#Imagine getting SUCH an affection like... first time in your life

[twstedwonders]

SFW Alphabet - Malleus Draconia

A/N: First Post! I do eventually want to do this with all the boys, this just took an unbelievable about of time to write.

I still can't tell when to properly use a comma, semicolon, or hyphen. Pls help.

Warnings: Mention of hair in "Q". Reader may or may not be M/C, up to you, hon.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

In public, Malleus is a little more reserved with his affections. Being the heir to Briar Valley, he does have to be conscious of public opinion. A kiss to the back of your hand, guiding you through a crowd with a hand on your back, walking around with your arm looped around his. Almost a classy type of affection.

In private, he's constantly touching you. Hand holding as he reads with you doing your own thing beside him, your legs dangling over his lap as you share a pot of tea- his hand caressing your calf, he presses kisses to your head often- even in passing if there aren't too many witnesses. He enjoys your presence and soaking in your warmth.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

You would have to approach him first. Malleus is often regarded with caution and met with distance from his peers, and to an extent- even his citizens. Once you show him you're interested in knowing him and don't have that trepidation, he's ecstatic and will seek you out, the friendship growing with time.

As his best friend, you have an incredible privilege many others don't get. You see his genuine enjoyment in life. You see the spark in his eyes as he speaks of his passions, you get to hear his laughter as you regale him with silly tales about your day.

He often will gift you little trinkets he finds, and for your birthday, he gives you a replica of your favorite gargoyle he handcrafted himself. You're a very dear person to him, and he holds your opinions very high.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

At the start of your relationship, he's very stiff during any type of cuddling. The Fae has incredible strength, physically and magically. He's overly cautious when handling your much more frail in comparison form.

Once he gets over his fear, and learns to trust himself, he's a cuddlebug. Mentioned in 'Affection', Malleus enjoys being in constant contact with you. Cuddling is a way to relax and have yourself wrapped around him, being as close as possible. He enjoys you laying across his chest, getting to stroke your head and back, and in a way, it feels like he is protecting you from anything and everything the world can throw at you when you're in his arms.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Malleus does wish to marry you one day. You're the perfect partner for him, and he knows with time you can grow to be a wonderful leader beside him. Ideally, a child or 2 (or more) would be included.

Malleus is competent at cooking and cleaning, but he doesn't have to do it much. He was privileged enough to have attendants do those things for him growing up, but he is more than capable at cooking something for you two and keeping a tidy space.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

It's hard to imagine Malleus choosing to get romantically involved with someone who isn't completely compatible with him. I kinda feel once he is romantically involved with someone, you are his forever. But let's imagine otherwise, for the sake of writing.

He would take you out for a stroll around the castle at night, enjoying your presence for one last time before he would grab ahold of your hands and turn to face you. With a heavy heart, he would confess how although he still adores you, he believes it to be best if you two were no longer romantically involved. He would likely still keep track of you through life, with how important of a person you were to him.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Malleus is not the type of Fae who would enter a relationship if he didn't imagine the possibility of marriage one day. As the heir to the throne, it is encouraged he find a life partner one day. And incredibly enough, he's found you.

Once you two reach a stage of comfortable affection and mutual understanding, he imagines you're already bound for life. It would likely be a few years after that first moment together that you would marry, when he ascends the throne and is proud to have you beside him as his (queen/king).

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Physically, Malleus is incredibly gentle with you. As stated before, he has incredible strength and fears hurting you, no matter how strong and durable you may be. Even with time, when his touches grow more confident, they're still very gentle. Malleus for all his power and wisdom, is gentle for you. Gentle with you.

Emotionally, he may have some hurdles as he's never been emotionally open with anyone before like this, but he still tries his best to be gentle. You may have to speak up if he is ever unintentionally harsh in his wording- and this usually comes from his isolated upbringing, never from a place of animosity.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Similar to 'Cuddles', Malleus loves having you in his arms. It's a way to feel like he can protect you from the world and its harshness. He also just enjoys holding you, embracing your form and breathing in your scent. His hugs are secure, but of course, gentle. He wraps his arms around you, and cradles your head into him. His chest, his neck, wherever you can comfortably reach. And if you're somehow even larger than he is, he would like to bury his head in your neck, but is worried about his horns.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

You know his love for you long before he actually states it. He likely even needs assistance from Lilia to recognize the actual term for it before he tells you. He shows his love for you practically everyday, in both subtle and major ways. He always wishes to be with you, he shares his hobbies with you, he's always mindful of your state of being, checking in on you and how you're doing. He's affectionate with you, when he's usually a reserved person, and he finds solace with you.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Now in the beginning, Malleus is rather jealous. He's jealous when you spend time with others, wishing to spend and experience moments together. He's jealous when he hears your laughter across the hall, wishing to be the one bringing you such joy. He's jealous when you touch another person, even in the most innocent ways, wanting to be the one who feels your touch. He's very.. pouty when jealous, as his jealousy is a more innocent and pure form. He's not insecure, he just wishes to be the one experiencing these things with you instead of others. With time, he learns to control his silly jealousy, and grows confident in his status as your one and only.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

As most things are when involving Malleus, his kisses are often soft, but consuming. When he kisses you, it's easy to get lost in them, get lost in him. He will delicately press his lips to yours, tilting your head to the side as he cups your cheek, caressing your skin with his thumb. He merely loves kissing you. Placing a kiss to your forehead as you part ways for the day, or to your hand if you're in a crowded place. He kisses your neck when he's feeling a bit cheeky and wants a little more attention from you. He kisses your head often when you cuddle, merely getting the urge to press his lips to you and acting on it. In the same vein, he just enjoys getting kisses from you, but his favorite kiss is when you come up to him as he's sitting, sweeping aside the bangs covering his forehead and placing your soft lips to his scales that rest there. You pull away with a smile and gaze into his eyes, such warmth and love reflected in them he feels like he will combust.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Now as someone so reserved and elegant, Malleus can be awkward around the more rambunctious and energetic children. But those quiet ones? The ones who perhaps are off by themselves enjoying the peace, or are a little shy? He's a sight to behold. He will lower himself to their height with a small smile and speak to them in a soft voice. Asking them "what do you have there little one?", and "my, what a lovely spot you've found. Can I join you?" Somehow, he can make even the most shy child come out of their shell and watching their interaction makes you melt.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

While attending the College, you and Malleus may have completely different daily schedules, so mornings and nights are very dear to you two. You wake up to the ceaseless motion of a hand trailing along your back, Malleus waking you slowly and softly. He is almost always awake before you, as a Dragon Fae, he doesn't require as much sleep as others. You spend a serene few moments encased in each other's arms, enjoying the rays of light trailing in through the window before you have to separate and get ready for the day. He will try to walk you to your first destination, but if he cannot, he bestows upon you a sweet and tender kiss.

Once you move into the castle with him, not much changes. He still wakes you softly, wrapped up in his arms, but this time you two get to enjoy a cup of tea together, speaking about your plans for the day. If it's a day off or responsibilities are later in the day, you two will have some pastries with your tea and enjoy a slow morning before changing into appropriate attire and moving on to the dining room to have breakfast.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Regardless whether you're at the College, or the castle, nights are almost always the same. Its the biggest routine you establish within your relationship, spending nights together.

You two will go for a stroll, whether it be around the college, the castle, some ruins, or old architecture. You speak of your day if it was spent apart, or merely what comes to mind. Sharing worries, fears, or concerns to see the others opinion on a bothersome subject, eventually trailing off into a comfortable silence as you enjoy the brisk night air and stars twinkling in the sky.

On days when the weather is too chilly, you spend nights by the fire, cuddled up with a warm drink and reading or doing some simple paperwork. Malleus will always try his best to ensure you fall asleep beside the other, and very rarely has he ever broken his promise.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Most of what you learn about Malleus happens slowly, starting during the stages of your friendship. Malleus can be an open book for those he trusts, but it takes a lot to get there. Once you two take a more romantic turn, he will reveal things of his past that may not be entirely pleasant to remember. The loneliness, his fears, the pain of losing his parents, things that will tear your heart apart now- knowing what he's been through. Things he may hide from many others, or refuses to be vulnerable with anyone other than you.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

With all his years of life and being secluded, Malleus has gained incredible patience. He doesn't get frustrated or irritated easily. But the rare times he is angered? Its a terrifying sight. You can feel his anger as it's practically radiating off him. Green lightning flashes across the sky as thunder booms nearby. His words are sharp, voice strong, leaving no place for discussion. He has never been angry at you, hardly ever does he raise his voice at you. Only when he is very passionate about what he's saying will his voice grow louder, and often it is a pleasant thing to see. You're far too precious to Malleus for him to ever grow irate with you.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Malleus is the kind of lover who will remember the tiniest details about you. You're wearing a new perfume/cologne? You've changed how you style your hair? New cozy clothing item you practically live in? He's mentioning and complimenting it within seconds of seeing you. If you're out viewing shops, he will observe everything your eyes linger on and will buy it or something similar at a later date. He always listens intently when you're speaking, and if you mention even the slightest preference for something it's being saved in his memory forever.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Oh, there are so many moments Malleus remembers fondly. The first time he made you laugh so hard you practically crumbled over with tears in your eyes, the first time you laid your head upon his shoulder, when you invited him to spend time with you, your first embrace, first kiss.

But his favorite moment may have to be the time you both were spending time with Silver, Sebek, and Lilia at the dorm and Sebek was telling an obviously hyped up tale trying to impress Malleus and Lilia, whereas Silver was dozing off and Lilia was fondly watching on as you humored Sebek. He felt so complete. This little family was missing something before you, and now with you here, it's perfect.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Malleus is so very protective over you. Perhaps even a little excessively so. He hasn't had a lot in life he's treasured as much as you, and certainly nothing as frail, so he's a little extreme at times.

He hates to see any sort of harm come to you, he would heal a simple bruise in the beginning of your relationship, and Seven forbid anything made you bleed or cry.

He tries his best to shield you from the cruelty of the world, something he knows all too well. He thinks you're safest beside him-another reason he wishes to spend so much time with you, to protect you from everything. And if somehow he fails that, well, he'll fix it and do more in the future.

As one of the most powerful magi in the world, it's a little unnecessary to protect him. At least, that's what he thinks. You often try to protect him emotionally. You know he gets upset when he is forgotten, and when other students give him a wide berth. You try your best to invite him to school functions, and distract him from other students by getting him to focus on you, something that is very easy to do, with how much he loves you.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Dates are often simple with you two. You consider your nightly strolls as a date of sorts. Merely enjoying one another's presence in solitude, getting to be affectionate without prying eyes.

Anniversaries, he tries to do something special if your schedules are willing. In the very least, he gifts you something extravagant that you've had your eye on.

For gifts, its been previously mentioned hes very attentive to what your likes are, and he enjoys giving you little things that remind you of his love.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

A bad habit of his is how protective and cautious he is, especially in the beginning. It comes from a good place, but you often have to remind him you're not made of glass and won't break if he's a little more firm in his touches.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Malleus has to be well kept, due to his high status. He's not overly concerned, as he has a well refined and elegant style, and he has been gifted with gorgeous looks.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Before he met you, he often felt something was missing, but was unaware of what that thing was. Once he befriended you, he knew you were someone important to him, and he felt a bit saddened when you spent long times apart. Now, as lovers, he knows he can't be without you. You've become so ingrained in his being, if he were to ever lose you, he would lose a part of himself. He hates to think of how long Dragon Fae lifespans can be compared to others. It's something he tries to push aside.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

You learned early on about Malleus' dislike for whole cakes from Lilia, and already knew by spending time with him that he likes ice cream. For a big celebration of his, you got him a mini ice cream cake. He was hesitant when you revealed the tiny cake, but it was adorable just how excited he got once he cut into it and discovered the ice cream, unaware that the delicacy existed. It was one of the first times you saw genuine elation from him, and you knew you were in deep.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

In a partner, he wouldn't like someone who is petty or seeks out sympathy. Being the heir to the throne, his partner will have to rule beside him, and you need to have a certain maturity to you. You will have eyes from around the world on you, and need to act a certain way. Malleus isn't expecting perfection from you, and he's very willing to help you grow into a person fit for the crown, but there are some personality traits that are very unattractive, and many that are childish and immature are turn offs.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Before you began to share a bed, he almost dreaded going to sleep. Although he may not need as much rest as most, it's very easy for him to get lost in his thoughts and dwell on unfavorable things as he tries to drift off to sleep. With you- he focuses instead on you. He absentmindedly trails his fingers along your spine as he soaks in your warmth, your scent. He focuses on your breathing and is able to eventually fall asleep to pleasant thoughts of you and your future together.

[caitlinclarksbiceps]

Love, Lullabies, and Us

𝗣𝗔𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 : W! Nika x Pregnant! Reader

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 : Swearing, had to mention "Y/N" multiple times

𝗪𝗖 : 5.2k

𝗔/𝗡 : Hey everyone! This is a sequel to my story, Sunny Days! I'm thinking about turning it into a family series, but I'd love to hear what you all think! (Requested 🏷️ @iowahawkeyes22 )

PART 1

Tomorrow marks a monumental day in your life, it's your wedding day with Nika. Tonight, you both find yourselves at a hotel, celebrating the night before your big day, but in separate rooms, a tradition rooted in superstition. You can hardly contain your excitement, the thought of finally becoming Nika's wifey fills you with joy. As you sit in your room, a warm smile spreads across your face while your hands gently caress your noticeable baby bump. The anticipation of what’s to come makes your heart flutter.

When morning light breaks, your makeup artist and stylist arrive, transforming your hotel room into a flurry of beauty and elegance. They work their magic, applying makeup and adjusting your gown, turning you into a vision of beauty that you can hardly recognize. As you stand in front of the mirror, you give a small spin, and your breath catches in your throat. The reflection staring back at you is stunning—radiant, joyful, and glowing in every possible way. You are overwhelmingly happy, words fail to express the feelings swelling within you.

Meanwhile, in her own room, Nika shares the same excitement. She’s slipping into the bridal gown she has envisioned wearing for so long. What makes this moment even more special is the fact she’s wearing it to marry you. You can almost feel her thrill from afar as you imagine the wide smile on her face. After hours of preparations and a flurry of nervous energy, the time finally approaches for you to head to the wedding venue.

As you arrive, the grand doors swing open, revealing a beautiful scene. Your veil cascades down, elegantly framing your face. You begin to walk down the aisle, surrounded by a lush arrangement of flowers that you and Nika carefully selected. Each step you take is filled with delight and a hint of disbelief that this dream is finally coming true. From across the aisle, you catch sight of Nika, her eyes glistening with tears that stream down her cheeks. This is it, this is the moment you have imagined for so long, marrying your soulmate, with the baby you wanted together nestled safely within you walking down with you.

Little flower girls scatter petals along the red carpet just before you entered to walk, each delicate bloom leaving a trail of beauty. As you approach the end of the aisle, your mother gently takes your hand, lovingly guiding you towards Nika, who waits eagerly to receive you. The look in her eyes is filled with love and gratitude, and when she takes your hand in hers, it feels like your hearts align.

“You’re breathtaking,” Nika whispers, her voice breaking ever so slightly with emotion. Tears glisten in her wide eyes, and you can't help but beam back at her, feeling a flutter of cheekiness from her heartfelt compliment.

“And so are you, my love,” you respond, feeling as if your heart could burst from joy. The wedding ceremony unfolds before you, but it’s the moment of exchanging vows that makes everything so real.

“Dear my love…” Nika begins, her voice steady yet full of affection.

“I vow to love you like the ocean loves the shore, endlessly, faithfully, and always comforting you when you get dramatic about the food we order from fast food, insisting that you like mine better. I promise to be your calm in the storm, your partner in mischief, and the excuse to leave those awkward parties a little early. I’ll cherish your laugh like the first warm day after winter, and your quirky habits like rare treasures known only to me. Through every chapter of our lives, those quiet mornings, thrilling adventures, and the moments when life gets a little messy, I choose you, over and over. Your heart is my favorite place, your smile is my sweetest song."

As you listen to her vows, tears well up in your eyes, a mixture of happiness and laughter spilling over. You can’t help but soak in every word she says, feeling more loved than ever.

Then it's your turn. You take a deep breath and speak from your heart, “I promise to love you louder than the roar of the crowd at your games, and softer than the warmth of your favorite hoodie after practice. I vow to be your biggest supporter, whether you’re sinking hoops on the court or scattering snacks all over the couch. You've taught me that true strength is not just in how we play the game, but in how fiercely we love, loyal and wholeheartedly. I’ll be by your side through every season of our lives, celebrating those championship highs, enduring the tough losses, and enjoying those late-night road trips where I find myself tracking your flight as if it were my full-time job. I promise to always believe in you, chase your dreams with you, and remind you, no matter how tall you stand on the court, I’ll still manage to steal your hoodies, your fries, and, effortlessly, your heart.”

As your words hang in the air, you and Nika share laughter and joyful tears, a beautiful connection woven through every sentiment shared.

Finally, the moment arrives where the priest asks, “Do you, Nika Mühl, accept Y/N Y/L as your wife, in richer times and poorer, until death do you part?”

“I do, father,” Nika responds without a single moment’s hesitation.

“Do you, Y/N Y/L, accept Nika Mühl as your wife, in riches and in struggles, until death do you part?” he asks, now directing his attention to you, and with a radiant smile, you reply, “I do.”

"You may now kiss" the priest declared, and in that moment, everything else faded away. Nika, with a soft smile and bright eyes, pulled you in by the waist, leaning in for a kiss that was both tender and filled with passion. It was as if time stood still, and you could feel those tears of joy streaming down your cheeks, a mixture of love and overwhelming happiness washing over you.

As she pulled back slightly, locking eyes with you, Nika whispered, "God, I love you so much." She wrapped her arms around you, holding you tightly but with a gentle touch, mindful of your growing baby bump. It was a beautiful reminder of the life you were creating together, and every moment felt like a dream come true.

"And I love you," you replied, feeling yourself melt into her embrace. It was hard to believe how special and magical this day truly was, a day you would remember for the rest of your lives.

It had only been a few months since you and Nika exchanged vows, but every single day since then had been filled with happiness, and you couldn’t help but think about how everything was just perfect. You felt like the luckiest person in the world.

Now, as the sun rose on yet another day, it was bittersweet because today, Nika had to leave for one of her games. They were heading to Los Angeles and would be away for a whole week before returning to Seattle for their next match. The reality of it all hit you hard, and you helped her pack her bags, participating in this routine while your pregnancy hormones ran wild. Much to your dismay, tears cascaded down your cheeks—seriously, it felt like you could fill a bucket with all those emotions.

Nika noticed your distress and wrapped her arms around you, her reassuring voice cutting through your worries. "Hey, baby, it’s okay. I’ll call you as soon as I get on the team bus, and I’ll keep you updated while we’re on the way there. Okay?" She spoke softly, trying to soothe your fears even though you couldn’t quite understand why you felt this extra pang of longing for her today compared to other trips.

"Just promise me you'll bring me back some food when you get home," you said through your sobs, your voice a mix of sadness and playful desperation. Nika couldn’t help but chuckle at your plea, and she nodded decisively. "I will, princess, I promise you," she said, planting a gentle kiss on the top of your head, her way of sealing the promise.

As the time came for her to leave, you felt a wave of loneliness crash over you the moment Nika stepped out of the house. With a heavy heart, you decided to curl up on the couch and lose yourself in a movie, hoping it would distract you from her absence. Just about an hour later, your phone rang, breaking the silence—Nika was calling you from the team bus. You smiled, feeling a rush of warmth at the sound of her voice, and you wouldn’t let her hang up until you’d shared a few more sweet moments together, even from a distance.

Nika’s face filled your phone screen, her dark brown hair tucked beneath her grey hoodie, a few strands framing her sharp cheekbones. Those familiar dark brown eyes were still impossibly bright, twinkling even through the grainy camera. You could hear the low hum of her teammates chatting in the background, but her attention was solely on you.

“See, love, I called the second we left,” she teased, her accent soft and affectionate, lips curling into that irresistible grin. “How’s my dramatic wife holding up without me?”

You dramatically flopped back on the couch, one hand on your bump, the other still gripping the hoodie she left behind. “I’ve been abandoned. Betrayed. Left to raise this tiny Croatian firecracker alone,” you whined, pouting. Nika let out a quiet laugh, running a hand through her brunette waves.

“You’ve been alone for only an hour, princess.”

“One hour's too long.” You sniffed, your voice cracking with exaggerated heartbreak. “I cried over a TikTok because someone got engaged in taylor's concert, you know, during that love story song… and then cried because your hoodie still smells like you.”

Her expression softened, dark eyes glowing with warmth as her teasing faded into something gentler. “Aww, love…” She leaned closer to the screen. “I miss you too. And our little peanut.”

You smiled, your hand instinctively tracing circles over your belly. “The baby's been kicking like crazy today. Probably mad you ditched us.”

Nika’s grin widened, her Croatian accent thickening slightly with pride. “Already has my attitude, huh? That’s my kid.” Her eyes twinkled. “But I know where they get the dramatics—from their mama.”

You gasped. “Excuse me? I am a graceful, composed, emotionally stable woman.”

Nika burst into a laugh, and you could hear her teammates snickering behind her. “Babe… you cried over soggy fries last week.”

“They were cold, Nika!”

“They were like…lukewarm at worst,” she teased, shaking her head.

You rolled your eyes at her but couldn’t help smiling. “Whatever. You better bring back fries. And nuggets. And… like, a cookie the size of my face.”

Nika chuckled softly, her dark eyes turning serious again, filled with affection. “I’ll bring back the whole bakery if that’s what you want.” She paused, her voice dropping to that sweet, sincere tone that always melted you. “I hate leaving you, you know? Especially now.” Her gaze flicked down to your bump before returning to your eyes. “But I’ll be home soon, princess. I promise.”

You let out a soft smile as you wrapped up the call. It was clear that Nika needed to focus and rest while she was on her way to Los Angeles, so you decided to let her go and enjoy the journey. After all, she had a big game ahead, and the last thing you wanted was to distract her.

