhaps it was the few drinks he had in his system that night because Gojo only had that one little moment before his mind was drifting to other things.

—

Nameless, you remained nothing more than a distant light in the back of Gojo’s busy mind. After partying, he didn’t see you again.

Not later that night outside the venue, not anywhere in that crowd, absolutely nowhere. It was like you vanished. Not that he was going to try and approach you anyway… he had his eyes on other women at the time. Simply put, you were nothing more than a pretty face to him.

Maybe you’d blended in with the crowd that night because even when Gojo tries to recall that day now, all he can remember is the six seconds his eyes lingered on yours and how for six seconds it was like he saw a world in which everything made sense— all in the beautiful hazy gaze of some random drunk chick.

Which is, again, why you were titled as nothing more than a pretty face… at first.

Maybe a week or so later, he saw you again. This time around he’d walked past you on campus. Gojo didn’t even know you went to his damn school. After all, it’s not like that party he was at was anywhere nearby. It was damn there outside the city and yet, here you were walking right past him at his university.

He did a double take to confirm that you were, in fact, the woman he’d seen at that party a week ago. Gojo doesn’t think he’s always the best at remembering faces, especially when he’s drunk but, he’ll never forget that smile of yours. Considering how you were talking with a friend as you walked, there it was yet again, a pretty smile plastered across your face.

He batted his lashes a few times to see if you’d vanish again but this time you didn’t. Instead, you just got further and further away from him since you both were heading in opposite directions. Then, just as he shook his head and turned away, he missed the way your eyes glanced back in his direction— wondering why the hell he was staring at you.

To you, he was just another guy on campus just as you were just another pretty face. Neither of you had any reasons to ever cross paths. In your mind, that moment was the first time you ever saw Gojo.

And it’s bizarre too. The way he saw you at a party, has this fuzzy image of you imprinted in his brain despite labeling you as just another pretty girl, to the way you walked past him wondering if there was something on your face with how hard he’d been looking at you.

At the time, you didn’t even get a clear look at his face so all you saw was white hair and blue eyes, nothing more. So while Gojo knew of your beauty, you only knew of his hair and eye color.

For no reason should your life have been entangled in his and the same vice versa. You had your friends, Gojo had his. The most you knew of one another was that you went to the same university.

As such, fewer times did Gojo see you after that. During that first year, he may have spotted you once every month, and even then, he was always walking past you, or you were walking past him. Just some girl on campus— that’s all you were, nothing more.

Same thing applied the following two semesters. After that summer when he returned to campus, he spotted you on the first day. This time you were walking into one of the buildings, presumably on your way to class.

He didn’t know if you were living on campus or not, or what your major was, or why you’re the first girl he mentally acknowledged on that first day back in school, or even what your name was but— he knew it was you. That signature smile of yours wasn’t present but he was able to recognize you by your face by this point.

Although, you hadn’t reached his level of interest yet. You were still just some pretty face. And yeah, maybe he didn’t mind spotting said face on campus every now and then but that didn’t mean he was searching for you or had any desire to know who you are.

You were like a work of art in some museum for him to admire from afar. Never to be touched or spoken about, simply to be gazed upon and feel grateful to have seen.

The rest of that year went by almost the same as the one prior, still no connection or anything between you and Gojo. You and him remained strangers.

Up until that fated third year of college. Ah, looking back on it now, Gojo sometimes wonders if the entire thing was scripted or something. Because that set of two semesters went intriguingly different than the two prior.

For starters, you had finally started to do more than bring surges of curiosity to Gojo. It had nothing to do with you changing any sort of your appearance or bumping into you at any point in time but instead, it was because, within those two semesters, you met Shoko.

Now, Gojo doesn’t meet you officially until a year later but, that doesn’t mean you and Shoko meeting wasn’t a crucial point to how events played out going forward.

Right before you met Shoko, and this may be just a coincidence, Gojo had started to get himself together. His first two years of university were spent worrying about women and parties for the most part. But it was during his third year that he decided to structure himself a bit more.

Amid such structuring, the next time he saw you, he’d learned your name moments after. How? Because he saw you walking beside Shoko one day, smiling and giggling at whatever she was saying to you. It was similar to the party that he first saw you with the way his heart did that thing again— like a pull of gravity, yearning toward you to ground him somehow.

He didn’t know why, and maybe it was that laugh of yours, but either way— for the first time, Gojo wasn’t just curious, he was interested. But he didn’t quite understand his level of interest.

Before you or Shoko got close to him, he watched you give Shoko a hug and then wave bye to her before heading in a different direction. After this, Shoko approached Gojo and playfully punched him on the arm to catch his attention.

Looking down at her with an immediate pout, “The hell was that for?” Gojo whined.

Shoko was chuckling, raking a hand through her hair before shrugging, “Acted on an intrusive thought, sorry not sorry.”

“I think you just like hurting me..” Gojo huffed before turning away and seeing as Shoko takes his side to accompany him.

“Sometimes, yeah-“

“Who was that girl you were with just now?” Ah, Gojo Satoru’s first direct question about you. From here on out it was basically a rollercoaster.

Shoko scoffed a little at his question but she never really thought much of it, giving Gojo your name, telling him how the two of you had a class together, and a bit of backstory on your friendship with her, “She’s such a cutie too, I think you’d like her.”

A sound of a snort was heard, “Like her? I was just curious,” Gojo shrugged off her comment entirely.

“I meant like her as… a friend? Don’t get ahead of yourself now, she has a boyfriend,” When Shoko told him that he tried to ignore how weird he felt obtaining that information but, it may have done a little something to his ego.

And he’s not even sure why either. Of course you have a boyfriend, why wouldn’t you? Why’d he expect you to be single? Is it because he’s single? Was he self-projecting somehow…?

He had to shake his thoughts away seconds later because it was almost starting to consume him. He’d never even spoken to you before and yet his brain was already popping out questions like there was no tomorrow.

An understanding smile slipped onto Gojo’s face, “Right. Sorry, I just thought you were trying to say I should go out with her or somethin’.”

Shoko rolled her eyes at him, “Satoru, just because most women grovel for you, doesn’t mean I’m gonna encourage them to do so— especially not her. “

At that moment, Gojo couldn’t imagine his follow-up question would one day be answered in so many more ways than one, “What’s so special about her?”

“I like having her around thus far and based on the last ten friends I’ve brought to meet you,” Shoko took a little pause before laughing to herself, “You always end up fucking them or they end up having some big one-sided crush-“

“Hey hey, I’ve been working on myself, alright?” Gojo cut off, trying to show his shorter brown-haired friend that he’s not the same as he may have been a few months ago, “I’m not like that anymore.”

Shoko started nodding, “Ohhhh, so you’re ready to settle down with someone, huh?”

Gojo choked out a cough and masked it with a laugh, “I-I didn’t say that but, y’know… having a girlfriend would be nice. M’tired of just being seen as some fuck boy…”

“Then stop being a fuck boy-“

“I’m not! They approach me most times, not the other way around,” Gojo huffed before rolling his eyes. It seems his reputation had really taken place, “I just… happen to be good at acting like I know what I’m doing. And I’ve learned enough through trial and error. P-Plus I haven’t been with as many women as you think-“

“What about men then?” Shoko teased, turning to Gojo with a big shit-eating grin on her face, “Hmmm? Maybe Suguru-“

Gojo moved a hand to her forehead and started to push her away, “Go to class.”

She giggles, “I’m joking!” Shoko said, smacking his hand off of her, “But hey, if she wasn’t in a relationship and you’re serious about getting yourself together, then maybe I’d help the two of you.”

The image of your face popped right back into Gojo’s head and he swears he can hear your laugh all over again. Blurting out his thoughts, “Y’think we’d be a good couple?” Gojo hummed casually, eyes going wide seconds later at his own thoughts, “Hypothetically, of course.”

“Mmmmh… yeah, actually,” Shoko nodded, “She’s the kinda woman that leaves men fixed when she’s done with ‘em.”

Gojo’s lashes bat as his curiosity only surges, “What does that mean?”

Shoko snorts, her voice sounding like she was in awe, “Like, she’ll get with a shitty guy but by the time their relationship ends, he’s tolerable and maybe even likable.”

“So she fixes men?”

“I mean, based on what she told me about her last four exes, I don’t think she realizes it but, yes,” Why would this information be of any importance to Gojo? He’s not too sure himself at the time but no one could’ve known that such an observation on you would come back around later.

“Hm,” Gojo hummed in response, “...And you’ve only been friends with this chick for how long again?”

Shoko lit up at the opportunity to boast about how the two of you met, “Ouuu, funny story! So, this past summer I actually met her at this party. We hung out for no longer than five minutes but when the semester started and I walked into class and saw her… We were basically besties already.”

“Cute,” Gojo commented simply. It was another thing he told himself he wouldn’t pay much attention to.

And as such, their conversation about you basically ended there.

—

While that was enough of talking about you, it was merely the begging of Gojo’s thoughts on you. The first trickle of rain before a storm, the initial rumble in the sky prior to overwhelming thunder, the warning wave before a tsunami— call it what you wish, this was only the beginning.

It had to be a coincidence how often Gojo began to see you around campus after that. After two years of only seeing you like once a month, of course it’s weird that he spots you on campus at least three times a week now. And it’s even weirder how he spots you, something a bit more different in comparison to merely seeing you.

Before it was like your face would just pop out amid a crowd and he’d take that as his monthly sighting of you but then it became more so of Gojo almost searching for you as he wandered through campus.

It was like how once someone develops a crush on someone they start to see them literally everywhere despite only seeing them a few times before developing feelings. Except, Gojo didn’t have a crush on you, he was just interested in you. 

So interested that he eventually started writing things down about you in this journal he kept. Now, he’d had this little journal since he was in high school. Stories about him, Shoko, and Geto are all written down in this personal little journal of his. It’s his item of comfort whenever the thoughts in his head become too much.

And in regards to you, the thought of you had gotten to that point. The first few entries were rather innocent— notes of the first time he saw you, his thoughts of you during that time to notes of what Shoko told him about you. This wasn’t an unusual entry into his journal either, he had stuff about other people in there too just so he didn’t forget some things.

Even for his past relationships, he still had poorly scribbled out notes on things his partners had told him so that he could keep up with it. The entire thing was really innocent, just notes Gojo liked to keep on events and people for fun. Journaling was almost a hobby for him. It wasn’t like he was writing full-page stories on his life, he’d just go through a day and come home and find comfort in summarizing his day a bit, especially if something eventful happened.

Said journal was separated by chapters, almost like a little book that he could go back through and read if he wanted to, each chapter was characterized by person or specific era of his life. He had a very lengthy section about Geto, which makes perfect sense since that’s his best friend. Then there were sections for different school years and some other important things in his life.

Either way, he kept everything in this journal. And the moment your name was written into it, he should’ve known things would be different after that. Because then you became someone he was thinking about more than he cared to admit. Gojo had curated this entire personality and idea of you in his head simply based on whenever he saw you or whenever Shoko talked about you.

Until eventually, Gojo realized he had a bit of a crush on you. Now, it may sound a bit bizarre for him to develop such an infatuation with someone he’d never formally spoken to but, what can he say? The heart wanted what the heart wanted and his brain sure as hell had no will to protest against such feelings. 

The first time Gojo mentions you to Geto, it was after he’d seen you walking toward the dining hall with some friend of yours. Call Gojo crazy but he’d even started to notice how your friend group got significantly smaller in comparison to the first time he ever saw you.

That aside, “There’s this girl,” Was the first thing Gojo told his best friend, and roommate, “She’s like… really… intriguing,” He managed out slowly. He could never put the right words to what it was about you but he tried his best.

“Intriguing? Did you talk to her?” Geto was quick to quiz his white-haired bestie on the mention of a woman. Before you, the most Gojo would tell him about the women he encountered was how he ‘fucked them stupid’ or how he had to ‘reject another one’.

Geto hadn’t heard Gojo bring up a woman in this manner since highschool so he knew from then that you were different. “Uh, not exactly,” Gojo replied to his friend, “I mean, I’ve talked about her.”

“To who?” Geto quizzed. Again, this was his first time hearing of such a woman so who did Gojo talk to you about? “This is my first time hearing about her…” He moved to scratch the back of his neck slightly, voice a bit low in a hum as it was apparent he preferred to know things before anyone else.

“Shoko,” Gojo says, and Geto’s face lights back up again as if he never had anything to worry about, “She’s one of her friends.”

Geto lets out a sigh and nods, “Ohhh, I see. Okay, so…” His eyes narrow on his friend before he tilts his head, “What’s so intriguing about her?”

“She has a really pretty laugh,” The words leave Gojo immediately, every time he’s heard the sound he swore he was being sent into another field of feelings. Your laugh made him happy and he’d never experienced that before. It was new and he liked it.

“She has a really-,” Geto cut himself off with a chuckle, “Satoru, you’re interested in a woman because of her laugh?”

Gojo nodded like it was no big deal, “Yeah?”

His best friend shrugs it off at first before pausing, recalling something similarly odd that Gojo’s told him before, “Wait, is this that same girl you talked about a few years back?” Geto asked.

“Huh?”

Running a hand through his raven locks of hair, Geto blinked at his friend’s confusion, “The one you said whose laugh you heard over music that one time.”

Damn, Gojo didn’t even remember telling him that— he must’ve been drunk out of his mind after that party…

“Uh, yeah, actually,” Gojo starts smiling a little as he recalls the moment, “Yes she is.”

Geto stares, “She goes here?”

“No shit.”

“So, what,” He scoffs, “You like her or something?”

And here was where the denial began. Right when Gojo sheepishly looks off to the side and shakes his head, “No.”

Geto leans a bit closer to his friend, searching for answers through a skeptical look, “Thennn why’re you telling me about her-”

“I don’t know man,” Gojo blurts out, “She’s just in my head.”

“You like her,” Geto says flatly.

Gojo couldn’t understand such a thing at first, “I can’t like someone I’ve never spoken to before.”

“You can,” His friend argues, “Just go talk to her if that’s the case.”

“I can’t.”

“And why not?”

The recollection of the following fact had Gojo frowning a little, “She has a boyfriend.”

Geto chuckles and his voice gets playful, “So? Who c-“

“Suguru,” Gojo grumbled, sending his bestie a look of disapproval.

“I’m joking, I’m joking…” He sighed, “But that doesn’t mean you can’t be friends with her.”

Gojo rolled his eyes, “I’d have ulterior motives.”

“She doesn’t have to know about those motives, it’s called playing the long game.”

“Yeah no, I’m not gonna go get involved with a woman I like and can never have,” Gojo said, seeming to stand firm on such a statement, “What do I look like to you?”

“Hey, ‘never’ is a bit of a stretch,” Geto points out, “How long have she and her boyfriend been dating? Do you know?”

“Uh, I think Shoko said a few months.”

Geto deadpans, “And you think they’ll stay together forever?”

Gojo shrugged, “Well, no but-”

“So go be friends with her and wait,” Wonderful advice was given at that moment but, no one knew how things would play out later on.

It was at that very moment that Gojo should’ve listened to his best friend. Maybe things would’ve been entirely different now. But alas, Gojo refused to do that. He couldn’t imagine himself going as far as getting to know you and only developing his feelings for you further just to wait for you to break up with your boyfriend.

Why would he ever do such a thing? Call him selfish for it, he didn’t care, if he was going to talk to you, he was going to do so with the intention of making you his girlfriend.

Although now, it’s humorous, really. The way Gojo told himself he’d never get involved with you if he knew he couldn’t have you in the end— how hilarious considering the way things work out further down along the timeline…

But during that time, Gojo never thought to think that far ahead. He didn’t think you’d ever break up with your boyfriend, he assumed he’d move on and crush on some other woman, and he didn’t expect for his heart to drive him to lengths that may not be considered morally correct…

Maybe he should’ve never asked Shoko about you. Or maybe he should’ve silenced the blooming thoughts in his head about you. How did you go from just a pretty face to the only pretty face he could think about?

