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bluelockmaniac · 2 months ago

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📽 "𝐂𝐔𝐓! ... 𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐃 𝐂𝐔𝐓!?"

ft. actor!itoshi rin x costar!reader

synopsis. it was finally time to 'act out' the long awaited kiss scene with your celebrity crush, itoshi rin! but when the director yells 'cut!' . . . you both don't stop?

notes. gn!reader, 1.1k wc. popping back in for a bit hehe :)

three months and at least twenty-five near heart attacks later, you were finally about to film the long-awaited kiss scene with none other than the man of your dreams– itoshi rin. and, as fate would have it, it would be your first kiss too! killing two birds with one stone had never felt so terrifyingly thrilling.

having been chosen to co-star with the famous actor in a conventional romance movie had already been surreal enough, but now, after what felt like an eternity of rehearsals and stealing glances at your celebrity crush, it was finally time to place your pretty lips right where they belonged– on his.

the set was filled with blurred murmurs as the crew made their final adjustments, the cameras maneuvered to align their lenses perfectly, the lights flickered as the technicians adjusted them to a soft glow. surprisingly, you were not feeling nervous (rather, excited) though the same could not be said about rin who was seated on the plush prop couch in the middle of the carefully arranged living room set, his fingers drumming impatiently against the cushion.

you took your place behind the apartment door, knuckles barely grazing the wooden surface as you waited for your cue.

the movie director then cleared his throat into his fist and raised the clapperboard. “quiet on set,” he bellowed, and the room instantly fell silent.

“ready,” thump

“set,” thump

“action!”

and the scene commenced.

you knocked on the door and a heartbeat later, rin’s voice floated from the inside– low & collected.

“the door’s open.”

short. simple. but most importantly, steady. it seems like he had finally settled into character.

twisting the doorknob, you stepped inside, shutting the door gently behind you. the air between you shifted the moment your eyes met rin’s cerulean gaze. you looked away almost immediately, heat creeping up your neck. pretending to be in love with him wasn’t very difficult when, in truth, there was no acting at all.

“i didn’t think you’d actually come.” rin’s voice was calm. he placed his mug down on the table, then threw his arm over the back of the couch as you approached and sat next to him.

“you called, didn’t you?” you turned toward him, tilting your body slightly as you took the time to scrutinize his face. his expression was unreadable, but you knew the script. furrowing your brows, you breathed out a soft huff. “liar,” you murmured. “you knew i was going to come.”

a ghost of a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. then, without hesitation, his arm dropped from the couch, sliding effortlessly around your waist as he pulled you in, closer, until you felt the warmth radiating from him.

“yeah,” he admitted, “i did. you’ve always been easy to read, after all.”

your heart skipped a beat, but you kept your composure. barely. “cocky as always, i see.”

you scooted closer to him, the space between you turning into nothing as you buried your face into the warmth of his neck. your hands moved to rest on his chest, and you inhaled the familiar, rich scent of his cologne before sighing softly.

“i missed you, kai,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his skin.

secretly you wished there would come a day when you could whisper rin instead, not his character’s name.

there was a long silence and you contained your excitement for what’s to come like the competent performer you are. after the silence had stretched long enough, your trembling fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt and you pushed yourself up. your eyes glistened with professional tears and your voice cracked at just the right moment.

“i said i missed y–!”

the rest of your line was stolen.

without a word, rin’s hands found your face, fingers firm as he pulled you in, and then– his lips crashed onto yours. it wasn’t gentle. not hesitant either. it was rough and a bit reckless, too. it portrayed his scripted (or was it?) longing for you after 'years of absence' perfectly. his lips moved languidly against your own, and when a quiet whimper escaped you– definitely part of the script (cut yourself some slack, it was your first kiss for god’s sake)– you felt him shudder slightly.

your arms snaked around his neck as you began reciprocating the kiss more eagerly, with one tear cinematically slipping down your cheek. rin’s hand skis down to hold your waist while his nose brushes against yours fleetingly every now and then. it may be wishful thinking but with the way he’s passionately kissing you, you start to think that perhaps rin hadn't been acting this whole time. just like you.

“beautiful… perfect…” the movie director whispered under his breath, wiping a tear of pride as he casts glances at the camera crew filming the two successful stars. with a deep inhale, he readied himself, gripping the clapperboard.

and–

“CUT!” his crisp voice rings through the set, signaling the end of the scene.

but you don’t pull away.

and neither does rin.

rin took pride in his career as an actor. he’d always been a professional, detached, the kind of actor that did what ought to be done and moved on. no strings, no unnecessary connections. but that was all prior to this because gosh hell would have to freeze over before he lets go of you now.

your lips were magnetic, and from the way you crawl onto his lap, fingers tangling in his hair, kissing deeper, he knows you could feel it too. a soft gasp escapes him as he lands back against the plush pillows of the couch, your weight on top of him, but neither of you seem to care.

the director blinks.

huh. odd. maybe you two didn’t hear the signal, though he was certain his voice was loud enough. “CUT!” he tried again, his voice slightly louder.

but you two were in your own world, too lost in each other to register the world around you.

“i-i said CUT!”

still, neither of you budge. the cameras kept rolling, the crew remained silent. someone sniffles in the background. perhaps, the director thinks, this is even better- like real lovers. you two depicted the raw emotions suspiciously well.

and so, when the film was released, that extended moment (the one where neither you or rin heard the call to stop) was actually kept! the movie was a massive hit, and you two may have started dating after this (the only justifiable course of action after the stuttering and embarrassment that came from you two after the realization).

of course, the director’s frantic shouting had to be muted post-production with advanced editing platforms. oh, and–

the part where rin had accidentally moaned your real name instead of your character’s? yeah. that was cropped out completely.

#౨ৎ — vivi writes.#bllk #blue lock #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #itoshi rin #rin itoshi #itoshi rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #rin x reader #itoshi rin x you #itoshi rin x y/n #rin itoshi x you #rin itoshi x y/n #bllk x y/n #bllk x you #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you

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moonchild9350 · 4 months ago

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Just You and Me

summary: what lurks in the dark is your deepest desire

pairing: ???bangchan x gn!reader

genre: smut

word count:2k

warnings: light bondage, teasing, nipple play, edging, fingering, tears, oral sex (m receiving), spanking, unprotected sex (don’t), creampie, squirting, multiple orgasms, mention of subsapce, blood drinking, choking, temporary asphyxiation.

notes: Chan’s mv that’s it lol sorry in advance for this filthy piece lol

If you enjoyed, comment, reblog, and like :)

Please do not copy, translate, use, repost, modify without my permission. ©️moonchild9350 (2024)

The room is dim, the black candles that litter the corners of the room providing the only light, its flames flickering and casting shadows on the walls. The air is thick, mixed with something promising.

You’re sitting in a chair that’s placed in the center of the room, facing the door that’s closed shut. You can’t move your arms as they’re tied behind your back, the cold cuffs biting into your skin, chafing the flesh. Your legs are tied open, rope binding your ankles to the legs of the chair.

Your eyes are glued to the door, awaiting the man who put you like this, bound tight, chest heaving as you wait in anticipation. He told you he would have his way with you tonight and the thought has had you wet, your panties soaked through as they stick to your skin.

The door cracks open, the man stepping through before he shuts the door again, the click it makes echoing loud in the chamber. Your breath hitches as he walks to you, his eyes on you as if you are his prey. He’s shirtless, his chest bare, his muscles toned, accentuated by the blush of his nipples, hardened in the cold air. His pants lay low on his hips revealing the band of his boxers that promise so much more for what’s beneath them.

It seems like it’s an eternity before he finally arrives in front of you, looking down at you in your frazzled state. He drags his thumb down your cheek, your jaw, your lips before pressing down on the flesh and letting it go, a smirk on his face as he takes you in.

You stare into his eyes, in awe of the two toned pupils, one black as night and one white as a ghost. Your core clenches, needing to be touched, to feel his rough hands drag across your skin, leaving you wet and wanting until you’re begging for him.

Chan is silent as he continues to touch you, brushing his fingers down your neck and shoulders, leaving goosebumps behind. He bites his lips as his fingers brush lightly over your covered breasts, your nipples responding immediately to his touch. You let out a sigh at the feeling, pushing your chest forward into his hands.

He circles his fingers over the nubs, softly and gently at first before becoming more rough and intentional, his eyes on your face as you fall apart. You feel warmth build up in your core, your arousal leaking, dripping through the soaked fabric of your panties and coating the chair you’re sitting on. You’re so close to your high as he teases your nipples, your breath coming in strangled gasps, your chest heaving. You’re so close, your orgasm imminent until he stops, chuckling as you let out a whine at your high that is fading away.

You watch as he rips your bra in two like it’s nothing, the fabric falling away leaving your chest bare. His fingers find your nipples again and you let out a pleased sigh, savoring the feel of his fingers directly on the nubs. He works you up again, caressing and rubbing your nipples, building that warm sensation within you once more.

Chan lets out a growl as you tip over the edge, your moans and whimpers spurring him on as he continues to play with your breasts. He removes his hands suddenly, leaving you shocked and wanting, as you come down from your high. You watch as he unzips his pants and pushes them off, reveling his toned thighs and the large bulge in his boxers.

As he removes his boxers, his cock springs out, slapping against his lower abdomen. Your jaw drops as you take in his size, wondering how he’ll fit inside you. He grips his shaft and strokes, his hands circling around the head that’s leaking with precum.

He takes a few steps towards you and brings his cock to your lips, raising his eyebrows as he looks at you expectedly. You shyly open your mouth, your eyes on his as he shoves his cock within your mouth. You moan around his length as it’s barely able to fit.

Chan lets out a deep moan as he begins fucking your face, his hands reaching out to take ahold of your head to ensure you take all of him each time. It’s slightly painful as his cock invades your throat, his tip slamming into the back of your mouth each time.

You take him however, as he abuses your mouth, your eyes glued to his face, in awe of the pleasure that is written all over his face. Tears stream down your face and drool drips down your chin as Chan moans, his eyes closed as he pushes your head down on him over and over. With a deafening roar, Chan comes, spurts of warm cum flooding your mouth and dripping down your chin as he doesn’t let up but instead continues to thrust his hips as he rides out his high.

You’re stunned as he suddenly withdraws, his cock still hard and leaking, his eyes hooded as he takes you in, ruined and panting as you try to catch your breath. You swallow the little bit of cum that’s still in your mouth, moaning as the salty liquid coats your tastebuds.

Chan smiles as he knees and brings a hand to your panties and pulls at them, the fabric ripping instantly, exposing your bare pussy to him. He licks his lips at your soaked folds, his finger running through them immediately, causing you to jolt in your seat. He wastes no time as he rubs your clit hard and fast, wet sounds echoing throughout the bare room.

You try to close your legs, your actions hindered due to the ropes around your ankles and legs, keeping you spread open for Chan’s viewing pleasure. With each stroke, the pleasure builds in your core, warm and tingly. You cant your hips slightly, fucking your pussy against his fingers.

Chan smirks before bringing another finger to your hole and pushes in, his thick digit spreading you open. You let out a mewl as he pushes in another and another and begins thrusting in and out, his fingers curling up to massage your sweet spot. He abuses your clit in time with his thrusts, leaving you a whimpering mess as he gets you closer to your orgasm.

He moans and chuckles as he listens to your wet pussy, the squelching sounds causing his cock to twitch, the length somehow enlarging even more. You suddenly let go, your release squirting onto his fingers and the chair, as he continues to finger fuck you through your high, his focus on drilling you hard and fast until your screaming at the overstimulation.

Chan satisfied, withdraws his fingers and brings his palm down onto your pussy with a slap and you moan as more liquid drips from your gaping hole. Your breath is heavy as Chan begins to untie you, starting with your ankles and legs and then your hands. He drags you up and then tosses you to the ground, your knees landing on the floor with a thud.

He pushes you down so you’re presented to him, your ass up and glistening pussy on display to his viewing pleasure. You yelp as he slaps your ass, bringing his hand down again and again until you’re whimpering at the pain. You’re sure the flesh is red and raw but the thought turns you on more.

You lay and wait silently with the occasional whimper until you feel the tip of his cock breach your entrance, the stretch already causing you to moan at the sting. As he pushes further, the pain becomes too much and you yell out as he stretches you open. You think it will never end until he’s flush to your ass, his hands dragging down your spine.