But when tomorrow finally rolled around, you found yourself feeling a bit lonely. Sure, there was excitement bubbling up inside you because tonight was the night you’d finally get to watch Nika's game on TV! You had even gone a little overboard and stocked up on an array of snacks to cheer her on, popcorn, nachos, even some sweet treats. You wanted to be the loudest fan in the room, even if it was just you in your cozy living room.

You had really wanted to be there with her in person, cheering from the sidelines, but Nika had insisted that you stay home. “You’re so close to your due date,” she said with that familiar hint of concern in her voice. “I just can’t risk anything happening.” It made you feel a bit guilty, but deep down, you understood. She was just looking out for you and the little one growing inside you, and you couldn’t really argue with that kind of love and worry.

So here you were, one hour away from tip-off, pacing around your living room, trying to combat that slight sense of isolation. The anticipation was almost unbearable! Just to hear her voice, you picked up the phone and called Nika.

“Hey, baby! How are you doing?” Nika’s voice came through warmly, but there was a faint buzz of background noise, sneakers squeaking against polished hardwood, basketballs thudding in the distance, the faint, sharp whistle of a coach barking instructions.

You sat up straighter, your heart doing that ridiculous little flip. “Oh, you’re already at the arena?” you asked, immediately seeing her, dark brown hair pulled back into a neat ponytail, those intense espresso-colored eyes sharp with focus, her Croatian features drawn in determination.

“Yeah, courtside at Crypto Arena,” she confirmed, shifting the phone slightly, the background coming into focus. You caught a glimpse of towering stadium lights overhead, rows of empty seats still filling up, and the bright gleam of the Sparks's court polished to perfection. “Had to sneak off for five minutes. Told Coach I was calling my ‘pregnant, hormonal wife so she doesn’t eat the couch out of stress."

You snorted, grabbing a handful of popcorn, your free hand instinctively cradling your bump. "I’m not eating furniture! just half the snack cabinet.”

“Half? Babe, you were supposed to save the good snacks for the game,” Nika teased, adjusting her hoodie over her jersey. You could just imagine her name stitched on the back, Mühl in bold letters, the number 1 underneath, a familiar reminder of every proud moment you’d watched her dominate the court.

“The baby wanted nachos, I don’t control the baby anymore,” you said with faux innocence, biting back a grin.

Nika shook her head, but her eyes softened, glowing even under the harsh arena lights. “Love… I miss you. I hate being this far from you.”

You let out a shaky breath, your eyes flicking to the TV, already set to the sports channel, the familiar pre-game graphics rolling across the screen. “Me too,” you admitted, voice cracking slightly. “It’s weird… watching you play from here, knowing I should be there in the stands—”

“No,” Nika cut in, her tone gentle but firm, that fierce protectiveness kicking in. “We’re too close to your due date. I can’t risk… I can’t—” she paused, visibly wrestling with the emotions behind her steady exterior. “I need you both safe, okay?”

You nodded, the lump in your throat growing. “Okay… but you better wave at the camera. I need my TV moment.”

Nika’s laugh cracked through her serious expression, her dark eyes shining. “Deal. I’ll blow you a kiss mid-game, get fined for PDA if I have to.”

Your laugh melted into something softer, your heart aching, full of love and nerves and pride. “Go crush them, superstar.”

“Always,” she whispered, her voice lowering. “And after? FaceTime. I want to see your face… and your snack crimes.”

“You got it,” you grinned, feeling lighter already.

The background roared as the announcer’s voice boomed through the arena, and Nika’s eyes darted to the court. “Gotta go. I love you—more than basketball.”

You smirked. “Wow, Croatian love confessions on game night? I must be special.”

She winked, backing toward the tunnel. “The most special. I love you.”

The line clicked off, but your living room suddenly felt warmer, brighter, even from miles away.

You settled back on the couch, your bump shifting under your hand, your eyes glued to the TV.

“Alright, kid,” you whispered with a grin, “let’s go cheer for Mama.”

The second quarter was heating up, and you were already a wreck.

Your living room looked like a mini sports bar exploded—empty snack bags, half a soda can tipping precariously on the coffee table, your bump sticking out proudly under Nika’s oversized team hoodie. You were absolutely not sitting still. No chance.

The game had you on edge—L.A. fans roaring through the TV speakers, the fast-paced plays, and your wife darting across the court like she owned the place.

“Come on, Nika… come on… YES—YES, BABY!” you shrieked as Nika sank a three-pointer, nearly launching yourself off the couch, your popcorn bowl dangerously tilting as kernels flew.

The baby kicked in solidarity, or possibly protest, but you didn’t care. You were already bouncing, carefully, up and down in place, your bare feet hitting the floor as you cheered like there's no tomorrow.

“That’s my wife! MY WIFE!” you hollered at the TV, pointing aggressively toward the screen as if the commentators could hear you. “Look at her go! Look at those handles! Croatian queen, future MVP, love of my life!”

The next play, Nika stole the ball mid-pass and zipped down the court for a clean, easy layup.

You practically levitated.

“Oh my God—OH MY GOD, THAT’S MY GIRL,” you shouted, hands in the air like you were signaling touchdown instead of basketball. Your voice cracked, eyes watering from pure, unfiltered pride.

“Look at her, little peanut! Your mama’s a beast out there! You’re genetically destined for greatness!” you giggled, one hand rubbing your belly, the other dramatically fanning your flushed face.

Another camera close-up of Nika filled the screen, sweat on her brow, intensity written all over her sharp features, and she did the quick hand-to-lips kiss, that subtle wave. Just for you.

You stopped mid-bounce, hands flying to your chest, overwhelmed.

“Okay, I’m gonna cry,” you sniffled, wiping your face with your sleeve. “Damn hormones… damn beautiful wife… ruining me.”

It happened in the middle of the fourth quarter.

One second you were screaming at the TV, full-blown feral wife mode, popcorn everywhere, wearing Nika’s hoodie like a badge of honor—and the next?

Your brain short-circuited.

At first, you thought… maybe the soda can tipped over, or maybe you sat on an ice pack (weird).

But no.

Oh no.

You looked down. Wide-eyed. Heart racing.

“Okay… okay, that’s… not the soda…” you muttered, frozen for a solid three seconds as the reality hit you like a freight train.

Your water just broke. On the couch. During Nika’s game.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” you exclaimed, eyes darting between the TV, where Nika was mid fast-break down the court, and the absolute crisis happening in your living room.

Panic set in instantly. You couldn’t call Nika, she was literally on national TV, winning, being the love of your life and the hero of the game… she’d probably throw her whole career away if you called her mid-contraction.

“Okay, okay—best friend—call… call… CALL!” You scrambled for your phone, fingers shaking as you hit dial, pacing awkwardly around the living room in a hoodie and pajama shorts, liquid trailing with every step.

The phone rang twice before your best friend picked up, voice casual and oblivious “What’s up? Screaming at the refs again?”

You barely breathed. “My water broke.”

A beat of silence.

“…Wait, like dramatic movie scene broke? Or like, you spilled something again and you’re being extra?”

“Movie scene broke. Like, wet couch, baby coming, can’t call Nika ‘cause she’s on the court, I’m freaking the hell out—what do I do?!” Your voice cracked, eyes darting wildly to the TV, where Nika was obliviously assisting another perfect shot.

Your best friend practically choked. “Holy sh*t—okay, okay—breathe. I’m coming over. Sit your dramatic ass down, don’t move, grab your hospital bag—did you pack snacks? No, never mind, I’ll bring snacks—”

You were pacing again, half-laughing, half-crying. “I’m literally leaking on the hardwood floor, and you’re talking about snacks?!”

“Priorities! You’ll be starving after, I know you,” she shot back, already rustling around on the end of the line.

On the TV, Nika was still mid-game, fierce and flawless, no clue her wife was about to have a whole baby mid fourth-quarter.

“I swear to God if she finds out after the game, she’ll combust,” you muttered, rubbing your belly as another tiny contraction rippled through.

“Good news, you get to meet the baby,” your best friend said, already rushing out their door. “Bad news, I have to peel your dramatic, crying ass off the couch first. Stay put. I’m five minutes away.”

You exhaled, adrenaline spiking, a wild mix of fear, love, and pure chaos buzzing through you.

The final buzzer echoed through the arena, the crowd erupting as the scoreboard flashed victory. Nika’s teammates swarmed the court, hugging, high-fiving, the usual post-win chaos. But her eyes? They darted immediately to the sideline, scanning for her phone like clockwork.

You always texted right after a game, proud, teasing, some dumb flirty message that made her grin no matter how exhausted she was.

Except… nothing.

No text.

No missed call.

Just radio silence.

Her heart squeezed, nerves replacing adrenaline as she grabbed her phone from the bench. The first thing she saw wasn’t from you, it was from your best friend.

"Hey, don’t freak, but Y/N’s water broke mid-game. We’re at the hospital. Baby’s coming. She’s okay, but you should get here."

The world tilted.

Her pulse thundered in her ears, drowning out the cheers around her. Her fingers trembled, unlocking her phone again, rereading the message over and over like it might change.

“Sh*t” Nika hissed under her breath, shoving past celebrating teammates, her heart hammering so hard it hurt. She barely heard her coach congratulating her, the blinding arena lights, all she could see was the hospital’s name in the text.

She tried calling you, straight to voicemail.

Panic clawed up her chest, her mind racing with worst-case scenarios. She was supposed to be there. Holding your hand. Whispering terrible jokes while you cussed her out through contractions.

Not here. Not an arena hundreds of miles away.

Nika’s hands were shaking as she shoved her sneakers into her duffel, fingers barely working fast enough to zip the bag shut. Her heart thundered like it might crack her ribs, the text from your best friend burning into her brain “Y/N’s water broke. We’re at the hospital. Baby’s coming.”

Baby’s coming.

Her baby.

Your baby.

Too soon. Too fast.

And she wasn’t there.

“F**k, f**k, f**k,” Nika muttered under her breath, practically bulldozing her way through the locker room, ignoring confused teammates and lingering press trying to flag her down. Her jersey was half off, hoodie barely yanked over her head, and her bag thudded hard against her hip with every frantic step toward the exit.

The team manager called after her. “Hey, media’s waiting—"

“I can’t, my wife’s in labor.” Nika snapped, voice cracking, practically throwing herself into the team manager’s path. Her eyes were wild, glassy with panic. “I need to get to Seattle. Tonight. Right now. My wife—she’s—God, my wife’s having the baby"

The manager’s face fell, snapping immediately into action. “Okay, okay, breathe, Mühl. Go get changed, I’ll call the front desk. We’ll get you on the first flight out.”

But Nika was already dialing on her phone, fingers trembling, trying your number again—straight to voicemail.

“Come on, love” she whispered, pacing tight circles near the exit, her Croatian slipping out as stress twisted in her chest. Her teammates hovered nearby, concern etched across their faces, but she barely noticed.

All she could hear was the deafening silence of your missed call. All she could see was the faint mental image of you—alone, scared, pacing your living room, belly full of their child, and she wasn’t there.

Airport security blurred past her. She didn’t remember half the drive there, her duffel flung in the backseat, her game-worn shoes still dangling from her backpack, hoodie half unzipped, passport clutched tight as she bolted through LAX like a woman possessed.

The ticket agent barely had time to finish their sentence before Nika slammed her passport down on the counter. “Next flight to Seattle—emergency. My wife’s in labor—please.”

The attendant blinked at her flushed, frantic face, dark eyes wide, jersey still peeking out beneath her hoodie. “I—um—let me check—”

“Please,” Nika’s voice cracked, chest heaving. “I can’t miss this.”

The next thirty minutes were a blur of airport chaos, security lines, impatient passengers, shoving her phone in her pockets with trembling hands, jogging across the terminal, heart pounding with every wasted second.

Her phone buzzed, a text from your best friend “They’re okay. She’s strong. Baby’s taking their time. I’ll update you.”

Nika sagged against the gate wall for half a breath, shoulders shaking, relief flooding in, but it wasn’t enough.

Not until she was there.

Not until she was holding you both.

The second they called boarding, Nika nearly tripped sprinting down the jet bridge, ignoring stares from flight attendants as she collapsed into her seat, legs jittering, palms sweaty, her mind looping worst-case scenarios over and over.

The flight felt like an eternity.

Every ding of the seatbelt sign, every bump of turbulence, every minute trapped in that metal plane made her skin crawl. She scrolled through old photos of you, grinning selfies, your baby bump poking out from under her hoodie, sleepy pictures of you curled against her chest, all while biting back the sting of tears.

The moment the plane touched down, Nika shoved past rows of drowsy passengers, muttering apologies as she practically vaulted down the aisle, duffel slung over her shoulder, hair a mess, eyes bloodshot, lungs burning.

She didn’t care.

She tore through the terminal, hailed the first cab she saw, barking out the hospital address with a voice so hoarse it barely sounded human.

Every red light was agony. Every slow turn, every traffic delay made her fists clench white-knuckled against her knees.

She texted the whole way

“I’m almost there.”

“Please hold on.”

“I love you both.”

Finally, finally, the cab screeched to the curb of the hospital.

Nika threw bills at the driver, bolting through the automatic doors like a storm in sneakers and panic.

Nurses barely got a word out before she blurted, “Labor and delivery—my wife’s here—her water broke—Y/N L/N—please—”

A nurse guided her to the room, and her legs nearly gave out as she spotted you through the window, pale, exhausted, hair messy but eyes sparkling despite it all, cradling the impossibly small bundle in your arms.

Her throat closed. The world tilted. Her heart cracked and mended all at once.

She stumbled in, breathless, knees weak, eyes stinging.

“You made it,” you rasped, voice soft and teasing despite the exhaustion in your face.

Nika collapsed beside you, forehead pressed to yours, hands trembling as she touched both you and the tiny miracle between you.

“I’m here,” she choked, tears streaming freely. “I’m so f**king here.”

Nothing else mattered.

Not the game.

Not the distance.

“I love you,” she breathed, pressing kisses into your hair, your temple, your shaking shoulders. “I love you both more than anything.”

The room, the world, it all blurred. But this? You, her, the tiny miracle between you?

This was everything.

[angelicscz]

ྀིྀི.˚ jax headcanons

a complication of general & relationship jax headcanons

↳ before you read: lowercase intended, gn reader, written after ep 5 - before ep 6, ooc jax (?), terribly rushed, not proff read.

first of all; this guy is a massive jerk, he knows it, you know it, we all know it and it's a fact. nobody really likes him besides perhaps pomni, everyone else tolerates him; 'cause what can they do about his antics?

let's not forget about the fact that he has keys to everyone's room, he pranked everyone at least once. i'd like to say that he pranked ragatha and gangle the most. kinger is the one whom jax pranks the least.

he secretly cares about everyone, as i said before he has the keys to everyone's room, he has them not only for his stupid pranks but for emergencies as well. he was once too late to help his friend ribbit (the character that we saw on the door in ep5) and couldn't get to open the door. imagine you couldn't help the only person who truly cared for you in this forsaken cirsus. imagine knowing that they're getting abstracted on the other side of the door and you can't do anything about it.

build his walls up high, if you were to break them to see the true him it'd take a while. he hides his insecurities and problems behind his obnoxious personality, yet deep down he wants to be heard. he wants to be comforted but he wouldn't take the comfort well, generally would be really awkward about it.

despises crying in front of anyone, despises voicing his needs, despises talking about his past life in a serious manner, despites being ignored even though everyone is telling each other to just "ignore him".

canonically he's the youngest in the cirsus; he's twenty-two (22) so theoretically he had it the worst as he had the whole life ahead of him just for it to be taken away in the blink of an eye. he could've start his own business, start a family, explore the world and so much more, but again everyone in the cirsus had to experience the shock of the new world, new body, new name and the unfortunate memory loss.

in the real world he'd listen to msi, have black nails and be the type of person to work night shifts. :p

he journals to keep his sanity!! tried to keep track of the days trapped in the cirsus but lost track after a few months. at first he used to journal everyday but he rarely writes anything in it these days, but when it does you bet he'll write out like 3 pages. has a small list of what everyone is startled by and a small list of all of caine's adventures.

he is really expressive, his ears show his emotions really well and he gestures with his hands all the time when he talks, often exaggerating everything. body language can tell you everything!!

him catching feelings for someone in the cirsus would be extremely rare as he really doesn't take the digital world seriously, but it is possible; a really really slow slow burn. now he wouldn't even realize when he caught feelings for you, it just slowly progressed into something more than friends.

I like to think that the moment he realized he had a crush on you is when he was journaling and started writing about you, a lot about you or someone like ragatha or zooble point his obvious different behaviour when it comes to you.

its subtle but it's there: the way his voice slightly softens when talking to you, the way he always soughts to be at your side, the way he's staring at you from across the room, the way his pranks are even more harmless, the way he doesn't actually walk into your room and makes obvious loud noises to signal that he's here; he wouldn't knock though.

jax's love language is quality time and acts of service. he is very observant, he already knows you will need something before you do.

terrible at giving affection, even worse at receiving it. PDA is a no no for him unless he is the one who initiates it. please don't hug him out of the blue in front of the others, poor boy will be so awkward and flushed. HOWEVER he loves giving you suprise kisses, hugging you from behind, silently telling everyone you're his. and he is yours.

A TEASE, talks big but if you tease him back? he might actually explode.

twirling strands of your hair around his fingers, playing with the hem of your clothes, a hand on your waist, on your back is how he expresses his affection and love for you. further into the relationship he'll get more comfortable with bigger acts of affection like hugging and kissing.

actually goes crazy over how you see him, it was the worst in the crushing state. he doesn't want you thinking badly of him, he doesn't want you listening to others how terrible he is. his mood WILL change whenever you're mad at him. he will try to apologize in his own way, acting like its not that big of a deal in front of you knowing damn well he couldn't sleep because of it and sweated his ass off.

wouldn't know how to comfort you if you started crying in front of him or he found you crying in your room or really anywhere in the cirsus. would just look at you first, stare. you'd think that he's judging you but he really doesn't know what to do. after a while he'd just sit next to you and wait for you to open up or tell him to fuck off. he genuinely doesn't want you abstracting, anyone but you.

1.2k words | navigation

[brooklyn-duo]

Their week together was a dream come true for Bucky, he never believed he could be so happy with anyone, even with Steve. The years he spent pining, loving him secretly, dreaming of maybe one day having this; it didn’t compare, none of it could compare to what it truly felt like. He got through the most brutal factory shifts as if they were nothing, because he knew he would be seeing Steve that night and he would get to kiss him first thing when he walked through that apartment door. He felt bolder around Steve, less cautious and less afraid of getting caught.

God..that night on Coney Island, he couldn’t believe how different it was when the sun went down. He’d gone there before, taken girls on dates and it was a generally wholesome time that ended with getting ice cream to enjoy on the car ride back. But being there with Steve, after dark, it was like a whole new place. The number of men he saw holding hands, it gave him the courage to slip his into Steve’s even as they’re walking on the boardwalk. But kissing on the Wonder Wheel made him see stars, he couldn’t believe they were doing this and it made him insatiable for Steve, that night when they got home holy shit he couldn’t stay away from him even if he’d tried (and of course he hadn’t).

Their last night, Bucky couldn’t ignore the bittersweet ache in his heart. He knows he’ll be able to come back briefly before he ships out but this felt so much like a final goodbye that he couldn’t stand it. They didn’t have sex that night, didn’t fuck, no they made love to each other in a way he never had before. He looked into his eyes while they become one together, kissed him with such tenderness and showered him with affection and soft words so that there was no doubt between them that Steve was the love of his life. He couldn’t imagine feeling this way for anyone else, it felt absurd to think anyone could ever come close to meaning this much to him.

He lay awake for a while after Steve fell asleep, staring at his sleeping face and trying to etch every detail of him to memory. He wanted to be able to visualize it at night when he was alone at basic training, wanted to have something to hold onto. He fell asleep that night with tears streaming down his face, he wasn’t sure how he was going to survive without this now, without his Steve. He wanted to scream, to tear the world apart for the unfairness of it all. He had refused to think about it, refused to dwell on his sorrows this past week because he was so focused on Steve but now it all came crashing into him as he realized this was the last night they would have like this for the foreseeable future. It twisted up inside him, the harsh reality of their situation, and he struggled to stay still because of it until he finally fell asleep

He wakes slowly, blinking tiredly as he realizes Steve is no longer in his arms, but smiles weakly at the sight of him drawing, “Workin’ on your next masterpiece?” he asks teasingly, hiding a yawn by pressing his face into the pillow.

Bucky was happy to hold him close, nuzzling against his hair and keeping him tucked right up against him easily. He strokes his fingers absently down his back, “I love you too Stevie, my Steve,” he smiles faintly before he blushes deeply at the question, “Baby we can do that anytime you want, as often as we like..” until he had to leave. The words sit unspoken and completely breaking his heart the second he thinks it. But he just holds Steve close and lets the feeling of the man he loves in his arms keep him from sinking too far into those kinds of thoughts.

He feels a slight fuzziness, it was more than pleasant just lying here with Steve and he’s quiet for a moment, just enjoying the closeness they could share, “love this with you, not just..i love kissing and touching you and..and what we just did was..god it was perfect, but I like this too Stevie, love just layin’ here with you and holding you, and being able to have this with you..” he mumbles softly, leaning over to kiss shoulder again and it’s a long few minutes before he finally sits up. “Let’s go have dinner Stevie then we..we can do this all over again,” he grins, reaching for his clothes to pull them on reluctantly.

[faggotbeloved]

Hi!! May I request for a small flashback from S.T.A.R.S. days (according to your 3SA story)? Reader being an absolute sweetheart to Wesker and taking care of him even before their official relationship, making him start to develop his obsession with reader perhaps? I don’t know, I’m dying for some cute little background flashbacks of them two and how sweet and naive reader might have been back then😭😭

Anon,,, I am So. So Sorry. I intended to follow this correctly, but it turned into angst... there's some cute reader scenes in it though trust (the first 3)

Three Steps Ahead | Yandere!Albert Wesker x GN!Reader

5: Hindsight Glasses (20/20) (~3.5k words)

Cw: religious imagery, christianic metaphors, child abuse (wesker children), flashbacks, annoying ass extended metaphors, accidental domestic abuse, mental breakdown, hallucinations (of a sort), body horror, glass shards in palms, blood, stitches, angst, albert is Going Through It

This work does not contain smut but is 18+.