It was like after talking to Shoko and Geto about you, you were everywhere. On campus, off campus, it didn’t matter— Gojo would spot you so often that he wondered if you had something to do with all the coincidental appearances. But, seeing as you hardly noticed he was in the same area as you, that couldn’t have been the case.

Perhaps it was fate. Fate that willed the two of you to be in the same area nearly every other day. The only place Gojo started to see you less at was parties. To which he found odd, you used to go to them all the time…

It’s thoughts and realizations like that as to why Gojo starts to go down this semi-dark path. It was like you plagued his mind, even in class all he could think about was the next time he was going to see you. When he’d get home, the first thing he started writing in his journal was entries about you— things you wore that day, whether or not you were smiling, how he wished he could talk to you and see how easy or difficult it is to make you laugh.

God, thinking about you was torture. Gojo couldn’t understand it one bit. Sure, you were 100% his type and he’d always found you attractive but it should’ve stopped there. Yet with Shoko telling him how kind you are, how you took over on most projects they had together, how great of a person you were, his situation wasn’t getting any better.

Imagine liking someone just based on their appearance and laugh only to later find out that they’re an amazing person on top of that. That’s what it was like for Gojo. It wasn’t enough that you were physically stunning in his eyes, of course you turned out to have such a pure heart.

A heart in which he never wanted to corrupt. And as if fate was watching over his life— it was only pitiful how his wishes fired back on him. Instead of you with the corrupted heart, it became himself. Gojo spent the school year falling and falling for you while never speaking a single word to you.

By the end of the second semester, he thought he was going crazy. And hell, maybe he was…

Because the upcoming summer was his punishment for his craziness. Though, it wasn’t fate this time. Instead, punishment came in the form of a person-, a monster, really. Showing up and discovering shit when least expected, curating such elaborate schemes that no regular being would.

And for what exactly? Gojo never finds out. But you, with you being the focal point of this entire plotline, you soon learn how unaware you’ve been of things and people throughout college. How many guys were interested in you, watched you, knew you before you knew them. Hell, Gojo is the first and most prime example.

After all, despite shit hitting the fan during the summer for him, you’d only met Gojo at the start of your senior year of college. And the list took place a while after that. But as for all that took place before the list…

You were completely clueless.

mlist || next

tags 1/4; @lavnederr @stopmila @chelsea14 @hillmiaxoxo @choso-enthusiast

@chososdisciple @suguruologist @mitzkooni @annananamin @jakeywon

@thvema @uranometrias @gigiipeaches @isawrd @bored--boring

@soonyoung-park @oidloid @you-make-skz-stay @haesify @paintedcans

@deljojeisbackagain @heeheeswifey @s-kateboardcat @kaalyomi @rilxigh

@win2xsgf @diana4l @angelsleepinggurl @aselvaticotaku @livvyluvsyouu

@tadabzzzbee @buglikeangell @sukunadckrider @todod0kii @mua-for-now

@dazaiswaifuartisan @bee3l0v3r @blkpotionss @cranberrycosmos @cawwotta

@chosomi @gentle-roxyboo @teonawrites @interludered @wannabeotaku

@earthytreeswithc @tapinz @attackonjacksons @hovogliadisogni @hoebuns

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Shut Up and Kiss Me | Jeon Jungkook | Epilogue

Summary: Jungkook let's you work on his second single 3D but although he's singing this to girls all over he reminds you that you're the only one he wants Pairing: Backup Dancer Reader x Idol Jungkook (f2l they're honestly crackheads I love them) Word Count: 4.7K~ (barely edited per usual lmao) Warnings: Explicit language and smuuttt (he's so hot ya'll I can't) a/n: Kay this took me ling enough to get out but I figured it was about time since the main story hit 1K notes!!! Like what??? Ya'll are actually insane! Thank you so much and I hope you like the epilogue as much as you liked the first part 🫣 p.s. This takes place partially during the 3D dance practice video so yeah I hope ya'll enjoy 🥰 Be sure to read Shut Up and Kiss Me first 💜

"Alright guys go ahead and take a break. Jungkook can you come here for a second?" the choreographer calls out.

"Y/n" Nari whispers, right in my ear scaring me half to death making me place my hand over my heart to ground myself. "Don't do that!" I whisper scream at her. "Not my fault you're staring girly I said your name like three times" she teases and I scoff before walking over to grab my water bottle.

"Am I not allowed to stare at my boyfriend?" I say cocking a brow at her after taking a drink of water. "You are but you also have to remember that your boyfriend is Jungkook and not everyone here knows that" she says, scolding me and bringing me back to reality.

"Hey" Jungkook says, jogging up to us. "What did he want?" I ask, nodding my head towards the head choreographer for this song. "Well..." he says rubbing the back of his neck. "Well what?" I ask, scared that theres something wrong.

"Well they wanted to tell me everyone is doing a great job and the formations are solid but..." he trails off again. "Jeon Jungkook if you trail off like that one more time I'm gonna have a heart attack now tell me what's wrong?" I scold, waiting for his answer.

"They said that we had good chemistry while we were dancing together" he starts off and I let out a breath, glad that it wasn't something major. "But maybe too much chemistry. They think it looks obvious that we're dating with the way we're interacting with each other verses the rest of the dancers" he says and grabs my water bottle out of my hand and starts chugging it nervously.

"Really?" I cringe, loving the fact that we show clear chemistry but also hating the fact that I haven't blended in like a background dancer should. "Yeah they kinda just told me to tone it down and asked me to tell you the same" he says, handing me my now empty water bottle, cringing as well at the notes that they had given.

"Well alright then I guess I'll try my best" I say, shaking my arms and legs real quick to physically shake off the pressure I had felt growing. "Yeah I will too" he says, nodding his head and smiling at my actions.

"What are you smiling at?" I ask, eyes narrowing, a playful scowl written all over my face. "You look cute when you're nervous" he compliments with a crooked smile and I roll my eyes, scoffing at his words.

Once I hear the choreographer call out to everyone to come back and I start to make my way over Jungkook grabs me by my wrist and pulls me back towards him making me fall on his chest. "What are yo-" I start but he kisses me right on the lips and dips me real quick causing all the dancers to gasp and cheer us on.

"Alright you two that's enough" the choreographer scold and Jungkook breaks the kiss and steadies me on my feet again. I take a deep breath, my breath literally being taken away from how sudden that was and how embarrassed I am on top of it.

He rests his forehead on mine and lets out a dry chuckle before I wack him on the bicep which happens to be on full display today with his white muscle shirt on. "Why did you do that?" I whisper scream to him, looking around at all the eyes that have started to trickle away from us and listen to the instructions for the next run through.

"Just because he said we couldn't show too much chemistry while we're dancing doesn't mean that we can't do it while we're not" he smirk, placing a kiss on the back of my hand before running over to the group that's gathered in the middle of the practice room.

I shake my head at him and make my way over on my own, wiping my lips to take away his messy saliva he left on them and when he sees me do so he pouts a bit before looking turning his attention to where it once was.

"What just happened?" Nari whispers when I walk up next to her. "Don't look at me, Jungkook did it. He said something about they said we were showing too much chemistry while dancing but we can when we're not. I don't know something like that" I mumble and she nods her head and goes quiet for a second to listen but breaks her silence again.

"You know all of us had to sign new NDAs today right?" she says and I turn to look at her, my brows scrunched together in confusion. "Really? But why didn't I have to?" I question and she laughs at the same time that the choreographer tells us to get in starting position.

"We signed them so that they made sure we would keep our mouths shut about you two" she winks and the two of us and two other of the girls line up behind Jungkook to get in formation, waiting for the music to start.

"You're kidding me right?" I whisper and she shakes her head, "Your name was on it and everything. They even highlighted it since you guys are the newest idol couple. Well a couple that includes an idol" she says, clarifying her wording unnecessarily.

"Okay I get it I get it" I say, and cover my face with both of my hands in embarrassment. No wonder everyone had been giving me weird looks today.

As Jungkook's voice blares through the speakers Nari and I compose ourselves and wait for our parts.

"I can't touch you through the phone" Jungkook starts, getting into his idol mindset and I get weak in the knees like I always do but take a deep breath and remember to maintain chemistry with him but not too much...

"When there's two dimensions..." he says and our eyes lock when we step into each other. 'He's so fucking hot' is the only thing I can process, my body on autopilot, following muscle memory and willing myself to stop thinking about him.

"So if you're ready, and if you let me" 'Trust me I've let him' I think, my mind wandering to the places I've let him- "See it, in motion, in 3D" he sings, his voice going in and out of my head as I follow the steps along with everyone else.

'Okay why don't I just focus on the other dancers? Yeah make sure our formations look well and our moves are in sync' I think to myself and go along with that.

"Body to body to body to body to body" comes through next and I push on his right shoulder while one of the others girls pushes on his left and I look at the way he's grabbing onto him, definitely a lot harder than she needs to me and I annoyingly take note of it.

"You give me brand new emotion, you got me drinkin' that potion" he says and I hold onto his shoulder while we all do this hip thrust thing. I don't know what the choreographer was thinking when he gave the girls this kind of a move but alright. Being next to him and holding onto his while he does it tho is um...well let's just say the flashbacks are a lot more vivid this time.

"I just wanna see you like that see you like that..." 'God I swear why did I start focusing on the other dancers? Now all I can think about are the girls and everything that goes along with this song and how Jungkook's voice and music dictates our every movement.

"'Cause you know how I like it girl" 'Yes Jungkook, I know how you like it, and you know how I like it. When is this song gonna be over? This is honestly some sick form of torture at this point. You know what, lemme just look at the staff, yeah the staff will be more or less harmless right?'.

When I look towards the staff though my eye catch Jungkook's in the mirror behind them and it takes everything in me to not stop dead in my tracks.

The look in his eyes is mesmerizing, promises of things we would never say aloud hidden behind that fiery stare and it brings me some form of comfort, knowing that although he's singing this song to women through out the world and with female dancers around him, I'm the only one he's got his eyes on. The one he's singing his song to.

I wonder if the reason he chose this song was because these might've been some of his thoughts and feeling for me when we weren't living in the same city, or weren't even on the same continent. Why do I have to keep on having these thoughts? I swear I'm just digging myself deeper.

"I had one girl, too boring" I hear Jack's voice come through and I roll my eyes, chancing a glare at Jungkook and I see him wince, remembering the scolding I gave him when he showed me the song for the first time.

"Am I not enough for you? Too boring?" I fumed. It was on a day when I had been feeling a little insecure to begin with and when he told me he had another song I had been excited to listen because he was excited to show me.

"Baby that Jack's verse, I swear I don't feel like that! You know I've loved you since I was little! I promise!" he pleads and I just end up giving him the silent treatment for the rest of the night but I let him cling to me and he apologized over and over again.

"We already asked him to rewrite his lyrics a few times and I felt bad asking him again" he says, placing his chin on my shoulder and arms wrapped around my waist, being positively attached to my hip.

I turn around to face him, still with his arms wrapped around my waist to make sure he's being honest with me.

"You sure you don't mean that?" I say, glaring up at him and he nods, the poutiest lips and the saddest doe eyes I've ever seen are granted to me along with his response. "Okay" I say, cupping his face and he closes his eyes leaning into my touch before I tap him twice on the cheek.

"Hey" he whines, scrunching his brows together, a new flavor of a pout on his face. "Just make sure that any more features you have on this album young man have to do with monogamy, you got that?" I say pointedly and he nods his head up and down violently.

"I promise! I'll make sure to tell the producers" he says and I hum in response, loving his panicked response. "Why couldn't his verse have been like Latto's?" I groan and try to walk away from him but he pulls me back.

"And what might you mean by that princess?" he says, taking on a whole new demeanor knowing exactly what I mean based off the explicit lyrics. "How they more or less kinda sorta are based off of a true story" I mumble, looking down at where he's pressed our bodies together and dying to get rid of these clothes already.

"Yeah? Which part? Maybe I should make sure it's completely based off of a true story hm?" he says, his hands slowly trailing his hands down from my waist grab my ass, pulling me even closer if possible.

I lean my head against his chest getting shy at the thought that he's keep his promise and he laughs at the cute gesture mixed with the explicit words that garnered this reaction.

"Is my girl getting embarrassed?" he taunts, placing a kiss on top of my head but still making no moves to take his hands off my ass. I whine and he laughs again and lets up, leaning back to try and catch my gaze.

"You know I love you right?" he asks and I hide my face even more, making sure he can't see how red it's gotten. I nod my head and mumble out a muffled 'love you too' but he's not satisfied by my answer and starts walking us backwards, the back of my knees hit the couch and as a result has me not so gracefully falling onto it.

"Since you're too embarrassed to say that you love me it guess I'll just have to make you scream it instead" he says leaving me biting my lip, my heart rate skyrocketing when he comes closer...

'So if you're ready, and if you let me, I wanna see it in motion in 3D' blares through the speaker one last time at the end of the song, all of the dancers going on with the choreography and Jungkook looking back at us, at me and he knows what's on my mind and smirks through the lyrics and I know I'm an absolute goner once we're alone together.

Why do all of these songs have to be so sexual? Every single time we're done with practice or he finishes up his own rehearsals it seems as though he can't wait to be alone with me. Not that I'm complaining but how can one man contain this much stamina.

When Latto said 'Seven days a week, Seven different sheets, Seven different angles I can be your fantasy' she really hit it right on the head.

'You know how I like it girl, 3D' finally closes out the song and everyone stops, panting in effort to catch our breaths can be heard throughout the room and a few of us dramatically fall to the floor in an effort to ground ourselves, including Jungkook.

"Alright everyone that's a wrap. We'll see you guys bright and early Monday morning with one last rehearsal before we fly out to film the music video. Thank you very much and get some rest because we've got a long week ahead of us" the choreographer says and we all clap for each other and get ready to grab our stuff to go.

Jungkook comes over and gives me a hand to help me up and I take it right away, not even having to put in any effort with him putting in all the work to get me back on my feet. "You done for the day?" I ask, seeing that look in his eye, knowing exactly what's bound to happen and as soon as he's about to open his mouth one of the staff members calls him over again.

"Meet me in my studio, this shouldn't take long" he whispers in my ear leaving me shuddering as he leaves me, not giving me even a second to answer before he's jogging over to said staff.

"I was gonna ask if you wanted to go home together but it looks like you've got other plans" Nari says, scaring me again for what is it the third time today? I look at her and she knows the answer already, rolling her eyes and placing a hand on my shoulder.

"Just don't get pregnant" she says, louder than I'd care to admit. "Nari!" I scold and she laughs, causing our little conversation to catch Jungkook's eye, granting me a wink in response but quickly switching back to a more professional demeanor.