Chan begins to pound into you, his cock spreading you open with each thrust. Your yells turn into moans as the pain subsides into pleasure, the tip of his cock rubbing your upper walls just right. You feel yourself slip away as he abuses your hole, your mouth agape, your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the overwhelming pleasure.

You can hear Chan grunt above you as he grips your hips so tight, you know they’ll be bruises when he’s done. But you don’t care. You welcome the pain, the bruising as he pounds into you, bringing you to yet another orgasm. It hits you without warning, your walls spasming around his cock, your cream coating his length as he continues to fuck you. You don’t see the smile on Chan’s face as he takes in your pussy stretching around him, his eyes glued to the white that coats his cock and your ass that jiggles as his pelvis meets the flesh.

Chan withdraws from you and flips you over, your back landing on the floor as you let out a huff. He maneuvers your legs up and above your head, before sheathing himself once more within your pussy. He adapts a brutal pace, his cock hitting deeper in this position, the tip brushing your cervix over and over.

He’s gazing into your eyes, his pupils dilated as he fucks you, pressing his body down onto yours. His flashes his teeth as he lets out a grunt, bringing his wrist to his mouth. He bites the skin there and pulls away, his blood dripping down his arm and onto your breasts. He hovers his wrists over your mouth and gives you a look, prompting you to open your mouth to accept the metallic liquid in your mouth.

You clench around him as you drink, your face dripping with the red substance. You clench around Chan as more arousal gushing out of you. Chan grins and drops his hand, just to wrap his fingers around your throat. He adjusts himself over you before pummeling harder into you, your body jolting and breasts bouncing with the force he is using to fuck you.

He squeezes softly at first and then tightens his fingers until your gazing at him, eyes wide as you body is stimming with pleasure. You feel the warmth build in your core, fast and steadily. The oxygen is slowly being cut off, causing you to gasp until you explode, a powerful orgasm ripping through your body. You squirt on his cock, the force of the stream threatening to push his length from your pussy, however, he just drives his hips harder, keeping him within your walls.

With a loud groan Chan comes, filling you up with his seed as it floods your walls again, the white substance dripping from your pussy and down your ass and onto the floor below. He thrusts into you a few more times for good measure before withdrawing his cock from your hole.

You lay spent, your breath coming in quick pants as you try to recover. Chan is gazing at you, taking in your messy hair, the dried tears on your face mixed with his dried cum and blood. He takes in your heaving breasts as you take each breath down to your leaking pussy, stretched out just how he likes with a mixture of your fluids dripping steadily from your hole.

He sees the bruises forming on your hips, the discoloration taking shake to the shape of his fingers. Chan smiles down at you and teases your clit, smirking as you whimper at the sensation, spent from the orgasms he’s given you tonight.

Chan knows you won’t complain, that you’re satisfied and fucked out. After all, he knows how to treat his human who begs for his cock day after day. Within these four walls, you his to play with, to tease, to torture. Within these four walls it’s just you and him.

taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @simpforleeknaur @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92 @velvetmoonlght @possum-playground @katsukis1wife @my-neurodivergent-world @hanniebaeee

#stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #bangchan smut #bangchan x reader #skz smut #skz x reader #stray kids fanfics #stray kids imagines #stray kids hard hours #stray kids hard thoughts

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remmickgf · 1 day ago

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Love at First Bite [Beneath the Eternal Moonlight]

❤︎ Remmick (Sinners) x female reader ❤︎ NSFW 18+ for graphic smut/descriptions of sex, dubcon, vampirism/death ❤︎ When he goes "shhh, don't cry," in the movie, all bloody and vamped out, he's actually saying that to me when he shoves himself inside with no warning or preparation and expects me to take it all (and I do gladly). Anyway this was supposed to be straight porn but idk when to shut the hell up

Thick strings of drool hung from his open, puffy lips that peeled back to reveal a mouthful of jagged teeth. You stared at them from the corner of your widened eye, sipping tiny breaths that caught on the choked sobs raking through you. Despite this, no tears rolled down your cheeks as he pushed your face away and revealed your throat. His claws cupping your skull, you could feel their sharpness, crooked knuckles, and long nails keeping you from squirming too much while he grazed his nose down the side of your jaw and sniffed you like a true beast. The snarling growl that came from him was no different, pure animal--as animal and instinctual as the stiffness tightening the fabric of his high-waisted trousers. His own breath ragged, as he curled over you and trapped you beneath his weight, you felt his knee beneath your thigh, and the gentle rub of his hips to chase this friction.

"I bet you're just as sweet as nectar, darlin'," he purred. His voice was no longer the gentle baritone it had been, but gravelly and dark. "Yeah... Like summer wine, too..." Your eyes squeezed shut, and you flinched at the softness of his lips against your throat, awaiting the searing sting of his bite. Your hands twisted in his collar with this anticipation--yet, when another groan escaped him, this time you felt his hips jerk much more purposefully. You were shaking, teeth clattering with the motion, and he nuzzled you, closing his mouth this time to ask, "mmmm'y scared?"

Your fingers slipped down his torso at the same time you slowly, carefully turned your face, which prompted the moving of his fingers to clasp around your throat. Still keeping you pinned and subdued, you felt the cool dampness of the sweat against his temple, dripping from shiny black curls, and wriggled your hips up into his while following the tension of his abdomen downward until your palm cupped the bulge of an erection that made you nearly sob again. His voice strained, this time as he exhaled, "I promise, y'won't 'ven be able to tell the difference b'tween... the hurt--and ecstasy."

His clasp around your neck stopped the sound from coming out, tightening at the same time you began stroking him. His cheek to yours, when you caught his eye again, this time something more human burned in them, no less hungry. A side grin reminding you of the predator trapping you, your gut twisted with the familiarity of your own arousal, seemingly sparked by the fear that he caused to trickle down your spine. But maybe he could smell it perfuming you even before the chase had commenced. You couldn't have denied it; the sight of him lurking far enough away from you, although you hadn't been sure how long he'd been there, was close enough that your noticing of his shadow was imminent and intoxicating. You knew he was dangerous the second your heart had skipped a beat and your gaze had locked with his, a glint in it from the very beginning telling you he would taste you. Tonight. Of course, your thoughts had focused on a grainy picture of your fingers webbing through his hair, your legs thrown over the broad slope of his strong shoulders as his spine rolled like a cat and he buried his face in the tenderness of your cunt, but the desire which nestled in the pit of your stomach from the picture hadn't entirely ceased, even now. If anything, as your hands fumbled with the button of his pants and you began hurriedly trying to free him from the barriers of his clothing, it had grown fat, slimy and sick in you, as sick as he, who shivered and cursed under his breath with the whimpery, pathetic voice of a man victimized by the intensity of his own cravings.

When he sat back on his knees, your hands clung to the waist of his pants despite your shoulders thumping to the ground. Your eyes sweeping down his sturdy figure, his claws sliced into your skin as he pushed the skirt of your dress up to your hips, then shoved the fabric out of the way further once your hands traveled up his abdomen to his chest and he helped you sit up into his lap, using your arms before wrapping one arm around your middle and grunting once you were seated on top of him. It was as much of a fight as the one that had knocked you beneath him, his tongue following the trickling beads of blood where he'd accidently cut you while your hips lifted toward his stomach and you successfully yanked the stiffened silken flesh of his cock from his trousers. It was hot to the touch, leaking precum and blushed red from the friction of his previous dry humping. Agitated and sensitive, you pressed the delicate foreskin down to reveal more of his tip before pressing the heat to your swollen clit, both of you gasping from the contact.

Remmick--yes, that's his name, you recalled, shot one hand to pinch the nape of your neck and cradled the back of your head once more. This time, you let the weight of your skull crane your neck and winced from the protrusion of his girth stretching open your entrance. The muscles of your walls tightened with fluttering contractions that made your hips twinge and your thighs burn. You sniffled, for the first time a tear leaking from the corner of your eye as you rolled your hips slowly, leaning back into his forearm for stability.

"Shit, you're jus' as hungry as me," Remmick chuckled, his chest rising and falling heavy as his feet kicked out in front of him and he cleared his throat, his eyebrows turned upward before he licked his lips and felt your whole body press into his like a child's. His core tightened to keep him from falling back, and a fresh sheen of sweat dripped from his hairline. "Fuh-fuck-"

Your forehead resting in the crook of his shoulder, you turned your head to the side and mewled like a kitten when arching your lower back, keeping him deep inside with slow, heavy digging motions of your pelvis. Remmick nearly forgot about his need to feed, and his initial desire to drain you for the sole purpose of satisfying it. Now, the sweet ache of his gums throb of his canines matched the gooey, warm, heavy pulse of his cock, and with his other hand caressing the swell of your breast, when he finally sunk his teeth into the side of your throat and latched on like a child himself, gulping down the cherry red that filled his cheeks until you felt it gush down your chest just the same as your pussy melted over his length and could feel a mix of both of your pleasures leaking between your thighs and soaking the front of his pants, he shortly after unlatched and lapped at the wound, messily, groaning, while you kept on bouncing with your fists pressing into his stomach. You wouldn't have long, now, till your teeth came in. Your blood was already filled with secrets. He could see the flash of all the fantasies you had had upon first seeing him. His jaw craned open with a flex of his mandible and the strain of his neck as more images flooded him, all of your secrets, your memories coating his tongue. You were hungry, more so than he suspected by the look of you. Still, his raspy voice came out hushed, and he reached for your wrists to guide your touch to his throat. Your teeth were still flat and you were growing slower, more tired in your movements as your veins filled with his poison and your mind clouded from the transition before you fell asleep and would awake wholly his (during which he had no plans on leaving the warmth of your cunt), but he still wanted you to bite him, now.

"Bite me as hard as you can, darlin', go on," He could feel the nearing strength of his climax, the heat of your blood in his belly almost making him nauseous from the yanking tension. Both of his arms wrapping back around you, he found his claws gone, replaced by thick fingers massaging the roundness of your ass as you pressed the curve of it back into his palms. For a moment, he could feel himself as just a man. "Taste me, please-"

Your face hot, pleasure rippling through you faster than the pain, your limbs buzzing from the blood loss, you don't know what got stirred in you, but your tongue pressed to his pulse, and you bit down as hard as you could. When that didn't work, you began chewing--tearing at him, twisting his skin and feeling it start to squish and crunch before the black blood came. It was rotten blood, grave blood, but it tasted even more potent than he smelled of what had caught your attention even before you laid eyes on him. Both of you had smelled each other before finding the source of that scent. Remmick cried out as the pain burst and blistered through him, huffing, and fell back. You pushed his face away the same way he had done to you before, flaring your nostrils and biting at him again until the flesh came easier. You didn't just drink his blood, you swallowed the meat in your mouth and felt his hands squeezing your hips as you sped your thrusts up and claimed the beast as much as he had made you his own. And you wouldn't stop until after he'd popped like a hot yolk inside you twice and until you threw up viscous black and could remember the slightest, smallest detail of his life, and until you knew exactly how it felt to fuck you. Like the best damn thing he'd ever experienced. Like love at first bite.

#remmick imagine #remmick fanfic #remmick x reader #remmick smut #remmick x you #remmick sinners #sinners movie #sinners x reader #sinners 2025 #sinners #jack o'connell #vampire community #vampire aesthetic #vampire core

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solxamber · 3 months ago

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Supervillain's Guide to Romance || Rook Hunt

You, Supervillain, planned for a lifetime of rivalry, but instead, the Hero, Rook Hunt just keeps breaking into your lair with snacks.

Where did it all go wrong?

(Villain! Reader x Hero! Rook)

You have waited for this moment forever.

The world has been terribly dull as of late. Sure, your evil empire is thriving, the peasantry cowers at the mention of your name, and several major institutions have crumbled beneath your perfectly polished boots.

But without conflict, without an opponent, it’s just… paperwork and infrastructure maintenance. And while managing the economy after singlehandedly obliterating capitalism is hilarious, it does not provide the visceral thrill of a good old-fashioned deathmatch.

But now. Now.

The Goddess has finally chosen her Hero.

And you are so ready for this.

Your Ultimate Doomsday Device™ is primed. Your Evil Lair is bathed in appropriately dramatic red lighting. Your constructs—hulking, ominous, heavily armed—are lined up in terrifying symmetry, all enhanced with freshly sharpened weaponry and, crucially, eyeliner. Because aesthetic matters.

And you?

You are a vision of villainy. Cloak billowing, sword gleaming, boots heeled just enough to exude power but still practical enough for dramatic combat maneuvers. You spent three hours in front of a mirror perfecting your “I’ll kill you and laugh about it” smirk. You are prepared to be an absolute menace.