└───────────────────────┘

Albert sat alone in his study, nursing a glass of fine whiskey and flipping through an old book. He’d been doing that more often now. Being around you was a double edged sword: he loved you more than life itself—everything he did was for you since the moment you first met—but now it was tainted. By his own hand.

Albert recalled what you’d said just last week. ‘Is it bad to be happy if you're happy with a bad person?’

No, he wanted to scream, he’s not bad. He’s not remotely bad. Was God bad when he sent the flood? What was he, but a man reaching godhood and sending his own? Damn the promise of the rainbow; this Earth was vile, and you… you were the only creature worthy of making it aboard the Ark.

The rest of the survivors of his plans could find their way above the water and join his perfect world, but you? You would be kept safe and sound where he could watch over you. How was that bad? He was protecting you! Damnnit, you risked your life every day, and now that he pulled you to safety he was ‘bad?’

The book he held snapped shut as he stood, downing four or so ounces of whiskey in one drink. The buzz as it traveled down his throat was grounding, he decided, but not strong enough to focus him elsewhere.

His thoughts stayed on you. They should be on his project, he recognized that, but his mind never seemed to tire of your face. He wondered how much rewriting of your brain it would take in order to get even close to the affection you naturally shared back before he left S.T.A.R.S..

S.T.A.R.S.. Life was so much easier then. Well, perhaps the double life he led was tedious, but he had you completely. Now, you were a shell. You had sex a couple times since he brought you here; they made him feel closer, like he was making progress with you, sure, but so many stinging reminders plagued his head.

First and foremost, you had fallen for someone else while he was gone—you still loved Chris, from what he could tell. Second, you were here against your will; no amount of cuddling and home cooked meals and tiny personal freedoms would change that. Third, you thought he and his plans were inherently evil.

Before, he had your entire personality. Your highs and lows, your utmost confidence, your jokes, your vulnerability… your trust. That was who he fell in love with. Not the version of you that stared at the ceiling and searched for hidden security cameras to ease your unrelenting boredom.

Albert was usually thankful for his impressive memory and strong imagination. It was what got him through separation; replaying every interaction like a comforting movie and imagining what could have been what could be.

Now, it seemed like a curse.

──────────────────────

“Hey, Captain,” your voice called out as you smiled at him. “I made two thermoses of coffee. Want any?”

“Tea is preferred,” he said coldly, but when he saw your deflating shoulders he backtracked, “but I appreciate the sentiment. Very much. I'll drink it.”

“I-It’s alright, Captain, I could give it to—”

“I’d like the coffee, please,” he replied, standing up to take it. It was hot still, too hot, but he swallowed the mouthful regardless and nodded. “It's very good. Thank you.”

Was he lying? Maybe. He never cared for the taste and caffeine was only useful as an addition to painkillers, in his opinion. But he liked hot drinks and could gladly sip a morning tea on some occasions.

Somehow, the coffee you gave him—oh, he hoped that you made it entirely yourself—tasted more tolerable than the usual garbage that comes out of the machine in the break room.

“You're welcome,” you chuckled softly before you left to clock in. He savored the lingering affection in your glance and stowed it away to admire another time.

──────────────────────

The memory was engraved in Albert's mind, a mundane plaque in the vast shrine he'd mentally accumulated. In his brain was a museum; a nature trail with hundreds of instances like that; some were in the form of sticky notes you'd leave on his monitor when he left the room, some were monoliths with your essence engraved on every surface as tiny as it could be.

This specific memory was golden from where the bronze wore down. He found himself going back to it often. It wasn't when he first noticed you, that honor had its place as the very earth he built on. With every step he took down memory lane, he was reminded of that. No, it was when he realized how much he wanted to be the first.

The first person you thought of when wondering who to bring a cup of coffee; the first pair of eyes you see when you come in for work; the first man to marry you; the first in all your lists.

Back then, he cruelly deprived himself of the recognition that he loved you, but he knew what he felt wasn’t sustainable unless he acted on it.

As he walked deeper into the recesses of his mind, he landed on another. Somehow, Jill discovered his birthday. He hated the holiday; it was more a reminder of the decades of abuse by the hands of Umbrella than anything for merriment.

When Albert thought about his birthday, he pictured practicing piano until his fingers locked up, being sent to bed with no food in his growling stomach, and the dull ache that came with being utterly alone in a room full of children your age. He supposed all the Wesker children felt the same in their misery.

Regardless, the image of his birthday in 1997 faded into his mind.

──────────────────────

“Hey, Captain,” you murmured as you rapped on his open door gently. “How’re you feeling?”

Without looking up from his desk where he glared at a couple wrapped presents, he growled out a reply. “Just fine, Agent.”

“You're burning a hole through your desk. That’s good oak, you know,” you teased softly. You grinned triumphantly, as hidden as you could be from Albert’s eyes, as Albert smiled.

After a moment of silence, you continued. “I didn’t wanna ambush you like the others did. I guess I failed, since I'm cornering you in your office. They didn’t mean any harm, Cap. Just wanted to show their appreciation.”

Albert swallowed and motioned for you to sit down. He still didn’t speak.

“I cleaned and polished your gun for you… and I got you this. Birthdays aren’t always a cause for celebration, I know, but… I’m at least a little happy. If not for today, 37 years ago, I would still be a rookie cop doing fuck all to make a real change. You’re a good Captain, Albert. And a good man.”

Albert glanced up, eyes as steely as possible. Unfortunately, you had a knack for getting under his defenses, and you spot the sorrow in his eyes with ease. As you set the wrapped box down on his desk atop the other presents, you decided to say one more thing.

“...We care about you. All of us. Especially me,” you said firmly. “Happy birthday, Albert,” you added as you stood up.

Albert. You said his name. Not Captain, not Wesker, Albert. He wasn't a prodigy with a name heavy enough to turn coal to diamonds, he wasn't the leader of an elite force or even a heading scientist for bioterrorists in his free time. He was Albert.

Suddenly, his hand reached out and grabbed your wrist. “Ah—I’m sorry,” he muttered as he dropped it like hot coal. “I was going to ask if you’d… keep me company. It’s no fun to open presents alone,” he requested weakly, head down in shame.

Brightly, you nodded and moved your chair beside him. “We can open mine last. I’m actually curious as to what those idiots got you.”

──────────────────────

That was the first time you'd dropped all formality and just said his name. He recalled the shape of your lips as you said it, unsure but aware of your power. He didn't want to open presents, truth be told, he wanted to pull you into a hug and bury his face into your chest and hold and be held. It was humiliating.

Albert huffed. He missed you from then right now. You were so precious. He still loved you, of course, but he’d trade anything to go back and bask in the simplicity of your romance for just a bit longer.

He tried to get back to work, idly rotating the whiskey glass in his fingers to occupy his hands, but you crept in and soon his head was in his hands as he contemplated going through another evocation for a brief respite from the gnarled feeling in the pit of his stomach. He settled on a safe one; among his favorites, more frequently visited than others, he noted the first time you said it.

I love you.

You sat with him in the medical bay, bandaging his wounds from his most recent assault. It wasn’t a pleasant fight, nor was it honorable, especially if you knew what he was fighting for. He murdered a man without a weapon, then beat him into the concrete for good measure.

The man in question wanted to ask you out to dinner, but you didn't need to know that. You just needed to know what Albert told you, that he boasted about unspecified abhorrent plans. To Albert, he was telling the truth; infringing on his right to have you was abhorrent.

──────────────────────

“Albert Wesker, how the hell do you find yourself in these situations?” You sighed playfully. “Who was it this time? Actually, don't tell me, I think I see skin cells under your nails. I could try to DNA match.”

“It doesn’t matter. Ah! Careful around my arm,” he requested, referring to the bicep that was slashed open in a careless mistake while guarding against the man's knife. You happened to page him, wondering where he disappeared to after you went to the bathroom.

“It's lucky that you overheard terrorist plans in the same bar the team headed to,” you hummed. “I'm glad you put a stop to it.”

Albert gazed down at your focused face like he was memorizing it (which, he was). “As am I. Thank you, dear, for helping me.”

“Dear?” You echoed playfully. You glanced up briefly, then flushed at his own engrossed expression and bent your head back down to the task. “Well… anything I can do for you, Captain, consider it done.”

A warm silence filled the room. His arm was wrapped and stitched up just fine and the bleeding was minimal, so you turned to his split and bruised knuckles. You cleaned and wrapped them, then put ice on both hands.

“You've got to stop getting hurt like this, Cap,” you directed.

Albert smiled. “Why should I, if it means I have you tending to my wounds?”

After an eye roll and gentle shove (on his uninjured arm), you replied. “Well, we’re burning through a lot of supplies, for one. And for two, I love you too much to meet you here day after day. The smell of antiseptic makes my stomach drop with dread.”

Albert’s mouth fell agape in shock as he had to remind himself to breathe. And you? You just kept working, like you didn’t just skyrocket his blood pressure and heart rate and yet make his entire brain go silent.

“S-Say again?” He asked to confirm your words.

“You're wasting supplies and I love you too much to see you in pain,” you summarized.

After another few moments of stunned silence, he whispered, “You love me?”

You suddenly realized what you'd said. “Ah! I-I mean, in an appropriate way. I care for you. I—”

“I love you, too.”

You froze. The hug you pulled him into moments later strained his stitches on his arm, but he decided not to tell you.

──────────────────────

He took a sweet satisfaction in that memory, knowing that he'd gotten away with murder and you'd confessed to him while you dressed the weapon.

The recollection was a statue; frequently revisited, with a bench in front and a beautiful view of the surrounding environs. Cast in the same bronze as the kind on every plaque was the hug you brought him into.

As he continued down the road, single-mindedly driven by the pleasantry of the last experience, he paid no mind to the sky dimming and the trail growing gnarled and claustrophobic.

He found another favorite, one he didn't recall why he locked away. It was short, much shorter than every other one, but he loved basking in its feeling.

You'd just come off an… endeavor in the S.T.A.R.S. break room on a day everyone was off, and he was more than content to stare at and admire your face and listen to your voice carry on while he was blissfully checked out of cognizant thought.

He could picture you clearly, face close to his and bathed in afternoon sun. Your eyelashes framed your mesmerizing eyes, your lips kiss-bruised and turned up in a contented smile.

Your body was pliant and littered with hickeys that you mandated had to be covered by your uniform. His was faring no better; he'd actually requested a couple bruises to be placed where they'd show above the neck of his shirt.

If Albert could have frozen time, he would have waited an eternity in that moment and still lamented once eternity ended.

Albert was so engrossed in reliving this perfect moment a thousand times over, he didn't notice his mind growing darker, falling down, down, down, and landing with a splash at the bottom of a well so deep he could see the stars in the middle of the day.

No, the warmth of your image overtook the chill that came with the foreboding feeling of a mind slipping; he ignored it simply because he wanted to feel you more.

──────────────────────

“Bee?” you spoke softly.

“Yes, my love?” Albert turned to you, noting your messy hair from your tryst and yet deciding you looked beautiful. He set a hand on your cheek, stroking the contour of your face almost as a form of worship.

Perhaps you were more God than he was. Perhaps you deserved temples built in your name and more people killed for your favor. Perhaps he would find true purpose as your most loyal disciple. Perhaps he could only be happy if he was worshipping you.

He realized you’d been talking.

“—and I’d never want to leave Raccoon City of my own volition, but they kind of need me back home. It wouldn't be for too long; maybe a few years at most.”

What? The memory usually cut off there.

─────── ─── ─── ── ─ ─

No. Stop. Stop, he didn’t want to remember this.

─── ──── ──── ── ─

“Pardon me?” he croaked, sitting up rigidly.

“I’m going to go, I think. I worry that without me—”

“You’re not leaving me,” Albert stated shakily. “That’s what you’re trying to do, isn’t it?”

He felt his breath shorten. “You can’t. You… you’re everything, you can’t leave me,” he said weakly, grabbing your shoulder harshly while tears threatened to pool. "I've never had... you can't deprive me of yourself without warning!"

───── ── ─── ─

He didn’t feel good about this part! He just wanted to—he wanted to remember you! Stop fucking thinking, Albert!

──── ─── ── ─

“What? Al, I’m not trying to leave you. I just need to go home for a while,” you defended, anxiety raised at his volatile response. Why were you scared of him? You had no reason to be! He fucked up, so badly. You—the only person in the world he cared for—were scared of him.

“No! I am your home!” He argued hoarsely, eyes wide with instability. “I’m first, right? I come before them, don’t I?” He should be your home! You were his!

─ ─ ── ─

Albert slammed his fist down on the table beside him—or was it a nightstand? He heard glass shatter. Was it his memory or was it real? It was all real to him.

Stop! Will you stop? I don’t want to relive this!

─ ──

“What the hell is with you, Albert? Get off of me!” You screamed, scrambling up from the bed. As you hurried to dress yourself, he got up too and grabbed your arm.

“Nothing’s ‘with me’! Perhaps I don’t want my partner to leave me for a bullshit reason! You don't appreciate my love like I do yours, is that it?"

─

Why are you doing this, Albert? They won’t love you if you don’t get a handle on yourself. Let them go!

“Fine! Fuck, I won’t go! I’ll stay here,” you cried, wrenching your forearm from his grasp and inspecting the bruise. He hurt you—not as manipulation, just out of panic and anger. He hurt you.

“...oh, no. No, no, no. Darling, I-I’m so sorry. Please. I’m not sure what came over me, I just—”

You looked up at him with fear and betrayal in your eyes.

“No,” he choked out, “No, I'm sorry. Forgive me,” he whispered, finding himself on his knees before you, palms bleeding from the whiskey glass he shattered in his hands.

“I hate you, Wesker,” you growled coldly, peering down at him from your pedestal. “Everything we had is gone.” When were you on a pedestal?

“No, no, no… that's not right. This isn't real. You never said that, darling,” he sobbed. “This must be a—a waking nightmare. You never said that. You never said that.”

“But it is true, isn't it? I hate you. Nothing you do will bring back the version of me that you miss. They're dead,” you said coolly, a sadistic smile as you watched his groveling.

“That's wrong!” He insisted hysterically, running his hands through his hair and slicing his palms further on the follicles. Blood stained his pristine light hair, dripped down his temples, and repelled from his lab coat, ending up in droplets on the floor.

“It's not true, you don't hate me, you don't hate me, you don't hate me,” he repeated over and over, like he was convincing himself. “...right?”

“What do you think, Wesker? Would I be here if I was given the chance? Would I kiss you when you walk through the door if not for the shocks? Would I feel any semblance of guilt if I managed to kill you back at the Estate?” You—no, your image reflecting his insecurities—questioned cruelly.

“You… would,” Albert shook his head, hugging himself to make the bleeding stop. All it did was apply pressure and make rivulets of crimson streak down his biceps. He pulled his knees to his chest and squeezed his eyes shut, but his damned imagination.

Luckily, he managed to steer it back into the memory from before and finished the mental scene.

“It’s—Bee, it's alright. You didn't mean to. Just don't do that again, okay? It hurt,” you said softly, stroking his hair and kissing his forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you, darling. So, so much.”

You were the first good thing in his life. Why did he react like that to you leaving?

Abruptly, an alert on his computer snapped him out of his breakdown. An alert from you—the real you, not the one his tortured mind devised as a self-destructive punishment. He checked the time. 16:53. He was nearly three hours late for lunch with you. Fuck.

Considering you refused breakfast this morning because you couldn't watch him cook it, you must have been hungry enough to actually alert him.

Without any of the grace he was known for, he grabbed your now-room-temperature food and hurried down corridors into his apartment. He burst in, desperation overtaking him. “My love! I’m so sorry, I got—I was caught up. I’m done for the rest of the day. I need you to hold me.”

You flashed a quizzical glance at him and sat up from where you laid on the couch. “Noted. Are you alright, Al?”

Al. That comforted him, if slightly. “I will be. Hurry and eat, I’ll be in bed.”

─────── ─── ─── ── ─ ─

You slunk into bed a few minutes later, and the moment he felt your weight shift the bed he cuddled into your chest and forced back tears.

To soothe himself, he shifted from the crook of your neck to inhale your scent to your sternum to be surrounded by your chest on all sides. It didn't matter how broad or narrow your body was, he didn't want to lift his face from his body until he was sure he wouldn't cry.

You were all he had. All he wanted, all he needs. How could he live with himself if you didn't want him?

“You'll forgive me, won't you?” He wondered timidly.

You shushed him, suddenly aware of how dire a state his mental health was at. “Forgive you for what, Bee?”

Swallowing thickly, he lifted his head to meet your eyes. “You don't hate me?”

“No, sweetheart, I don't.”

“You said—no, I imagined it, didn't I? You're real. You don't… you don't have to wear any of the collars or bracelets anymore. I'm taking it off, can I have your hand?” He asked urgently, taking off the bracelet like it was poisoning you.

“Albert, you're burning up—oh my god, your hands! Are those open wounds? Why is your hair wet? Is that blood? You—you tried to wash it off?”

“I heal fast,” he muttered, unintentionally tearing the scabs open as he crushed the bracelet in his bloodied palms. “There. No more of that. You can be trained in other ways.”

“Albert! Come to the bathroom, let me clean your hands,” you chastised. “Infection could do bad things to the viruses in your body.”

──────────────────────

As he was led to the bathroom, the memory from earlier of you doctoring his hands returned. He smiled softly and watched you unblinkingly. “I love you,” he murmured, trying hard to feel loved againt, just for his own comfort.

“...I love you too.” It was hesitant, like you were worried it was the truth. And it was. You loved him once more, even after everything. But you resolved to keep your grip on yourself; you wouldn’t aid him in any plans or harm any of your former coworkers.

This time, it was stitches on his hands that ripped as he brought you into a needy hug.

┌───────────────────────┐

Gonna start using this as a little ending ramble lol

This whole chapter was just me experimenting with a lot of things 💔 again anon I'm so sorry i kinda monkeys pawed it... Fluff but at what cost

Anyways this chapter is a little confusing and for that I'm sorry! I was inspired by encephalitis hannigram fics for the reality blurring, the scene in Django with the wine glass shattering for the whiskey glass breaking, Hannibal Lecter's mind palace for the shrine/collection of memories, there's a coraline reference somewhere in there... blehh idk

Maybe this whole chapter is ooc but it's because ummm ummmm let me live my life!!!

Read my other Wesker works?

[rekino2114]

Can you do prompt 34 and 31 with fami and Asa/yoru

Ways the csm 2 girls tell you they're in the mood/NSFW headcanons

A/n:.....ok so basically I was writing prompt 34 and it just kinda.....got out of hand and I started writing straight up NSFW headcanons I had in mind for the girls cause I realized the post would have been too short otherwise...so I just added NSFW headcanons to prompt 34 cause.....yeah

for all of those who asked me how suggestive my posts can be....I think this is the limit

I don't know if I'll do prompt 31 too request again if you want me too and also I don't know which fami you wanted since this was requested after the reveal so I just did both of them......that's definitely not an excuse to add death who I am very down bad for

A lot of NSFW stuff below

Everyone involved is over 18

Asa mitaka/yoru

Asa is so awkward even at asking for simple affection, so she will almost never ask for sex even when she wants to.......meanwhile yoru will take you wherever and whenever she wants

Whenever asa's body starts feeling hot, both of them can feel it, and yoru will continue pestering asa until she asks you to fuck or just take over and start making out with you and stripping while asa yells in jealousy from inside her

It's funny how different they are, too, cause asa is very vanilla and likes to take her time and is, in general, a very gentle lover in that way.....meanwhile yoru is pretty rough most of the time and is into some very kinky stuff (definitely knife play and the like) only if you're OK with it too of course

Ok.......so how does sex with both of them work exactly? Do you think they switch in the middle or do they have like turns, like one night it's asa's time and the next one it's yoru's? Cause if they do I'm sure as hell yoru isn't following the schedule and randomly takes over during asa's turn just cause she wanted to have you to herself

Also, does the one who isn't in control of the body in the moment just...watch? And does it leave her pissed off that her other persona is having fun with her lover....or is she turned on by that? I feel like it's a mix of both, even if yoru will continue screaming until asa lets her have her turn.....even if it's not

Fami

Take everything I said about asa and multiply it by 100. This girl is soooo nervous and anxious about anything and everything. she was sweating bullets and insanely red in the face the first time you held hands. Imagine how she is during intimacy

The first time you asked her to have sex she genuinely had a nosebleed imagining the scene and fainted....when she woke up and you told her why she fainted.......she fainted again.....look she just needs a loooot of time to mentally prepare herself

Whenever she gets in the mood she actually prefers to relieve herself (usually using pictures of you) so she doesn't have to go through the embarrassment of asking you for help, but she genuinely thinks she'd self combust out or awkwardness if you walked in on her....which is a bigger problem than you might think cause she moans a lot and is generally very loud during intimacy

I'm sorry to say this but she's the bottomest bottom ever. She wants you to take her and fuck her until she's screaming your name.....she's somehow both into being praised and humiliated at the same time. she also does keep crying while doing it but don't worry it's mostly tears of happiness

One of her main dirty secrets is that she's actually into you leaving hickeys on her and claiming her, even if she always covers them and blushes whenever someone asks about them she likes the thought of everyone knowing she's yours

Death

Will straight up ask you "can we fuck?"

The thing about death is that she doesn't have any shame....like at all, she thinks sex between you is a completely normal and natural part of of your love life so there's no issues if she starts saying how good what you did last night felt or everything she wants to do to you that evening right?