"I'll see you later" she sings and I groan before picking up my dance bag and heading towards the locker rooms to shower. I'm thankful that they have these for us because I would hate to have to deal with being disgustingly sweaty just waiting for him to come back.

~~~~~

Once I finish up I make my way to Jungkook's studio where I see him sitting at his desk, hair still dripping a bit while he towel dries it a bit more.

"Thought I told you to wait here for me" he teases, draping the small towel around his neck before getting up to walk towards me, placing a hand on my waist and pulling me in to kiss him. I hum into the kiss, loving moments like these where we can openly be ourselves again.

"Didn't know how long they were gonna keep you so I took my time in there" referring to said shower and he kisses me again before taking my bag off my shoulder and throwing his towel in the little laundry basket by the door.

"Looks like you're gonna need another one soon though" he says, turning around and stalking towards me leaving me walking backwards until I stupidly back into his desk. "Is that a threat?" I ask, taking us back to that morning after.

"Thought by now you would know that I always keep my promises" he says and places his hand on my jaw, putting me at just the right angle to kiss me.

He starts slow, full of the longing and desire he had shown me when he was looking at me through that mirror and deepening the kiss, making me fall further and further into him.

Trailing my hands up his chest I bring them up to wrap my arm around his neck, trapping him against my lips while I use the other to run my fingers through his hair, making my nails drag along his scalp and pull at his locks just how he likes it leaving him groaning into the kiss.

"Tell me what you were thinking about during rehearsal" he says, pulling away from my lips before kissing me one last time and the trailing his lips down my neck. "I wasn't thinking about anything" I gasp when he bites down on my collarbone in response.

"Don't lie to me, I saw the way your eyes glossed over and how flustered you got when I finally caught your eye. Baby was having flashbacks wasn't she?" he teases, trailing his hands under the shirt I'm wearing which happens to be his.

I whimper when his hands cup my breasts, the warmth of his skin seeping through the pitiful excuse for a bra and he pinches one of my nipples as a punishment for not telling him the truth.

"I was thinking about you" I gasp, feeling him smiling against my skin before leaning back and pulling up my shirt a little, waiting for me to give him the go ahead by lifting up my arms which I do right away, used to having done this time and time again in his studio.

"Care to elaborate?" he asks cocking a brow at me, leaving me rubbing my thighs together giving him clear answers as to what I had been thinking of.

"Remembering that you know how I like it? Perhaps the champagne confetti you know you give me every time? Rain rain rain you can't fake it?" he says, trailing his hand down and pressing a finger against my center, already feeling how wet I am for him.

"Seems like she's already soaking wet isn't she" he says, trailing his hand up towards the drawstring on my sweats and tugging them as a plea to take them off. I hop off the desk and he immediately helps me out of them, smiling at the small wet stain that's been left on them before setting me up on his desk again, totally bare with only my bra on which is new and incredibly sheer him having just noticed since it's the last thing that's keeping me from being fully exposed.

I bring hands to my back to unclasp it but he tells me to leave it on. "It looks so pretty on you. Wanna fuck you in it" he growls into my ear before leaning back and ridding himself of his clothing and smashing his lips up against mine, having become even more needy if possible while scanning my body and taking off his clothes.

"Been thinking about this all day. Wish I could fuck you in here all the time. Can't even work properly in here. Just thinking about how I've fucked you everywhere in this room" he says, driving me to insanity while he drags his dick up and down my slit, making me dizzy from the stimulating but needing more to satiate this hunger he's built up in me.

"Jungkook please, do something" I plead, remembering the fact that this room is soundproof meaning I can be as loud as I want in here which is another reason why he loves having sex in here. He tells me he that sometimes he wishes it wasn't though. Says he wants the whole company to know how he makes good on his word and is fucking me right.

"Needy little thing now aren't you" he says, holding back his need to be buried balls deep in me in favor of making me beg some more. I scoot my hips forward and pull him closer in an effort to do it myself but he gives me absolutely no power over the situation.

"Gotta stretch you out" he mumbles against my lips and replaces his dick with his fingers, dragging it along my folds to get some of my slick on it to make it easier to slide in and after playing why clit a little and gaining breathy whimpers from me in response he slides a finger in, drawing circles along my clit in an effort to help me relax.

He does a quick job of it but makes sure to be gentle nonetheless while prepping me for him, needing to me inside me now. As a result he's soon pulling his fingers out of me and placing them in my mouth, distracting me from the fact that seconds later he's pushing into me, leaving me moaning around his fingers.

When I bite down on them from the surprise of him putting it in he hisses from feeling my walls clench around him along with the pain from the bite.

He pulls his fingers out of my mouth and places both hands on my hips and pull me towards him, slamming the rest of his length inside of me leaving me arching my back and choking out a sob.

He snaps his hips into me over and over again at a fast pace he only settles for in times where he's extremely needy or feeling a need to remind me of who I belong to. The first being the case for this situation.

"Shouldn't have let you work on this project" he grunts while his hands grip my hips even harder, dimpling my skin, bound to leave marks tomorrow.

"Drives me fucking insane seeing you move like that, you know that? Makes it so hard for me to not pop a boner right then and there. Fuck how did I get so lucky?" he growls in my ear, leaving me drowning in the sound of his voice, hearing all the thoughts he's been having this whole time.

"You're lucky I took a chance on the loner" I slur out leaving him slowing his pace so he could look at me properly. "Loner huh?" he smirks and I nod, smirking right back at him. He rolls his eyes and picks up the pace again, leaving me giggling at his reaction but soon I'm moaning his name with ever snap of his hips, all my coherent thought long gone when I'm close to tipping over.

"You've got a smart mouth on you today huh? Just begging to get ruined like always, my girl is never satisfied until she's begging for me to stop. Telling me it's too much. You're so fucking adorable when you cry like that. Fuck I wish I cou-" "Shut Up" I choke out, cutting him off by smashing my lips against his, not being able to handle his dirty mouth anymore.

Although I know it's almost impossible for someone to hear us I can't help but want to muffle my moans with his mouth when I cum, making his swallow all of them as his hips stutter and my orgasm triggers him leaving his slowing down, changing his pace to one that more lazy but just as deep, fucking us both through our highs before he pulls out making me whine as the loss of contact.

Maybe I am insatiable, maybe I'm completely lost in him. Not just because of who he is or what he does to me but just because he's him. Someone that I want to spend my life with and although I've felt like that for a long time I'm sure the freshly fucked mindset I have right now is the reason these feelings have come to the front again. 

He rests his forehead against mine and focuses on cleaning me up with a clean towel he had somehow gotten when I was lost in a daze and walks away, cleaning himself up quickly and throwing some sweats on.  

Once he's done and throws yet another towel in the basket he walks back over to me and kisses me. Over and over and over again whispering sweet nothings between every kiss and I swear I could never ask for someone more perfect in my entire life. 

"You okay?" he asks, pulling me off the desk and holding onto my hips, keeping me on my feet when my knees buckle once I make contact with the floor. "Yeah I'm, yeah I'm fine" I say, embarrassed by stumbling even though for the most part I always end up like this after we fuck. 

"Did a number on you huh?" he smirks, guiding me over to the couch to rest after having helped me into thankfully another fresh change of clothes I had in my dance bag with me. "Shut up" I grumble and flop down onto it, laying down and he chuckles before laying down and putting his full weight on top of me. 

I groan and hit him on the shoulders, hoping to get him off of me but he just laughs in response. "I swear you're trying to kill me" I say through labored breaths, but he thankfully alters his position so he's still on top of me but distributes some of his weight elsewhere. 

"No, I just love you that's all" he says, propping his chin on my chest and looking at me as if I hung the stars for him. "I love you too weirdo" I say, ruffling his hair when he pouts at me words, feigning offense.

 "First I'm a loner and now I'm a weirdo? You hurt me with your words" he whines, placing his hands on his chest right over where his heart is. "You are a weirdo" I say, sitting back up and cupping his face turning it towards me. "But you're my weirdo" I whisper, placing my forehead against his and rubbing my nose up against his, giving him eskimo kisses. 

"We need to get home" he says standing up and grabbing my hand to hoist me up as well. "Wait, why?" I ask, questioning his urgency and also getting a fluttering feeling when he call his place home as if we lived there together. 

"You're too cute to fuck just once today and I wanna spoil you" he says, kissing me and making me lose myself in him again. When he pulls away I laugh as I watch him clean up everything and grab both of our bags to carry out and when I try to reach to take mine from him he refuses. 

"Least I can do for my girl after that champagne confetti is carry her bag" he teases and drags me out of the studio before I'm able to scold him properly. "Jeon Jungkook you better watch yourself" I growl and he laughs, thoroughly pleased with himself. 

"I'd rather see you, in motion, in 3D" he says pulling me into the elevator and pressing G for garage while I push him against the wall once the doors close. "Feisty are we? Thought I took care of that back there" he taunts. 

"Just shut up and kiss me" I mumble against his lips and he switches roles, turning me around and pressing me against it instead. "You're gonna get yourself into trouble you know that?" he says between kisses, gripping onto my hips and pulling them flush up against his, showing me how hard he still is. 

"I counting on it" I say and we laugh before he kisses me breathless, the elevator taking us, down down down, each moment bringing us closer to my demise. Knowing tonight will leave me completely shattered, but luckily I've got him to pick up the pieces.

The End

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[tadpolesonalgae]

‘Having a softhearted partner’— headcanons/drabbles

a/n: @azrielhours yes I’m ashamed, appalled, and guilt-stricken at how humiliatingly long this took to write, but I also know you’re a kind soul so I’m banking on you not being perturbed or utterly furious with how late this is. (I’m hoping I can win some sentimental points here) 

I tried my best but I’m still not sure I really understand the concept of being softhearted, or a lover girl, but these are my fumbling attempts. I hope you enjoy them <3

warnings: Young adult batboys; surprise Elain appearance

Rhysand: Love Story

His fingers stutter, fumbling for a second as they catch on the lace at your back, but he swiftly liberates himself, easing in a steadying breath before sweeping you into the gentle waltz. You follow him effortlessly, familiar with the slow, patterned movements as feet step in time with one another, the skirts of your dress brushing against his finely tailored trousers. 

“Nervous?” You ask softly, gaze glancing shyly about the great hall, anxious of the other bodies swishing and swaying, their pathways interleaving with your own as you begin the slow rotation of the dance floor. 

“What is there to be nervous about?” Rhys replies, voice a touch fainter than a few moments ago when he’d invited you to dance with a hint of colour to his cheeks, subtly clearing the hoarseness from his throat. “I’ve grown up in this environment—I have nothing to be nervous about.” He swallows, glancing down at your slighter frame, keeping the tremble from his fingertips as they curve around your waist. “Are you nervous?” 

You flush, averting your gaze for a moment before returning your attention to him, head dipped a little. “Rather,” you answer quietly, “you aren’t thinking about what might happen if you misstep? Or bump into another set of partners?” He blinks, features pausing in consideration before surmising his thoughts. “You’ve nothing to be nervous about. I’ll guide you correctly,” he assures, then, swallowing, adds a little softer, with that previous colour returning to his cheeks, “you look lovely, by the way.” 

A smile curves your lips, unsure where to look as warmth rises to your skin, almost certain he’ll be able to feel it from your proximity. “Thank you,” you reply, head still dipped, “I’m fairly certain my mother orchestrated the making of this dress so its details would blend more seamlessly with your own. So I suppose if you think I look pleasing, it’s thanks to your own fine tastes.” 

Carefully, he spins you beneath his arm, allowing you to twirl on your feet before gently pulling back to his chest, perhaps a little more firmly than would have been polite, but neither of you complain when it results in your proximity—his arms settling more securely around your waist, while you keep your hands splayed across the broad width of his shoulders.

“I forget how you excel at flattery,” he says in a hushed voice, unable to entirely help the way he lightly squeezes your waist as you turn. “Though do not mistake that for criticism—I quite enjoy receiving your compliments,” he adds, at last managing to pull that smile to his mouth that he knows has a charming effect on most women. He would very much like you to be included in that grouping. 

Warmth dances in your eyes and his breath hitches, having not anticipated the effect your own smile might have on him under the circumstances, acutely aware of the lightness of your step, trusting him to guide you right; the easy curve of your lips, content to openly enjoy his company. 

He swallows again, clearing his throat, but you speak before he has the chance to. 

“I was thinking,” you begin quietly, steadying your breaths as you glance up at him, “you’ve never visited our gardens during the summer, have you?” Rhys allows himself the space of a blink to recover, before nodding in confirmation, heart beating a little faster in his chest as he wonders at the direction of your speech. 

“Well, I was thinking, if your father is also okay with it, it might be nice for you to…visit. For a few weeks, or so. Not only could you see the gardens in bloom, but, as you know by now, the settlements surrounding our estate are occupied almost entirely by faeries. If your father might require persuasion, it would be a chance for you to also become more acquainted with the people who you will rule over, some day.” 

Rhys regards you quietly, his pulse increasing as he hears the invitation—spending a summer in your company would be nothing short of heaven. If he would be able to convince his father of his absence for that long. Maybe with the help of his mother, he might be able to escape to your estate for the weeks you suggested, temporarily freed from monotonous lectures with his sister and tiring training with his brothers. Lay with you in summery gardens, beneath blue skies and dappled shade, hidden beneath the lemon tree’s shadow you’ve told him so much about, it being a precious spot during your childhood that you’d kept to. 

He manages a nod, eyes softening further as he gazes upon you, soaking in the warm embrace you’re both wrapped in through the waltz. “I couldn’t imagine a more pleasant summer,” he replies, honestly, and your returning smile has his pulse fluttering unevenly. 

Yes, he will find a way to visit over the summer, even if it’s only for a fortnight. He’s already finding himself looking forward to it. 

Cassian: Fresh out the Slammer 

Your heart hitches as his deep laugh rumbles from the other side of the inn, one of the few set up in the relatively small war camp of Windhaven. Due to it being on the outskirts of Illyria, inns and trading stations are less frequently spotted, meaning they’re often more full too, with less choice for inhabitants of the camp to pick from. 

Turning to glance over to him, your heart drops when you see who he’s laughing with—he knows you and the other female don’t get along well. None of it has ever been so foolishly spoken directly, but she’s had more than a couple of unkind things to say about you, more than a few less-than-friendly looks sent your way and malicious whispers being passed between her and her companion’s mouths. 

He knows this—so why? 

“Something bothering you, sweetheart?” 

You blink away the habitual discomfort at hearing that name from a voice that doesn’t belong to Cassian. Attention returning to the male before you, you try to offer a believable smile, but their proximity is replaying in your mind—are you overreacting? You must be. He knows about that female, there’s no reason for him to be speaking with her. 

Glancing back helplessly, a spike of hurt pincers in your chest as you watch her slide her palm over the muscle of his forearm, and he leans closer. 

Liquid spills over as you set the glass down too roughly, almost dropping it as you forget about the male you’d been speaking with, standing from the seat and steadily making your way across the inn’s floor. You have no idea what you’ll say, just that you want him to stop, that he’s being unfair. Maybe the two of you aren’t officially together, but when he’d walked you back to your house one late night, when he’d shown you a couple of tips to keep yourself safe, when he’d gotten food in when you’d fallen sick over your cycle—that had been for a reason, hadn’t it? He’d been courting you, hadn’t he? 

Was it one-sided? Was he just a kind male? 

Is it unrequited again? 

It’s too late for you to second-guess yourself as you arrive at their table. 

Cassian casually glances over at you, and it’s only then the female’s sharp eyes narrow on you, hateful and disgusted at having her conversation interrupted. 