And then he arrives.

Standing atop the nearest cliff, silhouetted by an impossibly well-placed moon, is him.

The Goddess’s Chosen Hero.

Rook Hunt.

He is posing. His bow gleams. He looks like a romanticized painting of a hunter-king about to declare war on a stag. And then—

“Ah-ha!” he cries, pointing dramatically at you. “At last, we meet, O Dark Jewel of the Night’s Malevolence!”

…What.

Rook places a hand on his chest, eyes alight with unhinged enthusiasm. “What poetry! What drama! What an exquisite monologue that must have been as you awaited my arrival! Tell me, mon cher adversaire, how long have you rehearsed this glorious moment?”

…What.

You were expecting many things.

A clash of ideals. A heated battle. Perhaps a reluctant respect forged in the fires of combat.

You were not expecting your mortal enemy to sound like a theater major experiencing religious ecstasy at the sight of your properly villainous cape swish.

You squint at him. “You’re… excited?”

Rook nods so fervently his hat nearly flies off. “But of course! To stand against one so resplendently wicked! To trade blows—nay, souls—in this eternal dance of justice and villainy! C'est magnifique!”

He’s smiling.

Why is he smiling.

This is a deathmatch, not a wine tasting.

You clear your throat, lifting your chin in the most intimidating way possible. “Do you have any final words before I bring ruin upon you?”

Rook inhales deeply, eyes glimmering like a man utterly in love with the idea of his own demise.

“You are radiant in your menace! A blinding star of destruction! Smite me, O Harbinger of Dread! Let me bask in the beauty of your malice!”

He spreads his arms as if to embrace the impending carnage.

You slowly lower your sword.

“…What the hell is wrong with you?”

You shrug it off, maybe the Goddess likes them unhinged.

You had prepared for this moment your entire life.

The darkness swirled dramatically around you as you stood atop your obsidian throne, gazing down at the battlefield below. Your constructs—your beautiful, eyeliner-wearing minions—were poised, weapons gleaming, capes billowing, eyes smoldering with unholy (and stylish) rage.

The sky rumbled, lightning cracked, your "smite-a-city" device hummed ominously, and a general sense of doom and destruction filled the air.

This was it. The fated clash between good and evil. The battle that would shake the heavens, rend the earth, and—

"Ah, mon cher, your stance is exquisite! But tell me, would you rather have dinner instead of world domination?"

You freeze mid-swing, sword inches from his throat.

Your constructs freeze mid-battle, one still mid-air, about to deliver a flying kick. The thunder hesitates, the lightning awkwardly fizzles out, the wind that had been howling through the battlefield just kind of... stops, like it forgot what it was doing. Even your "smite-a-city" device lets out a confused beep.

Rook Hunt—the Goddess’s Chosen Hero, The People's Champion, The Bringer of Light and Justice, The Reason You Haven’t Been Able to Have a Peaceful Afternoon in Months—gazes at you with sparkling green eyes, utterly unbothered. He is smiling. He is batting his eyelashes. He is somehow more dazzling than the lightning.

You, in contrast, are short-circuiting. "HUH??? WHAT??? NO???"

"Magnifique." He lunges again, sword clashing against yours, his grin only widening. "Then I shall vanquish you with the elegance you deserve!"

The world unfreezes as if someone hit 'play' on reality again. Your constructs return to attacking, the wind resumes howling, thunder remembers how to be intimidating, and you—still reeling—dodge a particularly poetic strike from the overly enthusiastic Hero of the World.

You're not sure what just happened, but you do know one thing:

You absolutely refuse to die without getting some answers first.

And maybe, just maybe, you need to recalibrate your entire life plan.

You had been prepared for a worthy opponent. You had been prepared for grand battles, for expertly crafted schemes, for a rivalry that would echo through the annals of history.

What you had not been prepared for was Rook Hunt.

You take a sip of your tea, relishing a rare moment of villainous peace. The sun is setting, your latest evil scheme (a devastating tax loophole reform) is progressing smoothly, and��most importantly—Rook Hunt is not around.

Or so you thought.

Because the moment you relax, you feel it. That unmistakable tingle of being observed.

Slowly, you lower your cup.

And there he is. Peeking through your window.

His stupid hat. His stupid cape. His stupidly enchanting green eyes shining like a cursed emerald in the dim light.

"Bonsoir, mon cher!" he greets cheerfully, dangling upside down from your roof like a particularly well-dressed bat.

You nearly drop your tea. "WHAT THE FU—"

You're exhausted. Emotionally, physically, spiritually. You decide to dedicate an entire day to self-care. Face masks, fluffy robes, a villainous bath bomb infused with the souls of the unjustly rich—you are determined to ignore the world.

As you stretch luxuriously in your grand lair, you hear a faint thunk.

You pause.

Slowly, you turn your gaze toward the door.

There, pinned straight through the wood by an arrow, is a neatly wrapped face mask.

You take a deep breath. You count to ten. You fail to count to ten because you are seething.

You yank the arrow out and unroll the note attached to it.

"Self-care is crucial, mon ami! Hydrate well and let your skin glow like the celestial heavens! À bientôt~!"

There is a little hand-drawn heart at the bottom.

You have never known rage like this.

At this point, you’re convinced the Goddess chose him purely to fuck with you.

There is no other explanation. None.

Because every time you turn around, he is there.

He is watching.

He is smiling.

He is way too into this.

You are a responsible supervillain. You do your own paperwork.

This is crucial.

Do you have minions? Yes. Constructs? Absolutely. Are they efficient? Of course. Do they understand the fine intricacies of tax-deductible lair maintenance expenses? No.

So here you are, suffering, hunched over your desk, reviewing budgets for your upcoming Doomsday Apparatus™ (pending patent).

Your shoulder aches. The price of evil, you suppose.

Then, hands.

You sigh, assuming it’s one of your constructs trying to be helpful, but the texture is all wrong. Not cold. Not metallic. Not vaguely threatening.

You freeze.

These are human hands.

You whirl around so fast you nearly fall out of your chair.

And there he is.

Rook Hunt. The Menace of Your Existence.

Wearing that same infuriatingly pleased expression he always has when he manages to unnerve you.

“Mon trésor, you are so tense! Do not fret, for I am here to ease your burdens—”

Your hand is already on your emergency drawer.

Because of course you keep a glock in there. You’re a responsible supervillain.

But before you can make him truly holy, he lifts a plate of your favorite cookies.

You squint.

You squint harder.

The cookies look perfect.

You hate him.

But you love those cookies.

“...Fine,” you grumble. “Dining room. Now.”

And that’s how you end up having the most awkward tea party of your life.

Your constructs��tall, looming, deadly—stand against the walls like confused statues.

You glare at Rook. He beams at you.

You eat a cookie. He sips his tea like he’s the most welcome guest in the world and not your mortal enemy.

Finally, you break the silence.

“I’m going to destroy an entire city district next time.”

Rook hums, interested. “Hm. But which one? Have you considered an aerial attack for maximum devastation?”

Your constructs shift uncomfortably.

You blink. “...What.”

“If you truly wish to inspire terror, mon cher, a coordinated offensive utilizing shadow and fire would be most spectacular. Oh, imagine the fear in their eyes! The poetry of destruction!”

Your constructs are now visibly uncomfortable.

You stare at him. “...You realize I am trying to defeat you, right?”

“Oui.” He takes another dainty sip of tea. “But what is a villain without a hero? What is a hero without a villain? We are locked in the most beautiful dance, and it would be a shame if your evil was anything less than... magnifique.”

You hate how good that sounds.

Your constructs, sensing the sheer unhinged energy at this table, collectively decide they are done.

You’ve had it.

Rook Hunt has been breaking into your lair every other day, treating your villainous empire like it’s some kind of all-you-can-antagonize buffet.

So tonight? You strike back.

Your plan is perfectly petty. You sneak into his house, bypass his defenses, and leave a nasty little surprise—a copy of his stupid hat, but without the feather. Symbolic. Brutal. Devastating.

It’s dark inside. Suspiciously dark. You move silently through the halls, your villain senses tingling, when—

A hand grabs your wrist.

You let out the most unvillainous, undignified little squeak known to man.

A candle flares to life.

And there he is.

Rook Hunt. Smiling. Smug. Suspiciously pleased.

And behind him?

A fully set candlelit dinner table.

What.

You yank your wrist free and glare at him. “How did you know I was coming?”

“I didn’t!” He laughs, delighted, as if this entire scenario isn’t absolutely deranged. “I’ve merely been setting this up every night for the past week, hoping one day you would.”

You stare.

Your brain buffers.

Your evil plan—your brilliant, petty, symbolically devastating evil plan—is completely ruined.

But also.

You are weirdly, deeply flattered.

Which is so annoying.

You grumble and stomp over to the table. “Well, I’m not wasting a perfectly good meal.”

Rook positively beams as you sit down, pouring you a glass of something fancy.

You stab at your food aggressively. “You suck, Hunt.”

“Ah, mon amour, flattery will get you everywhere.”

You contemplate murder.

You also contemplate dessert.

Your life is hard.

As a renowned and feared supervillain, you have many responsibilities—world domination, economic destabilization, overthrowing the bourgeoisie—but even the greatest of evildoers need time to unwind.

For you, that means art.

Tonight, you sit in your grand lair, sketchbook in hand, dreamily doodling while fantasizing about the day you will finally, unequivocally, beat Rook Hunt.

Perhaps you’ll trap him in an inescapable dungeon.

Perhaps you’ll trick him into an elaborate psychological game that will break his very spirit.

Perhaps you’ll put a single grain of sand in his boots and let nature take its course.

The possibilities are endless.

You’re so absorbed in your creative villainous process that you fail to notice the cryptid himself materializing behind you like some kind of woodland horror story.

“Ah, mon trésor, what are you drawing?”

You freeze.

Your villain instincts kick in, but it’s too late. Before you can shove your sketchbook under your cloak and play it off like a true mastermind, Rook Hunt has already peeked.

A beat of silence.

You watch as, for the first time in history, Rook Hunt blushes.

You look down at your sketchbook.

Oh.

It’s a doodle of him.

With a heart drawn near it.

Obvious context:

It’s a threat.

Clearly, you meant “I will rip your heart out with my bare hands.”

Obviously, this is not romantic.

Clearly, he should know this.

And yet—

Before you can explain this very normal and absolutely not embarrassing drawing, Rook makes a strangled noise—and then, without warning—

He launches himself out of the window.

Full-speed.

No hesitation.

You stare blankly at the gaping hole in your wall.

The night breeze drifts in.

A loose paper flutters off your desk.

Your jaw clenches.

You pull out your calculator.

“Alright. How much is this repair gonna cost me this time?”

It had been months. Months of what was supposed to be an intense, dramatic rivalry, full of mortal combat, fire, and the kind of operatic duels that would make even the gods weep. Months where the world should have trembled at the very mention of your name as you and the so-called Goddess’s Chosen Hero waged battle across the land.

Instead, what had actually happened was this:

Rook had become a persistent, feathered plague upon your life. Every time you so much as breathed, he was there. If you drank tea, he was peeking through the window like some kind of blonde cryptid.

If you took a relaxing villainous bubble bath, he left a scented candle by your doorstep with a little handwritten note.

If you tried to sleep? Oh, well clearly that was the perfect time for him to send a love arrow straight through your pillow, just narrowly missing your skull.

This was not how hero-villain dynamics were supposed to go.

And apparently, the Goddess had finally taken notice, because today, as you and Rook clashed swords atop your usual scenic cliffside battlefield—lightning flashing, your cape billowing just right—a new hero arrived, looking exactly like the bootleg discount protagonist you’d expect from a last-minute recast.

“Villain!” he bellowed, dramatically pointing his sword at you. “Your reign of terror ends—”

You vaporized him on the spot.

Your constructs, standing dutifully in formation, collectively gasped.

Rook, who had been mid-flourish with his sword, stopped and blinked at the rapidly dissipating ashes of what had, just seconds ago, been an eager new recruit in the grand war of good versus evil. Then, he turned back to you, smiling fondly.

“Ah, mon trésor, how dashing you are when you wield your power with such effortless grace!”

You scowled, pointing your sword at him this time. “Why are you acting like I just did something romantic? I murdered that guy.”

“Oui! And beautifully so!” Rook twirled his own blade, utterly unbothered. “Like a star snuffing out another in the vast cosmos! Poetry in motion! Ah, my heart beats faster just thinking of it.”