Death actually doesn't get horny that often, so the times she actually asks you to have sex aren't that common but on the other end she's more than happy to take care of you whenever the mood strikes you. You could walk up to her at any time of day and any place and tell her you're feeling pent up and she will drop whatever she's doing and start pleasuring you right there and then

Speaking of pleasuring you, you cannot tell me she wouldn't give some absolutely insane head. Her two favorite things are you and tasting things you have no idea what that mouth can do. She thinks you taste amazing and will ask to use her mouth on you pretty often not because she's particularly horny she just wants to feel how good you feel in her mouth again......you have also woken up multiple times to her giving you head to "help you wake up"

For a very similar reason she really likes leaving hickeys all over your body. Not only does she think every part of you tastes amazing, but she also gets a kick out of knowing she left marks on you so that everyone knows what you did and that you're hers it's kind of the opposite of her younger sister. Of course however if you think she bites too hard or are not into it she'll stop and resort to licking you and making out with you during almost the entire experience

[random-cockroach]

[sinkuna]

୨୧ — Imagine Nanami cradling his newborn daughter tenderly. His blonde locks that were once neatly slicked back now messily frame his face- serving as playthings for tiny, curious hands. The infant giggles, gripping and curling her fingers, attempting to grab at her father's hair with pure delight. Nanami's heart swelled, a genuine smile appearing across his face.

"Ya know... Fatherhood really suits you, you know that?" You murmured, resting your head against his arm.

Nanami looked down at you, his eyes- always so tired from the cruelties of the world and working far too much, were now soft with affection, "I never thought I would have a life like this... I always felt it was far out of my reach..."

"Kento..."

He brought his daughter up to his face, his lips pressing a kiss to her forehead. His voice was a low whisper, yet you still managed to hear his words, "I love you. Both of you. More than anything in the world."

You could see it, not only in his smile, but his eyes as well... they held some fear. Afraid of the life he led, afraid of it coming to take the family he had so lovingly built away from him. Nanami had seen much in his time as a sorcerer. The loss of people dear to him- their deaths never failing to haunt him... He was scared... Scared of leaving you both behind, scared of the what-ifs...

"Kento, you worry far too much. I promise we'll be here, right by your side. Always and forever, okay? You're always going to awaken to me in your strong arms." You give his bicep a soft squeeze, "no way anyone could get past these bad boys."

A low chuckle rumbled in his throat, holding his baby girl in one arm, he used the one you squeezed to bring you into a loving embrace, drawing you even closer to his body. Drawing you closer into his world, a world he once thought would be forever in solitude. This was all a simple moment, but Nanami felt the full weight of this newfound joy- the joy of being a father and a loving husband to you. No could've prepared him for this profound privilege.

You were his home. And for the first time, he allowed himself to relax and trust in your words... that everything would be alright...

⋆｡˚꒰ঌ 𝑀𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ໒꒱˚｡⋆

[dark-and-kawaii]

♡ Imagine Nanami cradling his newborn daughter tenderly. His blonde locks that were once neatly slicked back now messily frame his face- serving as playthings for tiny, curious hands. The infant giggles, gripping and curling her fingers, attempting to grab at her father’s hair with pure delight. Nanami’s heart swelled, a genuine smile appearing across his face.

“Ya know… Fatherhood really suits you, you know that?” You murmured, resting your head against his arm.

Nanami looked down at you, his eyes- always so tired from the cruelties of the world and working far too much, were now soft with affection, “I never thought I would have a life like this… I always felt it was far out of my reach…”

“Kento…”

He brought his daughter up to his face, his lips pressing a kiss to her forehead. His voice was a low whisper, yet you still managed to hear his words, “I love you. Both of you. More than anything in the world.”

You could see it, not only in his smile, but his eyes as well… they held some fear. Afraid of the life he led, afraid of it coming to take the family he had so lovingly built away from him. Nanami had seen much in his time as a sorcerer. The loss of people dear to him- their deaths never failing to haunt him… He was scared… Scared of leaving you both behind, scared of the what-ifs…

“Kento, you worry far too much. I promise we'll be here, right by your side. Always and forever, okay? You’re always going to awaken to me in your strong arms.” You give his bicep a soft squeeze, “no way anyone could get past these bad boys.”

A low chuckle rumbled in his throat, holding his baby girl in one arm, he used the one you squeezed to bring you into a loving embrace, drawing you even closer to his body. Drawing you closer into his world, a world he once thought would be forever in solitude. This was all a simple moment, but Nanami felt the full weight of this newfound joy- the joy of being a father and a loving husband to you. Nothing could've prepared him for this profound privilege.

You were his home. And for the first time, he allowed himself to relax and trust in your words… that everything would be alright...

[sleep-0-deprived]

Yandere CEO who is serious and strict but becomes a real puppy at the reader's feet, he gives everything the reader wants and kneels before him asking to be able to touch and give pleasure to the reader.

Yandere CEO x male reader imagines~! ૮꒰ྀི ⸝⸝․․⸝⸝ ྀི꒱ა

A/N (I did the Yandere as a sub top and I thought of the Yandere being mid forties while reader being late twenties because I thought it fit best anon!) <33

Just imagining Yandere CEO being a complete heartless man to the world, old and cold as they say. Until he seen your resume running across his desk and if you told him of love at first sight he would scoff at you and kick you out but oh my, when he seen the small picture of you next to your resume he didn’t even care to read it because this man was going to have you. The only words he could think of was “he must’ve been crafted by the gods, I bet Adonis himself spent his life carving those lips” shivers went through him dialing your number trying to get a interview with you.

Just imagining Yandere CEO who hires you at first for your pretty face making you his assistant putting you a desk in his office wanting all eight hours of your days to be spent close as he can get to you, being soft and sweet for you unlike his mean and cold demeanor with the rest of his employees. he’d glance over at you typing something on your computer quietly asking “are you alright? Did you need a break, your hands aren’t sore are they?….i can get you into a nice spa if you’d like. I don’t want my best employee burnt out”

Just imagining Yandere CEO who gets you gifts on the daily nearly pouting if you tell him not to, all he wants is for you to cling to him! He’d beg and plead asking you to let him suck you off whispering in your ear “let me help you out, boy?…I wanna ease you up a bit, you deserve the best so just let me give it to you” he’d mumble getting on his knees and massaging your thighs nice and gentle getting your cock out of your slacks worshipping it nuzzling his face into it peppering your angry tip with wet kisses.

Just imagining Yandere CEO who sends you flowers takes you on fancy trips. Sending you to Rome with him when he goes to sort out business you’re sitting somewhere in a fancy restaurant holding his black card telling you “buy anything you want, I wanna spoil you baby..” and by the time he gets back to your five star hotel room all he asks os for all your affection groaning into your ears holding you by the waist bucking and thrusting his hips up into you from beneath murmuring on and on rambling having you on his cock sending shivers through him “oh you’re so perfect~ pretty little thing~ hng oh fuck moan a little louder you sound angelic like that—“ he’d whimper spilling into you nibbling on your shoulder softly.

Just imagining Yandere CEO who asks you all sweetly if he can have you cock warm him while he manages files, pleading just wanting to please you wanting to have you all sprawled out like a happy cat with his chubby tip pressing and massaging your walls just bullying your prostate while he tugs at your cock like its glass having you orgasming more times than you can count pleasing you like it’s his life’s mission “c’mon baby boy, one more for me? I know you can push it out shhh doin perfect there’s a good boy”

Just imagining Yandere CEO who loves your chest, worshipping them as his holy grail sucking at hurrying his fave in your pretty s/c pecks. Nibbling at your nipples pressing little kisses to your peaks using his hands to massage them while he rotates back and forth making sure each one gets the perfect amount of attention “they are so beautiful sweetheart, god your skin tastes so divine” it was like sex polling with your skin covered in the finest nectar for him driving him insane hazily looking up at you with complete and utter infatuation.

[lostalioth]

𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫

→ premise: sometimes logan’s age showed more than it normally would and so just once you called him an old man, affectionally of course. Well he was determined to show you he wasn’t one.

→ pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader

→ warnings: smut | 18+, nicknames [baby, sweet girl, princess], daddy kink, both reader and logan use old man as a nickname, oral [f receiving], unprotected sex, established relationship, slight overstimulation.

→ a/n: the pictures/moodborad above are purely for vibes :) you can imagine any logan pretty much for this fic i think. this is mt first time writing logan so sorry if hes out of character and sorry for any mistakes this was written and proof read at 1am.

Logan wasn’t the type of man to be insecure about his age, his body and face didn’t necessarily show it like how it did on others obviously. He was well aware he was way older than you, he was much older than most people. His age showed more with his taste in music and movies, even in some of the outdated slang he frequently used.

You were currently laid up in your shared bed with Logan. You loved being curled up in his lap, your head resting on his chest cuddled up against him. A cigar nestled between Logan's lips, him periodically puffing out smoke. One of his arms lazily resting over your body holding you against him. An older movie was playing on the tv in the background, the volume was high enough for you to hear it, however you could hardly pay attention. Your mind was too lost in how domestic and old timey it all was, the feeling making your heart flutter.

“You know this was my favorite movie, well one of 'em used to watch it all the time” Logan's gruff voice breaks you from your train of thought.

You look up at your boyfriend and smile softly, his gaze fixated on the black and white images flashing across the screen. You chuckle softly and reach up towards his neck to thread your fingers through the hair at the base of his skull. An action that Logan has come to love and even crave on the days when life gets just a little too much.

“You're such an old man” your voice breaks his focus , it was teasing and full of affection as you said it. Logan could clearly hear it, and your statement was correct and didn't bother him, however he couldn't help the little plan forming in his head to mess with you. Shaking your head lightly you turn your attention back on the television.

“Ya’ wanna say that again sweet girl?” He leans his head down, all his attention now glued to you. His words came out almost mockingly instantly making your gaze snap back up to him. He grabs ahold of your chin so that your focus and your eyes stay on him. You knew that teasing tone of voice like the back of your hand by now and what it meant. It made the flutter in your heart drop to your stomach, his arm that was wrapped around your body tightens. You can feel him starting to grow harder against your thigh, making you squirm a bit in his grasp. You swallow hard, your voice suddenly caught in your throat. Logan watches as your pupils dilate and that sweet smell that he's become addicted to fills his nose, giving away your own growing arousal.

“Cause i'm thinkin’ you just called me old princess” He cocks his head to the side in a teasing manner, his lips breaking out in a smirk. Still not being able to find your words you shake your head ‘no’ causing him to chuckle deeply. “No? cause i think ya’ did baby, yeah i think you called me an old man” His words come out in almost a growl as he leans forward, pushing you down on your back. His body now perfectly nestled between your legs as he hovers over you, pinning you down with his weight. His large rough hands holding onto your hips, one slowly drifting and pushing up the t-shirt you had on. A t-shirt that looked an awful lot like the one he's been looking for all week.

“Maybe i did.. but you are an actual old man Logan, you’re much older than me baby” Finally finding your voice you attempt to explain yourself, though you knew he wasn't actually upset by your comment. His strained cock pressed against your clothed cunt being more than an indication of that. Your damp panties and his jeans doing nothing to stop him from feeling the way your pussy was throbbing already from his teasing.

“Yea? Well ima show you just what this old man can do huh” He questioned, barely giving you a moment to answer. Wasting no time he has your shirt pushed up revealing your bare tits and his other hand pulling your panties down your legs. Sliding down your body and the bed he slowly kisses down your exposed chest and stomach until his head has made it between your spread thighs. “Logan..” you whine softly, your eyes glued to his every move as you grow more impatient. A rush of cold air hits your lower half when he finally rids you of your soaked underwear.

That damn smirk not wavering from his face as he grabs ahold of your thighs and nearly growls when his tongue finally laps at your pussy. “Fuck i dont think i’ll ever get over just how fuckin’ good you taste baby” his words come out a bit mumbled as his face is buried between your folds. “Lo..” you whine in embarrassment at his statement. Your slick had coated his face in seconds, though it was clear he could care less, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. Even biting the nub softly causing your hips to buck up against his face, his scruffy facial hair rubbing your inner thighs. He groans against you and grips your legs tighter pulling you closer to his mouth.

“Daddy…fuck!” You gasp softly and moan at the sensation and tighten your thighs around his head, Logan's favorite thing was to feel your plush thighs squeeze his head. His adamantium skull being able to take the pressure. You can feel him smile against you at both the name and the action. “Atta girl, princess. Such a good girl for ya’ old man” he praises, his deep voice vibrating through your body.

Letting your clit go Logan pulls away for a moment, dropping his grip on one of your thighs as well to bring his hand and spread apart your lips. Leaning his head back a bit he spits on your pussy, his saliva sliding down to your throbbing hole. “Fuck she always looks so pretty sweet girl” he hums in approaval and admiration at your pussy. His eyes finally lift back up to your face, he takes note of your already blissed out look. “No cuming til I tell you baby, ya’ got it?” He questions, a small smile on his face that was covered in you.

“Yes daddy” you whine, your voice coming out a bit soft as you were taking the time he was giving you to catch your breath.

With a small smack to the side of your ass he dives his head back down, sticking his tongue out flat and licking a strip up the center of your cunt. Growling and burying his face between your legs again he laps and sucks at your clit and folds. Your hips having a mind of their own buck up against his mouth, nearly riding his face. His hips rutting up against the bed of their own accord as well, his precum now leaking through his boxers a bit. His cock straining against his jeans as wonton moans and whimpers leave your lips. Your eyes screwing shut in pleasure as his tongue every now and then pushes inside you and his nose nudges your swollen nub.

You could feel your climax quickly approaching, pushing your fingers through Logan's signature tufts of hair and pulling his face closer. “Fuck- Lo…Daddy please” you moan out pleading with your boyfriend to let you cum. He squeezed your thigh and groaned roughly against you, you knew that was his way of saying ‘not yet’. You whine and tug harder on his hair causing him to let out a small muffled moan. He pulls his face away a bit and with his hand that wasn't squeezing your leg he slips two fingers through your lips, collecting his spit and your slick together. Continuing his attack on your nearly now oversensitive clit he slides his thick soaked fingers inside you stretching you slowly. The rough pads of them instantly finding that spot deep inside you.

“Daddy I don't- uh shit! I don't know how much longer I can hold on, please Logannn!” You moan and whine out his name as your hips thrust back against his skilled fingers and rut against his face. Your high teetering on the edge as you try your hardest to hold it back. “Cum baby, cum on daddy's face princess” he commands and in an instant your body responds and allows your climax to hit you head on.

A string of curses leave Logan's lips as he laps at your cum as it leaks out of you, broken whines and small moans leave yours as he draws out your climax a bit longer. Finally emerging from between your legs, his lips swollen and pink, the whole lower half of his face covered in yours and his combined mess. Heat floods your face a bit at the sight, though your boyfriends still got that smirk glued to his pretty face. The dynamic of you being nearly entirely naked and him still entirely clothed caused an ache to settle back in your core as if Logan hadn’t just made you cum.

He makes his way bad up your body, quickly pulling off his shirt as well as finally pulling yours up and over your head, definitely leaving you entirely naked now. Leaning down, pressing his crotch right up against yours, his clothed bulging cock nudging open your wet and sticky folds. His lips hover over yours as his hand slides up your side, the other brushing over your breast before it’s wrapped around your neck and pinning you back against the bed. He squeezes your neck softly making you let out a whimper.

“You were saying baby?” His voice comes out deep and a bit hoarse as he questions your previous comment again. “Not callin’ me an old man now are ya’ sweet girl, noo cause you cant even talk” he mocks, a small smile on his face as he rocks his hips up against your pussy, the rough material of his jeans stimulating your abused bundle of nerves setting it off again. Your slick creates a wet spot on his jeans the more he grinds his dick against you.

“Won’t do it again i swear daddy, you're not an old man” you whimper softly as your hands grab at his arms and hands, your fingers rubbing at his knuckles where his claws rip through the skin. When his fly zipper brushes your clit you let out a short moan and move to grab at the waist of his jeans tugging, trying to get him to take them off. Tears lightly coat your eyelashes as you bat them at Logan. He scoffs softly and shakes his head at you as he lets go of your neck to undo his belt and the buttons to his jeans, pulling off his belt and jeans. You watch with a sparkle of excitement in your eyes, your chest heaving in impatience, hands wandering his body and rubbing over his muscly arms and board chest. He tugs his boxers down his thighs as he grabs your legs, wrapping your thighs around his waist. His tip leaking precum is redden and twitching as he rubs it through your lips before pushing at your hole.

“Come on princess, apologize for it” he goes painfully slow as he pushes inside you. “Apologize nicely for calling daddy an old man” he grins and brings his hand up to your boob, brushing his rough thumb over your nipple. You gasp softly and whine, wiggling your hips both in protest and to try and get him inside you faster.

Realizing he won't keep going further til you apologize, you give in. Pulling him down and closer, you wrap your arms around his neck and look into his eyes. “I'm really sorry for calling you an old man Lo, i didn't mean it i promise. You're not an old man daddy” you whine and brush your lips softly against his. “Oh fuck, you’re so sweet on me baby i love it” he growls and thrusts inside you hard as his lips crash against yours. You moan out loudly the sound muffled in Logan's mouth as his hips snap against yours. His cock thrusting deep inside you, hitting that spongy spot making your brain go foggy. Kissing you hard and passionately as his hands roam your body not being able to stop himself from touching you everywhere, you're all his anyway.

“My sweet, sweet princess, takin’ it so good from your old man huh?” He groans and presses his forehead against yours as your hips bounce off his. All you can do is frantically nod and mumble and whine about how good he feels and say yes daddy. Your nails digging into his back and running through his hair.

Logan may be an old man but he was your old man and he definitely didnt fuck like one. He knew how to keep up with his sweet little young girlfriend.

→ a/n: hope you enjoyed my loves, PLEASE SEND ME LOGAN REQUESTS< MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN AND IM CURRENTLY OBESSED WITH THIS MAN

[himasgod]

Can you do 2nd year's where u stop giving them attention? 🩷

SECOND YEARS X READER

Where you suddenly stop giving them attention

FIRST YEARS HERE

How would the second years react if you suddenly stopped pampering them due to lack of sleep because of your studies?

Floyd was addicted to your attention.

Just like that. No sugarcoating.

He loved it when you looked for him, when you hugged him in public, when you called him “my baby” Because only you could do that without making him mad. Only you could calm his tide of emotions with a smile.

"Shriiimpy~ you're super cuddly today, I looove it."

He was happy. So happy he didn’t even try to hide it. He became calmer when you were around, more cheerful, less chaotic.

But when you stop showing up, when the “Floyd, come here” turns into “sorry, I have to go,” Floyd starts acting weird.

At first, he insists.

"Shrimpy! Are you ignoring me? Are you playing hide-and-seek without telling me? So boring!"

But when he realizes it’s not a game, that your eyes look dull, that you don’t even notice you’re pushing him away, something inside him churns. His smile fades. He stops going after you. He just watches you from afar.

And inside, he feels like a forgotten child.

Until one day, he gets fed up.

He corners you against your locker with his arms on either side of your head, his face more serious than ever.

"What’s wrong with you? You don’t love me anymore? You got bored? Did I piss you off?"

You don’t know what to say. You’re so tired you don’t even have the strength to lie. You just lower your head, murmuring a soft “sorry, I’m exhausted.”

And Floyd… goes still.

"You’re sad? You’re tired and didn’t tell me?"

He looks at you in silence for a second. Then wraps his arms around you tightly, hiding his face in your neck.

"I don’t care if you don’t hug me or look for me… but don’t disappear on me like that. Don’t leave me without you, Shrimpy."

And that day, Floyd doesn’t let go of you for a second. He carries you like a blanket and takes you to his room, lets you sleep against his chest like a plushie and sings you a song softly, no teasing, no sarcasm.

"Sleep. I’ll take care of you. Even if you don’t spoil me, I’ll spoil you now."

Jamil wasn't used to being the center of anyone's attention.

His whole life revolved around obeying, caring, and repressing. Emotions were dangerous. Affection… even more so.

So when you started doting on him—for real, without expecting anything in return—he refused to believe it.

Every touch of yours made him tense; every sweet word forced him to look away.

But he got used to it. Or rather, he allowed himself to depend on it a little. On you. On your silent attentions. On how you noticed when he was overwhelmed and simply held his hand without saying anything. On how you reminded him that he was valuable beyond his usefulness.

And then, one day, all of that stopped.

Without an explanation. Without a fight. Without an "I'm tired." Just… absence. Averted glances. "Sorry, I don't have time right now." Entire days without messages. And he, silent, swallowing his doubts.

"Did I dream it? Was it always a lie? Have they had enough of someone like me?"

He doesn't tell you. Jamil would never admit it. But he starts acting drier, more evasive. He avoids you so you don't notice how much it hurts. Until he sees you asleep with your head on your notes, your back hunched, and your breathing heavy with stress.

And in that instant, the anger collapses. All the accumulated venom turns to worry.

He approaches silently. He covers you with his jacket. He sighs deeply, as if crushed by the weight of something he can no longer contain.

"…You're not the only one who's tired of pretending everything is okay."

He wakes you gently, almost fearfully. When you open your eyes, you see something different in his: not anger, not reproach… but contained sadness.

"If you're exhausted, tell me. Don't leave me alone imagining that I no longer mean anything. Because you don't know how much it hurts when the only place where I felt free… disappears too."

That day, Jamil accompanies you to your room. He forces you to eat, to drink water, to sleep well. He doesn't ask you for anything in return.

But as he strokes your hair with trembling fingers, he whispers softly:

"This time, it's my turn to take care of you. But don't go away. Not again."

Kalim adores you. There's no other word. For him, your love is like the sun after a sandstorm, like a laugh in the midst of silence.

He's always been generous, always giving love without asking for it. But when you started pampering him, it was as if for the first time he received without needing to give. Your spontaneous kisses, your texts reminding him to drink water, your way of saying "I miss you" even though you'd only seen him two hours ago…

"It makes me so happy to know you're thinking of me!" he would always tell you, hugging you tightly.

So when that disappears, Kalim doesn't know what to do.

At first, he tries to cheer himself up. "I'm sure they're busy. Everything will be okay."

But as the days pass, uncertainty eats away at his smile.

He starts looking for you more insistently. Laughing louder. Proposing plans.

"Let's go carpet flying! We haven't been out in a long time!"

But you just tell him, “I'm sorry, Kalim, I can't today.”

And that day, when you walk away without looking him in the eye, something in his expression changes. His smile freezes.

He follows you with his eyes until you disappear into the hallways. Then he sits alone, in a corner of the garden, hands clasped together.

“Maybe… I did something wrong. Maybe I was too intense. Maybe… they don't love me like they used to.”