“Something wrong?” Cassian asks, and your brows dip a little, hurt undoubtedly blatant in your eyes. But you swallow, straightening your spine, trying to stand a little taller before both of them. “I was getting tired,” you manage to come up with. “I think I’ll be turning in now.” You swallow, waiting for him to get the hint, but he gives no reaction. You swallow again, raising your chin higher, to make up for the low. “I was hoping you…might walk me home, Cassian.” 

He looks over you, something shifting in his gaze that appears a lot like guilt, but it’s hidden too swiftly for you to be sure. “Sure,” Cassian answers slowly, nodding his head almost absently, standing upright from the raised table. “Sure, I’ll walk you home,” he repeats, more decidedly this time, keeping his attention on you as he settles his hand at the base of your spine, fingers hesitantly brushing the fabric, unsure of your mood, how to behave in such a civil environment. 

He had expected… Cassian blinks. 

He had expected you to act how everyone else had. 

The crisp Windhaven air nips at your throat, and you bring the shawl tighter over your shoulders, aware that while he’s close, he’s hesitating to step beside you to aid with warmth. Hot breath puffs out with each exhale, watching as it clouds against the cool temperature. You can’t feel your fingers. 

Cassian clears his throat, and you fight not to dip your head away as the conversation looms. You’re the one who has initiated this, it’ll do you no good to push it away, leaving it unresolved. You need clarity and confirmation. At least, if you want the chance for things to go further with him. Which you most definitely do. 

“Why were you speaking with her like that?” You ask, managing to glance at him, meeting his eyes as you ask the question for a fraction of a second. You don’t have time to worry at how jealous you sound—you are jealous. Jealous and upset he might choose to do something like that, knowing how it would make you feel. “I…you know how I feel about her.” 

“What about you?” He diverts, and you glance at him again with a furrowed brow, looking confusedly. “What about me?” 

Cassian scoffs, rolling his eyes before meeting your gaze again. “You asked what I was doing with her. I was doing the exact same thing you were with that male,” he replies, not minding the accusatory tone in his voice. He’s accustomed to wielding it in defence against these sort of malicious attacks; he’s been subjected to them enough times to know how this works. But your brows only furrow further. “He wasn’t,” —you flush— “He wasn’t caressing my arms or trying to seduce me.” 

“Sure he wasn’t,” Cassian replies, taking on a sardonic tone, looking away again. You flush with hurt at his assumption you would consciously and willingly continue speaking with a male who was trying to flatter you in that way while so obviously—… Obviously? Does he think otherwise? 

“Cassian…it isn’t fair to expect to find in me the same faults you’ve encountered in others,” you say softly. “And, it isn’t fair to compare your conscious reciprocation of her…intentions, to my situation. If he was being…inappropriate, I hadn’t noticed it. I wouldn’t have continued if I had known.” 

“And what does fairness have to do with any of this?” He asks cynically, not looking at you, powerful arms folded over his broad chest as he keeps a steady pace that has you hurrying a little to keep up. 

“Don’t you—” You fumble, glancing down before solidifying your resolve, gripping the sleeve of his upper arm to pull him to a stop. Cassian stiffens beneath your touch, glancing with surprise down to where you’re holding onto him, before meeting your eyes with some colour to his cheeks—probably the bite of cold.

You swallow, averting your gaze briefly but keeping hold of him. “I want things to be fair for you. To you,” you say softly. “Do you…do you not want the same for me?” 

He blinks, caught of guard by the sincerity of your expression, how earnest you sound in your question. And you’re right, he can’t just assume the worst of everyone, failing them before they even take a test. Maybe he did act brashly, a little unfairly toward you. 

He doesn’t like the hurt in your expression. 

“Cassian, I…I enjoy your company. But if you aren’t sincere…if my feelings aren’t reciprocated, please don’t string me along.” Your grip lessens on him, worried you’re being too pushy with your feelings where they aren’t welcome. “I’m sorry I upset you by speaking with that male, I had no idea it might look different on the outside to what I thought was going on. I promise I didn’t want to hurt you.” 

Cassian holds still, hot breath puffing between each of you, and he becomes aware of how cold your fingers are through the fabric of his shirt. How nervous you look as your eyes skip about, before anxiously rising to look upward at him. He swallows thickly, guilt tingling in his gut, regretting not acting like a damned adult and just speaking with you about his worries. He nods. “I’m sorry,” he says, voice heavy. “That was stupid. I wasn’t—…I didn’t think properly.” 

Your breath catches a little, pulse spiking with nerves. “So you,”—you clear your throat—“we’re okay? I mean, we’ve sorted things out? You…” You trail off, unable to finish the sentence. 

Cassian’s cheeks warm, and he quietly takes your frozen hand in his much larger, much warmer one. “I enjoy your company, too.” 

Azriel: Young and Beautiful 

Full tears spill from gleaming eyes, reflecting the silver under the moonlight as you remain stood over the closed grave, shoulders shuddering under grief’s heavy cloak. The sight of you dressed in black, a thin veil over your face, brings back the lamenting groan of the organ, the somber melody that had been played before the coffin had been carried up onto the hillside, and buried upward at its crest, able to still watch the sun rise and fall each day. 

The downward tug of your lips is something he never wants to see again, the loss, the life that’s been stolen from all of them—never again. 

He walks forward silently, coming to a pause at your side, and his heart breaks further at the clarity of your sobs. Unashamed to shed tears over the departed, mourning her loss deeply, with feeling. He swallows thickly, attention resting on the burial, the life that was taken so cruelly. The life her brother had taken revenge for, having returned from Spring not even a full day ago. 

“You should come inside,” Azriel whispers, saying only what he should. You both know neither of you are yet ready to move on from this wound, and to rush it would be to dishonour the dead. But the wind does not grieve, makes no attempts to lessen its cruel bite, hot breath puffing from your lips with each stuttering exhale, and the familiar sting of sorrow cracks through his heart. “It’s cold,” he tries half-heartedly, “at least warm up a bit.”

His resolve disintegrates as you cast him a mournful look, your lids puffing from tears, eyes shining like glass beneath the cold night’s sky, swirling starlight reflecting in your irises. As if she’s already reached the heavens, and is waving goodbye. 

You don’t need to say anything to convey your sorrow; it’s one they’re all feeling. 

His throat rolls, and you turn back to the gravestone, quietening out of respect for his own grief, to offer him his own silence in which he’ll be able to mourn. 

Glancing up at the sky to cool the heat behind his eyes, Azriel inhales a slow, deep breath, allowing the cold, crisp night air to bring some clarity to his mind, sinking into his lungs as the clear night air disperses throughout his body, released in one exhale, as if breathing out his very soul. Azriel glances sidelong at you again, the obvious prickling of your skin against the cold. 

Closing his eyes briefly, he opens his wing, wrapping it delicately over your shoulder, cradling you in the only comfort he can offer. 

You lean into him without worry for appearances, hands clasping one another, your fingers like ice against his flame-scarred skin, pressing against his side as your head falls to his upper arm. 

It’s this small gesture that has his own walls cracking, lips tugging down as his brows pull together, hot tears sliding down his cheeks, making an effort to keep his breathing even so you don’t have to concern yourself with his own sorrow. 

You deserve the chance to grieve freely, without having to worry about the welfare of others. 

The least he can do is offer you that courtesy.

Eris: Golden Hour

Eris had encouraged you to rest when he’d pieced together your hunched frame and weakened legs, guiding you back to bed and setting you down in the mattress, taking infinite care not to jostle your body when he laid you down. ‘I’ll bring my work next door,’ he’d murmured, lips brushing your forehead, ‘Call if you need anything.’ 

Then he’d given a sharp whistle and all six of his hounds had leapt up onto the bed, a broad smile stretching your mouth as one nosed its way beneath your palm, squeezing itself under your arm, laying an elegant snout across your chest. Two more settled at your waist, heads lolling across your stomach, curling into your sides; another pair settling themselves around your legs, one between and another against your thigh; the last hound nestling into the pillows beside your head, taking Eris’ spot, likely picking up on the scent and taking it for comfort. 

The small beats of their tails excitedly thwacking the bedsheets as they nestled and nuzzled had your cheeks aching from smiles, fingers scratching behind ears and at the itchy parts of their napes, hind legs kicking with contentment before you all settled down. 

‘Are you sure? They’ll miss your company.’ You’d murmured, peering up at him from the shared bed, though you wouldn’t have been able to move even if you wanted to. Six large hounds piled atop and around one person is a surprisingly efficient way to keep someone still, you discovered.

But Eris had shook his head once, narrow lips softening at their edges, amber eyes twinkling as he took in the affectionate sight. ‘I’ll just be next door,’ he’d repeated. ‘I’ll come in to check on you in a while.’ 

‘Please don’t worry,’ you’d murmured, fingers brushing over his knuckles, lightly taking a hold of his hand. ‘I’ll be fine. You need your time to concentrate—I’ll manage.’ 

But Eris had just given you a look to tell you he knew better, before pressing another kiss to your forehead then departing. Leaving you feeling warm and fluffy despite the tension in your lower abdomen. 

Now it’s night and your husband returns, hounds eagerly padding at his feet, paws cleaned and dried after the muddy walk through the surrounding forest they take before bed. You slide your book shut and set it on the side table, directing your attention to him as he begins disrobing, clothes re-shelved if clean, and set in the wicker basket if not. 

After he’s finally washed and changed your smile widens, pulling back the covers for him to seat himself behind you, unable to even pull the duvet back over himself before you’re diving into his side, crawling beneath his arm and tucking yourself flush to his chest, arms tugging at his waist as you eagerly press your face to the crook of his neck, inhaling slowly, deeply. Treasuring every aspect of his feel: the clean, soapy scent intermingled with smoke and pine; smooth, hot skin beneath your touch, baby hairs curling at the nape of his neck; the silky soft brush of his nightwear against your cheek. The undeniable secure form of him that you’re able to wrap yourself around. 

“I missed you,” you mumble, pulling back to gaze up at him, forgetting the previously uncomfortable pressure between your hips, happy he’s back and by your side again. Warm and hot and strong and solid. Smelling divine, good enough to knock you out with a dozy smile on your lips. 

“You say that every time I don’t see you for a day,” Eris mumbles back, shifting beneath your grasp, hauling the duvet up as he settles down into the mattress. You squeeze yourself closer, leg inching across his hips as he whistles, allowing the hounds to leap up and scatter themselves in a close huddle around the two of you. “It’s because I miss you every time you leave me,” you whisper, kissing the underside of his jaw. “Even if it’s only for a day.” 

Eris rolls his eyes, faelights flickering out as he pulls you impossibly closer, tilting so he can nose at the crown of your head, lips grazing your skin. 

“I missed you too,” he whispers, softly, “now sleep. You were supposed to be resting today, not reading my hounds stories.” 

Lucien: amour plastique

Lucien’s lips are flushed red against the frost-filled cold, and for a moment you wish it was because of your teeth that they look so raw and bitten. 

The tip of his nose is rosey, cheeks pink while the rest of his skin is unusually pale, snow flakes catching on his lashes, eyes searing against the cool-toned blues of the snowy forest. 

He’s still only courting you, and yet this might be The Moment. 

Your heart flutters in your chest, mind and heart agreeing on one thing, for once. And that’s the male on top of you might be the last person you ever love. 

A slow, teasing smile spreads across Lucien’s fiery mouth, cupid’s bow stretching taut with the vulpine grin as his eyes twinkle with mischief. “Something on your mind, love?” He shifts on top of you, keeping you pinned in the ankle-deep carpet of snow, searing red hair sliding from over a broad shoulder, caressing your cheek and he has the audacity to flash his teeth in a feral smile as if he’d planned for you to feel as such. 

Maybe he had. 

“I’m thinking you’re acting quite the scoundrel, Lucien,” you reply, raising a brow while your heart pounds wildly in your chest. “Where did the charming gentlemale go who took my first dance last night?” 

“‘Gentlemale’?” Lucien drawls, the white of the snow making his teeth brighter—sharper—as they flash in a smile. He lowers himself closer, hair dragging lightly over the fluttering pulse at your throat. “You should have known my nature when you gave me that first dance, and I stole all your rest.” 

“‘Stole’?” You force a laugh, almost flinching when his eyes momentarily dip to your mouth. “You wouldn’t have received my first if I thought you were playing at some kind of deception.” 

“Then don’t pretend surprise when I keep you in the snow without offering a hand up,” Lucien whispers, close enough the mist of his breath caresses your mouth. 

You swallow, heart and mind aligning as the embers finally catch, a searing fire catching light in your stomach, burning as certain and blinding as the Day Court sun. “Without raising yourself up, either,” you reply, breathless. Amber eyes lock with your own; deep, and hungering for more than just flesh. “If anyone sees us…” You broach, gazes burning into one another as you trail off, seeing what he’ll do. 

Neither make an effort to move. 

“They’ll probably be correct in their assumptions,” Lucien murmurs, the intensity of his attention alone enough to keep the bite of ice at bay. Liquefying heat until it’s hot enough to fuel fire. 

Your brow narrows, head tilting as snow crunches beneath you. “That you’re taking me for a one-night roll?” Hands lift from your sides, settling on his shoulders, grip tight enough to suggest you’ll push him firmly away should he answer untruthfully. You weren’t made for a brief, singular apogee. You were made for everlasting; a ubiquitous kind of love.

Lucien’s heavy exhale might as well have been a hiss when he sees whatever’s in your eyes, strain contorting his muscles as his palms turn to fists in the snow. “If that’s all you’re seeking,” he growls, “tell me now, so I can salvage the little that’s left of me.”

Your breath hitches, staring up at the male on top of you, close enough to be sharing breath. 

Finally, your heart and mind sigh in unison. Finally a match who understands.  

Elain: We Fell In Love In October

The crystallised sugar of the plum is rough against your lips but her fingers are soft; pale and powdery; creamy-tipped nails curved and cared for, their pads skimming your mouth with a featherlight touch as she feeds you the sweet, your tongue catching her just before she pulls away. 

Your cheeks warm, thinking yourself too obvious. 

Elain’s cocoa brown eyes dilate, softening in the balmy heat, deep afternoon light glazing her in honey-gold that blazes on the pretty loops of her ringlets. Her fingers linger for a moment too long, then she’s retreating with the breeze. 

“It looks like it’s going to be a clear night,” you mumble with a palm over your mouth, neither quite looking at the other. The woollen blanket you’re sharing rustles as she shifts, dried grass rasping against its underside while another slow breath of air curls between you. 

Elain tilts her head, lovely hair spilling over one bare shoulder as she gazes up towards the pale blue skies. Already tinges of heat are beginning to warm the horizon while the sun prepares to dip into evening, then eventually leaving your side of the world until daybreak tomorrow morning. Plenty of time to admire the absence of such blinding light, the peace and relative quiet of the shadow-filled night, the whole world agreeing to share a single colour palette of darkest jade, midnight seas, and night-filled purple. 

You’ve both been waiting for a clear night for a while now, aching to lie beneath the pearly pattern of star shine, twinkling like slowly twirling diamonds, or moonstones. 

It’s only now, that you’re out here together, preparing to share a night and a blanket, that you realise you probably won’t get much of a chance to look at the stars. Not while Elain will be at your side, their light reflecting in her eyes.

“What are you thinking about?” Elain murmurs, and you flush when you realise she’s peering at you, leaning her body across the blanket to face you. You fumble for an answer, eyes dipping away. “I was thinking how beautiful tonight is going to be,” you reply, glancing down to the small ceramic plate set between you, carrying sugared plums and powdered pastries, sweetened fruit slices resting atop glazed, fluffy bread. All offerings from Elain. 

Rosey lips soften at their edges as you peek back up at her. “The stars?” She murmurs, smiling quietly. You swallow, forcing yourself to nod, “the stars. And everything else.” 

Her eyes are twinkling now. “‘Everything else’…” 

Heat overtakes your cheeks beneath the intensity in her eyes, gaze darting elsewhere. But fingers dip beneath your chin, bringing your attention wholly back to her. “Tell me,” Elain whispers, close enough you can imagine how the words would feel across your mouth. 

“You.” The word is goaded from your throat by a golden thread, gently pulled and plied until it spilled across your tongue, reeled in to whisper in her ears. She smiles, and a weight lifts from your shoulders, “That makes me happy to hear.” 

Your heart pounds, pulse fluttering in your throat. She isn’t pushing you away. She doesn’t look disgusted. It makes her happy. 