Your constructs, meanwhile, were losing their collective minds.

One of them, a hulking, six-armed behemoth of enchanted steel, hesitantly raised a hand. “Uh. So. Boss? Just so we’re clear—”

“Don’t,” you warned.

“No, no, just a quick question,” it continued, with the slow, careful tone of someone addressing a very temperamental god. “You just smote a hero instantly. Like, zero hesitation. Which means you can do that. So, um. What exactly is stopping you from smiting him?” It pointed at Rook.

Rook, the absolute menace that he was, waved cheerfully.

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Considered your options.

Then, in a show of supreme villainous dignity, you turned on your heel and dramatically stomped away.

Your constructs stared after you.

Rook sheathed his sword and sighed wistfully. “Ah, such passion. Such fire. Such restraint! Truly, they are the one chosen for me.”

The constructs turned to him in absolute horror.

“What have you done to our boss?”

You were having a perfectly normal evening.

By "normal," of course, you meant that you were lounging in your grand, candlelit villainous dining hall, sipping a glass of expensive wine (stolen, obviously), while Rook Hunt, your mortal enemy and frequent dinner guest, debated you on the finer points of mid-air combat.

"Mon trésor, think of the artistry!" Rook exclaims, gesturing wildly with his fork. "A battle in freefall—two souls clashing against the endless sky, the wind whipping our capes, the suspense of who will deploy their parachute first!"

You scowl, jabbing a piece of steak. "No. That’s impractical. There’s no stable footing, gravity ruins your attack trajectory, and if one of us dies before hitting the ground, there’s no dramatic final duel."

Rook gasps. "But what of style, mon cher? What of the poetry of two destined foes plummeting through the heavens, locked in the embrace of battle?"

You roll your eyes. "What of the reality that I’m not breaking my legs just so you can fulfill some mid-air fencing fantasy?"

Before Rook can counter with another unnecessary metaphor, there's a knock at the door.

You pause. Rook tilts his head. Your constructs—the ones assigned to not be traumatized by your ridiculous rivalry—shift uneasily.

No one knocks on the door of the Evil Overlord.

You cautiously rise, striding toward the entrance, adjusting your cloak. If this is some dumb assassin, you’re going to vaporize them before they finish their opening monologue.

You throw open the door.

Standing there, shimmering with divine light and looking deeply, deeply exasperated, is the Goddess.

You blink.

Rook, behind you, immediately bows with theatrical reverence. "Ah, my divine patron! What honor do we have to—"

She shoves a hand in his face, shutting him up. "Not a word from you."

Rook makes a delighted noise behind her palm, as if being personally scolded by a deity is the highlight of his week.

Then, the Goddess turns her gaze to you.

"You," she says, voice layered with millennia of barely restrained frustration.

You raise a brow. "Me?"

She points accusingly. "You are not even a villain."

You stiffen. "Excuse me?"

"The people adore you!" she snaps, throwing up her hands. "Your so-called empire? Has better infrastructure and social services than any kingdom in the world! Your so-called evil policies? Fixed the economy! Your supposed tyranny? Universally beloved by the peasantry!”

You gape at her. "I run a dictatorship."

"A benevolent dictatorship!"

Your eye twitches. You glance back at Rook, who is absolutely vibrating with amusement.

The Goddess rounds on him next. "And you!"

Rook straightens, looking delighted to finally have her attention. "Oui?"

"You are the worst hero I have ever chosen."

His smile widens. "Merci!"

"That wasn't a compliment." She pinches the bridge of her nose, like she’s developing divine stress migraines. "You were supposed to defeat them. Not take them to dinner, deliver self-care gifts, and give them advice on better city destruction tactics."

"But, my Goddess, what is heroism if not—"

She holds up a finger. "Finish that sentence, and I swear on the cosmic balance, I will smite you myself."

Rook, wisely, shuts up.

Your arms cross, and you scowl at her. "So what do you want, exactly?"

The Goddess sighs. "Nothing. I am done. I am sick of this. I gave your world a clear narrative, and you two have turned it into—into—" she gestures wildly at the two of you, "whatever this is."

She looks exhausted. You take a slow sip of wine. Rook sips his tea. Your constructs, still lurking awkwardly in the background, look on in silent horror.

Finally, the Goddess rubs her temples and lets out a long, world-weary sigh.

"I give up," she declares. "I abandon this world."

You blink. "What."

Rook gasps. "Mon Dieu!"

She throws her hands up. "No. Not your "Dieu" anymore. Do whatever you want. I don’t care anymore. Conquer the world. Get married. Build a flying opera house of destruction. I do not care."

She turns on her heel, divine light flaring around her, ready to vanish back into the heavens. But before she fully ascends, she pauses, turns back, and levels one last glare at you.

"And fix your damn roof. I know he broke it." She jerks her head at Rook.

Then, with a flash of light, she is gone.

Silence.

Your constructs do not move. You do not move. The air is thick with the weight of divine abandonment.

Then—

"Mon trésor," Rook breathes, eyes sparkling. "Did you hear? We have divine permission to wed!"

You throw your wine glass at his head.

You were going to prove a point.

The Goddess’s words still echoed in your mind:

"The people adore you."

"Your so-called tyranny is beloved."

Absolutely not. You are terrifying. You are a villain. You are the Dread Overlord of Shadows and Eternal Night, not some beloved community figure.

So, naturally, you stormed into the city streets in full dramatic regalia, determined to strike fear into the hearts of the people.

And, of course, they were absolutely terrified.

(There are children braiding flowers into your hair.)

Their knees knocked together in terror.

(The baker personally handed you a warm loaf of bread, saying, "It’s your favorite, dear. Fresh out of the oven.")

They shrank away from you, trembling.

("Can we get a selfie, Overlord of Shadows? You look so cool today!")

They screamed in fear.

(M’overlord, would you consider attending our town’s Harvest Festival? It wouldn’t be the same without you.")

By the time you made it back to your lair, the weight of reality had crushed your entire soul into a fine powder.

Your constructs barely had time to move out of the way before you collapsed onto the cold stone floor, sprawled dramatically, staring blankly at the ceiling.

It was not normal.

Nothing about today was normal.

You were supposed to be evil. The darkness lurking at the edges of civilization. The terrifying ruler who demanded obedience, not… not fan interaction.

You reach up and pull a flower from your hair. A daisy. A cute little daisy.

You stare at it.

Then, slowly, you sit up and reach into your pocket.

You pull out the loaf of bread. It’s still warm. It smells amazing.

You take a slow, deliberate bite.

You chew. You swallow.

You scream into a pillow.

Your constructs watch in silence, wisely choosing to let you process your existential crisis.

Then—

A slow, steady clap echoes through the lair.

You groan, rolling onto your side, as Rook Hunt steps into view, absolutely beaming.

"Mon trésor," he breathes, looking so unbearably pleased. "Did you have a revelation?"

You almost hurl the loaf of bread at his head.

You wake up with a revelation so profound it shakes you to your very core.

You don’t have to fight Rook Hunt anymore.

Not because you won—oh no, if anything, it’s because you never actually fought him to begin with.

This so-called “battle” had always been one-sided. You, pouring your very soul into villainy, scheming, plotting, monologuing—only for Rook to respond with enthusiastic admiration instead of righteous fury.

You had never been fighting a hero. You had been performing for a very intense fan.

And you are so tired.

So you get up, summon your constructs, and announce with all the dignity of a fallen monarch:

"I’m retiring."

They blink.

Your war construct, a towering mass of steel and death, hesitantly raises a hand. "Uh. What?"

"I’m retiring." You rub your temples. "I was never really a villain, apparently. The people adore me. The Goddess abandoned this realm. And my greatest enemy is currently sitting on my chandelier, smiling at me like a particularly pleased house cat."

A collective glance is shared. The constructs all look up.

Indeed, Rook is perched there, grinning like the absolute menace he is.

A few seconds of silence.

Then, your constructs all just nod.

"Yeah, okay. That makes sense."

"Honestly, I think we all saw this coming."

"So what now?"

You sigh and gesture vaguely at the lair. "Do whatever you want. You’re free. Find a new purpose. Go live your lives."

And, to your eternal exhaustion, they do.

Your once-feared War Construct? Now bakes delicate cream puffs.

Your impenetrable Shield Construct? Wears a frilly little apron and dusts the rooms.

Your Lurking Shadow Beast of Eternal Horror? Manages the garden.

You watch all of this unfold with a blank stare, feeling your villainous reputation crumble into nothing. And you?

You don’t even care anymore.

You sit at your grand villainous dining table, Rook across from you, smiling, victorious, insufferable.

He raises a teacup in toast. "To the end of an era, mon trésor."

You sip your tea.

Then, with all the resignation in the world, you simply mutter—

"...Yeah."

Rook just winks.

If you were going to commit one last act of villainy, it had to be grand. Poetic. Fitting for the infuriatingly ridiculous story that had become your life.

And so, you decide.

You were going to steal Rook Hunt’s heart.

… Metaphorically. Probably.

So you don your best dramatic cloak, grab the most intimidating bouquet of flowers you can find, and march to wherever Rook is lurking (which, statistically speaking, is either your lair or right behind you).

But before you can utter a single villainous declaration, you stop.

Because Rook is already kneeling.

Already holding out a ring.

Already smiling like he knew this would happen.

"When’s the wedding, mon trésor?" he asks, eyes gleaming.

You stare at him. Stare at the ring. Stare at the flowers in your own hands like an idiot.

And then—

You laugh.

You laugh so hard you nearly double over, because this is your life now.

The Goddess abandoned your world. Your constructs run a quaint domestic empire. The people adore you. And the so-called Hero?

The Hero beat you to the proposal.

You shake your head, still chuckling, before pulling him up by the front of his shirt and pressing a kiss to his lips.

"Maybe," you murmur, "we can have the wedding on the anniversary of the day we met."

Rook exhales something close to a sigh, grinning against your lips before kissing you again, soft and victorious.

"Magnifique," he whispers.

And, honestly?

Yeah.

Magnifique indeed.

Masterlist

#twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #rook hunt x reader #rook x reader #rook hunt #rook #twst rook x reader

753 notes · View notes

aceyalonso · 6 months ago

Text

make it rain - LEWIS HAMILTON

pairing : lewis hamilton x fem!reader kinktober day 14 - tattoos

summary : a little rain never hurt anyone... not until lewis almost breaks y/n's back (in a good way)

warnings/notes : swearing, smut, praise kink, oral (fem!receiving), unprotected sex (always use a condom guys!!!), body worship, fingering, squirting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, use of "baby" and "good girl"

word count : 5.3k

a/n : im ovulating

main masterlist | kinktober masterlist

Y/n hurried through the rain-soaked streets, her hair plastered to her face. She pulled her red leather jacket tighter around herself, trying to shield as much of her body from the relentless downpour as possible. Beside her, Lewis was equally drenched, his shirt clinging to his muscular frame.

They reached the apartment building and rushed inside, slamming the door behind them. Y/n shook the water from her jacket before slipping it back on, her teeth chattering slightly from the cold. She ran a hand through her wet hair, pushing it out of her face.

Lewis glanced around the lobby, taking in the modern decor and sleek furnishings. "Nice place," he commented, his deep voice echoing slightly in the empty space.

She nodded in agreement, her gaze lingering on a particularly striking abstract painting on the wall. She started towards the elevators, eager to get out of her wet clothes and into something warm and dry. As she pressed the button, she couldn't help but steal a glance at Lewis from the corner of her eye.

Y/n's eyes roamed over Lewis's soaked form, taking in the way his wet shirt clung to his broad chest and defined abs. Even drenched, he looked incredibly handsome, his chiseled features and piercing gaze sending a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

She bit her lower lip, feeling a familiar heat pooling in her core as she imagined peeling off those wet clothes and running her hands over his glistening skin. Y/n quickly shook her head, trying to dispel the inappropriate thoughts. They had more important things to focus on right now.

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Y/n stepped inside, motioning for Lewis to follow. As they ascended, she could feel the tension crackling between them, the small space suddenly feeling much too intimate.

Lewis cleared his throat, breaking the charged silence. "So, uh, which floor?" he asked, his voice a little rougher than usual.

Y/n shivered as the cool air from the elevator's AC unit washed over her damp skin. "Fourteenth floor," she replied, her teeth chattering slightly. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to generate some warmth.