When he finally finds you asleep in the common room, exhausted and murmuring words in your sleep, his heart breaks.

“Oh… that's it. You're tired. You're so tired, and all I thought about was myself.”

He approaches carefully, tucks your hair behind your ear, and in a low voice, with that pure tenderness that characterizes him, he speaks to you even though he knows you're not listening:

“You don't need to be strong for me all the time. It's okay if you can't pamper me. I love you the same. I'll be here the same. Always."

That night, Kalim tucks you into the softest blanket he can find, leaves a cup of tea on the nightstand, and a note written in his big, cheerful handwriting:

“Don't miss me. Don't pressure yourself. Just rest. I'll be here when you wake up. I love you always, even when you can't show it.”

And yes. He keeps his promise. When you open your eyes, he's there, smiling brightly, holding your hand.

“Did you sleep well? It's my turn to take care of you today, okay?”

Riddle was so nervous at the beginning of the relationship that every gesture of affection from you left him silent, blushing, confused. But over time, he began to crave your attention as if it were afternoon tea: part of his routine, a sacred ritual.

You organizing his schedule, reminding him to rest, kissing his forehead when his headache ached—it was your way of caring for him, and he accepted it like a blessing.

But when that disappears, Riddle panics.

He doesn't show it right away, of course. He denies what he feels.

"Theyre probably busy. I shouldn't bother them. I shouldn't show weakness…"

Until anxiety consumes him. Until he accidentally explodes.

"You didn't reply to the text I sent you three days ago! Did I do something wrong?! Why are you ignoring me?!"

And when you turn around, your eyes tired, unable to even stand completely, Riddle feels his heart sink.

"Oh… you're… you're exhausted…"

He sees you trembling. He sees the dark circles under your eyes. He sees you like a castle about to collapse.

Then he takes a step back, swallowing. He lowers his gaze. He approaches calmly and takes your hand, his tone infinitely softer.

"Forgive me. I didn't know how to see it. You don't need to explain anything to me. Just… come with me."

He takes you to his room. He changes his schedule. He suspends his studies. He makes tea. And when he sees you asleep, tangled in his blanket, he closes his eyes with guilt and tenderness.

"You taught me to be loved… now it's my turn to learn to care for you as you deserve."

And that night, Riddle Rosehearts doesn't sleep. He stays by your side, watching over your sleep, like someone tending a beautiful garden that has flourished even in the harshest spring.

Jade is a man of subtleties. Of long silences, gentle smiles, and eyes that observe more than they say. When you started pampering him, at first he thought you were just playing around… but over time, he understood that your attentions were sincere. You made small braids in his hair when he rested with you, brought him new herbal teas to try, told him how much his presence calmed you.

And he, silently, became addicted to it.

Not because he needed it—or so he wanted to believe—but because it made him feel human, and not just another servant of his brother's capricious emotions or a mere executor of orders.

So when that warmth disappears overnight, when you stop texting him, stopping by the lounge, touching his hand for no reason… Jade doesn't say anything. He doesn't pressure you. He just observes.

But behind that apparent serenity, a restlessness begins to grow in his chest.

Until one day, when he notices you in the greenhouse, half asleep, lying on a flowerpot, your face covered in dirt and your hands trembling, he approaches silently. He doesn't say "I missed you," he doesn't complain.

He just crouches down beside you and begins to wipe the mud off your fingers with a white handkerchief.

"I was wondering… if plants also stop blooming if their gardeners forget themselves."

And then, without warning, he looks into your eyes, very close.

"I don't need your touch to be with you. But I can't bear to see you like this… as if you'd vanished without realizing it."

He helps you to your feet. He leads you to his room. He makes lavender tea. And that night, he sits beside you, silent, gently touching your hand, as if afraid of breaking you.

"When you're ready, I will once again receive each of your caresses with gratitude… but for now, allow me to take care of you."

Azul is used to transactions. To giving in order to receive. To measuring affection in terms of utility and results. But you… you broke his logic from day one. You gave him attention and affection, without conditions. You hugged him when he frowned. You defended him when others saw him as just another merchant.

And Azul, for the first time, didn't know what to give in return. He felt awkward. Exposed. But happy.

"Are you sure you don't want anything? Not even a symbolic contract…?"

And yet, every time you looked at him with genuine love, his insecurities faded a little. Your affection transformed him.

So when you stop pursuing him, when your messages dry up and your visits to the Monstro Lounge cease, his first reaction is to panic.

"Did I say something wrong? Is she angry with me? Did she regret it?"

He starts replaying conversations, looking for signs. He locks himself in his office, checks his magic mirror to see you from afar (blame it on jealousy, blame it on anxiety), and what he sees isn't contempt… it's exhaustion.

He watches you drag yourself between classes. Fall asleep over your notes. Walk like a ghost.

And something in him snaps.

The next day, a note arrives, delicately folded.

"Come by the Lounge this afternoon. I've reserved the place just for us. It's not a formal date. I just want to see you."

When you arrive, Azul is waiting for you with a warm cup of your favorite beverage and a blanket draped over the shoulders of the most comfortable chair. He invites you to sit. He doesn't try to talk business, or magic, or anything. He just watches you, with unusual calm.

"I don't need your daily flattery to know you appreciate me. But if you're losing yourself, then I… I can't stay still."

His voice trembles a little. Azul isn't good at showing vulnerability. But he tries.

"You gave me more than I ever expected to receive. Let me give you back at least a part of it."

And that night, there are no contracts. No exchanges. Just Azul holding your hand as you sleep on his couch, a barely audible whisper in the air:

"Please… don't disappear again. You don't know how much I need you."

Ruggie never considered himself someone worthy of much luxury or attention. He comes from what's fair, what's scarce. He’s used to giving more than he receives. But when you came into his life and started spoiling him —with food, sweet words, casual affection— at first, he got defensive.

"What’s up with you? Are you bribing me or what?"

But then… he got used to it. And without realizing it, he became addicted to it. To the way you looked at him like he was special. To how you remembered the things he liked. To how you hugged him for no reason and called him “my boy”

So, when all of that stops suddenly, Ruggie doesn’t take it well. And he doesn’t express it with sadness, but with forced humor.

"Hey, did you replace me or what? 'Cause you don’t even throw a “hi” my way anymore. I feel like a forgotten veggie in the fridge."

He says it with a lopsided smile, like it’s a joke, but his hyena ears are drooping. His laugh sounds weak. He’s hurt, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.

When he finally sees you collapse in the cafeteria, your head buried in your arms, not even touching the food given to you, something changes. He doesn’t joke anymore. He pulls you out of the place without asking, takes you behind the kitchen, puts a bun in your hand, and makes you eat.

"You know I don’t mind if you don’t pay attention to me… but this isn’t okay. You can’t keep going like this. I don’t want to see you falling apart from trying to carry everything alone."

And when you look at him, for the first time in days, with eyes glassy from guilt and exhaustion, he sighs.

"Dummy. You got me used to your affection and now you take it away. That’s not fair, is it?"

But he hugs you, without resentment, with the tenderness he keeps only for you. And that night, without you asking, he cooks your favorite dish and sits down to eat with you, talking nonsense until you laugh.

"Come on, boss. You spoil me, but now it’s my turn to take care of you, okay?"

Silver isn't a demanding person. His calm, almost ethereal nature makes him seem as if he's above common emotional needs. But since you've been with him, there's something that keeps him more awake, more grounded in the world. Your attentions, however small—a hand on his cheek, a loving whisper before he falls asleep, a smile when his eyes close—are what remind him that there's someone who chooses him every day, even when he's lost in his dreams.

That's why, when you start to distance yourself, he notices… even though he doesn't say anything.

At first, he thinks maybe he's imagining it. That he shouldn't be selfish. That you have your own problems too. But the days go by, and your greetings become automatic, your hugs are absent, and you're no longer there to wake him with affection when he falls asleep in the garden. And Silver begins to dream uneasy things. Dreams where he searches for you and can't find you. Where his world is silent and empty.

One afternoon, as you watch him from afar, he pauses, approaches with a serious look—serious, not angry—and offers you his hand.

"Come. I want to show you something."

He takes you to a corner of the forest where the sun's rays filter through the trees and the sound of water gently flows. There he sits with you, and for a moment he says nothing. He just listens. He watches the dark circles under your eyes form. How your shoulders slump with exhaustion.

"You always take care of me. You're always there for me, even when I can't stay awake myself. So now I want you to rest."

He takes off his coat and places it around your shoulders. Then he sits beside you, lets you rest your head on his chest, and closes your eyes.

"I don't need you to pamper me all the time. Just for you to be well. That's all I want."

And when you finally allow yourself to let out the silent cry, he doesn't move. He doesn't speak again. He just holds you. Like you did so many times.

[neuvilette-tea-party]

✶The shine of the Crown

Yandere! Elf Prince x Unlucky survivor F!reader — MDNI! TW: Fantasy setting, elf!yandere, power imbalance, royalty and servant, explicit torture, murder, one sided affection, non con, cunnilingus, fingering, P in V, breeding kink, forced creampie (multiple)

Everything is perfect. 

He planned absolutely everything for you, you’re the only one missing now. 

Prince Aodh takes a look around his large quarters in the Palace. He measures his chances. He truly does. He knows meeting his one and only is something that only happens to the most lucky, so many people live and die without ever meeting their true other half. So, for Him to have had the chance to meet you, He considers himself extremely lucky! 

And soon, He intends to honor you like you deserve to be. 

Prince Aodh ordered a lot of new pillows everywhere to create nests for you to lie down and relax. 

He will lay you down in all of them and take you tenderly all night long. 

He added a lot of new surfaces in his quarters. If you're freaky enough, He will gladly take you on them too. Anything to amuse you. 

He is quite excited and a bit nervous, actually. This is his first rut with a partner. Nobody in his kingdom ever caught his eye, not even his betrothed, so he took his brother’s remedy to suppress his rut all his life to keep them at bay. He got through life watching couples flourishing and getting at it passionately when the rut came. To him, it was always more of an annoyance and disturbance in his work. Try to keep an army focused when their instincts are screaming at them to take their partners to bed! A real challenge. Thanks to the Forest God, the Crown passed an edict forcing each general and minister to take suppressants, now calm and peace came back in the ranks, and he could speak to level-headed adults and not toddlers in armor consistently on the verge of implosion. Honestly, this aspect of the Elven species is such a burden! What a shame to be reduced to a rabid animal when you are civilized like them! For those reasons, he always hated that part of himself, what a relief he felt when his twin brother offered him that burgundy remedy to calm down his ardors when He developed his first pulsions. The sensation of freshness and renewed control he felt when he gulped down that mixture for the first time… Truly a blessing! 

If there is something He absolutely despises, it’s the loss of control. 

Prince Aodh knew of the pleasure of the flesh, but he never met someone worth enduring the rut with! Not even his betrothed.  

But then,  

He met you. 

Perfect you. 

Adorable you. 

How could He have predicted you? So far away from your people and civilization, in an empire of elves, how could He have predicted meeting his perfect match? The first time he saw you, lost and wounded in the black forest, He knew. He knew God created you for him and him only. You were dirty and bleeding, disheveled and starving, on the verge of death in your torn clothes. 

A frail, lost human woman... 

Did he find you beautiful?  

No idea.  

You just immediately caught his eyes, like a firefly is tempted by light He was drawn to you by a force beyond his understanding. He stopped his horse, completely ditching his twin brother, who kept hunting ahead of him, and got down to greet you, fearing you were just a mirage of his imagination. 

You lost consciousness right in front of him. The Prince just had the time to catch you before you hit the ground. He lifted your limp body up and carried you on his noble steed right back to the Secret Palace, a place so sacred no uninvited human could ever come across it.  

He ordered his physicians to immediately take you in charge and look over you every hour of the day and night, no matter if they were exhausted! The idea of seeing you die was unthinkable to him! 

You were only a meager human, so why was he acting so erratic at the idea of your death? Others, and he wondered. 

He only had to watch over you at night, listen to your feeble breath, and feel your fragile hands squeeze his large hand in a survival reflex for him to know. 

His 

You were his. 

And he were yours. 

You were mates, destined by the Gods. 

Your pheromones make his head spin so deliciously, He only has to dive his nose in the crook of your neck to get high off your scent, delectable vertigos seizing him like he was flying high in the sky. 

He felt like He was struck by lightning when He first heard your chuckle at one of his dry-humored responses to a fool of an apothecary in charge of healing you, and that was the sweetest sound He ever heard in his life! 

Sweeter even than the songs of the She-elves sung under the moonlight for the celebration of the Light. And you are so intelligent… He has the greatest pleasure discussing with you about everything! 

He already fantasized about inviting you into his Tactical room to strategize together. Or just have you sit cutely on his large lap while he orders his generals... 

The Crown would never allow it... For now 

He would find a way to make it bend the knee. 

Prince Aodh also has to deal with his betrothed asking why he is worrying about a meager human life. They were supposed to wed soon, and he was spending more time with you than preparing himself for her. He had to suppress a growl.  

He never had any interest in her as a future partner or even just a friend. Why would he? It is a purely political marriage; he just has to ensure she gets pregnant, and his job will be done. He has no intention to waste more energy than necessary with her. 

She never understood him, she won’t start now. He can give her a baby to keep her occupied, and run back to your embrace and love you as it pleases him. 

But before dealing with his unsufferable fiance, he had more pressing problems 

Right after leaving the infirmary, you started to make heart eyes at one of his lieutenants! 

And apparently He was not the only elf with scandalous taste around here because his lieutenant was flirting back... 

That fool had no education or class, why were you making doe eyes at him in the first place?  

How? 

Why? 

He could not tolerate it, He felt love for the very first time. He was not going to let you fly away from him that easily, especially for a mere elf such as him! 

So He started to take action. He kept his Lieutenant constantly away from the Secret Palace, giving him dangerous missions after dangerous missions, hoping he would get killed. 

But the cockroach always came back! 

When it was clear you were healed, the Crown asked you to return to your human lands and never come back. The Prince proposed to keep you here and teach you the Elven ways and language to send you back as a messenger and a diplomat between the two races! 

Humans and Elves’ diplomatic ties were now so tenuous now the two former allies were growing more and more hostile towards each other century by century until the former glory days of the Alliance would be no more than forgotten legends in the minds of men, and War broke out.  

Sending an envoy to your people could change the course of History. 

And he could keep you at his side. 

The Crown abided by his whims after long and numerous arguments between them. 

You were not exactly comfortable here, but living among the Elves is a privilege and an honor! And despite the little sparkle of fear in your eyes, He could see you were excited by the adventure. He gave you teachers and a servant to ease your everyday life and ‘hired’ you as his aide, keeping you close to him every day. 

Like a dream... 

And a away from that damn Lieutenant! 

He kept giving you conflicting agendas to make it hard for you to see each other. He made sure to humiliate his rival as much as possible with a stern expression and impossible questions when you three met, hoping your opinion about his rival would get tarnished, slowly but surely, for you to lose interest and distance yourself from him. 

During that time, He worked to place himself in your life as a friend, a comforting presence, and a shoulder to put your head on. He let you see parts of him he never revealed to anybody, not even His brother. You spent so many sleepless nights chatting together in his office around a glass of wine, he truly felt your relationship growing more intimate and purposeful. You had full access to his office for you to take care of his baby phoenix together, you who learned to love it so much! He kept showering you with privileges and special moments with him. 

Privileges he never even gave to his fiancée. 

He chuckles, thinking back about them! He thought he was in love with them back then, but clearly he did not know anything about love. 

He loves you now, and this is the purest thing he has ever felt through the long centuries of his life. 

And he thinks... NO, he is SURE you feel the same toward him! 

How would it be any different? He is an elven Prince after all! You should feel honored that He even laid his eyes on you once! 

And he wants so much more than just to lay his eyes on you! 

Everything was slowly falling into place, as the Prince wished. 

Or so he thought. 

One night, leaving his office, he wanted to stroll in the rose garden and pick a flower for you to discover on your pillow when you woke up. You lock your bedroom like any sane woman would, but you are not as sane as you imagine if you think a lock can keep him away from you! 

He saw you two 

Embrassing each other 

Kissing each other 

Exchanging sweet words discreetly 

That wretched peasant...! 

You were clearly under a curse or a spell! Why else would you still have an interest in that poor fool either way? Elf magic is powerful, and human minds are weak; it would not take much for you to fall into a trap. 

He felt his blood boil and his soul cry for you 

His beloved 

His darling 

Stuck between the claws of a wicked elf! 

He had to save you! 

He had to intervene drastically. 

It was quite simple: a hunting trip, a quick shot at the back of the head, dumping the body in the nearest river, and returning home, abandoning the corpse to the unchained elements. 

Oh, you were devastated, in tears for days. Days he offered his shoulder for you to cry on, hugging you tightly to appease your pain and relieve you. He cradled you for days, slowly reclaiming his place in your heart. 

He knows the kind of cold and imposing aura He gives off as the Heir of the Crown, so He took care to be as tender and soft as possible, giving you glimpses of his loving, intimate side. 

But you were in terrible shape, your mood and body seemed to decay day after day... He kept coming to you every day, in the hope of seeing you smile his way, running to him to hug him tight and declare him your endless love now that the curse was lifted. 

But you never did, and each day you seemed closer and closer to dying of malnourishment. 

Was the curse still in place? 

He was walking to his brother to ask him for advice on how to lift a strong curse, as magic was more his brother’s passion than his. He had just the time to see you both enter your bedroom and lock yourself up 

He was frozen in place 

... 

His brother 

His twin 

The closest being in his life until you... 

He was going behind his back...?! 

He was abusing his face, similar to his, to gain access to your bed!? 

The surprise dissolved in his veins to make place for the bitter taste of betrayal and the heat of the flames of ire and hate. 

Prince Aodh watched you both exit your bedroom, hidden behind a marble statue, as his brother caressed your cheek tenderly while you nodded, wiping a tear off your cheek with a tight smile. 

He clawed the column, leaving fissures in the stone in his rage. 

That same night, He entered his oh so dear brother’s room in silence, pinning a charm of silence and secrecy to the door for nobody to hear them. He remained standing, watching his brother sleep peacefully in the large bed. 

Fooling around with humans is not exactly forbidden, but his brother always notoriously looked at the practice with disdain and some disgust. 

And what’s the first thing this traitor did once Prince Aodh brought his human mate home...?! 

He could not help the serpentine hiss escaping his lips as He grabbed his brother’s throat, feeling the blood and the air flowing in and out. 

For a minute, He fantasized about squeezing this white throat until He strangled this traitor! 

But instead, He took out a bottle from his pocket and slowly opened the lid. He dramatically lifted the bottle over his brother’s face and poured down everything. 

Immediately, the acid started devouring his brother’s flesh with a disgusting sizzling sound. 

His brother immediately awoke, screaming in pain as Prince Aodh admired the flesh swelling up with bubbles and reddening with all the blood seeping out of the gushing pores. 

It was... Fascinating to witness this face, the same as his, getting disfigured under his eyes, how the flesh swells like a fruit too ripe and bursts open, wounding his brother beyond repair. 

His brother fell to the ground, screaming at the top of his lungs, trying to tear his painful skin off for a modicum of relief, digging his nails into the gushing, bleeding flesh. He was wriggling on the ground pathetically when He pressed his foot down his ribcage to immobilize his brother, observing his result like he would a painting. 

The once handsome face is now a grotesque mask of swollen flesh falling off with fumes and visible bones. 

Maybe it will even kill his brother... He was losing strength by the second, and soon would lose consciousness, and maybe dive into the dark waves of death for good.��

Before he fainted, He lowered himself to press his lips to what he supposed to be an ear before and whispered. 

“You will never approach her again... Never.Again...” 

His brother was discovered unmoving the next morning by a now traumatized Help and transported to the infirmary promptly. To this day, he has not woken up. Prince Aodh forbade you to enter the chamber under the pretense that he was afflicted by an illness that would be fatal for a human. 

So you obeyed. 

Like a cute little darling. 

He was in heaven! 

Finally! 

He had you for himself!  

No other pesky rival was standing between you two! 

It was finally time to formally profess your love for each other and mate together for life. Of course, humans are a mateless species, but that is nothing a little bit of magic cannot fix! 

It will feel like a chain at first for you, but you will not mind since you will be bound to him. 

He cannot wait! 

Which brings us to today. 

He never forced himself on you, but that doesn’t mean He can’t initiate actions, so He will seduce you out of your mind and take you to bed this week, and He will taste the pleasure of the rut for the first time in his life. He will indulge so much! Keeping you in bed for a full month, breeding you over and over, authorizing you to leave the nests only for the most basic of human necessities, and grabbing you back in the sheets immediately. 

He will get you addicted to him, to his cock. Absolutely ruining any other male for you. He will make sure you become pregnant, locking you with him forever. You are not a cruel woman to deny your child a father, no matter how horrible He might be. 

But He doesn’t have to be horrible to you… 

If you stay with him, He will be the most gentle, tender lover you’ve ever met, satisfying you beyond measure. 

If you ever look at another person, however… You will taste his wrath and learn your mistake in pain. But He does it for you both, He knows what’s truly good for you! 

Him 

Solely him. 

What better for a human’s happiness than a willing, devoted elven prince anyway? 

You need no one else in your life. Not even your former family. You will forget them rapidly when He will be plaguing your mind 24/7. Just as you do to him. 

He absent-mindedly caresses a pillow of one of the nests. Younger him never knew why Elves’ bedrooms were so large and had so many pillows in them.  

For the nests obviously. 

It is quite common for couples to prefer a nest of pillows, furs, and plushies to their bed. And for the first time in his life, He understands why. 

Oh, He cannot wait…  

Embracing you in those soft, fluffy nests and taking you languorously until you cry out of love and exhaustion, while He keeps thrusting deep into you. Your cute face in tears and forced into the furs while you squirt violently around his cock. 

He caresses his lips with a deviant smile, oh He’s going to enjoy it so much… Having you completely cock drunk, a babbling mess while He towers over you in full control. Oh, that is going to be so sweet… 

And you will become pregnant! Let’s not forget that delicious fact. 