Elain’s eyes seem to twinkle as she watches your frozen expression of shock, enjoying the confused flutter of your eyelashes as you blink, half curious, half awed. It makes her want to see the look on your face if she…“I want something sweet,” Elain whispers, leaning in close. “May I?” 

You blink back to life, lips fumbling as your eyes skate about the place. “They’re yours,” you murmur, breathless, “You don’t need to ask.” Why would she need to when she’s the one who brought them? Baked them and sweetened them? What delicacy will she choose, from the small plate?

A huff of laughter fans your mouth, her lips curving before she’s leaning closer, and- 

Your eyes widen, paralysed beneath her touch. The soft heat of her mouth. How can anything possibly feel so delicate?

For longer than you can think she holds her mouth to yours, lips tilting experimentally as they slope over your own set. Your fingers are trembling on the blanket, arms shaking while her touch remains calm and steady, as if she’s kissed you a million times before, and enjoys it just as much as she did the first. Elain deepens the intimate press, her head tilting as she angles your jaw, tongue slipping out to swipe across the sugared pillow of your lower lip, licking the powder away with slow, careful strokes. 

Calm, and completely in control of herself. 

You feel like your arms will disintegrate into a floury puff, body crumbling like shortbread then evaporating into a hot, sweet vapour for her to inhale. To bring into her lungs so you can be brought into her body and run your course. 

She leans closer and your arms melt like butter beneath her pressure, silky wisps of hair pooling over your collar bones as she lays you down, kissing deeper and you can’t help yourself, shaking hands rising from the blanket, sliding over her hips to settle around the pleasing curve of her waist. Elain’s spine slopes as your fingers trail along her arch, her own hands exploring through your hair and you wonder if she can hear the erratic pulse in your throat. Can feel it as she kisses you. 

You hope she can, if only so she’ll know your affection without the confusion of language getting in your way. An inevitable mistranslation between the beat of your heart and the useless words you possess. 

It would be impossible to express, so you kiss her back; kiss her longingly and tenderly, keeping your touch familiar and chaste in the hopes she’ll understand you desire her heart above all else. 

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[danikamariewrites]

Could you do a xaden x reader where the reader is Aetos's younger sister and xaden and her have secretly been dating shortly after she got to basgiath. And tairn chooses reader and then that's on dain finds out and xaden will do anything to protect her

Rule Breaker

Xaden x reader

Warnings: none

You’d never been one for following the rules. You always found that being uptight and strict like your father and brother was so boring. It was no way to live life.

When you got to Basgiath you were on a mission to give your brother the biggest headache ever. But you somehow got away with each rule you break. You have your Wing Leader to thank for that.

Ever since Conscription you’ve been shamelessly flirting with Xaden. What made it fun at first was that he was supposed to be off limits. As a Marked One your father looked down on him and your brother didn’t trust him.

At Threshing you bonded Tairn who you later found out is mated to Xaden’s dragon. The two of you started hanging out more since you had questions about what that bond meant for your dragons. Harmless flirting turned into real flirting and before the two of you knew it you had real feelings for each other.

You both decided to keep the relationship a secret. It’s bad enough people were after you for being an Aetos, Gods forbid they found out you’re with Xaden Riorson. Your head would be on a fucking spike. Xaden would never let that happen to you. Something you discovered during your relationship is that when Xaden loves he loves with his whole heart.

He’s very protective and loving of you. That was a new thing for you. Your father only ever paid attention to Dain since he’s a boy. It’s nice to be love and get positive attention.

You smiled to yourself, pulling the hood of your cloak down to blend in with the night. Shadows danced around your ankles in excitement as you got closer to you and Xaden’s meeting spot. You tried to meet every night either for a walk or in one of your bedrooms.

Coming into the alcove the darkness melted away revealing your boyfriend. Your smile widened into a grin as you jumped into his arms. Xaden spun you kissing the side of your face. When he put you down Xaden hugged you closer to his chest, revealing in your touch and warmth.

“I missed you today.” Xaden murmured. You squeeze him around his midsection and bury your face in his chest. Good gods he smelled amazing. Why does he smell so good? Where does he get his cologne? “I missed you too baby.” You looked up at him to see that smile only you see. Genuine and boyish and happy. You love seeing him like this. It makes you ridiculously happy.

Xaden’s smile immediately fell, his body tensing as he looked around. “What?” You turn and see who the victim of Xaden’s scowl is and your heart stops. “Dain!” You whisper shout at your older brother. His face was a rare shade of red with an angry scowl pulling at his lips.

“Get. Away. From her, now.” Dain growled. You held onto Xaden tighter as he moved you behind him. While you could hold your own Xaden didn’t want Dain to hurt you while trying to get to him. The boys looked like they were going to murder each other. And if anyone heard you would all be in trouble for being out of bed at this hour.

Without thinking you jumped between them with your hands out. “Just…stop. Take a breath and just chill out.” You said sternly without your voice shaking. Xaden seemed to listen but Dain just looked at you with disgust. You wish you could say that look broke your heart, but it didn’t even phase you. Dain’s approval never mattered to you anyway.

“What are you doing sneaking around with him?” He spit that last word out like it burned his tongue. That pissed you off. Your hand balled into a fist as you bared your teeth at Dain. “Why are you following me, brother?” “Keeping an eye on you. You’ve been nothing but trouble so I’m making sure you don’t cause anymore.” You roll your eyes at him.

“She doesn’t need a babysitter Aetos.” Xaden said cooly. “You stay out of this.” He hisses. “Just stop Dain. I don’t need you. Just because we share a last name doesn’t give you the right to monitor me twenty-four, seven. Stay away from me and I’ll stay away from you.”

“I won’t make any promises.” Xaden chimed in with a shit eating grin on his face. Dain steps away from you with that angry scowl still plastered on his face. “Dad won’t be happy.” “Colonel Aetos doesn’t need to know everything. Nor will he care, he never has.” Without another word Dain turned and headed back to the dorms.

You felt Xaden’s hands lightly grasp your hips, turning you to face him again. Xaden wrapped his arms around you as you let out a shaky breath. You had never stood up to your brother like that before and you’d be damned if you cried about it. “Let’s go for our walk love. You can sleep in my room tonight.” You nod pulling his face down to yours to leave a soft kiss on his cheek. You are beyond grateful for this beautiful boy.

[nickeverdeen]

Love in the Air | Ellie Williams x fem!reader

Pairings: Ellie Williams x fem!reader (romantic), Jesse x fem!reader (younger sister), Dina x fem!reader (platonic)

Type of fic: Romance, Fluff, Drunk/Fluff

Warnings: Alcohol, slight alcoholic behaivor

Summary: Ellie as she navigates her growing feelings for Y/N, Jesse’s younger sister, during a festive night in Jackson. Encouraged by Dina, Ellie gets closer to Y/N, leading to a tender moment between them.

Tag List: @callsignwidow

————————

Jackson was alive with music and laughter, the night sky dotted with stars above the festive gathering. The community center was packed with people, dancing, drinking, and celebrating, enjoying a rare moment of peace and joy. It was one of those nights where the worries of the world outside seemed to fade away, even if just for a little while.

Ellie stood near the bar, leaning against the wooden counter with a drink in hand, trying to focus on what Dina was saying. But her mind was somewhere else, or rather, on someone else. She found herself glancing across the room every few seconds, her gaze always landing on the same person—Jesse’s younger sister, you.

Dina noticed Ellie’s wandering eyes and let out a sigh, a small smile playing on her lips. “You know, you could just tell her how you feel,” Dina suggested, raising an eyebrow at Ellie. “You’ve been talking about her all night.”

Ellie tore her eyes away from you and looked at Dina, her cheeks flushing slightly. “I know, I know,” she muttered, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly. “It’s just… she’s Jesse’s sister, you know? I don’t want to mess things up.”

Dina rolled her eyes playfully. “Ellie, trust me, you’re overthinking it. Just go talk to her. She likes you too, you know.”

Ellie’s heart skipped a beat at Dina’s words, but before she could muster up the courage to respond, she felt a hand grab hers. She looked up in surprise to see you standing in front of her, a mischievous grin on your face.

“Ellie!” you said, your voice slightly slurred but full of excitement. “Come dance with me!”

Ellie barely had time to react before you were pulling her toward the dance floor, leaving Dina behind with a knowing smile. As you reached the middle of the room, the music seemed to wrap around you, and you wasted no time in pulling Ellie close.

Ellie was a little stiff at first, her mind racing as she tried to figure out what to do. She could feel your warmth, the smell of your hair, and the way your hands rested comfortably on Ellie’s shoulders. It was almost overwhelming, but in the best way possible.

You were clearly tipsy, your movements a little looser than usual, but there was a certain confidence in the way you guided Ellie through the dance. You swayed together, the music blending with the sound of your soft laughter as you moved in sync.

“You look… really beautiful tonight,” Ellie finally managed to say, her voice quiet as she looked into your eyes.

Your smile widened, and you leaned in a little closer. “You’re not so bad yourself, Williams,” you teased, your voice full of affection.

Ellie’s heart pounded in her chest as the distance between you shrank, and before she knew it, you were leaning in even closer. Time seemed to slow down as your lips brushed against Ellie’s, and then you were kissing—soft, warm, and perfect.

Ellie’s mind went blank as she melted into the kiss, her hands finding their way to your waist, pulling you closer. The rest of the world faded away, leaving just the two of you in that moment, lost in each other.

When you finally pulled away, you looked up at Ellie with a blissful, almost puppy-like expression, your eyes shining with happiness. Ellie couldn’t help but smile back, her heart feeling like it was about to burst.

But before either of you could say anything, Jesse suddenly appeared, gently but firmly pulling you away from Ellie without a word. Ellie stood there, a little dazed, as she watched Jesse lead you away from the dance floor.

Dina quickly joined Ellie, noticing her confused expression. “Don’t worry,” Dina said, placing a hand on Ellie’s shoulder. “Jesse just didn’t like seeing his little sister like that after a few drinks. He’s not mad, just… protective.”

Ellie nodded slowly, trying to process everything that had just happened. “Right… yeah, I get it,” she mumbled, still feeling the lingering warmth of your lips on hers.

The next morning, Ellie was up early, getting ready for patrol. She was still buzzing from the events of the previous night, replaying the kiss over and over in her mind. But her thoughts were interrupted when she heard a knock on her door.

Opening it, she found Jesse standing there, his expression unreadable. Ellie felt a surge of panic, assuming the worst. “Jesse, look, about last night—” she started, but Jesse cut her off with a wave of his hand.

“Relax, man,” Jesse said, his tone surprisingly calm. “I’m not here to give you a hard time. I just came to ask… will you get your girlfriend to the stables, please?”

Ellie blinked in surprise, her heart skipping a beat. “Wait, what?”

Jesse sighed, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Y/N. She’s probably still in bed with a headache from last night. She’ll need some help getting ready for patrol. So go get her.”

Ellie groaned, rubbing her temples. “Oh my god…”

But before she could say anything else, Jesse was already walking away, leaving Ellie standing in the doorway, still trying to wrap her head around what had just happened.

Ellie made her way to your house, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. When she arrived, she found you still in bed, looking a little worse for wear but still as beautiful as ever.

“Morning,” Ellie said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed.

You groaned, pulling the covers over your head. “Noo…”

Ellie chuckled, gently tugging the blanket down. “Come on, we’ve got patrol. Let’s get you up and ready.”

With Ellie’s help, you managed to get out of bed and start getting dressed, though you moved slowly, clearly feeling the effects of the previous night. Ellie handed you a glass of water and some painkillers, which you took gratefully.

As you fumbled with your clothes, Ellie couldn’t help but notice how endearing you looked, half-asleep and struggling to button up your shirt. Without thinking, Ellie reached out and helped, her fingers brushing against yours as she did.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, your eyes drooping as you leaned into Ellie’s touch.

Ellie smiled, pulling your hoodie over your head, making sure you were warm and comfortable. “There, all set,” Ellie said, but you were already sinking back into bed, your energy clearly depleted.

“Just… five more minutes,” you muttered, curling up under the covers again.

Ellie sighed, but her heart was full as she watched you doze off. Unable to resist, she laid down next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist. You instinctively cuddled closer, your fingers playing with the hem of Ellie’s hoodie as you drifted back to sleep.

Ellie felt her own eyelids grow heavy, the warmth and comfort of your presence lulling her into a peaceful state. She closed her eyes, letting herself relax as she held you close.

You were both fast asleep when Jesse came looking for you a little while later. He opened the door, finding you curled up together on the bed, both sound asleep.

Jesse rolled his eyes, a small smile on his lips as he took in the scene. “Figures,” he muttered to himself before closing the door quietly.

He found Dina nearby and quickly filled her in on the situation. The two of them agreed to take over today’s patrol, giving Ellie and you the day off.

Back in the room, Ellie and you slept peacefully, completely unaware of the plans being made around you. For now, all that mattered was the warmth of each other’s presence, and the comfort of knowing you were right where you belonged.

[seongwars]

forget me not | iv

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x witch!Reader AU: non-idol | supernatural Summary: Yunho should be happy--he's got everything going for him and he's set to marry the love of his life! So why is he standing outside of your shop on the night of his engagement party? Word Count: 7.5K (my bad) Warnings: infidelity, use of the k word

Fic Masterlist

a/n: my stitches reopened and I had to go back and get restitched 😬 so I spent all day in bed editing this chapter. i love reading everyone's theories and feedback is always welcome!

The first time Haewon saw Yunho, it was at your dorm during a study session. You were both surrounded by books, notes, and various pieces of stationary scattered across the floor. While you were focusing on writing out your note cards, Haewon was dancing around the room in an attempt to “activate her brain cells”. 

She had been caught up in her own world until the sound of a knock interrupted her antics. You stood up to answer the door, and a low voice followed, mingled with a chuckle—deep, familiar, and warm.

Yunho.

He was your best friend, someone she’d heard about but hadn’t paid much attention to. But that day, something was different. He sat with a pile of books and a look of quiet concentration that intrigued her. His presence was magnetic, though subtle, and without realizing it, Haewon found herself sneaking glances at him, captivated by the calm determination in his demeanor.

She wasn’t sure when it happened exactly, but at some point, between stolen glances and shared laughter over late-night group study sessions, she started to fall for him. Yunho was kind, always the first to offer a helping hand, and his dedication to his friends and family was unwavering. He had a way of making everyone feel valued and heard.

And when he asked her to be his girlfriend, she was over the moon. 

"Did you know Yunho was going to ask me out?" she beamed, her voice laced with an excitement that made your heart sink.

You froze for a second, your pencil hovering above the page. There was a flicker of something—disappointment, maybe even hurt—but you quickly swallowed it down. 

"Maybe," you muttered, your voice light, almost teasing, though it took everything in you to keep it that way. Haewon didn’t see the way your grip tightened on the pencil, or how your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes.

"I can’t believe it," she gushed, oblivious to the turmoil behind your composed expression. "I mean, I’ve liked him for a while now, and I wasn’t sure if he felt the same way, but when he asked me…God, it was perfect."

"That’s great, Haewon" you said, your voice quieter than before, trying desperately to sound convincing. 

You fell in love with the way Yunho truly saw you, even when you tried to hide parts of yourself. He understood you in ways no one else ever had, knowing your fears, your dreams, and all the things that made you tick. Somewhere along the line, you stopped worrying about what he would think of you because with Yunho, you never had to pretend.

That’s when you knew you loved him—because the idea of life without him didn’t feel like life at all.

But how could you tell him? You weren’t like Haewon—bold and unafraid, able to voice her feelings as if vulnerability wasn’t terrifying. She was all confidence and ease, speaking her mind without a second thought, while you were cautious, overthinking, content to blend into the background.

Telling Yunho how you felt would mean stepping into the unknown. You couldn’t bear the thought of losing him if things went wrong. So you stayed silent, burying your feelings deep, hoping that somehow, you could protect what you had by keeping your secret. 

But things went wrong anyway.