As the elevator began its slow ascent, Y/n couldn't help but steal glances at Lewis. The way his wet clothes clung to his muscular frame was incredibly distracting. She wondered what it would feel like to run her hands over those defined abs, to trace the lines of his sculpted chest...

She blinked, realizing she had been staring at Lewis for an uncomfortably long time. Y/n quickly averted her gaze, focusing instead on the slowly climbing floor numbers above the elevator doors.

The ride seemed to stretch on forever, the two of them standing in awkward silence as they continued to shiver from the cold and the AC's relentless blast. Y/n's mind raced with thoughts of what awaited them on the fourteenth floor, but she couldn't quite shake the distracting images of Lewis's wet, half-naked body from her imagination.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Y/n practically lunged out into the hallway, desperate to escape the confines of the small space and the heated looks Lewis had been giving her.

Y/n hurried down the hallway, her keycard clutched tightly in her hand. She reached her apartment door and quickly unlocked it, stepping inside and holding it open for Lewis to follow. He entered behind her, closing the door with a soft click.

"Sorry about the mess," Y/n said apologetically, gesturing to the neatly folded clothes piled on her couch. It wasn't really a mess, just a temporary holding spot for the items she hadn't had a chance to put away yet.

Lewis raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Looks pretty tidy to me," he remarked, his eyes roaming over the pile of clothing. "Though I wouldn't mind helping you 'clean up' a bit more..."

Y/n felt her cheeks flush at the suggestive tone in his voice. She busied herself with hanging up her dripping wet jacket, trying to ignore the way Lewis's gaze seemed to burn into her back.

She shuddered as she peeled off her soaked leather jacket, the cold material clinging to her skin. She draped it over the back of a chair, not bothering to zip it up properly in her haste to get out of the wet garment.

Underneath, her thin tank top was practically transparent, molding to her curves and leaving little to the imagination. The leopard print of her bra was clearly visible through the damp fabric, the lacy cups barely containing her ample breasts.

Y/n paused as she felt Lewis's gaze on her back, his eyes no doubt drawn to the tantalizing glimpse of skin and lace. She tugged self-consciously at the hem of her tank top, suddenly very aware of how little she was wearing.

"I never knew you had a spine tattoo," Lewis remarked, his voice low and appreciative. "It suits you."

Y/n turned to face him, her cheeks flushed. She crossed her arms over her chest, acutely aware of how the movement pushed her breasts together, making them appear even fuller. "I don't necessarily advertise it," she said with a shrug, trying to play it off as no big deal. "I got it on a whim."

She smirked, a mischievous glint in her eye. "You of all people should know better than to be surprised by hidden ink. I seem to recall a certain someone having quite the collection themselves."

She sauntered closer to Lewis, her hips swaying with each step. When she reached him, she trailed a finger lightly down his chest, tracing the edge of one of his many tattoos. "What's the count up to now? Ten? Eleven?"

Lewis caught her wandering hand, his larger fingers engulfing hers. He brought her knuckles to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her skin. "Fifteen," he murmured against her hand. "But who's counting?"

Lewis plucked the dry shirt from Y/n's grasp, setting it aside on the couch with a suggestive smirk. "Maybe you can wear your clothes later," he purred, his hands coming to rest on her hips. "For now, I think I prefer you like this."

His fingers dipped beneath the hem of her tank top, grazing the soft skin of her lower back. Y/n shivered at his touch, goosebumps rising in the wake of his exploration. She leaned into him, her hands splaying across his firm chest.

"Is that so?" she breathed, tilting her head to expose the column of her throat. "And what exactly do you plan to do with me while I'm half-naked?"

Lewis chuckled, the sound low and full of promise. His hands slid around to her front, skimming over her ribs and coming to rest just below her breasts. "Oh, I have a few ideas," he murmured, his thumbs brushing maddeningly close to the swell of her cleavage. "But I think I'll let you decide how far we take this."

Y/n smirked up at Lewis, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, I'll let you go far, alright," she purred, her fingers toying with the hem of his shirt. "But we need to be equal, don't we? So maybe you should take that shirt off too."

She stepped back, giving him room to maneuver. Her gaze raked over his body, lingering on the tantalizing glimpse of skin where his shirt had ridden up. Y/n licked her lips, her tongue darting out to moisten the plump flesh.

Lewis grinned, his hands moving to the buttons of his shirt. He made quick work of them, shrugging the garment off and letting it fall to the floor. His torso was a work of art, all hard planes and rippling muscle, adorned with intricate tattoos that told a story of his life.

Y/n's breath caught in her throat as she drank in the sight of him. Her fingers itched to explore every inch of his exposed skin, to trace the lines of his abs and feel the heat of his body against hers.

Lewis pulled Y/n flush against him, his lips crashing down on hers in a searing kiss. She melted into his embrace, her hands fisting in his hair as she returned the kiss with equal fervor. Their tongues danced and tangled, exploring each other's mouths with hungry abandon.

Y/n gasped as Lewis's hands slid down her back, gripping her ass and lifting her effortlessly. She wrapped her legs around his waist, clinging to him as he carried her over to the couch. The pile of clean laundry went tumbling to the floor, forgotten in the heat of the moment.

Lewis laid her down on the cushions, his body covering hers as he continued to kiss her senselessly. His hands roamed over her curves, slipping beneath her tank top to caress the smooth skin beneath. Y/n arched into his touch, desperate for more contact, more friction.

He grinned as he noticed the "Lucky You" patch on Y/n's jeans. His fingers deftly unbuttoned and unzipped her pants, tugging them down her long legs. "Looks like I hit the jackpot," he quipped, tossing the discarded jeans aside.

Y/n started to make a comment about the fallen laundry, but her words were cut off by Lewis's lips on her stomach. He pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses along the soft skin of her abdomen, his stubble deliciously abrading her sensitive flesh.

Y/n's back arched off the couch, a breathy moan escaping her parted lips. Her hands tangled in Lewis's hair, holding him close as he worked his way lower. "Lewis," she gasped, her voice thick with need. "Please..."

Lewis hooked his fingers in the waistband of Y/n's panties, which matched her bra in a delightful surprise. He slowly dragged them down her legs, using his teeth to tug them off and leave them dangling precariously from her ankle.

With Y/n's hips lifted, Lewis settled between her thighs, his hot breath ghosting over her most intimate parts. He nuzzled her inner thigh, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the sensitive skin as he worked his way closer to his prize.

Y/n's moans filled the room as Lewis's tongue delved between her folds, lapping at her slick arousal. He circled her clit with the tip of his tongue before dipping lower, thrusting in and out of her tight channel. His hands gripped her ass, holding her steady as he feasted on her pussy like a starving man.

Lewis groaned against Y/n's pussy, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body. "Fuck, you taste so good," he mumbled, his words muffled by her slick folds. "Don't hold back, baby. I want to hear you."

Y/n's moans grew louder, echoing off the walls of the apartment. "Oh god, Lewis," she cried out, her hips bucking against his face. "Your ex was so lucky to have this mouth on her every day."

Lewis chuckled, the sound sending delicious vibrations through her core. He doubled his efforts, his tongue delving deeper, stroking her inner walls. His nose rubbed against her clit with each pass, adding an extra layer of stimulation that had Y/n seeing stars.

"That's it, baby," he encouraged, his voice rough with desire. "Let me hear how good I make you feel."

Y/n's moans grew louder and more desperate as Lewis continued his relentless assault on her pussy. "Oh fuck, Lewis, just like that," she panted, her fingers digging into his hair. "Don't stop, don't you dare fucking stop!"

Lewis growled against her slick folds, the sound sending a fresh wave of arousal coursing through her veins. He sealed his lips around her clit, sucking hard as he thrust two fingers deep inside her.

"You like that, baby?" he asked, his voice rough with desire. "You like feeling my tongue on your pretty little pussy?"

Y/n nodded frantically, her hips rolling against his face. "Yes, fuck yes," she gasped, her thighs trembling with the effort of holding herself open for him. "I love your mouth, Lewis. I love how you make me feel."

Lewis slowed his movements, savoring the taste and feel of Y/n's pussy on his tongue. He wanted to draw out her pleasure, to make her beg for release. Y/n whimpered, her hips bucking against his face in search of more friction.

"Lew, please," she panted, her voice strained with need. "Go faster, it felt so fucking good."

Lewis chuckled, the sound vibrating against her sensitive flesh. He placed a final kiss on her inner thigh before pulling back, leaving Y/n aching and desperate for more.

"Patience, baby," he murmured, his fingers trailing lightly over her slick folds. "I want to savor every inch of you."

Lewis peppered Y/n's pussy with feather-light kisses, his lips barely grazing her sensitive skin. Each brush of his mouth against her slick folds sent electric jolts of pleasure racing through her body, making her moan loudly.

"Lewis, please," she whined, her hips twitching with the effort of staying still. "I need more, I need you inside me."

Lewis grinned against her flesh, his breath hot and teasing. "All in good time, baby," he murmured, his fingers dipping between her folds to circle her aching clit. "I'm going to make you cum so hard, you'll forget your own name."

Y/n's head fell back against the couch cushions, her hands fisting in the fabric as Lewis worked her closer and closer to the edge. She was so close, teetering on the brink of ecstasy, desperate for the final push over the precipice.

Y/n's moans grew more desperate, almost bordering on whimpers as she begged for Lewis to put his tongue back on her aching pussy. "Please, Lewis, I need you," she cried out, her voice raw with emotion. "I need your mouth on me, I need to feel you inside me."

Lewis obliged, his tongue delving between her slick folds once more. He lapped at her hungrily, his stubble abrading her sensitive skin in the most delicious way. Y/n's panties still hung precariously from her foot, a tangible reminder of how far gone she was.

Lewis's hands gripped her thighs, holding her open for his ministrations. He alternated between long, slow licks and quick, flicking motions against her clit, driving her closer and closer to the edge.

"That's it, baby," he encouraged, his voice muffled against her pussy. "Let go, let yourself feel good. I've got you."

Y/n's body tensed, her back arching off the couch as the waves of her orgasm crashed over her. Her legs wrapped around Lewis's head, holding him in place as she rode out the intense sensations.

"Oh fuck, Lewis!" she cried out, her voice echoing off the walls. "Don't stop, please don't stop!"

Lewis doubled his efforts, his tongue delving deep inside her as her pussy clenched and fluttered around the intrusion. He lapped at her slick folds, eagerly drinking down her essence as she came undone beneath him.

Y/n's fingers tangled in Lewis's hair, holding him close as she shuddered and twitched with the aftershocks of her climax. Her chest heaved with each ragged breath, her skin glistening with a sheen of sweat.

Y/n gently pulled Lewis away from her sensitive pussy, a satisfied smile on her face as she took in the sight of him. His lips and chin were glistening with her arousal, his eyes dark with desire.

"You look so pretty like that," she purred, her voice husky with satisfaction.

Lewis grinned, crawling up her body until he hovered over her. He pressed soft kisses to her stomach, her ribs, the valley between her breasts. His hands roamed over her curves, mapping out every dip and curve.

"I could eat you out for hours," he murmured against her skin, his stubble delicately tickling her flesh. "You taste so fucking good, baby."

Y/n smiled against Lewis's lips as they kissed, her hands deftly working at the button of his jeans. She popped it open and slowly dragged down the zipper, her fingers brushing teasingly over the bulge straining against the denim.

"Take them off," she whispered against his mouth, her breath hot and inviting.

Lewis groaned, his hips bucking involuntarily into her touch. He sat back on his heels, allowing Y/n to tug his jeans and boxers down his legs. His cock sprang free, hard and heavy, the tip glistening with pre-cum.

Y/n licked her lips, her eyes hungrily taking in the sight of him. She wrapped her hand around his shaft, stroking him slowly from base to tip. "Fuck, you're so big," she breathed, marveling at the size of him.

She gathered some saliva in her mouth, letting it pool on her tongue before leaning forward and spitting it onto her fingertips. She wrapped her slick fingers around Lewis's cock, using her own spit as makeshift lube.

Lewis moaned, his hips twitching at the sudden sensation. "Fuck, that feels good," he groaned, his head falling back as Y/n stroked him slowly.

"I want to feel you inside me," Y/n purred, her voice low and seductive. She released his cock, shifting her hips to align him with her entrance. "I want you to fill me up, Lewis."

Lewis pulled back, a wicked grin on his face. "I want you on all fours," he commanded, his voice rough with desire. "I want to see that tattoo while I fuck you from behind."