He cannot wait to see you round with his child, maybe his twins or triplets. He will give you so many children! Elves have very large families, He is no exception; his instincts scream at him to procreate as much as possible with you. 

He wants to meet his children now, having them running around you both all day long… He will be the most dotting father ever and love them all day long, spoiling them rotten, maybe even to your dismay 

He chuckles at himself. He is already fantasizing about your future children without even having tasted your lips yet! 

Silly him! 

But he cannot help it, you are his little birdie he desperately wants to cage.  

Sometimes he even doubts you love him with how little attention you give him or how uninterested you appear in his conversation, some days. 

But you do love him. 

He knows you do. 

And you better do. 

He has nothing against using chains and gags, but He would like you to be happy at his side, not just a captive! But once pregnant, you will do the only respectable thing to do and accept to bond with him. 

It will be your only way to remain alive after the offense of seducing the Crown’s Heir. 

Then you will be with him forever. 

Living happily together, surrounded by your numerous heirs. 

He also prepared for that; he modified his diet, intensified his training routine, and started to take remedies the royal apothecary promised him would boost his fertility every day. One day, you came into his office, and you asked him what those berries were that he was swallowing with such a large smile. He lied to you, pretending it was only his favorite treat. It was too soon to reveal he was already planning your future pregnancies so early in your secret love affair, and you would have been scared, and He doesn’t want to scare you, only to back you into a corner. 

You are two different species after all, He cannot let those things go to the hazard. 

One week ago, when He felt the first symptoms of the rut, He gulped down twice the dosage, just to be sure… 

Prince Aodh used to hate those symptoms, those heat waves and sore muscles, but today He welcomes them with so much pleasure. He also felt growing territorial and possessive. He always tolerated you having friends among his people, He is not a complete monster, but those last few days? They realized how terrifying He could be with a single glance in their direction. They didn’t even have to speak with you; only standing in your vicinity was enough to send him into a boiling rage! Especially the males! He would appear from out of nowhere, his aura murderous and shooting them with his red gaze and dump them with even more chores and duties, especially on the other side of the Palace, far away from you, his darling. 

One had the nerve to hug you, and He ordered his servants to wash and scrub your body for a full hour despite your complaints to get rid of his disgusting scent. He couldn’t help it, it was making him gag to smell another male on you.  

You didn’t see that friend from then on… 

The sun rises, signaling to him it is time to head to the Grand room where He organized a session with all his advisors to treat the State’s latest affairs. You’ll be here, obviously, as his devoted, cute little aide. He will gorge himself on your scent and presence, boosting him for the rest of the day.  

No, for the whole month! 

He walks peacefully towards the board room, back straight and head high, when He starts to feel a heat wave approaching. Oh well, he will take a bath later. 

He turns a corner and smiles. 

You are here, notebook in hand, as the cutest little human aide you are. You never wait for him, too visible, and he likes his privacy, so you took the habit of getting ahead of him for him to meet you midway. 

Clever you, you know he cannot reveal your love affair to the Crown yet, so you take action without him even asking! 

Such an intelligent mate. You can hold entire conversations just looking into each other’s eyes. You are truly made for one another. 

He doesn’t slow down as he reaches you, his heart sprinting as your hands graze for a split second. 

“Good morning, Your Highness .” You greet. 

“Good morning, (Y/n).” 

“You seem tense. Are you all right?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. 

Oh, sweet, adorable you, you know him so well… And you always take care of him, noticing in one glance that something changed in him, not that He tried to hide it from you. You can see those parts of him, you are allowed. 

And those heatwaves are not really comfortable… 

“Am I?” Prince Aodh asks with a lopsided grin, “Quite the contrary, I feel full of energy.” 

“Really? Good.” You nodded. “We will need it for today.” 

You think about the politics and warfare, He thinks about the bed. 

“I am sure it will be a productive day.” He slowly nods, approvingly. 

Your scent comes to brush his nose, and He deeply inhales, inviting it deep into his lungs. It sets his nerves on fire, electrifying him to his core. He feels his horns tingling deliciously. 

That feels so good… 

You reach the Tactical room where everyone else is waiting and take your place. He opens the Map of the Empire, and the session can start. 

------------------------------------------------- 

Everything was going so well. 

Prince Aodh was fully focused, mind set on his strategies, listening to his subordinates when it struck him like lightning. All his muscles suddenly violently contracted, chasing all the air out of his lungs. His usually so well-organized mind completely froze like stunted. It was so violent that He almost lost his balance and collapsed. But He held on, standing firm on his feet. 

And now there is only one thing he cares about. 

You. 

“Everyone… Out.” He says so coldly, a shudder spreads through the audience. 

“Your Highness? Did we do-” One starts to speak to understand this sudden shift of behavior. 

“Out!” He shouts, slamming his fist on the table. 

Everyone scurries outside, it’s the very first time they ever heard him raise his voice in a meeting, and they don’t intend to hear more! 

“(Y/n), you stay.” He orders harshly. 

He feels his cock gorging itself with blood, getting warmer and constricted in his tight pants. 

So this is how it truly feels… The sudden craving, hunger for flesh, that urge commanding all his senses and priorities. A desire so powerful that his only thought is to breed you immediately, right here and there, like an animal. 

You remain still, worried. You look at him, hugging your notebook against your breast, well hidden under that stupid tunic. He wants to tear it all apart, destroying it completely to discover your sweet naked body at last 

His hard gaze is on those incompetents who still haven’t evacuated the room. He turns towards the young helpers who are absolutely terrified, pressing themself at the door to leave as quickly as possible.   

If they don’t go away He will take you in front of them without any shame!  

They must have felt his black gaze on them because they suddenly managed to pass through the door and disappear away from him.  

The doors are shut. 

And He now turns towards you. 

You are now completely alone with a pissed-off Elven Prince. 

You are terrified beyond measure. He never raised his voice. Ever. He looks at you with a dark glare, like He could eat you up in one bite. 

You gulp. 

He skirts the large table, dark eyes fixed on you, frowning terribly. You press your notebook closer against you in a soothing manner. Did you do something? Said something? Angered him in some way? 

“Your Highness? Is something wrong?” You ask with tremors in your voice. 

You hope talking to him would snap him out of it, but He keeps walking towards you like a carnivore having cornered its prey. 

“Sir…” You call again. 

In complete silence, He seizes your notebook out of your grasp and just tears it in half like it’s nothing before tossing it aside. You gasp, shocked. 

“Sir! If I did-” 

You have no time to finish your sentence, his large hand comes to grasp your throat and pushes you against the wall, where He captures your lips in a demanding kiss. 

What the fuck is going on?! 

What’s wrong with the Prince?! 

Since day one, he looked at you in a weird fashion, and you consistently felt his breath on the back of your neck! Sometimes you were even sure to feel a presence in your room at night! You remained friendly and nice and polite, fearing he might explode all of a sudden. 

And right now, he is exploding. You are so shocked and terrified that you do not know how to react to his aggression, and you feel yourself frozen in fear. 

He presses his large body against yours, more petite in comparison. He squeezes your throat to force you to open your lips to let his tongue enter your mouth. He groans in the kiss like a pissed-off dragon as his tongue meets and hugs yours. 

You feel his erection against your pelvis, He brushes your groins together, leaving no doubt in your mind about what’s going to happen next. You moan pitifully, feeling yourself going limp. 

He suddenly grabs the back of your neck and pushes you unceremoniously against the wooden table, bending you over as your breath is cut. You have no time to register what He just did, He is behind you, towering over your figure and gripping the fabric of your pants, and violently tearing them off. 

“Sir?!” You beg, at loss for words.  

The Prince pulls on your sweet undergarments 

He cheekily hoped you would not be wearing any like a naughty girl, but opening you like a present is also nice.  

You try to rise up, but are immediately pushed back down with his hand on the back of your neck. 

“Do. Not. Move.” He orders with a chilling tone, inviting zero resistance. 

So you remain bent over, immobile, feeling the cold air hitting your exposed pussy. You gulp, throat dry, devoured by anxiety. 

You suddenly feel his wet tongue parting your folds. You grip the wood for dear life as He starts eating you out voraciously, like a starved animal.  

“Oh my gods, Sir…!” You gasp, out of your mind. 

He locates your clit and starts teasing it with sweet laps, circling it, gliding across it. He moans loudly to excite you further and you start feeling something wet leaking out of your pussy to roll on your thighs. He takes your clit in his mouth and sucks on it avidly, like a lollipop, making it roll between his lips and titillating it with the tip of his warm tongue. 

He just acts on instincts right now and they are telling him to devour your sweet pussy first. 

You press your hand to your mouth and immediately feel him bite the tender flesh of your thigh. 

“I forbid you to remain silent.” 

And to prove his point he takes a big, sloppy lap with the flat of his tongue from your clit to your perineum. You can’t help but moan in response, your legs starting to tremble under his care. 

“You are getting so wet. Good.” He praises you, but the tone is dark and… dangerous. 

He parts your pussylips with two fingers and probs your entrance with his tongue, drinking your slick loudly. 

“Ah! Yo-Your Majesty…” You choke on your words. 

“What is it, my darling? No male ever honored you this way? Such a shame.” He tuts. 

He grabs your butt with his two hands and penetrates you with his long, warm tongue. You can feel it waves inside you, grazing your sweet spot so deliciously, he circles it and glides across it with the tip of his tongue. 

Gosh, he wants to take you right now, but you could never take his size without any preparation. And he has always been curious about your pussy’s taste, and despite his urges it seemed like a good choice to him. His instincts are always right. 

He is always right. 

And your sweet gasps go straight to his cock, he is getting so painfully hard just hearing and tasting you. This is so addictive. He suddenly understands all those couples he used to look at with disdain. 

This is nothing like just sex, this is much more addicting and thrilling! 

This is just so… Right! 

He is not eating you out gently, but like a starved animal who just found a juicy piece of meat. He growls and purrs, satisfied by your tremors and quivers under his touch. This is how you should be with him all the time, a good girl for him to play all day long, a little bit fearful and dripping wet. 

He expertly opens his trousers to free his erection and starts pumping it in rhythm with your sweet mewls. You are like a little bird who sang the sweetest melodies for him.  

He has no idea if you ever squirted in your life but this is now his mission, you are not leaving his embrace until you squirted for him, no matter how many tries it takes, how many hours he will have to fuck you, you’re going to do it.  

For him.  

For his pleasure. 

He slurps down your essence loudly, satisfied with your taste. This is quite savory, you’re about to become his new favorite treat!  

“How does it feel?” He teases between sips, “Do you like it?” 

You, on your end, just cannot respond. The only sounds passing your lips right now are desperate moans as he eats you out conscientiously. Your brain is frozen in a fight-or-flight response.  

“My little bird does not wish to sing to me?” He growls. 

And he slaps your pussy. You shake with a groan of pain and pleasure, to your utmost distress. 

“Ah! It… I’ve never done that…” You confess, panting, praying he will take pity on you 

He smiles as he devours you 

Good. 

Your pussy will only know his lips and no one else. Only he will make you feel this good. 

“Vocalize your pleasure louder. I want the whole Palace to know who’s making you feel this good.” 

He laughs at himself internally. He who took care of hiding your love affair from anyone else is ready to throw everything through the window if it means everyone knows you belong to him and him only right now! 

The rut is truly something else. 

“Ah S-Sir...!” You call for him when he resumes tonguefucking you. 

But he can’t help it, you just taste so good. He will eat you out every morning from now on. Who cares if someone hears you through the wall of his bed chamber? 

Not him, not anymore. 

You’ll be mated anyway, so it is only normal that he fulfills his duty and takes care of his charming darling every day! 

You gasp as a wave of pleasure crashes upon you suddenly, so much you feel your pussy spurting something in his face with great force. Was that... An orgasm? 

You gulp, your first orgasm... At the hand of that creepy prince, white like a ghost and dead white eyes... You tried to remain on his good side by humoring him with conversations, but you did not foresee the trap you stepped into... 

He darkly chuckles, having reached his goal. You delivered splendidly! He licks his lips clean of your essence, feeling it beading from his chin. That was even better than he anticipated, the little jump his heart did when you squirted in his mouth as if he were a young child being offered a sweet! 

You try to catch your breath, still bent over the console, shaken by that orgasm and your fear, feeling your throat dry like the desert. 

You froze, hearing the sound of a belt behind you. 

“Oh sweet thing, this is only the beginning...”  He rasps, already thinking about this month of rut ahead of you two... 

So delicious. 

You feel his erection pressed against your spasming pussy, coating his shaft with your release. He feels… Large. Really large. Not that you are really surprised given his size, of course his penis would be as large as him. What you cannot determine, however, is his length. 

You bite your lips in anticipation and dread. 

You feel his tip probing your entrance, before feeling him pushing it inside. 

Oh dear Gods! He is so massive! Your inner muscles work to welcome his size inside of you, but you feel him splitting you in two. 

Your mouth opens in a perfect O, trying to accommodate his size, that’s a real challenge!  

“Your little pussy struggles to take me, and I am not halfway through.” He sadistically notes. 

He’s not halfway through?! 

No way! How are you…? How could you…? 

“Stop struggling.” He orders, “I feel you clenching all around my cock, if you do not want me ramming into you immediately it is best you relax.” 

“I’m... I just...!” You choke, digging your nails in the wood of the table, hanging on for dear life. 

How are you supposed to survive this...? 

He keeps pushing inside, filling you more and more, reaching depths you didn’t even know you had.  

“Relax, Darling. Breath.” He talks you through it with a softer tone, like he is pitying you. “We are almost there.” 

You feel his ridges brushing your inner walls, you feel his cocks having some sort of scales made of somewhat hard flesh but they caress your soft flesh so deliciously…  You gasp, breathless, when you feel his tip brushing your cervix deep inside you. 

You feel his hips brushing your butt, he is fully in.  

And that’s a feat! 

“You squeeze me so much, my darling.” He says in a gasp, “You were tailor made for my cock.” 

“I-I feel so stuffed!” You manage to let out while you try to breathe through your nose. 

Having his complete length inside you just chased all the air out of your lungs and your little pussy stretched to its maximum. If you were on your back and not your stomach, you would see a bulge, that’s for sure. 

“Well, thank you, my darling.” He licks his lips, “And this is all for you. Only for you. Now relax.” 

And without leaving you any time to adjust to his size, He starts thrusting inside you. Deep, hard thrusts punching the air out of our lungs each time. You feel his hips hitting your pussy harshly like a bull, assaulting your poor body. 

“Oh Maker! Sir, slow down! Please!” You choke on your own words. 

He rocks you so hard you almost bite your tongue at each back-and-forth movement. He fucks you roughly, without regard for your comfort on that sturdy table. You feel your poor pussy trying to take him ramming his whole length into you. Your release helps him slip inside easily, but doesn’t help his massive size problem. 

It also doesn’t help how uncomfortable and... soiled you started to feel. 

“I will not slow down.” He announces, deaf to your cries, “You can take it, I know it. You can take anything I give.” 

He grips your arms and holds them firmly with one hand on your back while the other holds your hip, preventing you from falling forward.  

Prince Aodh fucks you as voraciously as He ate you out, gluttonously and harshly. He keeps his merciless pace as you try desperately to keep some dignity as you feel him fucking your brain out. You feel your pleasure growing, not softly and nicely, but like a furious wave growing like a tsunami under his brutal rhythm. So much that a bit of drool starts dripping out of your mouth. 

His tip hits your cervix relentlessly and his ridges scratch the inside of your pussy savagely, scratching every sweet spot at once and making you see hyperspace behind your eyelids. 

“Fuck!” You shout. 

“What foul language, my darling. Should I also fuck your mouth to teach you manners?” 

His hand holding your hip sneaks under your stomach to reach your nervous clit, pulsating with your heartbeat. He starts rolling it between his fingers while he rams into you like an animal. He pounds into you like it is his last day alive, and you can’t do anything but take it, like a toy for him to play with. You can do so little, you are barely more than a fuckdoll for him. 

He is torn on his end. 

On one hand, this is so pleasurable, so fantastic, it sends him into such spirals of pleasure and heightens all his senses in such fashion! He gorges himself on your scent, of your pathetic moans of the wet sounds of your little pussy…It drives him so crazy, he wonders if he could ever slip out of you. 

He would surely die if he ever did that. 

And on the other end, he hoped to take you nicely and languorously for hours on end for days, helping you reach new heights of pleasure and taking care of you romantically, not take you like a monster. Him who used to treat you so tenderly in each and every fashion like the fragile porcelain doll you are… 

But this rut… 

This is something so strong, so unstoppable and unfightable. 

It took him by complete surprise, robbing him of his control. 

But for once in his life He decides that is not so bad… 

He gasps as he feels your small pussy clenching around his large girth. You strangle him so, so well, just the right size for him to enter and squeeze him deliciously. You truly are made for him and his cock. 

And absolutely no one else! 

He hopes you would be able to forgive him for fucking you in such a way! You deserve to be worshiped and idolized like a goddess all night long, and he had the firm attention to pamper and venerate you like his personal Goddess... He will make it up to you! He will spend the next hours adoring you for you to pardon him for his transgression! 

You feel your pussy clenching more and more under the growing waves spreading in your veins, setting fire to each nerve ending until you scream His name out loud. 

It was completely unprompted; it escaped you while you tried to gasp for air, but your orgasm crashed on you so suddenly it took you by surprise. The tsunami reached the shore and devastated everything in its wake.  

“Keep screaming, My Darling. I want everyone to know who is fucking you this good.” 

You convulsing around him pushes him beyond pleasure, and He comes inside you without your consent after three more deep thrusts. He buries himself deep, spurting his seed in your most secret place. He feels your entire body tensing, then slumping, like all your strength escaped your organism with a “oof.” 

He gently caresses the cheeks of your butt with his large warm hands as he catches his breath, still deep inside. He slips his disheveled strands of long hair back on his head and opens his leather straps to get rid of his plate armor and his now-sweaty tunic. 

This is a really nice physical exercise! Far more enjoyable than his dry and boring warrior training. It could become his new routine! He always has been more than serious with his training, but he would look up to this new exercise each day, and he would partake with so much enthusiasm! 

You surely would not object! He would give you so much pleasure each and every day… 

He slips out of you and makes you roll on your back. You are still catching your breath while he has already recovered. Humans are no match for Elves’ stamina after all. He growls as he sees his semen oozing out of you.  

You are already wasting it! 

He collects it with his fingers and pushes it back inside, penetrating your sex with his slender digits. He sees you shaking with this simple touch, you are still so sensitive after all… He cleans you with his fingers, fingering it back inside your greedy womb that tries to retain him inside. He grins lightly. Your body doesn’t seem satisfied with two orgasms and seems to already call for him and his talents again.  

You, on the other hand, seem exhausted. 

He enters you again, localizing your G-spot easily, and starts brushing it eagerly. You mewl tiredly in response but your body’s answer is undeniably positive, your pussy stretches enthusiastically, dripping wet, and your legs spasm each time he scratches your spot with the pad of his fingers.  

“Sir…” You try to call, your hand lazily raising to grab his arm and stop him. 

But you have no energy left, and let your hand fall back to your side. He keeps fingering you, enjoying the ungodly wet noises of your pussy, stuffed with his white cum. 

One won’t be enough.  You need to do it again. Over and over again, until your cute tummy is completely bloated with his semen.  

Then, and only then, he will consider that he did a sufficient job. 

He pushes a third finger inside, and you whimper, like sweet music. Prince Aodh scissors you thoroughly, admiring your entrance gaping around his fingers. He can’t believe such a little pussy could take him so well, He actually thought you would not and break under him. But you did. And quite well, considering it. 

You gave him so much pleasure already, choking his shaft so lusciously, hugging his form so perfectly He felt like he could mold your insides for his specific shape, ensuring that any potential rival is terribly disappointing to you. 

But there will be no potential rival. In any shape or form. 

“Your... Higness…” You pitifully call again, your chest rising up and down as you breathe. 

“Is there a problem, my Darling? Are you in pain?” He investigates, just to be sure. 

He is not a monster after all. 

“No… No but-” You throw your head back with pleasure as He accelerates his ministrations. “Ah!” 

You’re in no pain, that’s all He wanted to know. 

“Let it happen, my darling. There is no use fighting it, let me take care of everything.” He charms you with his enthralling, deep, melodious voice. 

He circles and crosses your G-spot, rubbing it roughly while adding pressure with a hand on your Venus mound, earning sobs and moans from your part. He adds pressure on your clit with his thumb, gliding across it and flicking it, feeling you dripping off his hand as He hooks you from inside. He accelerates his care, stretching your pussy well as you tremble under his hand, knuckles deep, curling and spreading them, making his fingers twirl to caress any inner surfaces of your pussy. He then resumes fingering you mercilessly until you cry your eyes out, big tears rolling down as your pussy spasms around his soaked digits. 

You come again, shuddering dramatically. While you try to catch your breath again, He lowers himself to the level of your pussy to make sure all of his potent semen was inside, where it should be. He traces your pussylips with his fingers, utterly fascinated by that jewel of nature. 

He kisses your slit with reverence and raises back on his feet. 

He looms over you and pulls your tunic over your chemise. He takes out his blade and cuts it open, revealing your breast to his eyes. He feels his own eyes rounding up as He discovers them in plain sight, your nipples standing up to attention as the cold bites them. 

Your boobs are just to his taste, just how he likes them. 

He grabs them in his large hand and kneads them well, rolling your nipples between his fingers. He leans forward and takes one in his mouth, sucking on it. 

Soon, when he does that again, He will taste your milk. He will drink from your tits when they get heavy with milk. He cannot wait… 

He kisses it and takes the other one in his mouth, licking across the soft skin, peppering it with soft kisses as you sob, cheeks soaked, your hand coming to caress his hair. 

He stands back straight, slicking his long hair back, letting sweat roll on his gorgeous body, his skin glistening with sweat. His white eyes shine hungrily in the low light of the room, fixated on your form under him. 

He pumps his cock one or two times, hardening already again and pushes it back inside, your essence acting up as lube. He watches fascinated how his penis disappears inside your body, a creamy O at his base.  