You tried not to not let their relationship affect you, told yourself you were happy for them. Haewon and Yunho were two of the most important people in your life, and they deserved happiness. You repeated that to yourself like a mantra, hoping that if you said it enough, you might actually believe it. 

It hurt seeing them together, knowing that while you were happy for them, you couldn’t help the ache in your chest every time Yunho laughed a little too easily at something she said, or when she rested her head on his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The worst part was that you couldn’t even be angry. How could you? Haewon hadn’t done anything wrong; she hadn’t stolen Yunho from you, and Yunho hadn’t abandoned you. It was like watching sand slip through your fingers—nothing to hold on to, nothing you could do to stop it.

Yunho was happy, and you cared about him enough to want that for him, even if it wasn’t with you.

After you disappeared, everything fell apart in ways neither of them expected. Yunho and Haewon participated in search parties, posted on social media about your disappearance, and cooperated with law enforcement. But there were no answers, no trace of where you’d gone or why. The emptiness you left behind was palpable, a gaping hole in both their lives.

At first, Haewon believed they were grieving together. She felt the weight of your absence in every corner of her life, and Yunho, in his quiet way, did too. But then, she began to notice the way their relationship shifted. 

It was subtle at first: a slight distance in Yunho’s eyes, the way he seemed preoccupied even when they were alone. He would zone out in the middle of conversations, and even when he held Haewon in his arms, his heart wasn’t fully there. 

Slowly, painfully, she realized the truth. Yunho wasn’t just mourning you—he was waiting for you. He was still tethered to you, pulled by an invisible force that Haewon couldn’t compete with.

She never considered herself a mean girl. Sure, she had grown up in a comfortable world, surrounded by friends who were a little more tightly wounded and concerned with appearances. But now, standing on the other side of it, Haewon could see the truth for what it was. Yunho was never really hers to begin with. She hadn’t stolen him—not intentionally—but she had taken something that was never really hers to claim. 

Then there was Sungjae. 

Sungjae had never been a close friend, not really. He was more of a background figure—someone on the outskirts of Haewon’s social circle who, little by little, had weaseled his way in. He was everything Yunho wasn’t: impulsive, flirtatious, unpredictable. And it was those very qualities that ignited something in her.

The affair began quietly, like a secret Haewon wasn’t ready to admit even to herself. It started innocently enough—casual conversations, coffee outings after shared classes. They’d stay up late in the library, long after everyone else had left, talking about things that felt too personal, too vulnerable to share with anyone else. Haewon convinced herself it was nothing more than a close friendship—after all, she had a large circle of friends. What harm could one more friend do?

As time passed, the line between friendship and something more blurred. In the quiet moments following your disappearance, Haewon found herself relying on Sungjae in ways she hadn’t with Yunho in years. He became her anchor when the world felt uncertain, someone who made her feel alive and seen.

At first, it was easy to justify: she and Yunho had been drifting apart. Haewon had noticed it in the way their conversations had become shorter, less meaningful; the way they sat together in silence more often than not, the air between them filled with unspoken tension. 

But there was also something darker about Sungjae—something tied to the past Haewon desperately tried to forget. The night you disappeared, Sungjae had humiliated you, his cruel words cutting through the air as everyone watched in uncomfortable silence. And Haewon had stood by, doing nothing. She had stayed silent, too afraid to confront him, too indifferent to speak up.

Yunho had done nothing, either. His usual kind, gentle demeanor had turned into passive inaction, making excuses whenever Haewon brought up the topic like "It's just a phase" or "They’ll work it out."

“Do you think Sungjae had something to do with Y/N’s disappearance?” Haewon suddenly blurted out as the two were cooking dinner. 

Yunho froze, his jaw tightening. He knew the answer—he had always known. The last time anyone had seen you was when you stormed out of the apartment, cheeks flushed with shame and frustration. And yet, Yunho couldn’t admit it out loud. Admitting that Sungjae was responsible meant confronting his own failure, his own role in pushing you away.

“If he did,” Yunho said, his voice low, a dangerous edge creeping in, “I’ll kill him myself.”

“But you were the last one who saw her.”

His entire body tensed, the weight of Haewon’s accusation hitting him harder than he expected. He turned to face her fully, eyes dark and cold.

“You think I had something to do with Y/N’s disappearance?” His voice was low, hurt and anger threading through each word. He could feel the bile rising in his chest, burning with the injustice of her suspicion.

“That’s not what I said—”

“But it’s what you meant.” Yunho cut her off. “You think I’m the reason she’s gone?”

“I’m just trying to figure out what happened,” she murmured, her voice softer now, though the accusation still lingered between them. 

“All I did was walk her out, and the CCTV proved that! You have no idea how much Y/N’s disappearance is affecting me! But to even suggest that I could’ve done something…” His voice trailed off, swallowed by a surge of emotion.

“I can’t do this,” Yunho muttered, his voice barely audible now as he turned away from her. Grabbing his jacket off the chair, he headed for the door, his movements tense and deliberate. “I’m done with this conversation.”

His footsteps faltered just before reaching the door, the frustration inside him boiling over. He spun back to face Haewon, his voice sharp and biting.

“Every time it comes to Sungjae, you choose him. Why?”

“I–” Haewon’s voice cracked, but Yunho didn’t stop. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving a deafening silence in his wake.

Haewon knew it wasn’t fair to keep dragging him along when her heart was no longer fully his. But the thought of actually leaving—the finality of it—terrified her. The knowledge that once she walked away, there would be no going back was something she wasn’t sure she could handle.

And then Yunho proposed. 

It caught her completely off guard—a moment she hadn’t prepared for despite all her doubts and uncertainty. She hadn’t expected him to propose, not now. But instead of facing the truth, instead of admitting that her heart had drifted away and she was entangled in an affair with someone else, Haewon did the only thing she could think of: she convinced herself that accepting Yunho’s proposal would fix everything.

Haewon felt trapped. She felt the walls closing in, suffocating her as she tried to play the part of the happy fiancée. On the night of the engagement party, everyone around them was celebrating, toasting to their future, but all she could think about was how wrong it all felt. Her heart wasn’t in it—not fully—and she knew it.

The alcohol didn’t help. Glass after glass, Haewon drank to drown out the noise in her head, to silence the guilt and doubt. She wanted to forget, to numb herself to everything, but instead, it only made her feel more exposed.

She avoided Yunho most of the night, choosing instead to party with her friends, laughing too loudly, her smile brittle around the edges. Yunho tried to get her to slow down, to pull her back to him, to hold her close, but every time he did, it felt like the air was being sucked out of her lungs. It wasn’t his fault, but being near him only made the weight of her choices heavier.

Finally, something inside her snapped. Right there, in front of everyone. The frustration, the guilt, the suffocating pressure of pretending—it all came to the surface. She knew it was unfair, that Yunho didn’t deserve it, but she couldn’t stop the words from spilling out. 

Now, as she laid in bed next to Sungjae, the weight of her betrayal closed in on her. The wedding was fast approaching, a date circled on the calendar like a death sentence, and there was no backing out now. The dress had been chosen, the invitations sent. Everyone was expecting a celebration, but all Haewon could feel was dread. 

Yunho had betrayed you too, hadn’t he? He had stood on the sidelines, just as complicit, watching as Sungjae’s cruelty unraveled you. And yet, he had stayed—stayed with her, proposed to her, tried to build a future with her. It was laughable. 

The two of them, pretending like they could escape what they’d done, like they could forge something real out of ashes. But the truth had always been there, lurking beneath the surface. 

They were no better than the man lying next to her now.

Perhaps this was what she and Yunho both deserved—two people who had betrayed you, condemned to a life of misery together.

Life in the Emporium was nothing short of magical surprises.

Each day began with a quiet ritual, a moment of calm before the shop's unique energy fully awoke. The first thing you’d do each morning was reach for the incense—carefully selected for its cleansing properties—and light it. As the fragrant smoke curled into the air, it seemed to reset the entire space, gently sweeping away the lingering energies left behind by the previous day’s visitors.

Above, the flowers in the hanging garden stirred with the first touch of morning light, their vibrant petals responding as if in greeting. You watered them with a flick of the wrist, though it felt more like a gesture of care than necessity—they thrived on the shop's magic more than on water.

The shop had its own rhythm, a delicate balance between the mundane and the mystical. Travelers, clients, and even the occasional spirit wandered in, drawn by the promise of wishes granted—some simple, others far more complicated. You had seen all kinds: the weary traveler who just wanted safe passage home, the desperate lover seeking a second chance, or the ambitious merchant hoping to change their fortune.

But nothing in the emporium was granted without a cost, and the price wasn’t paid in gold or silver. Every transaction required something far more precious—a wish. Not the kind made on a whim, but a deeply held desire, pulled from the very core of one’s soul.

You would watch as they approached the counter, hands trembling ever so slightly as they revealed their request. Their eyes flickered with doubt as the weight of the exchange settled upon them. Standing before you, they were caught between what they needed and what they were about to give up, realizing that their wish, once surrendered, would be gone forever.

You always asked if they were certain. If they understood the nature of their sacrifice. But the emporium never rejected a payment once it was offered. 

You had become accustomed to the shop’s quirks, trusting its ancient magic to maintain a balance that you could only partly comprehend. It was more than a shop; it was a living entity, guiding not only the customers but you, its keeper, shaping the course of both your lives in subtle, unseen ways.

Everything functioned smoothly, like clockwork—until the day Yunho arrived.

From the moment Yunho stepped into the emporium, his presence unsettled you. There was a calm assurance in the way he carried himself, grounding everything around you. Despite never having met him before, something inside you insisted Yunho wasn’t a stranger. 

You recalled the strange memories that had flooded your senses—the wind whipping around you as you sat in a car with Yunho, the sun illuminating the way the corner of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. It felt so real, as if you’d lived that moment before, but then it dissolved into something deeper, something raw. 

The emotions had gripped you before you could react, dragging you under like a riptide. Your knees buckled, and the world tilted, leaving you gasping for air. Yunho was there, of course. Even through the thick haze of your feelings, he kept you steady, his arms the only thing keeping you from crumbling completely.

Even now, the echoes of that moment lingered in your body. You could still feel the weight of the emotions that had passed through you, as if the magic had left an imprint on your soul. 

“Fate has already tied their threads together.”

Your mind raced, trying to grasp Hongjoong and Wooyoung’s conversation. 

What did that mean? What threads? Could the connection you felt—this strange, undeniable pull—be part of some cosmic plan, one that had existed long before you even stepped foot in the emporium?

But how could you accept something so profound when you couldn’t even remember him? The thought haunted you, and yet, deep down, the pull toward Yunho only grew stronger, as if Fate itself refused to let you walk away.

You sighed, taking a long drag from your pipe, leaning back as you watched a few late summer blooms drift down from the skylight’s hanging garden. Their petals fluttered like tiny omens in the gentle breeze. Fall had arrived, and with the change in seasons, the line between the living and the departed would thin, bringing even more travelers and clients from different realms. 

The bell above the door jingled faintly, drawing your attention. You glanced over, catching the sleek, shadowy form slipping through the crack in the door—a flash of fur before it darted out into the evening. You immediately knew who it was.

“Wooyoung,” you called out. The cat froze mid-step, his tail twitching with surprise. Slowly, he turned his head, his onyx eyes gleaming mischievously in the dim light.

“Don’t even try it,” you added, placing your hands on your hips. He blinked at you, feigning innocence, but you weren’t about to let him slink away without answers this time.

The cat stretched lazily, as if he hadn’t just been caught trying to sneak out, then padded toward you with that familiar, too-casual saunter. By the time he reached you, he shifted back into his human form with a dramatic sigh, ruffling his messy hair as if you’d truly inconvenienced him.

“I was just stepping out,” Wooyoung said, giving you that infuriating smirk of his. “Needed some air. It’s stuffy in here with all this—" He waved his hand around vaguely, “—magic.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it. “You are magic, Wooyoung.” Your tone was teasing, playful. “Haven’t you had enough of the outside world and tormenting humans for one lifetime?”

“I’m a cat. Gotta see what the world’s up to,” he shrugged. 

There was a beat of silence, and you took a breath before speaking. “I heard your conversation with Hongjoong last night.”

Wooyoung froze for the briefest moment, his eyes widening just slightly before he masked it with another lazy grin. The shift in his demeanor was quick, but you’d known him long enough to recognize the flicker of panic he tried to bury. 

"It’s not polite to eavesdrop," he teased, his voice light but edged with a subtle wariness.

You weren’t about to let him wiggle his way out of this one. You had seen the way he was squirming, avoiding the real issue, and this time you needed answers. 

"What does fate have to do with me and Yunho?"

His smile faltered, a crack in his usual carefree facade. Wooyoung shifted uneasily, searching for the right words to soften the blow, but knowing there was no easy way out. He could feel your frustration mounting, the tension stretching unbearably thin.

"It’s... well, it’s like this," His voice lowered, and for once, he sounded serious. "Hongjoong thinks you and Yunho are bound together in ways that we don’t fully understand. It’s something that’s deeper and older…something that humans refer to as soulmates."

Soulmates.

It sounded ridiculous, unbelievable. You and Yunho, tied together by fate? He was just a traveler, someone the shop had revealed itself to. There was nothing special about him. 

"How?" you scoffed, shaking your head as if the mere action would dispel the ridiculous notion. "He’s a stranger, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung shook his head, his eyes never leaving yours. He shifted uncomfortably, looking anywhere but at you. 

"Well… the thing is you have met him before.” But the thing is... you don’t remember. Because you can’t, Wooyoung wanted to say. 

"What are you talking about? Then why can’t I remember him? What did I forget?"

Your chest tightened. The frustration, the confusion, the pull you’d felt around Yunho ever since he first entered the shop—it all started to transform into something deeper, something more unsettling. It was as if a fog was lifting, revealing shadows of memories you couldn’t quite grasp.

He let out a long breath, rubbing his face. "It’s complicated. There are things...about you, that you don’t remember. That you chose not to remember."

Your mind raced. Memories? With Yunho? The man you barely knew, who had walked into your life like any other traveler? It didn’t make sense. None of this did.

"If I erased him from my life, then maybe I had a reason," you snapped, the words tasting bitter. Wooyoung winced but didn’t argue. 

"Fate doesn’t just disappear because you forget. He’s still tied to you, even if you can’t feel it." He paused, his eyes searching your face, hoping for some sign of understanding. "Maybe it’s why the shop revealed itself to him. It’s fate, pulling you back together."

You could feel the ground slipping from beneath you, your grip on reality loosening with every word he spoke. What Wooyoung was suggesting—soulmates, forgotten love, fate—it sounded like something out of a dream, a fantasy too far removed from the life you knew. 

"Why does it matter if I’m connected to him or not?" you continued, your throat tightening as the question lodged itself there, too painful to speak.

The air grew heavy, thick with tension, as if the walls themselves were reacting to the storm brewing inside you. The shelves rattled, and the shop’s energy pulsed erratically, reflecting the confusion and fear you could no longer keep at bay. The lanterns flickered wildly, casting frantic shadows that danced along the walls, twisting in the growing unease.

You tried to steady your breathing, to calm the chaos within, but your mind raced with unanswered questions, with the gnawing suspicion that Wooyoung was right, and it terrified you. 

Wooyoung’s face fell, the spark of his usual wit dimming into something darker, something almost sorrowful. He shifted uncomfortably again, as though he wished to be anywhere but here, at this moment.

"Because no one wants to see you hurting, Y/N,” His voice was barely above a whisper, thick with regret. "You were in so much pain that you thought forgetting him and becoming the keeper would make it stop."

That name again. Y/N. It echoed in your mind, a foreign weight on your chest. It felt like a name you should know, but it slipped through your grasp. A name tied to a life you no longer remembered. 