Y/n eagerly complied, rolling over and presenting herself to him. Her spine tattoo was on full display, the intricate design seeming to dance across her skin as she wiggled her hips invitingly.

Lewis ran his hands over her ass, squeezing and kneading the firm flesh. He positioned himself behind her, the head of his cock nudging against her slick entrance. With one powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside her, eliciting a sharp gasp from Y/n's lips.

"Fuck, you look so good like this," Lewis praised, his hands gripping her hips as he began to move. "That tattoo is so fucking sexy."

Lewis traced the intricate lines of Y/n's spine tattoo with his tongue, his lips pressing reverent kisses to her skin as he thrust into her from behind. Each word he spoke was punctuated by a deep, powerful stroke of his hips, driving his cock deeper into her slick heat.

"So... fucking... sexy," he groaned, his breath hot against her spine. "Love... this tattoo... love how it looks... on your perfect body."

Y/n moaned, pushing back against him, meeting each of his thrusts with equal fervor. The sensation of his lips and tongue on her tattoo sent electric shivers down her spine.

Lewis continued to praise Y/n, his words dripping with lust and admiration. "Fuck, you're so good for me," he groaned, his hips snapping against her ass with each powerful thrust. "Such a perfect, sexy little thing."

Y/n's hands gripped the couch cushions, her knuckles turning white as she held on for dear life. The pleasure was overwhelming, building and building until she thought she might explode.

"Cum for me, pretty girl," Lewis commanded, his voice rough with desire. "Show me how good I make you feel."

Y/n's body obeyed, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave. She came hard, her pussy clenching and fluttering around Lewis's cock as she squirted onto the couch. Her moans filled the room, her hair falling in wild disarray around her face as she shook and trembled with the force of her climax.

Lewis grinned, praising Y/n as she came hard on his cock just as he told her to. "That's it, good girl," he groaned, his hips still rocking into her as she rode out the waves of her orgasm. "You did so well, cumming just like I wanted."

Y/n's moans were loud and promiscuous, echoing off the walls of the apartment. Her body shuddered and twitched, her pussy clenching rhythmically around Lewis's shaft.

As her climax began to subside, Lewis pulled out, his cock slick with her juices. He stroked himself quickly, his hand flying over his shaft as he chased his own release. With a final grunt, he came, his seed splattering across Y/n's back and painting her tattoo in pearly white streaks.

Y/n collapsed forward onto the couch, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. She was a sweaty, disheveled mess, her hair matted and sticking to her forehead. But the satisfied smile on her face said it all - she had thoroughly enjoyed every moment.

Lewis gently rolled Y/n onto her side, concern etched on his face as he brushed a few strands of hair from her flushed cheek. "Are you okay, baby?" he asked softly, his thumb caressing her skin.

Y/n nodded, a lazy smile spreading across her face despite her labored breathing. "Mhm," she managed to get out, her voice hoarse from all the moaning. "I'm more than okay."

She shifted slightly, her leg brushing against Lewis's thigh. The contact sent a fresh wave of desire coursing through her veins, and she knew she wasn't done yet. Not by a long shot.

"I think," Y/n began, her voice low and seductive, "I think I need a round two."

Lewis gently flipped Y/n onto her back, his strong hands guiding her until she was sprawled out on the couch cushions. Y/n let out a small protest, her brow furrowing in concern.

"Lew, wait," she said, her voice breathless. "I want this, but... my couch is gonna get dirty."

Lewis silenced her with a deep, passionate kiss, his tongue delving into her mouth. When he finally pulled back, he gave her a reassuring smile.

"Don't worry about it, baby," he murmured, his fingers trailing down her side. "I'll take care of it later. Right now, all I want to do is make you feel good."

Lewis's fingers traced delicate patterns over Y/n's sensitive pussy, eliciting a soft whimper from her lips. The delicate folds were puffy and tender from their previous activities, but that didn't stop Lewis from exploring every inch of her.

"Shh, relax," he cooed, his other hand coming up to gently stroke her hair. "I've got you, baby. Just let me make you feel good."

His fingers dipped lower, teasing her entrance before slowly pushing inside. Y/n gasped, her hips bucking involuntarily at the intrusion. Lewis held her down with a firm hand on her hip, his fingers curling and stroking her inner walls.

"That's it, just like that," he murmured, his voice low and encouraging. "You're doing so well, taking my fingers so deep. Such a good girl for me."

Y/n moaned softly as Lewis's fingers continued their gentle exploration of her sensitive folds. "Your rings are cold," she whispered, her voice tinged with a mix of discomfort and arousal.

Lewis leaned down, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. "You can handle it," he murmured against her mouth, his fingers never ceasing their movements. "You're a good girl, aren't you?"

Lewis groaned, his fingers still buried deep inside Y/n's slick heat. "Fuck, I should've done this sooner," he admitted, his voice rough with desire. "I'm getting addicted to how good you feel, baby."

He curled his fingers, stroking her inner walls in a way that made Y/n see stars. Her hips bucked against his hand, seeking more of that delicious friction.

"You like that, don't you?" Lewis purred, his thumb circling her clit. "You love having my fingers inside you, stretching you open."

Y/n let out a breathy moan, her hips rolling against Lewis's hand as he continued to work her over. "Yes," she gasped, her voice strained with pleasure. "I was so jealous of your ex, hearing you guys fucking while you were in the studio."

Lewis grinned, his fingers pumping in and out of her slick heat. "You should've been there with me," he growled, his thumb pressing down on her clit. "Should've been the one taking my cock, screaming my name."

Y/n moaned wantonly, her body writhing beneath Lewis's skilled touch. "Lewis, fuck that feels so good," she panted, her hips bucking against his hand. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

Lewis chuckled, his fingers never ceasing their relentless assault on her sensitive folds. "I won't stop, baby," he promised, his voice low and rough with desire. "I'm going to make you cum so hard, you'll forget your own name."

Y/n's moans grew louder, her body trembling under Lewis's touch. "I was so jealous of your ex," she confessed, her voice breathy and strained. "I wanted it to be me, to have you all to myself. To feel your tongue worshipping my body."

She emphasized her words with a roll of her hips, grinding against Lewis's fingers. "I wish it was me, Lewis. I wish I could've been the one to make you feel good, to hear you moan my name."

A wicked chuckle escaped her lips as she added, "It's her loss for breaking up with you. Because now, I have you all to myself."

Lewis grinned, his fingers still buried deep inside Y/n's slick heat. "Mhm, it's such a win for me," he agreed, his voice low and rough with desire. "Now I have you, all to myself. So good, so tight, so fucking mine."

He punctuated his words with a particularly deep thrust of his fingers, eliciting a sharp gasp from Y/n's lips. Her walls clenched around him, as if trying to keep him inside her forever.

"You feel so perfect, baby," Lewis murmured, his thumb circling her clit. "Like you were made just for me. And now, I'm never letting you go."

Y/n's body tensed, her back arching off the couch as her orgasm approached. "I'm gonna cum," she panted, her voice strained with pleasure. "Lewis, I'm gonna cum!"

Lewis held her close, his fingers never ceasing their relentless assault on her sensitive folds. "That's it, baby," he encouraged, his voice low and soothing. "My good girl, squirt for me. Let go, let yourself feel it."

With a final cry of ecstasy, Y/n came undone, her body shaking and trembling as she squirted onto Lewis's hand. He worked her through it, his fingers and thumb stroking her through the waves of her climax.

"That's it, just like that," he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear. "You're doing so well, baby. Such a good girl for me."

Y/n's moans grew louder as Lewis continued to pump his fingers in and out of her sensitive pussy, even as she rode out the waves of her intense orgasm. "Lewis, stop," she pleaded, her voice strained. "It's too much, I can't take it anymore."

But even as the words left her lips, Y/n found herself grinding against Lewis's hand, her hips moving of their own accord. The overstimulation was almost too much to bear, but she couldn't seem to stop herself.

Lewis grinned, his eyes dark with lust. "You're such a pretty liar," he teased, his fingers never ceasing their relentless assault. "Your body doesn't lie, baby. It knows what it wants."

As if to prove his point, Y/n came again, her pussy clenching and fluttering around Lewis's fingers as she squirted onto the couch once more. The sensation was almost too intense, but Lewis held her through it, his fingers and thumb stroking her through the aftershocks of her climax.

Y/n was still shaking from the intensity of her orgasms, her body sensitive and overstimulated. Lewis rubbed the head of his cock against her slick folds, teasing her entrance with the promise of more.

"Do you want me inside again, baby?" he asked, his voice low and rough with desire. "Do you want to feel my cock stretching you open, filling you up?"

Y/n nodded slowly, her eyes glazed with lust. Despite the sensitivity, she craved more of Lewis, more of the pleasure only he could give her.

"Yes," she breathed, her hips lifting to meet his. "Please, Lewis. I need you inside me."

Lewis slowly pushed forward, his cockhead parting Y/n's slick folds. He went inch by inch, savoring the tight heat of her pussy as it enveloped him. Y/n moaned, her walls fluttering around his length, still sensitive from her previous orgasms.

"Fuck, so good baby," Lewis groaned, his hips rocking shallowly. "You feel like heaven wrapped around my cock."

He set a slow, teasing pace, pulling out almost completely before sliding back in. Y/n whimpered, her hips lifting to meet his, desperate for more. Lewis grinned down at her, loving how responsive she was to his touch.

Y/n arched her back off the couch, her body undulating with each slow, deep thrust of Lewis's cock. "Oh god, Lewis," she moaned, her voice high and breathy. "Feels so good, so deep. You're hitting all the right spots."

Her hands fisted in the couch cushions, her knuckles turning white as she held on for dear life. Each drag of Lewis's cock against her sensitive walls sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her body, making her whimper and praise him.

"Yes, just like that," she panted, her hips rolling to meet his thrusts. "Don't stop, please don't stop. I need more, need you deeper."

Lewis moaned Y/n's name, his hips snapping forward as he drove into her. "Fuck, baby, you feel so good," he groaned, his voice strained with pleasure. "Not even my ex could make me feel this good."

At the mention of his ex, Y/n felt a twinge of jealousy. She tightened her walls around him, clenching down on his cock. "Well, you might as well moan out her name if you keep bringing her up," she said sarcastically, her tone a bit sharp.

Lewis grinned, undeterred by her comment. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. "I'm not thinking about her," he murmured against Y/n's mouth. "I'm only thinking about how perfect you feel wrapped around my cock."

Lewis thrust sharply, making Y/n moan loudly. "You don't need to worry, baby," he assured her, his voice low and soothing. "I'm not thinking about anyone else but you. You're the only one who makes me feel this way."

To emphasize his point, Lewis changed his angle, hitting a spot deep inside Y/n that made her see the heavens. She cried out, her back arching off the couch as pleasure coursed through her veins.

"Oh god, right there," she panted, her nails digging into Lewis's shoulders. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

Lewis grinned, his hips snapping forward in a relentless rhythm. He could feel Y/n's pussy fluttering around his cock, her walls tightening with each thrust. He knew she was close, and he was determined to push her over the edge.

Lewis continued to thrust into Y/n, his cock hitting all the right spots inside her. Her breasts were still constrained by her bra, the lacy fabric a tantalizing contrast to her flushed skin.

"Fuck, your tits look so good from this angle," Lewis groaned, his eyes dark with lust. "Maybe later, I'll bury my face in them, suck on those perfect nipples."

His words of praise sent Y/n over the edge, her body convulsing with the force of her orgasm. She came hard, her pussy clenching and fluttering around Lewis's cock as she squirted onto the couch.

"Oh god, Lewis," she cried out, her voice strained with pleasure. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

Lewis pulled out of Y/n, his cock still hard and throbbing. He stroked himself quickly, his hand flying over his shaft as he chased his own release. With a final groan, he came, his seed splattering across Y/n's stomach in thick, white ropes.

Y/n lay there, panting and trembling from the aftershocks of her intense orgasm. She looked down at the mess on her stomach, a satisfied smile spreading across her face.

"Mmm, you made quite the mess," she purred, her voice low and seductive. "But don't worry, I'll clean it up later."

Lewis grinned, leaning down to capture her lips in a deep, passionate kiss. "I'll help you clean up," he murmured against her mouth. "And then, maybe we can go another round."

Y/n laughed, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of her intense orgasms. "My pussy can't handle another round," she admitted, her voice breathy and strained. "You've worn me out, Lewis."