The bulge is consequent, and He can’t help a dark snicker. You are going to be gorgeous, all round with his child… 

He resumes his hard thrusting, gripping your hips harshly, digging his nails into your soft flesh to keep you in place. He watches your boobs bobbing up and down, hypnotized. You whimper, tears rolling down your cheeks, as all of this is way too much for you. You’re oversensitive, and He keeps the pleasure rolling longer and farther, teasing your nerves until you break down completely. 

But He wants more. 

He broke down your sentiments, but He wants to break down your mind, utterly destroying it. He wants you dumb and cockdrunk, stuffed with his seed like the good girl he knows you are. So He keeps burying his girth deep in you, brushing your G-spot with the edges of his ridges  

He needs to give you more loads or you’ll never get pregnant!  

What if the remedies He took were not enough? He worries in the back of his mind. What if nothing was enough and you’ll never get pregnant? What if your two species are ultimately incompatible? 

Prince Aodh pushes these thoughts back. 

Of course, He’s going to get you pregnant. He is The Prince, a warrior, an Elf. Nothing is impossible to him. 

He would not allow any other results. 

He rocks his hips into yours, reveling in the pleasure you are giving him. He undulates his body with delight, meeting your dripping sex, the sounds of flesh hitting flesh echoing in the large room. He chases both of your releases while you fully tremble underneath him, He seizes your thighs with his large hands and spreads them wide open, throwing your legs on his shoulders, allowing him to deepen his thrusts. 

Oh that is just so good… 

He hoped his first time with you would have been romantic and sweet. He still has a heart full of love and devotion after all, He thought that after a date at a gallery, He would have treated you to a nice dinner before carrying you to bed and honoring you all night long. But instead, He is ramming into you like a beast, in the middle of his boardroom on his ship for all his crew to hear, trying to break you into a million pieces under him. 

You truly never know what life has in store for you! 

In all honesty, He didn’t know it would go so well. He feared entering you for the first time would have him come undone right here and there, and it almost happened! He had to collect all his will to not explode inside just by entering you. His honor would have never recovered if He had come before satisfying his darling first! 

What kind of elf would he be then? One that only chases his own pleasure like a self-centered jerk? He likes to think of himself as above that. 

Granted, you are in this situation because he couldn’t help but chase his own release, but that is completely beside the point! 

He circles his hips to vary the sensations, and you bite your lips to blood in response. 

“What did I say about silencing yourself?” He scolds you, growling. 

He seizes your jaw, pressing your cheeks like a fish, and leans forward dangerously, shooting you with his feverish gaze. You look so silly like that. 

“This is the last time I warn you, understood?” He demands with a dark tone. 

You can only nod with your silly expression, eyes round with surprise and submission. That looks good on you. He leans further to lick your cheek as He rocks his hips, realizing you soiled it with your drool, smeared all over your jaw. Did you lose all control? He wonders, snickering. 

He captures your lips for a messy kiss, tongue dancing, and drool exchanging. You whine, having your air robbed out of you, and He accentuates his thrusts to have you reach higher notes. The Prince lies fully on you, taking you in his arms to hug you tight, his thrusts are still mean and hard, hurting your pelvis with his raw strength.  

“Focus on kissing me, sweet thing.” He orders, between little kisses all over your jaw. 

He feels you drooling on yourself as your lips meet again, and that amuses him tremendously. He moans in the kisses, burying himself to the hilt as your pussy swallows him whole as it should. 

His heart is singing. Is it what true bliss feels like? Being one with your other half… 

He licks your lips as you roll your eyes inside your skull, too lost in the pleasure and utter fear he gives you. He keeps bullying his length into you, embracing you with his long arms. He sneaks his hand under your tunic on your back and buries his nose in the crook of your neck to inhale your musk. His heart flutters, pumping his blood at 100 miles per hour. It has been so long since he felt excitement like that, such pure joy, having you close like that, sharing such an intimate and vulnerable moment with you. He brushes the tip of his nose on your neck, purring deeply while you keep whimpering in his ears, arms circled around his large form and legs circled around his waist, keeping him deep buried in your puffy pussy. 

You long stopped trying to formulate sentences, your brain is too fried for you to speak proper Elvish, instead just letting broken mewls escape you. But that is as good for him, that is a testimony of the overwhelming pleasure he is giving you, and He revels in it with pride. 

Your inner walls are all gorged with blood, fluffy and soft for his cock, your pussy is clenching painfully around him and your clit is pulsating furiously, begging for attention. You snake one hand between your two bodies to caress it, and maybe ease your painful muscles, prompting him to look down at what you are doing. 

“Sorry, my darling. You invaded all of my mind, and I lost track of things.”He apologizes. 

One of his large hands follows yours and starts to tease your bundle of nerves instead of your more petite hand. 

What kind of idiot is He? How dare He lose himself so much to stop paying attention to your needs? He chastises himself. 

Prince Aodh thoroughly rolls and presses your clit between his fingers as He undulates his hips with the energy of a beast. He resumes kissing you, feeling so light, like all his pressure and problems just vanished in your presence. He hugs your tongue with his, dancing with it, robbing you of your breath. 

You feel the waves of pleasure spreading through your veins and your pussy, making it convulsing ferociously and you come for the fourth time, screaming the Prince’s name. 

Once again, your orgasm pushes his and He comes deep inside your womb for a second time.  

This time you notice. 

“You came inside?” You ask breathlessly, visibly worried,  

“Oh my.” He responds with a lopsided grin, caressing the bulge made by his shaft with his warm hand, “Then we will have no other choice but to take care of a little one.” 

Abortion is out of the question. For you? With his child? Out of the question. He will not even entertain the idea. 

“Wha-What? … But Your Higness!?” You blabber, your voice completely broken between your tears. 

“I will take my responsibilities with you and the kid, do not worry about anything.” He puts his forehead against yours, shiny white eyes buried in yours. “I will not disappear and leave you alone. Everything will be alright. We will be together.” He embraces you tightly. “You need not worry.” 

He cradles you gently, hearing your shallow, rapid breaths. He sighs, satisfied. 

Well, not completely. Two is still not enough. He starts a back and forth movement again, but this time slow, gentle, loving, languorous… 

"A... Again?” You sob incredulously, at the end of your own rope 

 He brushes his nose with yours. 

“I told you earlier I was full of energy today… I know you are tired, my darling, but you do not need to cry like that. Let me do the work. Easy, easy... ” 

He holds your cheeks in his hands, forehead against forehead, purring gently and deeply. 

This. 

This is true bliss. True happiness. You and him, locked together forever. Legacies tied in reputation and now blood. 

“What will I do if I get pregnant?” Your tears keep rolling down your cheeks as your shoulders shake, “Your fiance will hunt me down, the Crown, your Parents will hang me for the offence, I... I am going to die!.” You start panicking 

Aodh growls at such a childish display, making you freeze. Why won’t you drop the subject? Or better yet, why don’t you see it as the absolutely marvelous good news for your couple as he does? 

Now that you’ve mated together, no need to hide the affair, no need to refer to each other as simple ‘friends’ as you did until now! You will be able to live your love under the sun! 

“You will not lose anything. I will keep you at my side, whatever might happen. No one will even touch a single strand of your hair on that splendid head of yours.. Like I said…” He looks into your eyes with the most serious expression you have ever seen on his face and… Some underlying hunger and jealousy, “... Do not worry about anything.” 

[petalbcrnes]

❛ HOW HE LOVES & BOYFRIEND HCS ❜ ; D. WAYNE—AL GHUL.

SYNOPSIS: how does Damian Wayne show his love and what is it like when he’s your partner?

A/N: on my old account this was my first part of the “how he loves” series for the bat-boys. So, again this is a repost of my old writing.

⤷ main directory.

REDAMANCY: The endless labyrinth of your minds has been unlocked and explored by both of you. Words are unnecessary for Damian to understand what you want and need. Your presence has left an indelible mark on his heart.

It’s the way the two of you gradually reshape your speech, crafting a language of your own—how a glance across a crowded room signals that you want to leave, and he’s at your side in an instant. Your hand finds his. Together, you’re out the door. He knows your routine by heart. He knows you’ll come home tired, so he’s already queued up your favorite show on the DVR, snacks spread out on the table.

UNSPOKEN ACTIONS: Damian doesn’t express his love through words or elaborate phrases woven with sophistication. His love shows in his actions—the subtle ways he tries to brighten your everyday life. It’s the way he washes your hair when you’re too exhausted, how he wakes up early to prepare you something to eat, how he ties your shoelaces when they come undone, how he straightens your outfit with care.

💬: I’ll do it. Only because you asked me to.

ONLY YOU: Damian only sees you. The crowd fades to a dull blur, while you stand out like the sun. You’re his choice, the one he wants to share every moment with.

Waking up, getting ready, cooking, strolling to the grocery store, wandering through the park at dusk—all of it is with you. He can’t imagine it any other way.

💬: You—you are the exception.

THE DETAILS: Nothing escapes his notice. It’s the way he brews two cups of coffee for you both, the way he listens to every word you say as though it’s etched in his mind, even if it’s as simple as how your day went. After particularly hard days, he stays close. He peels a piece of fruit, splitting it in half to share, because everything tastes better when it’s with you. Damian cares for the small things.

💬: You’re definitely the only person I’d do this for.

A LOOK IN:

Initially uncomfortable with casual touches and public displays of affection, but gradually becomes more comfortable with you.

Despite his prickly exterior, he might research and perform elaborate traditional romantic gestures, believing relationships should be conducted “properly”, (he’s trying, give him a chance).

He believes himself to get a proper gentleman, so expect flowers every time you meet eachother, opening the door for you, carrying your things for you and so on.

I can imagine Damian quietly using Arabic terms of endearment for you without ever explaining their meaning, (I apologise if this is the wrong translation).

Referring to you as "حبيبي" (habibi/habibti - my love) under his breath ; Whispering "قلبي" (qalbi - my heart) when you’re not paying attention.

He loves sparring with you if you’re into it. Even if you're not a fighter, he’ll teach you little self-defense moves — mostly so he can say he’s “protecting you,” but really, it’s an excuse to spend more time with you.

He won’t smother you, but you’ll notice little things — walking on the outside of the sidewalk, casually steering you away from crowds, giving you his jacket without saying anything if it’s cold.

In public, he’s proud and composed. In private? He will practically lay on top of you like a cat, insisting he’s “simply resting” while he traps you under his weight.

The first time he introduces you to Titus, he watches like a hawk for your reaction. If Titus likes you, it’s practically a marriage proposal in Damian's mind.

Damian doesn’t date casually. If he’s with you, it’s serious. He thinks about the future with you — marriage, building a life, what he wants to protect with you by his side.

© petalbcrnes | all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are not allowed to be reposted, translated, or modified. viewer discretion is advised.

[sprenthecreator]

IMPURITIES EP. 1 | N.Y. State of Mind

Male reader x Yunjin, Chaewon

First chapter of this LSF mini-series.

word count: 8.3k 

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When HYBE made you sign that contract over two years ago, you had no idea that you were going to be managing five wild, unruly girls. If you had known, maybe your signature wouldn't have been on that piece of paper, but at that point in your life, you needed the job; it was either that or starve. Besides, as a frequent K-Pop fan, it really was your dream job, so there weren't many issues with it; it was perfect.

But you never imagined that at your age, you would feel so close to going gray because of the behavior of those girls.

Maybe you were exaggerating and being a little grumpy. After all, they were girls around your age, so you could easily put yourself in their shoes and understand what was going through their heads. However, with all that, there were things that you would never be able to understand in your life simply because you weren't a woman. It might sound sexist, but it was the only explanation you could find.

At first they were little angels, as always happened in such cases; you were a stranger to them, and of course they weren't going to behave like unruly teenagers from day one. But as the days went by—yes, days, not even months—, the ones who seemed to be well-behaved and obedient girls turned out to be a pain in the ass 70% of the time.

To be honest, you couldn't say you didn't love them all. They were unbearable most of the time, but they were also endearing, and you could say you considered them good friends. What other choice did you have? You couldn't be at odds with the girls you would spend seven years of your life with, so there had to be a joint effort on both sides to not make discord the status quo. The results were positive, and even though they continued to do their misdeeds, you had learned to tolerate them for your mental health.

Two years later you were practically a family, having gone through both ups and downs. The emotional journey had been intense and rough, both for you and them. The things you had to deal with were rubbish: tight schedules, physical and mental overload, and most often, tons of hate on social media from out-of-work mentally retarded people. But like the family you had become, you faced each adversity with a firm grip.

And now you were facing the most stressful thing an artist could go through: a damn tour. But not just a tour, also a performance at one of the biggest music festivals in the world, something that even you were terrified of, and if you were terrified, you couldn't even imagine how they felt at what would be one of the most important moments of their careers.

You were all excited, though. The arrival in Los Angeles was smooth and uneventful, both at the airport and later at the hotel. However, things started to go wrong the very next day, at the sound and stage checks for the festival. As a manager, it was your job to absorb the vast majority of those problems so that the girls didn't have to worry, but due to factors beyond your control, it ended up affecting them directly and therefore, it also affected their final performance.

It wasn't a great performance; everyone was disappointed, but you remained strong and encouraging for them to keep them from falling apart, especially in the days to come when social media was at its hate peak and the criticism just kept coming. It was part of your job, but more than a manager, those couple of days you were just a friend to them, and the bonds became even stronger. It was hard to have to get to the point of having to disable all comments on every platform, but it was the best measure you could suggest as a professional who looked after her artists.

Coachella aside, preparations for the rest of the tour were going great. There weren't too many dates due to scheduling issues for the next few months, when the girls would have to start preparing for their next comeback, so you would only visit a few big cities until next year, which is when you would go to Europe as well.

The first stop of the tour was none other than New York, the city where Yunjin had grown up. You had arrived from Los Angeles in the morning, and at noon you were already checking in at the Park Hyatt for your stay for the next three days. The day of arrival was free, then the next was the rehearsal at the venue and the last day was the concert.

"Okay, listen to me everyone," you said, standing in the middle of them with the room cards in hand. You were in the lobby, near one of the many bars in the hotel. "You have a room for each of you, but if you want to share that's your problem," you handed each of them their cards. "If you're going to leave the hotel please notify me or I’ll kill myself and then blame you in your dreams."

"I'm not planning on doing anything today," Sakura said, taking her card. "I'm exhausted and I just want to finish knitting the hat I was making."

"Can you teach me?" Eunchae asked, standing next to Kura and holding onto her arm.

"What, knitting?" Sakura looked at her. Eunchae just nodded with a pair of bright, excited eyes. "Alright, I'll see what I can do."

"I'm playing Overwatch with a friend later," Kazuha said. "So I won't be going out either."

"What friend?" you asked, out of curiosity.

"That's not your problem, why do you want to know?"

You sighed.

"I'm literally just asking."

Chaewon and Yunjin were muttering things to each other, between giggles and knowing glances. You looked at them with a raised eyebrow.

"And what about you two, anything to say?"

They both looked at you with their arms linked, their eyes innocent and their lips pursed to keep from laughing.

"Nope, nothing," Yunjin shook her head.

"You're lying," you looked at Chaewon. "You're going out tonight, aren't you?"

"We already told you no!" she protested. "Why would you distrust us?"

"I can list the reasons and finish tomorrow."

"Oh come on, you're exaggerating," Yunjin patted your chest a couple of times. "We're not going out, really."

"Yeah, we're just going to eat snacks and watch a couple movies," Chaewon nodded.

You narrowed your eyes and looked at both of them for a few seconds. Suspicious, too suspicious. You weren't sure if they were really going out, but they were up to something, that much was obvious.

"Fine, I'll choose to believe you," you said. "Now go, I have a meeting with the venue staff and I can't be late."

The girls went to their rooms, and you asked one of your assistants to take your luggage to yours. The meeting was an hour long, but you had to be there at least twenty minutes early, so you hurried out of the hotel to the venue, to arrange everything related to the logistics of tomorrow and the day of the concert.

The meeting in question started at 1 in the afternoon and ended at 4. Then you and part of your team went to lunch, and at around 7 you were back at the hotel. Your day was not over yet, but the rest of your work could be done calmly from the comfort of your room.

Upon going up and entering your room you went straight to take a shower, then put your laptop on the desk next to the hallway and got to work, with headphones on and a can of Monster that you had bought during lunch.

Your inbox was full, and you were a bit of a workaholic, so you immediately locked in and got going. In these situations you always lost track of time, which was pretty unhealthy but you couldn't help it no matter how hard you tried. But you had to admit that this time you had gone too far, because it was 3 in the fucking morning.

There were still some things to attend to, but it was time to draw the line and set a limit, because otherwise you would end up seeing the sunrise when the next day you should be in full physical and mental prime. So you closed your laptop, rubbed your eyes and took off your headphones before standing up.

Whenever you went to sleep after sitting for a long time you had the habit of taking a walk to stretch your legs, and since there was no space in your room to do it comfortably, you opted for the hotel hallways. So you grabbed your phone, a small jar of M&M's, and left the room.

As expected, the hallways at that hour were deserted. To other people it would have seemed spooky, but to you it was relaxing for the simple fact that no noise pollution of any kind reached your ears, just the sound of the ventilation and the videos you occasionally watched on Twitter at low volume.

But soon you were no longer alone. Just as you reached the elevator to turn around and go back to your room, the elevator dinged and the doors swung wide open.

What you didn't expect was that the ones coming out of there would be two hot girls in cocktail mini dresses and high heels, and that...

Wait a fucking minute.

"Oh this has to be a fucking joke," you sighed, bringing your hands up to your face to lift your head and run both through your hair.

"M-Manager-nim, uhm, we can explain!" Chaewon hurried to say, exiting the elevator with Yunjin.

“Don’t talk to me,” you said, holding up a finger. You didn’t want to know anything, so you turned around and started walking back to your room.

“No, wait!” Yunjin said, chasing after you. “Where are you going? U-Uh… What are you going to do?”

“I said don’t talk to me,” you replied, looking ahead. The two of them walked behind you, right behind your shoulders. “I’ll report you to HYBE so you can get into trouble.”

"No! Please don't!" Chaewon pleaded, shaking your arm slightly. "No no no! We're sorry!"

"It was my idea!" Yunjin snapped. "It's just that if we told you what we were going to do, you wouldn't let us!"

"I wonder why," you said. "I can smell the alcohol coming off of you two."

"We're not even drunk!" Chaewon said. "I swear! Please forgive us!"

"I don't care, you crossed the line," you shook your head. "It would have been easier if you had just been honest with me from the start."

"So you refused to let us out?" Yunjin asked, defiant. "It was easier to just sneak out and be done with it! And besides, what the hell are you doing up at this hour?"

"Managing your reckless ass and looking out for your future. But I see you don't care about that."

At that moment you arrived in front of your door, but before you could put your hand on the knob, Chaewon stepped in between to stop you. Your bodies were very close, and only then did you pay attention to how she was dressed. It was a short, tight black dress, with a considerable neckline and long sleeves that went from her shoulders to cover her hands. She looked so hot in it that it distracted you for a moment, but not enough to forget your mission.

“Kim Chaewon, step aside,” you demanded.

“Aniyo,” she shook her head.

“Oh come on, manager-nim,” you heard Yunjin say quietly behind you, close to your ear. She put her hands on your shoulders and squeezed them gently. “Why don’t you relax a little?”

“Don’t tell me to relax when you guys lied to me so blatantly,” you replied, still looking at Chaewon. “Get out of the way.”

Chaewon glanced at Yunjin over your shoulder and showed a hint of a smile, before stepping away from your door and closing the small distance between you.

“We already told you we were sorry, manager-nim,” Chaewon said, placing a hand on your chest. You felt her breath against yours. “There’s no need to be so grumpy.”

She very subtly pressed her body tight against yours, looking into your eyes with slightly parted lips. You knew perfectly well her intentions because you were no fool, and you wanted to respectfully push her away and enter your room, but a stronger part of you kept your feet rooted there.

“Chaewon-ah…” you sighed, trying to change her mind.

Yunjin pressed herself against you as well, making you feel her chest against your back. She wrapped one arm around your abdomen and slipped the other hand into the left pocket of your sweatpants.

"Why don't you come with us to the pool so you can reconsider this whole thing?" the redhead asked in your ear.

"Yeah, I think all those emails have saturated your mind," Chaewon said, wrapping her arms around your neck. One hand stayed on your shoulder and the other went up to ruffle your hair. "Let us help you clear your head a little."

Before you could say anything, Yunjin lowered her hand from your abdomen and brought it to your bulge, just rubbing it up and down with her palm. Then any desire you had to go to your room and write that email vanished. Still, you didn't want to get too proactive just yet, you wanted to keep some of your dignity and see how far they would take it.

"So? What do you say?" Yunjin insisted, slowly making you hard. "You coming with us?"

Again the words got caught in your mouth when Chaewon suddenly pulled you into a kiss. Everything happened too fast for you to resist, and before you knew it you were wrapped up in a sensual kiss with her, your hands on that small sexy waist. Yunjin was now massaging your already hard cock, her head on the side of yours as she watched you and Chaewon kiss. That was what finally got you into the whole deal.

“You know this is wrong, right?” you asked against Chaewon’s lips, and you turned around to face Yunjin, who thanks to her heels was just as tall as you. Her dress was even shorter than Chaewon’s: burgundy velvet, strapless and an A-line skirt, perfect for showing off that perfect pair of legs. “Not only because I’m your manager, but because you have a sound check later.”

Yunjin put a hand on your shoulder and pressed herself against you. You instinctively wrapped one arm around her waist to hold her. It should have put you off by the fact that you'd never touched her like that in two years, but fuck, you were two people almost the same age, and she was a hot girl; you weren't going to miss that golden opportunity no matter how upset you were with the two of them.

"I've been on more important errands on less sleep, honey," she said, running the tip of her tongue along the side of her upper lip. Her hand still playing with your cock over your sweatpants. "So I don't care."

"Yeah, I know you don't care," you said before kissing her.

Yunjin had probably the most attractive lips you had ever seen, and it didn't surprise you that she knew how to use them so well in a kiss. Your heads went from side to side, as you tasted each other's lips and filled the hallway with wet sounds. Her hand squeezed your bulge and rubbed the outline of your cock, and you just lowered your hand from her waist to her left ass cheek and left it there.