"That toy," he continued, "it triggered something, didn’t it? The memories—the emotions—they were too strong. And when you felt that, your magic went unstable. The shop could barely handle it."

You shuddered, the memory of that moment still fresh, still raw. But one question clawed at you, louder than the chaos you’d unleashed.

What had been so unbearable that the only answer was to forget?

“Why is it so cold?” you groaned, bouncing on your toes and rubbing your hands together, trying to get the blood flowing. 

The train station was always drafty, but today it felt like the cold had settled into your bones, refusing to leave. You shivered and glanced around, surprised to see no snow on the ground. It was odd—this time of year usually meant blankets of white everywhere, the world covered in a quiet stillness. Yet now, all you had was the biting wind and a gray sky threatening snow that never seemed to come.

Yunho stood beside you, his breath puffing out in small clouds as he huddled deeper into his coat. He laughed softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked at you. 

“You’re always cold,” he teased, nudging your arm with his elbow. “Should’ve worn more layers.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re practically a furnace,” you grumbled. 

The two of you had decided to take the train home for the holidays after your first semester of university. You were both exhausted—finals had drained whatever energy you had left—but there was excitement in the air as Christmas approached. 

“I’m surprised there’s no snow,” you mused, gazing up at the dull, overcast sky. The clouds hung low, thick and heavy, but still no sign of snowflakes falling. “Feels weird, doesn’t it? Christmas without snow.”

Yunho hummed in agreement beside you, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat as he followed your gaze. “Yeah, it’s like something’s missing. Hopefully, it’ll snow while we’re home.”

His voice was hopeful, and you could see the small spark of excitement in his eyes. Yunho loved snow—it wasn’t just the beauty of it, but the way it brought a sense of stillness and magic to the world. The kind of magic that reminded you both of simpler times, of building snowmen as kids and staying out too long until your fingers were numb.

The next morning, Yunho’s wish came true.

Snow. Fresh, untouched snow covered everything. The rooftops, the streets, the trees—it all glistened under the early morning light, as if the entire world had been dipped in magic overnight. 

This was the moment he’d been waiting for, the moment he hoped for when you both had been standing at the train station, wondering if Christmas would even feel like Christmas without snow. Now, it was here. His wish had come true.

But more than that, he wanted to share this moment with you.

You blinked up at the sky, a few lazy snowflakes still drifting down, landing on your lashes and melting against your skin. Yunho stood beside you, watching the way your eyes lit up, the way you took in the moment like it was something precious. 

The two of you stood there for a while, wordlessly watching the snowfall together. It was the kind of stillness that felt sacred, the kind that only came with the first snow of the season. 

As Yunho glanced at you, his breath caught. You weren’t doing anything special—just standing there, bundled up in your oversized hoodie, your hair slightly messy from sleep, your cheeks flushed from the cold. You weren’t trying to impress anyone, least of all him. You were just you, in the most effortless way, and somehow, that had always been enough.

There was a simplicity to the moment that felt different, more profound than he expected. Last summer, when you’d spent long, sunny days together, he’d thought he understood what he felt for you. He cared about you more than anyone, maybe more than he should’ve let on. It was a love that had grown quietly, steadily, and was beginning to envelop him. 

It was too easy to love you. Too effortless, too natural, as if his heart had always been meant for you. And that’s what made it so dangerous.

He knew that sometimes, love—no matter how powerful—wasn’t enough. The thought of risking what you had—this simple, effortless connection that meant everything to him—for something as unpredictable as love felt like falling into the ocean.

And Yunho wasn’t ready to make the jump. 

He groaned, pressing the heels of his hands against his temples as if that could somehow ease the pounding in his skull. His head felt like it was being split open, a dull, relentless ache that refused to let up. The events of the previous night were a blur—fragments of conversation, too many drinks, and the sinking realization that he’d gone well past his limit.

He’s supposed to head back to Seoul today, back to his life and the steady rhythm of work that usually kept his life in order. But there was no way he could face that right now, not with the amount of alcohol that had been consumed. 

The events of last night came back to him in disjointed, hazy flashes. He remembered the way your fingers brushed against the plush toy, followed by the sudden paling of your face right before you collapsed to the floor. 

Yunho’s heart had nearly stopped at that moment, the world around him crashing into stillness. The usual hum of the emporium faded into nothing, the vibrant colors of the shelves and strange objects blurring into meaningless shapes. 

His legs moved before his mind could catch up, and he was running, sprinting toward you as if the very air had been torn from his lungs. The world shrank, narrowing to the sight of you lifeless in his arms.

"Y/N, stay with me," he whispered, panic thick in his voice as he cradled your unconscious body. It was the same terror he’d felt the day you disappeared, the same helpless, gut-wrenching fear that had kept him awake at night, haunted by the thought that he’d never see you again.

Yunho held you like his entire world depended on it, his arms wrapped tightly around you, desperate and unrelenting. He pressed his forehead against yours, as he cradled your head against his chest, the warmth of your skin barely noticeable as panic surged inside him.

“I’m sorry, just please, please don’t leave me,” he begged, his voice barely holding together. His fingers tightened their grip on you, trembling with the fear that if he let go, even for a second, you’d slip away for good.

He couldn’t lose you, not when he had just found you again.

Then came Wooyoung’s revelation. You had chosen to disappear from his life. It wasn’t an accident, or some cruel twist of fate. You had asked the shop to erase your memories—all of them. He could still hear Wooyoung’s voice, bitter and sharp, recounting the details, but the exact reason why Wooyoung had been so angry at him was lost in the fog of the night.

He remembered the sting—the way the door slammed behind him, the coldness of the night hitting his face as he stood there, dazed, confused and frustrated. You were alive, bound to this strange realm by forces he didn’t fully understand. But worse than that, you had willingly cut him out of your life.

After that, things blurred even more. He’d ended up at a bar, the numbness setting in as he ordered drink after drink, trying to drown the sea of emotions that threatened to consume him. Somewhere along the way, Yeosang had joined him, and Yunho found himself pouring his heart out—his frustrations, his guilt, his failures. He had ranted about the weight of trying to be the good guy while everything around him crumbled.

Now, in the harsh light of day, the weight of it all hit him with a different kind of intensity. His heart felt heavy, and he had no idea where to go from here.

Yunho sat up, staring at his phone as if it might give him the answers he was too afraid to ask for. His thumb hovered over Haewon’s name on the screen, trembling slightly. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say—he didn’t have a plan, only a sinking feeling in his chest that told him he couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine. 

The line rang once, then twice. By the third ring, his heart had started racing, the weight of everything he had to confront pressing down on him like a vice. When it went to voicemail, Yunho’s stomach dropped.

“Hey, it’s Haewon! Sorry I missed your call, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you soon!”

The artificial cheer in her voice made his skin crawl, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. He could almost picture her—smiling, carefree, the version of her that had loved him wholeheartedly. But that wasn’t who she was anymore. That wasn’t who they were.

"Hey..." he finally whispered, “give me a call when you get a chance.” Yunho waited for a beat, as if hoping she might pick up at the last second, but the line remained silent, empty.

“Yunho? Aren’t you getting ready to head back?” His mom’s voice was gentle, but it startled him from his thoughts. She appeared in the doorway, concern etched in the lines of her face. 

He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I don’t know if I’m going back,” he admitted softly, his voice thick with uncertainty. 

His mom walked in, taking a seat on the edge of his bed, her presence warm and calming. She had always been able to read him better than anyone, even when he was trying his best to hide. Mrs. Jeong didn’t say anything for a moment, just letting the silence hang between them, giving him the space to breathe.

“Tell me more.”

Yunho sighed, running a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of everything he’d been holding in. It was strange—he felt like a teenager again, venting to his mom about his problems, but this time it felt more suffocating. The future he had thought he wanted, the life he had worked so hard to build, no longer felt like his.

“I’m hungover. I’m miserable. I don’t want to marry Haewon. I’m not happy with my job or where I am in my life. Mingi is my only friend, Yeosang kind of hates me, and Y/N…” He let out a watery chuckle, the sound laced with bitterness. “She’s gone.”

There it was, the truth laid bare—the reality that had been gnawing at him for months, too terrifying to confront. The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of everything he had been trying to ignore.

Mrs. Jeong’s gaze softened as she listened, her heart heavy with a mother’s instinct to protect, but knowing she couldn’t fix this for him. She reached out, placing a hand over his. 

“You’ve been carrying this for a while, haven’t you?” Her voice was soft, laced with a sadness that only came from witnessing the quiet battles of someone you love.

Yunho looked down to their joined hands, his throat tightening. The words he had held back for so long hovered on the edge of his lips, threatening to escape. 

“I thought I could handle it. But—" He paused, his fingers gripping hers a little tighter, his chest heaving as he fought to keep the floodgates closed. 

"I don’t want to keep pretending I’m okay,” he continued, voice cracking slightly. “I’m tired, Mom. Of the job, the engagement, everything. It’s like I’m suffocating, and I don’t know how to breathe anymore.” he replied, quieter now, almost like he was talking to himself. It was the first time he’d admitted it out loud. The fear that had been chaining him to a future he didn’t want.

His mother exhaled softly, her brow furrowing as she absorbed his words. After a moment, she squeezed his hand and spoke gently, her voice calm but firm.

“You’ve always been so considerate. Always thinking of others. But have you thought about what you want? Truly want, not just what you think you should want?”

It wasn’t something Yunho had ever allowed himself to consider fully, and even now, the thought seemed almost too outlandish, too selfish. But the way his mother looked at him, with such understanding, made it feel less frightening, less impossible to confront.

“You’re allowed to want something different, Yunho. You’re allowed to change your mind. You’re allowed to choose yourself.”

Her words struck something within him, unraveling the tightly wound rope of expectations he had tangled himself in for so long. He hesitated, his heart pounding as he dared to voice the question that had haunted him for months.

“So you wouldn’t be upset if I called off the wedding?” His voice was small, almost as if he were afraid the very mention of it might cause everything to collapse around him.

His mother shook her head, her expression soft and reassuring. “Of course not, Yunho. Haewon is lovely, but…” She paused, choosing her words carefully, as she looked at him. “I always felt like she wasn’t the one for you.”

Yunho blinked, surprised by the admission. His mother had never said anything like that before, and in all their talks about the wedding, she had always been supportive, never giving any sign that she might have doubts of her own. 

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” he asked, almost incredulous. 

“Because you’re finally listening to yourself. This is your life, not mine, not anyone else’s. It wasn’t my place to tell you how to live, Yunho. I wanted to believe that you knew what was best for you.”

“And if I quit my job?” he asked, testing the waters, anxiety sparking in his voice. 

“Gunho would be thrilled,” she laughed. “You know, he was absolutely livid when you took the finance job over the Tigers. I’ve never seen him so upset with you! He ranted for weeks about how you were wasting your talents behind a desk instead of being out there building the ultimate dream team.”

His mother’s laughter faded, replaced by a more serious expression. “We’ve all had our hopes for you, Yunho. But those were our hopes, not yours. Life’s not a straight line. It’s full of twists and turns. You don’t have to stay on a path that doesn’t feel right anymore.”

There was something comforting about the idea, the notion of stepping away from the path he had chosen, back to something that felt more like home—more like himself. Sitting with his mother, he began to wonder: What if it wasn’t reckless? What if choosing the life he truly wanted wasn’t some wild, selfish fantasy? What if it was okay to dream again?

His mind wandered to you, to the quiet snowfall and how the snowflakes caught on your lashes. He thought of that summer, driving to the beach, the wind in your hair and the sun beaming down on you, like the world itself couldn’t touch you as long as you were together.

He thought of meeting you for the first time at six years old, running across the street and greeting you as if he’d known him your entire life. It was as if he’d found his other half that day, the person who made him feel complete even in his innocence.

But then, more painfully, he thought of meeting you for the first time again. Only this time, you hadn’t known him at all. 

With you, there was no need to fill the silence. Everything felt easy, natural, like you were meant to exist beside each other. You were his best friend, the one person who made him feel like himself. And suddenly, Yunho knew. 

It was you. 

The version of himself that existed when he was with you—that was who he truly was. It was a terrifying realization, but at the same time, it was the most certain thing he’d felt in a long time. You had always been the one constant in his life, the one person who made everything feel okay, even when it wasn’t.

And he didn’t want to lose that. He didn’t want to lose you.

He wanted a future with you.

Yunho swallowed, his pulse quickening, but for the first time in what felt like forever, his mind was clear. 

“I think…” he began, his voice steady, resolute, “I know where I want to go from here.”

Pushing open the door, the familiar chime rang through the shop. It was empty, save for you, and Yunho’s breath caught when he saw you standing behind the counter, bathed in the glow of fading daylight. 

He glanced over at you, watching the way you moved, how you seemed so different and yet so familiar. The person standing in front of him was still you, the same person he’d known since childhood. The memories from childhood rushed back again—the snow, the summer sun, the first time you played baseball together. It all made sense now, in ways it never had before.

“Yunho,” you greeted, your voice carrying a warmth as you lifted your hand with a graceful flick. The scroll hovering beside you shimmered for a moment, then dissolved into the air, disappearing as if it had never existed. 

“How are you feeling?” Yunho asked quietly. There was something boyish, almost shy, in the way he looked at you, like he was a kid again, standing in front of his crush, hoping for something, anything, that would tell him he was making the right choice.

“Better. Thank you for being here the other night. It seems like you were a big help to Wooyoung.”

"I'm glad to hear that," he murmured, his voice soft as his gaze lingered on you, his eyes softening as if he were seeing you for the first time all over again. There was a quiet admiration that he couldn’t quite hide, no matter how hard he tried to keep his emotions in check.

"I uh…" he hesitated, his eyes flickered away for a moment, as if searching for courage in the silence between you, “I’m leaving for Seoul. Just to take care of some things. I wanted to see you before I left.”

You tilted your head, curiosity lighting up your eyes, the corners of your lips lifting in that familiar way that made his heart stutter. A playful yet gentle hum escaped your lips. 

“Oh? And why’s that?”

Your question hung in the air, teasing him, pulling at the tangled mess of feelings he'd tried to bury for so long. He looked at you, a faint flush creeping up his neck as he struggled to find the right response. 

“I—” he started, but his voice faltered. His pulse quickened, and for a moment, he felt completely exposed. “I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”

The air around you seemed to still, the gravity of his admission settling like dust in the corners of the emporium. The idea of leaving felt wrong to him, and yet it was inevitable, something he had to do. 

Your eyes softened with understanding, feeling more like home than any place he could go. Something in your gaze recognized him, sensing the invisible thread that tied you together. 

“No matter where you are,” you said quietly, your voice carrying the same calm assurance that had always soothed him, “the emporium will always be within reach. As will I.”

The words were simple, yet they held a promise—a promise that went beyond physical space or memory. The emporium was never bound by the ordinary rules of the world, and neither, it seemed, were you. Your small, understanding smile made Yunho feel that, despite the uncertainty, everything would be okay.

“Besides,” you continued, a playful glint flickering in your eyes, “I can always ask Wooyoung to lend a helping hand. He knows the way.”

“That cat does nothing but bully me,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, recalling how Wooyoung had made him a target of mischief.