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nebulaafterdark · 10 months ago

Text

The Succession

Summary: After the battle of Rook’s Rest, Queen Y/N is forced to rule alongside Prince Regent Aemond, in an attempt to keep her children safe and eventually seat her mother, Rhaenyra, on the throne. While attending her husband, on what appears to be his deathbed, she begins to unravel the dark truth of his near passing.

Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

“Behold, the traitor dragon, Meleys. Slain by King Aegon.”

Cole might’ve bellowed anything before the mention of Y/N’s husband and she would not have heard it. Breaching the castle doors, out onto the streets, where the smallfolk stare in wonder. The Queen has scarcely been seen in the days following her husband’s accession, leaving many to wonder if she still lives.

Here she stands, in the flesh, walking about them like a commoner. “Where is Aegon?” She finds Ser Criston, keeping pace beside his horse.

“You mustn’t be about, your grace. It is not safe.”

“Where is my husband?”

Ser Gwayne looks back toward his fallen nephew, now carried by men.

“No,” Y/N shakes her head, falling in line with the oversized box one might mistake for a casket. She can’t see much of anything through the slats.

“You must return to the castle, my Queen.” Cole circles back for her. “His Grace will need you at his side.”

“He’s alive?” Y/N breathes.

“When last I checked.”

She nods, remaining beside her husband as he is carted into the castle, up the stairs to his chambers. The maesters await him, peeling away armor and bits of charred flesh with it, to reveal the extent of his injuries.

“Is my son going to die?” Alicent asks.

“He is badly burned.” The maester informs the Queen dowager.

“Men survive burns.” Y/N says, holding a hand to her belly, attempting to quell the churning.

“He has many broken bones.”

“Bones heal.”

The grand maester sighs, “that is our hope, your grace.”

What lies beneath his breastplate is naught but more red, angry skin, or lack there of. Alicent comes round to Y/N, a rare occasion, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Mayhaps it is best you step away.”

“I will stay,” Y/N shakes her head, “if anything happens… I must stay.” Hold his hand as he goes, if it comes to it.

Alicent nods, withdrawing.

Aegon’s breathing is something awful. Men survive burns. Bones heal.

An eternity passes in that room, on bated breath. Eventually the maesters begin clearing out, leaving the King to mutter, incoherently.

“Your grace.” The grand maester turns to Y/N. “It is done.”

“Thank you, Grand Maester. For all you have done, I- I owe you a debt.”

The man takes her hand, “we can only do so much to aid in the king’s healing, I believe it is you he needs. Be his strength.”

Y/N nods, “of course.” She makes herself comfortable upon the mattress beside him as the doors close, giving them a moment alone.

Aegon’s mumblings grow louder, though still impossible to make sense of.

“Shhh,” Y/N hushes him, brushing hair from his face. “There is nothing to fear. You need only…get better for me. I will tend the council shortly, but I shall return.”

He quiets then, as though her gentle reassurance is all he wanted.

“I will not abandon you. Not now, not ever. Rest easy, my love. You are safe now.” She presses a kiss to his forehead, before taking the stairs down to join the small council.

Those sitting around the table are already in deep discussion, gaping at the Queen’s entrance, standing to greet her.

“So kind of you to wait for me, my lords.” Y/N smiles, taking her ball from the center.

“We thought you might be with his grace, the king.” The hand explains. “He will be expecting you when he wakes.”

“I am not sure he will ever wake.” The grand maester cuts in. “His fate lies with the gods now.”

“Give it time.” Y/N sniffs, “it has been mere hours since his return.”

“If Aegon could wake, he would have done so for you.” Alicent decides. “A king cannot rule in his sleep, we must appoint a regent to serve in his absence.”

“I am awake.” Y/N reminds them.

“My Queen,” Tyland Lannister interjects, “if I may be so bold. Your lord husband has been wounded in battle, he will need your tender hand if we hope him to make any sort of recovery.”

“That is very thoughtful of you, Lord Tyland.” Y/N replies, in a measured tone. Should she lose her head before the council, there will be no coming back from it. “Still, I am willing and able to rule.”

“In the event of his grace’s untimely death, we must be prepared to proceed with the succession.”

“Understandably, and we do not lack heirs. My husband and I have four children.” Y/N shifts in her chair. “Assuming, as you have, that the men of the realm will never accept a woman on the throne, we then pass the crown to our first born son.” To charm the snakes, you must behave as a snake.

The council looks to each other. “Prince Laenor is but two years of age, our next ruling king, by law; though too young to presently serve.”

“I will advise him, I am his mother.”

Alicent rises from her seat, “might I humbly suggest myself? I have already done so during my late husband’s long illness-”

“Which was fine then?” Y/N arches a brow, “a wife to rule in her husband’s absence.”

Alicent lowers her gaze. “This is different.”

“Because I am your enemy’s daughter and named heir,” Y/N huffs. “Rules for thee, not for me. Isn’t that right?”

“Mind yourself.”

“Or what?” Y/N lifts a shoulder, “you will usurp my husband, as you did my mother?”

“Viserys changed his mind.” Alicent says, with finality. “I am sorry for what’s happened, but with his dying breath, he wished for Aegon to be king. I pray you do not hear a similar whisper from your husband anytime soon.”

“I love my husband,” Y/N seethes, “let that be known.”

“Of course, my Queen.”

“Whatever the members of this council intend to do now will be spoken plainly, in my presence.” Y/N demands, staring down at her wedding ring.

“I believe it is in our best interest to appoint Prince Aemond as Regent, until our King has been restored.” Ser Criston announces, “as hand, I know the king’s greatest concern is the safety and well being of his wife and children. We must honor that, in these unprecedented times.”

Y/N swallows, “very well.”

“My Queen.” Aemond reaches past her for the council ball, abandoned by her husband.

————————————————————————

Y/N goes through the motions, putting their children to bed. All is well, my darlings. Father needs only rest. When they have each found sleep, she returns to Aegon. Speaking to him the same way she always has, as though he can hear.

“The men of the council are restless in your absence. They circle like vultures now,” Y/N chokes out, touching the unmarred skin of his face. “And I am alone in this….I have never been alone.”

If she knew no better, she could swear his fingers twitch against hers. Mayhaps she is gripping them too tightly. She releases his hand, much to Aegon’s dismay, grumbling his discontent.

“Hush now, I am here and you are here. The rest will sort,” Y/N reminds him.

She watches him then, the heaving rise and fall of his chest, wrapped in bandages. Men survive burns. Bones heal.

In time, Alicent joins her at Aegon’s side. “Has there been any change?”

“No,” Y/N shakes her head.

“You are kind to be here, he loves nothing in the world as he loves you. I am sure your presence alone is a comfort to him.”

“That is my hope,” Y/N admits.

“I will leave you to it.” Alicent offers a hint of a smile, making for the door.

“Mummy.”

Y/N hears it, his mother does not. “Alicent,” she calls her back.

Alicent flicks away tears before turning round, “what is it?”

“He’s asking for you.”

“F-for me?”

Y/N nods, giving his hand a squeeze.

Alicent returns to his bedside, passing a hand over the side of his face. “I’m here.”

He draws in a rattling breath, “protect her.” Aegon stumbles over the words. “Please, Mummy.”

Y/N inhales sharply, hushing him.

Alicent locks eyes with her daughter by law. I pray you do not hear a similar whisper from your husband anytime soon. “I will do this, for you, Aegon. You needn’t worry.”

Aegon says nothing else, succumbing to sleep once more.

Alicent excuses herself, with a nod.

Y/N muffles the sound of her cries in the hand which isn’t holding his. She’s only half awake by the time she hears footfall and whispering at the end of her husband’s bed.

“Was it worth the price?” Helaena asks.

“I’ve no idea what you mean, my darling.” Aemond mutters, brushing his lips against her cheek.

Part 2

#house of the dragon #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen #hotd aegon #aegon imagine #aegon targaryen fanfic

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lovebugrry · 2 months ago

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ETERNAL SUNSHINE JACK HUGHES

summary you and jack had been best friends for as long as you could remember, and you couldn’t help but feel like his current girlfriend didn’t deserve him

pairing jack hughes x best friend reader

PART ONE — PART TWO (coming soon)

Throughout your years of being Jack Hughes’ best friend, he had his fair share of flings and relationships.

But his current girlfriend, Anna, treated him horribly. No matter how much he found comfort in confiding in you about her wrongdoings, he never had it in him to leave her.

Their four month long relationship had felt like it had been burdening you for years, and the self deprecation Jack found himself in every night, had you up anxiously awaiting their demise.

When Jack first began dating Anna, meeting her through a friend of a friend, she had never been the nicest to you. But honestly, you respected it.

If you had began dating a boy who had a girl friend that was close to him, you would feel the need to have some aversion to her. But not to the extent Anna had been treating you like.

When you guys would all have dinner with Jack, Luke, and other friends at their apartment, it felt like Anna would purposely go out of her way to ignore you. When you would just try to make small talk with her, she would look at you like you had four eyes.

When you heard your phone ring on your bedside table, comprised of your contacts case and ice-cold water bottle, you picked it up to be greeted with Jack’s contact.

“Jack🧸” which you had set for him when you guys went to the fair in the eighth grade, where he had won you a bear.

You sat up quickly to answer the call, “Hey Jack, it’s late, what’s up?” You questioned, knowing exactly what the call was going to be about.

“Hey Y/N, I’m kinda outside your front door right now and it’s cold so could you let me in?” Jack replied without hesitation, sounding anxious.

You and Jack have had your fair share of late night calls, but showing up to your apartment at 1:00 A.M. was extremely out of character for the Hughes brother.

“Oh okay, give me a sec to get up,” while you spoke you scrambled to get up and scurry to your front door without a second thought.

Once you opened your front door, you were meant with a disheveled looking, pink cheeked Jack.

“Jack, are you okay?” You asked while letting him inside your apartment, quick to shut the door behind him.

Jack immediately walked into your living area, and slumped onto the couch, he replied muffled with his face inside the couch cushions, “Yeah I’m fine.”

Jack was a hockey player through and through, he was never a complainer.

When you guys had been playing street hockey at 10 and dislocated his shoulder, he didn’t say anything. When you had accidentally fell face first into him, causing him to break his pinky, he didn’t even let you apologize to him.

“Jack we’ve talked lots of times about communicating our feelings, and how it’s okay to feel sad. Haven’t we?” You scolded him lightly, knowing he was feeling guarded.

He made a grumbling noise, and sat up from his suffocating position on the couch, “It’s Anna,” he admitted, confirming my thoughts.

“What happened?” I questioned.

“It just feels like she doesn’t care about me. I get that she wants to hang out with her friends, and go to bars on weekends, but when it’s practically our only time to be with each other it feels just ugh,” he ranted, and you nodded in response.

He continued, “I know that it’s healthy to not be reliant on each other, but isn’t she supposed to be my “person”?”

You smiled at his explanation, genuinely feeling proud of him for speaking his true feelings. Although you had both had this same conversation regarding practically the same topic so many times, this felt like him.

“Are you communicating these things with her though? I feel like you guys have never spent much time together, and everytime you do I see about 1,000,000 photos on her Instagram story showing me.” I countered.

Having felt this way since Jack told me she wanted him to “hard launch” her a week into dating. When I explained to him what “hard launching” was.

“I really like her though Y/N, when we’re together I have a lot in common with her.”

You nodded along, “I get that but if she’s not making time for you, when will you get those moments?”

As the night went along and your conversation progressed, you found yourselves talking in a circle. A constant cycle of you trying to get Jack to do what’s best for him, and him going back to her everytime.

Everytime you were left disappointed.

౨ৎ

Using the key you had on you keychain, you unlocked the door to Jack and Luke’s shared apartment, where the welcome mat had colorful flowers on it, courtesy of your shopping spree with Jack’s credit card.

Once you enter you were met with Luke sitting on the island, accompanied by a bowl a cereal.

“Luke! I told you I’m making pasta, why are you eating?” You walked in and set down the bags of ingredients onto the island, you had bought on the way there.

“Y/N, there’s nothing wrong with me eating now if I’m gonna eat when you cook too,” He explained with a mouthful of Fruit Loops.

Knowing him and his eating habits, you know he was telling the truth.

While emptying the bags of their contents, you heard footsteps coming from the hall and looked up, and were greeted by Jack’s smiling face.

“There’s my girl,” he said while walking over to you to give you a side hug, laughing at your annoyed expression because he was interrupting your actions.

“Jack be productive and start making the salad, it’s the only thing you’re good for,” You said while prepping the protein for the pasta, knowing it was gonna take Jack a while to make the salad.

“Okay, okay. You’re bossy,” he replied playfully.

After around 10 minutes of you guys doing your respective tasks, with Luke sitting on the couch, there was a knock on the front door.

Jack immediately put down the head of lettuce he had been attempting to chop, and walked to the door, knowing it was his girlfriend.

When he opened the door, you could see his face light up with the arrival of Anna.

You had no choice but to envy her, and the fact that she had Jack in a way you never had through the years of knowing him. In a way that only lived in your dreams of him.

Busying yourself with the preparation of the food in front of you took your wife eyes off of them, hearing them exchange pleasantries with eachother.

When you heard their conjoined footsteps coming towards you, you looked up and were met with Anna with a small smile.

“Hi Anna, nice to see you,” you said sweetly, trying to contain the emotions you felt every time when interacting with her.

She kept the same clipped expression on her face, “Hey Y/N,” she spoke quickly, not returning your act of friendliness.

She made her way towards the stools that were pushed into the island, and began watching both you and Jack preparing the food.

You continued to try to interact with her throughout the time you were finishing putting together the pasta, but were given the same short responses.

“I hope the salad doesn’t turn out bad, that’s the most I could let Jack do, without us having to eat Pizza for dinner,” you joked, met with both Jack and Luke laughing but Anna just giving a reserved smile.

When you guys sat down at the small table that adorned the dining room in their apartment, you beside Luke with Anna and Jack across from you, the conversation didn’t dwindle.

With Jack and Luke having their usual banter, with you and Anna butting in every once in a while, dinner went by quickly.

Once everything was cleaned up by the boys, and you had forced Luke to do the dishes now instead of later, you guys had found yourselves drinking wine in the couch.

More specifically you and Anna drank wine, while Jack and Luke laughed at you guys after you each had surpassed your third glass.

You guys had naturally hung out in this group setting multiple times, but this felt different. Although those times there had been no alcohol involved.

The weight of feeling so much pressure to act perfectly, so Anna wouldn’t feel weird about you and Jack’s relationship, was almost lifted off of your shoulders. You and Anna’s meaningless giggles filled the room, while Jack and Luke feel into their own conversation.

Unexpectedly, Anna leaned towards you while keeping her place on the couch, “You know, Y/N, I think we could actually be really good friends. If you weren’t so in love with Jack,” she smiled lazily, and returning to her position on the couch she has previously been in.

While she acted as if nothing happened it felt like the breath had been taken out of you. And if you had been feeling calm before, the soberness overcame you.

You got up from the couch and decided that was your sign to leave, “I think I’m gonna head out,” you said while walking to retrieve your purse.

Jack wasn’t slow to question your behavior getting up the couch, “What are you talking about Y/N, you always stay over if you drink? And I always take you home at night? Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah Jack I’m fine, promise. I’m just really tired,” you said continuing to walk to the door, with him behind you.

He lowered his voice, “Did Anna say something to you?” he questioned and continued, “Just stay in the guest room.”

“It’s fine Jack,” you said.

“Oh don’t “I’m fine” me Y/N,” he complained quietly, so you only you could hear. “Just stay in the guest room, you literally have things here to stay the night.”

You turned back to face him completely, “Maybe that’s a problem Jack, you have a girlfriend. Don’t you think she probably thinks that’s weird?”

He looked at you like you were stupid, “I promise, I really don’t care what she has to say concerning our relationship. You’re my closet friend. Just stay.”

The reminder of the strict boundaries on your relationship overtook your mind and how you were truly overthinking how Jack thought of you, “I’ll stay, but I need to leave early,” you said finally giving in to his begging.

His serious expression faltered, “Thank you,” he said while his face evolved into his normal bright smile.

When you both went back into both Luke and Anna’s vicinity, you smiled lightly at them and turned back down the hall towards the guest room, leaving Jack in the living room.

The guest room in which you spent 1/4 of your nights in, the room where the decorations were things you’d chosen when Jack had given you his card. The room that was a constant reminder you’d never spend your nights in the room across the hallway.

Soon you found yourself changing into clothes that had somehow migrated to their apartment and into the dresser.

Settling into bed, you fell asleep thinking about how you’d never be his.

JACK HUGHES MASTERLIST — MASTERLIST

#౨ৎ my work #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes x you #nhl fic #hughes fic #hughes brothers #hockey #jack hughes fanfic #nhl x reader #nhl x y/n #nhl x you #nhl angst #jack hughes angst #jack hughes fluff #nhl fluff #jack hughes fic

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lovingu43vr · 3 months ago

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A GLIMPSE OF US

Jasper Hale x Reader

warnings: Bella, usual twilight warnings

Summary: Bella causes a stir when voicing her opinion on two vampires.

It was a quiet day in Forks. An even quieter one in the Cullen house. Rosalie and Emmett out shopping,Alice and Issy Painting, Esme and Carlisle quietly organising the book shelf. Then there was Jasper and Y/n lounging in the love seat in the garden, passively watching creatures scurry past.

“Do you remember when we met?” Y/n softly spoke as she looked up at her mate whose face broke into a wild smile. “I certainly do Darlin, 1940 I was staying with Peter and Charlotte after hearing about new ways. I was reading a news paper trying to control my thirst. Then along came the most angelic being i’d ever seen Y/n Marisol Cullen.” y/n laughed before her husband carried on. “You walked over to me, Said you could help with my situation. I felt this intense feeling of wholeness when you touched my arm. That’s when i knew.” Y/n began “I felt like i’d finally found the missing piece” Jasper held his wife tightly. “And long story short your stuck with me for all eternity Darlin” Y/n Relaxed into Jaspers chest. Relishing in the peace and quiet.

Suddenly Jasper tensed up causing Y/n to lift her body off his and follow hi u s gaze. That’s when the smell of Bella hit her. Rolling her eyes she sighed. “Here she is little miss Florida” Jasper half heartedly chuckled. He Began to open his mouth before a hand being slapped over it. Y/n motioning to shush.

“Are you sure they are actually in love?”

“Bella”

“I mean Jasper looks like he’s in so much pain”

“Jasper always looks like that”

“And Y/n she just looks so perfect and like everything she does is a calculated move”

“Bella”

“No Edward she’s always looking to check if someone’s watching”

“Bella can you hear yourself”

“I don’t think they love eachother Edward i really don’t”

“Bella drop it”

“No Edward, They don’t even seem to like being in eachothers presence. I never see them together”

“You never see them alone either”

Bella clearly forgetting about the heightened hearing the Vampires possessed. Began Slamming into her future In-laws.

Jaspers heart dropped. All he’d ever wanted was for people to know how much he loves his wife. Bella saying those things hurt the empath a lot. He quickly sped off with out saying a word.

“Jasper” Y/n shouted. “Jaz”

Y/n sighed deciding to give him his space before entering the house. She walked in seeing Alice and Issy. “I’m guessing you heard” Issy spoke first her English accent purring. “It’s not true” Alice reassured the vampire. “Alice i’m not stupid. I know but Jaspers took it hard he’s sped off somewhere” Y/n began to walk over to the two Vampires. “I told you Bella’s a jealous girl” Issy nudged her wife. “stop” Alice whispered.

“There you are” Edward smiled walking in with Bella. “I wanted to show Bella some of your paintings” he told the married couple. “Hey Alice,Issy,Y/n” Y/n didn’t respond instead she walked further into the room sitting on the sofa to ‘read’ a magazine.

“Why’d did you say those things?” Y/n closed her magazine. Bella froze. “I mean are you that unsatisfied by Yourself and Edward’s relationship that you start making troubling little fantasy’s about mine?” Y/n stared at the human.

“You wanna know what i found so funny about your little observations?” “hmm?” “You said i’m always looking over to check if someone’s watching, i am your right. But forgive me if this is left field but have you totally lost your mind and forgotten the fact we are literal blood sucking vampires? Oh and the fact that we could be exposed any second?” Edward began to intervene.

“Y/n come on you know she didn’t mean it”

“Really because she sounded pretty set”

“you have no idea what love is Bella, your 17 years old. You have no idea what lays await for you and love in the future” Y/n walked away.

“Jaspers left” Alice told Edward. “What?why?” Edward turned to his sister perplexed. “Edward, Jaspers trying really hard” Issy spoke. “He tries so hard everyday, He worships the ground Y/n walks on and what Bella said was abit of a kick in the teeth don’t you think?” Issy gave the human girl a small glare.

“Now i’ve got to go find my husband, Please refrain from upsetting anyone else Isabella” Y/n sped up the mountains searching for Jasper. She found him. Sitting on a Rock. Watching the horses a field away run around.

“Hey Jaz” Y/n said sitting next to him on the rock. “hi” he quietly spoke. “Wanna talk about it?” Jasper thought about refusing to but he couldn’t. “I don’t want you to think i don’t love you” Jasper sighed. “I love you so much it’s almost painful. You consume my mind, Your in everything i do. When i’m talking to other students at school i’m waiting for you to join because you would love the topic. When u go to the store and i see something i have to get it because it reminds me of you. I spent 80 years suffering until i met you and i can’t even show it” Y/n had never seen her husband so upset by a few words. “Jazzy” she played with bits of his hair “ i know you love me you idiot” Y/n let out a laugh. “So does everyone else, Just because Bella said some stupid things once again doesn’t mean anything” Jasper cracked a small smile. “She does have a habit of that huh?” Y/n grinned grabbing his hand. “Home?” Jasper nodded as they both sped off.

“Jasper im-“ Bella was cut off by Jasper stepping back. “I’d prefer it if you didn’t speak to me” Jasper said before moving up the stairs. “Someone’s rubbing off on him” Emmett chuckled. “He needed it” Y/n nudged the boy. “He’s defiantly whipped i’ll tell you that” Y/n rolled her eyes. “And your not?” Emmett held his hands up. “Hey how can i not be” Rosalie grinned. “Another reason to hate Bella Yay” Edward sent the three vampires a glare. “Don’t glare at me Edweirdo, Your the reason she even met us”

Esme and Carlisle listened to the whole altercation ‘Do you remember when they actually got along. Y/n and Edward?” Carlisle asks his beautiful wife. “No i don’t, i remember when Y/n and i quote ‘tolerated that street urchin” Carlisle sighed. “We were so young then” Esme laughed “it was this morning”.

#jasper hale x reader #jasper #jasper hale x y/n #jasper hale fanfiction #twilight fanfiction #twilight x reader #alice cullen #edward cullen #jasper whitlock hale #emmett cullen #bella swan #rosalie cullen #rosalie hale #jasper cullen #carlise cullen #esme cullen

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almightyelectro · 11 months ago

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@trailblczed asked:

hands the ma'am some yumyum [S'MORES]

x x x

'...How strange...' The archon stares, bewildered, at the food that's been handed to her. It was like nothing she had ever seen before-- two graham crackers, chocolate...and then something gooey in between. When she pokes it, it's hot, almost molten.

It almost reminds her of mochi...

Slowly she brings the confection to her lips, taking one small bite-- only for her eyes to light up as the taste of pure sugar hits her tongue.

"This is...delicious. Tell me, what do you call this again?" She turns to the boy who had given it to her in the first place, looking at him expectantly for an answer.

#x eternity awaits x #x traveler from another world - caelus x #x caelus 01 x #ghsolstice2024

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whosashan · 2 months ago

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WELCOME!

Welcome, fellow Love and Deepspace fans!

This blog is dedicated to writing about the LaDS men —hope you enjoy your time here!

TAGLIST IS OPEN, TO ENTER GO TO THIS POST

REQUEST GUIDELINES

I have only a few rules:

I will not write content involving pedophilia, incest, zoophilia, or any similar themes.

I’m open to trying suggestive content, but I’m unsure about writing explicit smut.

Regarding topics related to mental disorders: You’re welcome to send in requests, but I can’t guarantee I will fulfill them. I want to ensure accuracy and avoid mischaracterizing any illnesses

Unfortunately, I don’t have as much free time as I used to, so responding to requests and posting in general may take longer than before. However, please don’t worry if I haven’t gotten to your request yet—I read and acknowledge every submission! Thank you for your patience and support. 😊

MASTERLIST

Sour - Part 2 of "Bitter"

A year has slipped through your fingers like sand, carrying away the sharp edges of bitterness— or so you thought. Yet, the past has a cruel way of resurfacing, and when you stand before your former lover once more, the question lingers: has time truly softened the wound, or does resentment still simmer beneath your skin? (all x non-mc!reader; based on a request)