Your laugh filled the space between you, a sound that seemed to chase away the heaviness for just a moment. Though Yunho tried to maintain his frown, the corners of his lips betrayed him, lifting into a reluctant smile. 

Even though you didn’t remember him, it didn’t matter. There was something deeper between you, something unshakeable. And that, in its own way, gave him the strength he needed to leave.

You stepped forward, that invisible thread that had always seemed to exist between you tugged at your heart, drawing you toward him. It was a connection that transcended words, possibly even space and time. Yunho’s eyes lingered on you, their quiet intensity making your heart skip a beat.

“The next time I come into the shop,” he began, his voice low, “I’ll be ready to make my wish.”

You searched his face, trying to read the depths of what he meant, but all you found was that same gentle fervor staring back at you. 

“You’ve thought about it?”

“I have,” he admitted. “With everything that’s happening, I think I finally know what I want.”

The weight of his words settled between you like a promise. Whatever his wish was, it wasn’t something to be rushed—it belonged to the future, a time when he was ready to claim it. And somehow, you understood that.

“I’ll be waiting,” you whispered, though you knew Yunho heard it.

As he turned to leave, a sudden thought gripped you, pulling you back from the brink of your goodbye. “Yunho… before you leave…”

He froze at the sound of his name on your lips, his heart fluttering. Every breath, every glance, vibrated with something unspoken, something powerful.

“Who are you?” you asked, your voice soft, tentative. “To me?”

<< iii | v >>

taglist: @babymbbatinygirl @intowxnderland @hwasa28 @thedistractedwriter @beabatiny @lovelyglares @spenceatiny18 @tiny-apocalypse @sunnysidesins @heyitsmetonid @jwone @laurenwidjaja @potatos-on-clouds @xuchiya @syubseokie

[crguang]

the little… life?

this essentially explores a bit the disconnect between shalom’s mind and her body which she holds no particular attachment to. it is a tool, like her, and she’s discovered a new use for it.

gn!reader, smut…, bottom!shalom, no clear idea who tops here but shalom is the one receiving so, fingering, 3k words

A/N: my first path to nowhere work and it’s shalom smut because of fucking course it is. whatever man. if this feels a little clinical instead of something written by a horny lesbian it’s on purpose

The expanse of skin before you is a smooth frozen lake beneath your fingertips untouched by seasons and wandering souls, an unnatural landscape that the flow of time cannot scratch or sully. She doesn’t melt, no matter what, yet the vigorous torrent under her icy surface can only be seen from this close; with her slender neck bared to your gaze, the blue tendrils of her veins pulse in anticipation. Her meticulously cut hair, dark raspberry fading into a washed out cream, has been carefully arranged over her shoulder in an invitation to do as you’re used to on her skin and her head is tilted towards the clear patio doors allowing silver light to bask in this barren room even with no moon in sight. The sharp edge of her relaxed jaw obscures your vision of her eyes but having done this multiple times already, you know that their empty pink irises are fixed on the starless sky beyond the confines of her bedroom. Her breathing is inaudible, almost absent if it weren’t for the steady beat of her chest hidden by her slightly wrinkled blouse. She lies on her back beneath you, slack and as open as she can be, expectant and awaiting. Her arms rest clinically at her sides, her palms lax against the gray bed sheets, and you withdraw from the crook of her neck with a sudden uneasiness in your guts. This is always how she is, how she allows herself to be during nights like this one, but you’re reminded as usual of the distance of her mind compared to the presence of her body. She is miles away somewhere deep on a metaphysical plane you’ll never reach. You trace the faint pattern of a vein down the hollow of her throat with a fingernail. She senses your own distance, the loss of your parted lips on her skin, and her head slowly turns to face you. 

“Is something wrong?” Shalom lifts a hand to cup your cheek, an index finger stroking the back of your earlobe’s base. She’s learned that this gesture relaxes you somehow, and now she does it every time she requires your full attention. 

Her voice is soft, it blends with the stillness of the night around you and is tinged with curiosity, nothing else. Her bright eyes seem bottomless behind their beautiful shade of rose. At their corners, thin creases accompany her easy smile. She fixes you with a gentle look, you feel the coldness of her smooth palm seep into your skin. 

“Do you want this?”

Shalom finds your inquiry amusing. “I opened the door for you, didn’t I?”

“Yes…” you concede with a short pause, glancing at the crystallized stretch of her lips. You don’t voice your lack of comfort with her unresponsiveness, but she senses your hesitation regardless. 

“Oh. I was a little lost in thought.” Her reply visibly hurts you in a way she doesn’t understand. Your brows twitch indignantly, so she adds, “I’m sorry.”

“This should be enjoyable for you.”

“It is.” Her hand snakes around your neck in an intimate caress and her fingertips sink in your hair as she guides you closer. Her eyelids droop with the proximity of your face, gaze flitting to your mouth, and she lets herself feel your warm breath on her lips for a moment. “It is,” she repeats in a murmur before softly pressing her lips against yours. 

Shalom takes the initiative once she understands that this is what you need from her. She holds you near with a hand on your nape and another on your cheek and leads you in a slow dance that she deepens after a while, parting her mouth wider for her tongue to swipe along the seam of your lips. The warmth of your breath melding with her own, the gentle movement of your connected mouths, your tangible weight above her body; she absorbs those sensations like a dehydrated sponge in clean water, with greed and abandon. Her Mania reacts to yours and thrums right under her skin, lighting a spark she cannot feel otherwise. Your fingers wrap around her throat, pressed to her windpipe. Shalom makes a quiet sound, a sharp and involuntary intake of breath, and she relishes the unexpected responses of her body. They’re always the same, yet they manage to surprise her each time. She slightly angles your head upward for your tongue to meet hers, they kiss wetly in a tangle of shared saliva. Her pulse quickens, that alien rhythm in the hollow of her chest and muffled in her ears. The temperature of her skin doesn’t grow warmer, she doesn’t sweat, but it’s okay; she feels electricity along her limbs zapping towards her brain and the feeling is intoxicating. She can only compare it to a surge of Mania within her body, that invigorating force that seizes her from head to toe and fills her with vitality she does not naturally possess. 

Shalom lets you kiss her breath away. She surrenders to her body’s physiological reactions, allowing them to ground her wandering mind if only for a few moments. She is entirely present as your hand brushes her protruding collarbone and travels over her thin shirt to feel her rising chest. You cup her breast fully, and there it is again, that delightful little gasp out her mouth. Her grip on the back of your neck tightens. Each response is eternally new, born from the disconnect between her mind, always working, and her physical form which has never been used for this purpose until mere months ago. She’s discovered a new utility to it outside of Paradeisos’ reach and the first time she tasted the ancient pleasures of the flesh, the influx of sensations that coiled inside of her and their release was so intense that she had felt like a person for the short minutes it lasted. Her thighs trembled, she caught a glimpse of that coalescence of colors behind her eyelids, her breath was squeezed out of her lungs and Shalom was certain, for this fleeting instant, that this was how life felt like. It could have been death, for all she knew of either— which is nothing. If she were to describe the feeling, the words would escape her. It has to be experienced first hand, to be lived through for it to make sense to anyone. She sought it out again after two weeks. Then again, and again, and she’s found that her body is like an endless source of pleasure that can be exploited whenever she desires it. It was a splendid discovery and now her moments of reprieve are marked in the calendar of her mind as are her daily communications with Paradeisos. 

The contrast of your warm palm and the bare skin of her stomach brings her out of her straying train of thought. 

“You’re elsewhere again,” you reproach her, teeth grazing her jaw.

“I’m sorry.” The words leave her too easily to mean anything. 

With both hands cupping your face, she brings your mouth to hers again. You feel the plane of her abdomen and the curves of her waist under her blouse. Her dips and crannies are familiar now, you’ve mapped them out with your hands often enough to know the hollow of her belly button makes her shudder when touched and the underside of her breasts is where she’s most sensitive. You take your time, Shalom wants the pleasure to build to a boiling point that has her toes curling reflexively until her release feels like salvation. You leave no inch of skin untouched, lift her shirt to expose more of her body to your restless hands, and they trail up the curve of her spine to reach the clasp of her dark bra. Undoing it takes a couple of seconds. Shalom reluctantly lets you withdraw from her lips so you can help pull her clothes over her head. You bare her upper body to your admiring gaze, slithering fingers touching all the parts even the sun doesn’t kiss, and instead of staring at the expanse of midnight blue outside, Shalom watches you watching her. She smiles when you meet her eyes, not ashamed in the slightest at her responses to your attention, the way goosebumps rise on her skin and her pink nipples stiffen under your contemplation. Her hair is only slightly tousled from the pillow and the deep kisses she planted on your mouth, most of it is still perfectly brushed as it always is. You feel scrutinized in the face of her stare, calculations and analyses veiled by the gentle smile on her lips. 

You firmly cup her perky breast once more. Shalom’s eyes show more activity, they gleam brighter in the moonlight. 

“What do you want?” You ask, watching the way her flesh bends to your will in the palm of your hand. 

“I want you close.”

You lift your own shirt over your head and discard it at the end of the bed. With a palm on her cheek, you bend low and steal another kiss from her, your body flushed to hers. Her freezing skin doesn't bother you much anymore, you’ve tried to warm it up with your own to no avail and learned to treat it as a stimulant that lights your nerves on fire. Your thumb circles her nipple, then applies sweet pressure on the hardened rosebud and Shalom sighs into your mouth. An arm around your shoulders keeps you pressed to her. Each ministration pleasantly tightens her guts, she feels ecstasy slowly building within her and the anticipation of sudden relief further excites her. She shifts beneath you, legs joined together to stimulate the need in her core. Still, you litter her jaw and neck with open-mouthed kisses and ignore the lower half of her body for now. She invites you closer with a tilt of her head. The love bites that follow your teeth and tongue will disappear before morning but that fact doesn’t deter you from mixing pain and pleasure to hear the soft sounds coming from the woman in your arms. You twist her nipple between two fingers, Shalom's lips part in an exhale. She’s not particularly loud during these moments but she doesn’t contain her reactions either, the need to be submerged in them easily wins out within her and she lets them come as they do in order to experience them fully. 

Your mouth draws a path from her throat to her smooth chest, layering kisses on every inch of skin at your disposal. Your upper teeth graze her sensitive nipple before it’s sucked past your lips. Shalom has a hand at the back of your head and her body arches further into your mouth, lidded eyes staring into the distant semi-darkness of the room. Her fingertips tingle as your tongue flicks over the bud, wetting her skin unashamedly. She’s a patient woman, so she submits to your pace and enjoys the slow ascent of pleasure within her. Her heartbeat is irregular, she can hear it in her ears, it’s still a strange feeling to be attuned to her own body when it’s simply something her superiors pay attention to to monitor the risks she poses. With you, she finds a maddening use for this form that she hasn’t considered in length before. Her chest is lavished with your genuine adoration and that is another unfamiliar notion difficult to make sense of. She’s never put her Mark on you.

Finally, your fingers travel down her torso to fiddle with the belt buckle over her skirt. It no longer poses any problem to you now but you distinctly remember Shalom’s amused chuckles the first time you faltered in front of it. You shake the embarrassing memory from your head. Her belt falls apart under your trained hands and Shalom lifts her hips before you can ask her to, allowing you to pull her long skirt past her legs. Your nose nuzzles into her, just below her jaw, to feel the rapid pulse of her artery as your fingertips slide beneath the waistband of her underwear. Her thighs part automatically for you. 

“Hush, you’re already dripping,” you whisper into her, lips brushing the skin of her neck with each word.

Shalom’s following laugh is soft and breathy. “That’s right… What will you do?”

“Mm…”

Two fingers trail down her wet slit under her panties, feeling the slickness gathered on her cunt and smearing it over her puffy lips. Your digits are coated in her arousal in seconds and they dip between her folds when Shalom spreads her legs further apart, another blissful sigh out her mouth. You explore her pussy like it’s your first time, leisurely and methodically, eliciting the sweetest breathless moans from her. You press more kisses to the skin within reach, sucking it between your lips and sinking your teeth into the flesh enough for it to sting. One of her hands is at her side, gripping the blanket below your bodies. Your closeness is an important factor in her pleasure, Shalom eventually figured out. Your skin on hers, your warm breath against her, your kiss-swollen lips wandering all over her body like she’s something to be adored; they all tighten the coil of her intestines in her lower stomach. Now, peppering kisses to the underside of her jaw as your pointer finger finds her needy clit, she can almost see beyond the hill of pleasure she’s gradually climbing towards. The fall is her favorite part, the fall is where “life” lies, this previously unachievable state that is purely physical and yet, that holds a thousand secrets she won’t ever uncover. 

You rub her clit from base to tip then suddenly flick it a few times. Shalom makes a sound of surprise where half of it gets stuck in her throat. 

“Ahmn…!”

“Oh? That’s a new one,” you repeat the motion, but it seems the element of surprise is crucial to getting such noises from her. What a shame. “Never heard this sound from you before. Aren’t you happy? There are still sensations we haven’t discovered yet, after all.”

“Ha…” Shalom shifts again, the onslaught of pleasure making her somewhat restless. “Wonderful…”

Your digits find her gushing entrance and circle it once before testing the resistance by slowly sliding a finger into her cunt. She takes it in stride with only a heavy exhale, but you feel her clench around you at the intrusion. You stroke her inner walls gently, coaxing her to relax, and after a short moment she does. You wish you could do something about the perky nipples on her chest, however, you’re lying halfway on her body and your other arm is around her neck, acting as a support for her head. You settle for licking a stripe up her jaw to the corner of her mouth. Shalom turns a little, meeting your tongue with hers. You push a second digit into her cunt and readily swallow the soft moan that bubbles up her throat. You slightly curl your fingers once you’re deep enough to reach the spot that makes her shudder and revel in the stutter of her chest in response. 

Each thrust into her is one less second on the countdown of her release, Shalom knows it’s soon to come by the telltale clench of her guts and the tension in her hand as it grips the sheets. Her breath is squeezed out of her lungs with the relentless kisses you freely give her, small tremors run through her parted thighs from the effort of keeping them spread for you and there’s a faint array of colors deep inside her mind where what was taken from her resides in constant indignation. She’s not close enough, she needs more, needs to venture farther.

“More,” she demands against your lips, fingers clawing in your hair. 

“More than two?... Another new one,” you mutter to yourself, hissing softly when Shalom pulls your head back in retaliation. “Getting a little needy, Hush?”

You say her alias like a nickname instead of something that inspires fear in Paradeios’ enemies. She doesn’t understand it. Amidst it all, Shalom chuckles breathily. You slide a third finger inside her, earning a low moan from her, and plunge them all at the same steady pace. Her bedroom, more of a place to rest than a living space, fills with the wet sounds of your digits thrusting into her cunt and the sounds of pleasure that spill from her lips. 

There it is, Shalom can feel it mounting within her, this indescribable feeling that her body is able to produce endlessly. She feels the blood rushing in her ears again and her lashes flutter, eyes not quite shut nor open, her pupils are blown with a white triangle gleaming faintly in her right eye. This is the instant where her body and mind connect, an exhilarating fall after such grand anticipation; her fingers quiver in your hair, a shuddering breath tumbles with difficulty out of her mouth and she sees those same merging colors glowing brightly against the obscurity of her consciousness, within reach yet forever unattainable— Shalom outstretches her hand towards them for the few seconds it takes her to reach her peak, and when she finally falls, she’s harshly brought back to the present by the titillating pleasure that overcomes her at once. She doesn’t hear the noise that leaves her. Her body shudders, that same spark form earlier has turned into jolts of electrifying bliss along her limbs, and she can only surrender herself to the sensations until they come to pass two minutes later. 

You easily slip your cum-covered fingers out of her throbbing pussy once she relaxes the grip she had on them. You bring them before you and watch how they glisten in the moonlight. You look at Shalom, who’s calmed down enough to meet your gaze with clear eyes, and brush some hair further away from her face. 

“Satisfied?”

She smiles. “No.”