"Hey, hurry up," Chaewon said from behind you. She had you by the waist, giving you little kisses on the back of your neck. "I want to cool off in the pool."

Yunjin pulled away from your lips and looked at Chaewon over your shoulder.

"You and I both know that's not what you want," she said with a giggle, and looked at you. "You're in then?"

"You guys dragged me in," you corrected her. "And I already have my hand on your ass. Now I have no choice."

"Then let's go!" Chaewon said, and she moved out from between you and the door to walk towards the elevator.

Yunjin gave you a couple more small kisses and took your hand to lead you to follow Chaewon. Once inside the elevator, she cornered you against the back wall and kissed you again with her hands on your neck. You returned the kiss, taking her by the waist. A few seconds later Chaewon stood to your left, and you moved away from Yunjin's lips to grab the blonde by the face and crash your lips against hers.

The floor where the pool wasn’t too high, so the kiss didn't last long. Once the elevator doors opened, the three of you walked out to a small hall before the pool area on the left. Behind the counter was only a girl who worked at the hotel. She looked up from her phone and watched you walk towards her.

"Oh, sorry, the pool is closed guys," the girl said.

"Yeah honey, we know," Yunjin said ahead, going to lean against the counter with her purse on the top. From there she pulled out five $100 bills and slid them towards the girl. "Why don't you go take a break for an hour and let us keep watch? Oh, and leave us three towels please."

The girl stared at the bills for a few long seconds until she reluctantly took them.

"You better not make a mess and not make any noise," she warned, pulling the towels out from behind the counter for you. "Because you'll get me in trouble."

"You don't have to worry, sweetheart," Yunjin said as the girl got up from her chair and walked around the counter. "We'll be ghosts."

"Just hurry up," the girl reiterated, going to take the elevator.

As the girl waited for the elevator, Yunjin led you and Chaewon by the hand towards the beautiful pool area. The first thing that stood out to you was the huge wall of windows right in front of your eyes, and the series of cube-shaped pendant lights that hung from the high ceiling and ran from one end of the pool to the other. But the overall atmosphere was modern and intimate, with the white lights of both the pool and the lower ceiling area where you were at a dim level, making a gorgeous combination with the gray matte porcelain floor and the marble walls and pillars.

Yunjin went to leave the towels on the chairs to the right, in a small raised area with white light below that had a few lounge chairs; she left the towels piled on one of them and went with Chaewon to the pool, which was L-shaped with the bottom cut out. They approached the stairs, took off their heels and dipped their feet in the water to stand on the first step.

"Oh god, the water is freezing," Chaewon said with a giggle, while Yunjin pulled her hair up into a high bun.

"It's perfect for washing down the alcohol, whatever," Yunjin said, then turned to look at you. "Ready for a little show?"

"At this point I won't be surprised by anything you two do," you replied from the raised area, arms crossed.

False. You wish you hadn't said that so you wouldn't look like a fool, as Chaewon and Yunjin both pulled their dresses up over their breasts, quite efficiently tucking the skirts at the neckline so that it held up like a top. This revealed both pairs of delicious bodies to you, as the only thing they were wearing were their respective panties. Chaewon's were white, thong-like ones. And Yunjin's were high-waisted black cheeky ones.

"What happened, manager-nim?" Chaewon asked with a giggle, seeing how you were stunned by their half naked bodies. "I thought nothing would surprise you."

"Yeah, well..." you couldn't find anything to say, and you definitely couldn't stop staring at them.

Yunjin and Chaewon laughed and went together into the pool, which was the perfect height for the three of you. While Chaewon's was shoulder-high, Yunjin's was just below her breasts. You went with them as they swam to the long end of the pool, rolling your sweatpants up to your knees, taking off your slippers, and sitting on the edge with your feet in the water.

"Huh? What are you doing there?" Yunjin asked, swimming to your feet. Chaewon swam backwards behind her, careful not to get her hair too wet. "Aren't you coming with us?" She grabbed your ankles, and you felt it as a warning.

"Uhm, I'm actually freezing," you replied, trying to get out of the situation. "I could catch a cold and die."

"Why worry about the cold when we can keep you warm down here?" Yunjin insisted, stroking your calves up and down. “Or did you forget why you came with us in the first place?”

Yunjin moved one of her hands up your calf to your crotch to meet your newly formed erection because of them. She squeezed it between her fingers and massaged it. 

You sighed.

“Are you really going to make me enter those Antarctic waters?” you asked, tilting your head.

“Oh yeah,” she nodded, biting her lip. “Unless you don’t want to get wet with us.”

“Some emotional blackmail you put on, woman,” you shook your head, and reluctantly stood up to take off your hoodie and sweatpants. Now in your boxers, you sat back down on the edge of the pool and slid in.

You gritted your teeth, tensed your body, and closed your eyes to keep from complaining, because the water was so cold that you felt it soak into your bones and freeze them. Yunjin immediately hugged you, both her arms and legs wrapped around your torso. You hugged her back, delighted to be able to feel that delicious body and that soft skin under your fingers.

"I know, I know..." Yunjin murmured, seeing that you were having a hard time with the water temperature. She made sure to be pressed against you, with as much skin as possible against yours. "Let me warm you up, manager-nim," she gave you a soft kiss. "Although I know a way to warm you up even more."

Chaewon swam to your back and hugged you and Yunjin at the same time, her chin resting on your left shoulder.

"And what way would that be?" You asked, already feeling more relieved to be in the middle of that sandwich. Your hands moved down from her waist to her buttocks, giving them a light squeeze and rubbing them up and down.

"Don't play dumb, manager-nim," Chaewon said in your ear, and slipped a hand between your body and Yunjin's to bring it inside your boxers. She grabbed your cock and held it between her fingers. "You know the answer, so you're going to say it."

"Yeah, but we know you well, and we know you won't say it that easily," Yunjin said. "So we're going to make you say it."

You chuckled.

"Are you going to drown me in the pool every time I refuse or what?"

Chaewon's response was to yank your boxers down, releasing your throbbing cock under the water. She wrapped her fingers around it, and slowly began to masturbate you. You gasped, and Yunjin smirked, unwrapping her legs from around your torso to press herself against the side of your body, leaving room for Chaewon to comfortably move her hand.

“Tell me something, manager-nim,” Chaewon murmured, giving you pecks on the side of your neck and then catching your earlobe between her lips. “In these two years, have you ever masturbated thinking about us?”

The question left you as cold as the pool water did when you got in, and your well-known answer made you blush. They were four of the stupidest hottest girls you had ever seen in your life, and they were all recently at their peak of hotness; it had to happen sooner or later for you.

“I...” you took a deep breath, trying not to look Yunjin in the eyes out of embarrassment.

“You have, huh?” Yunjin said, her gaze fixed on you. She held onto your shoulders with one arm while rubbing your abdomen with the other. "You don't have to be ashamed... it's not like we blame you. I've been given outfits that leave little to the imagination."

"How did you imagine us, manager nim?" Chaewon asked in a sexy murmur, still moving her hand on your cock. "Doggy style? From behind against the wall? Us riding you?"

"Or maybe sucking your cock?" Yunjin said, to spread kisses on your cheek near your lips. "Did you imagine my pretty lips around it?"

"I'm sure you also imagined yourself pounding my tight pussy," Chaewon said, moving her hand faster. Yunjin replaced it a couple seconds later.

"Or me jumping on your cock," the redhead said, jerking you off at a fast, steady pace. "Come on, don't be shy, manager-nim. Tell us."

"Please, manager-nim," Chaewon moaned into your ear, massaging your balls before replacing Yunjin's hand with her own. "We want to know."

You would have loved to be able to say something, but Chaewon was moving her hand so well on your cock that you were lost in the limbo of the physical and spiritual realm. You were brought out of your trance by her abruptly stopping her hand from moving.

"Ugh, no!" you whined, clenching your fists. Yunjin and Chaewon giggled.

"Then answer," Yunjin said, circling your tip with her index finger. "Have you masturbated to us or not?"

"Fuck, yes," you huffed. "More times than I'd like to admit."

Yunjin was the one in charge of grabbing your cock again and resuming the handjob, now faster.

"See? It wasn't that hard," Yunjin said with a giggle.

"You're such a pervert, manager-nim," Chaewon said, kissing your neck, while her hands roamed your chest. "Why don't we go outside and let us finish the work? Then maybe we can fulfill some of your little fantasies."

"What if the worker comes?" you said between gasps, since Yunjin was still jerking you off. "I don't want to get kicked out of the hotel with two days left here in New York."

"It's only been 10 minutes," Yunjin said, and let go of your cock. "We've got a good while left to have some fun."

"Then hurry up and get out," you said, trying to get out of the way of the two of them.

Chaewon and Yunjin stepped away from you and swam towards the pool stairs. You followed close behind. As you climbed out of the water you took the lead, heading straight to the small raised area near the exit to grab a towel and dry yourself off as much as you could, having to remove your boxers so as not to wet the lounge chair once you lay down on it. The girls certainly didn't mind, in fact they followed your lead and removed their panties, keeping their dresses bunched up around their chests.

They knelt on their lounge chairs facing you, and bent forward to bring their faces close to your cock, giving you a hot view of their arched backs and wonderfully raised cakes. You weren't shy at all, and as they peppered each side of your shaft with kisses and licks, you groped and squeezed their ass cheeks.

"Fuck, you have a very juicy cock, manager-nim," Chaewon panted, one hand on your thigh and the other around the base of your cock.

"I always knew he was packed," Yunjin said, stroking your cock from the middle up. You looked at her with a frown. "I should have seduced him earlier; now I see I had it pretty easy."

"Are you calling me a slut?" you asked between gasps, making them laugh.

"Considering how quickly you gave in," she shrugged and pondered the answer for a moment. "Yes."

Before you could answer Chaewon took you into her mouth, slowly pumping her head for a few inches and making you gasp. Yunjin joined in by using her tongue on your base and balls. You leaned forward a little, so you could extend your arms further and get your fingers between their ass cheeks and finger their pussies.

Chaewon moaned around your cock, quickly taking as much of your length into her small mouth as she could to pump faster and faster. A few seconds later she pulled out, giving way to Yunjin's perfect lips, which wrapped around your tip and went halfway down before coming back, in a pace that soon became fast and messy.

You rubbed your fingers between their soft and already wet folds as you watched Chaewon give you a sloppy blowjob, in aid of Yunjin's tongue and lips on the rest of your shaft. You didn't want to cum too fast to prolong that experience as much as possible, so you looked up and left your gaze on the cube-shaped lamps while you gasped.

But as hard as you were trying, Chaewon and Yunjin forced you to watch as they both slurped the saliva they themselves left on your cock, over and over again in a toe curling double blowjob that had you moaning like the slut Yunjin said you were. A few long seconds passed, until you couldn't control it, and you came as they were making out with your tip in the middle.

"Oh god!" You moaned, watching as Yunjin and Chaewon were still kissing each other even as your cum poured out in thick rivers and stained their tongues and mouths. They lapped up every drop, glad to swallow as much of your load as they could before using their mouths to get your cock clean and shiny again.

You didn't wait for either of them to say anything before you got up from your chair and went to kneel on the floor behind Chaewon, grabbing her firm ass cheeks and planting your face between them.

"Oh fuck!" she moaned in a small start, feeling your tongue move up and down her folds. "You were hungry for it weren't you?"

"You have no idea how much," you replied, squeezing her ass cheeks and eating her pussy like deep down you always wanted to do.

Within a few seconds Chaewon let her moans flow, soon drowned out by a kiss against Yunjin's lips. You devoured that tight pussy with devotion, with the sole goal of making her feel as good as she had made you feel just a couple of minutes ago. She let you know you were doing a good job by twisting her hips and pushing them back, urging you to keep going until you made her cum.

Her climax came not long after, thanks to the quick licks you gave to her clit and the intense way you groped her ass. She fell back with her hands braced against the chair Yunjin was on, writhing between cute moans and spasms.

“My god!” Chaewon groaned as you licked and kissed between her folds. “Why did you never say I was this good at eating pussy?!”

“I remind you that I’m your manager, Kim Chaewon,” you said, and stood up to spank her. An intrusive thought you let win. “I don’t think it would have been appropriate to tell you two days after your debut.”

“Ugh why now we women are the ones who have to make the first move!” she whined, now lying on her side to look at you with that adorable, usual expression she made when she got angry.

"I wasn't going to risk my career on whether you wanted cock or not. Don't be a bitch," you said, and walked around the front of the chairs to climb onto Yunjin's, who immediately hugged you by the neck and kissed you, pressing your torsos together and making your cock rub against her lower abdomen.

After a few seconds of making out with Yunjin you grabbed her by the thighs and made her sit down, with her back against the slanted back of the chair. You sat on the lower edge with your knees resting on the floor, leaning forward and bringing your mouth directly to Yunjin's pussy.

"Oh fuck yeah," Yunjin moaned, one hand on your head as you ate her out. "I should sneak around more often if this is the result."

"Don't push your fucking luck," you muttered, making her laugh. "If you want me to eat your pussy you just have to ask me nicely."

Yunjin moaned as you reached her clit and sucked gently on it.

"Mmmgh, really?" she asked, arching her back a little.

You smiled.

"Yeah, just fax me and get in line."

"Son of a bitch!" Yunjin squealed in annoyance and pulled at your hair, but her anger didn't last long as it didn't stop you from trying to give her the best pussy eating of her life.

Yunjin relaxed in the chair, leaning back and with her legs wide open to let you work. As the seconds passed she became more restless: she arched her back, tugged at your hair and breathed more heavily, until she ended up enclosing your head between her thighs. The grip was strong, with her calves crossed on your back, and you felt your head about to explode, but that was just like coal to your boiler.

"Fuck! Mmmgh!" Yunjin moaned, fingers clenching in your hair as you attacked her pussy mercilessly. “Right there manager-nim, yes, yes!”

Seconds later Yunjin exploded in your mouth, lifting her pelvis and holding onto your head with both hands. She bucked in her chair, moaning maybe a little too loudly, so you reached up and covered her mouth with your hand as her orgasm passed. When it did, she released your head and you pulled away from her pussy.

“Let’s go to my room right now,” you said, standing up to go get your clothes.

“What, why?” Chaewon asked. “We still have like half an hour.”

“If I fuck you guys the way I want to I’ll lose track of time,” you replied, picking up your sweatpants to put them on without your boxers as they were still wet. “And I don’t want the worker to come and find us in the middle of intercourse.”

"Yeah, that's fair," Chaewon said, and stood up to grab a towel and wrap it around her waist.

Once you were dressed you went to help Yunjin stand up and do the same as Chaewon did. You then grabbed all the wet underwear, wrung it out in a corner and carried it in your hand as the three of you left the pool area heading for the elevator. Upon reaching your floor you rushed to your room, and once inside, the two of them removed both their towels and what was left of their dresses from their bodies to jump into bed.

You stripped down at lightning speed and climbed into bed with them. Chaewon greeted you with her legs spread as you climbed on top of her to kiss her, wrapping her arms and legs around you. Yunjin settled on the left side next to Chaewon, and reached between your bodies to reach for your cock and stroke it; she had it hard in a moment, and without either of you asking, she took it inside Chaewon's pussy.

Chaewon squealed, and bit your lip unintentionally in shock. She dug her nails into your scalp, slightly tense as your cock forced its way between the tight walls of her pussy. You continued to kiss her, stifling moans of satisfaction until you finished with your entire length inside her.

"Mmmgh, manager-nim?" Chaewon moaned against your lips.

"Yes?" you gasped.

"Next time be a little bolder and ask me," she panted, stroking the hair on the back of your neck. "I can't believe I'm finding this out two years later."

"Or I could just sneak into your room and fuck you like the whore you are every chance I get," you replied in a sarcastic tone, beginning to move slowly.

"Oh, would you do that?" Chaewon asked with a giggle.

"Jeez, you're hopeless," you shook your head, moving from her lips to her neck to kiss it.

"You can always pretend you have an emergency and woosh! Catch him," Yunjin said from your left, kissing the other side of Chaewon's neck.

"Great Jennifer, give her ideas," you said between gasps, enjoying the way that tight pussy suffocated your cock every time it went inside. "As if I don't have enough with all the shit you two do on a daily basis already."

"You're overreacting, manager-nim," Chaewon moaned, tightening her grip on your torso, hands now on your neck. "We're not that unruly. But you made a big mistake, because now we're really gonna be bad bitches for this cock."

Mother of god, where the fuck have you gotten yourself into?

You forced Chaewon to release your torso and straightened your back to put her legs open, one over Yunjin, and with your hands on her thighs you began to go harder and harder. Chaewon sought out Yunjin's lips, and the two of them shared a steamy, sexy kiss as you fucked her pussy and made her moan against the redhead's lips.

Yunjin played with Chaewon's perky tits, pinching her nipples and massaging her mounds in the process, then moving her hand down her abdomen and to her pussy to rub her clit in quick circles. Chaewon pulled away from Yunjin's lips and arched her back, holding Yunjin's head with one arm and clutching a pillow over her head with the other.

"Does that feel good, Chaewonie?" Yunjin asked, bringing her mouth closer to one of Chaewon's tits to suck on it, circling her clit faster. You thrust harder, pounding that pussy between moans and with your fingers digging into her thighs.

"It's the best cock I've ever had in my fucking life!" Chaewon moaned, her mouth parted and her eyes fixed on you. "Please don't stop!"

Yunjin focused on licking Chaewon's nipple and moving her fingers faster, while you leaned forward a little just so you could thrust faster. Chaewon started moaning so loud that the very pillow she was clinging to became her muzzle, which she bit down on before covering her face with. An instant later she uncovered her face and exploded with a squeal, squeezing your cock as her orgasm made her shudder.

"Mmmm that's so fucking hot," Yunjin groaned, and got on her hands and knees beside Chaewon to reach over to her crotch, pulling your cock out of her pussy and bringing it into her mouth to suck on it for a few seconds. "You want me to ride you?" she asked.

"Who wouldn't want to be ridden by you?" you asked, and she smiled slowly stroking your cock.

"Wow, you're getting more and more points every time," she giggled. "This was quite a triple."

Yunjin made room for you to lay down in her spot with your head on the pillow. Already settled she straddled you, her pussy pressed against the back of your cock. She made eye contact with you as she untied her hair, and as she let it go she placed her hands on your chest and slowly ground her hips back and forth to rub your intimacies together.

"Are you gonna keep teasing me, Jennifer?" you asked with your hands on her thighs, looking into her eyes.

"Why? Are you desperate to be inside me, manager-nim?" she asked back and bent over you, running her hands up to cup your face. You brought your hands to her waist and then to her ass to squeeze it. "I think you want it even more than I do."

"You better shut the fuck up," you said, and reached for your cock to press it between Yunjin's folds. She giggled, and cooperated by slowly lowering her hips until she was fully impaled on your shaft.

"Oh god this feels better than I expected," Yunjin moaned with her ass resting on your pelvis and her hands on your shoulders. "I hope you know you just created a monster."

"I remind you again that I'm your manager, woman," you panted as she began to move up and down. "You're playing with fire and you might burn me by accident."

"Don't be like that, baby," she panted, giving you small kisses as she moved gradually harder. You had her red hair all over your face, but that and you groping her ass only made it hotter. "No one has to find out, right? It'll be our little secret."

“As you wish,” you replied, squeezing her ass cheeks before dropping your hands to the sides of her lower back. “But if it starts to affect your career or mine I will turn you off immediately.”

“Deal,” Yunjin said with a smirk, and crashed her lips against yours before going wild.

Yunjin grabbed your face and stuck her tongue inside your mouth, seeking to take control of the kiss. You happily gave in, content to let her do whatever she wanted with you as long as she kept moving on your cock, with those hip movements that were slow, deep, and deadly. After a few seconds she moved to your neck, to fill it with sucks, kisses, and finally biting you. She cried out when you spanked her with both hands, which prompted her to move faster and with less control.

"Hey, don't even think about leaving me out," you heard Chaewon say on the left, and she somewhat roughly pushed Yunjin off your chest to climb on top of you and sit on your face with her calves on your arms.

With your view now blocked by Chaewon's ass you had no choice but to adapt to the situation and put your mouth and hands to work. She pushed her hips back, smothering you between her perfect ass cheeks, which you held onto to spread  them and allow yourself to breathe while you ate her pussy.

"Can't you stop seeking attention for five minutes?" Yunjin asked Chaewon, planting her feet on the mattress to squat on your cock, fast and hard. "Oh god I was riding him so good!"

"And now you're bouncing on his cock," Chaewon replied between moans, her hands on your chest. You could hear her sharing sloppy kisses with Yunjin. "What's the fucking difference?"

“That I like looking into guys' eyes while I ride them!” Yunjin protested, moaning louder and louder as she bounced faster on your cock.

Chaewon didn’t say anything else as the two of them began to kiss and muffle their moans against each other’s lips until Yunjin came, grinding her hips with your cock buried deep in her pussy and shaking on top of you. Her orgasm having passed, Yunjin climbed off you and collapsed to the side. Chaewon then raised her hips and knelt beside your head.

“Manager-nim,” Chaewon told you as you sat up, staring at you with those puppy subby eyes. “You’re not going to tell HYBE anything about us sneaking out tonight, are you?”

You looked at her with a poker face.

"What kind of dishonest man do you take me for? Of course not," you replied, brushing a lock of sweaty blonde hair from her cheek. "Next time just tell me and I'll go with you."

Chaewon's eyes lit up like two cute lanterns.

"Really?"

"Aha," you nodded. "Only if you're a good girl and get on your hands and knees for me."

Chaewon complied with the order and turned around to bend forward and rest her hands on the mattress, knees apart and ass raised high for you. You positioned yourself behind her, and with one hand on her waist you went back inside the tightest pussy you'd ever been in. She looked at you over her shoulder and hugged the same pillow from a moment ago tightly, biting it the moment you started to thrust.

The view you had was perfect, and enviable to the you of a few months ago, who could only access it through a very lucky wet dream. But now it was for real: you had a hot view of Kim Chaewon, with that appetizing ass that looked small but whose shape was perfect, and that milky attractive back that had you salivating since the Smart stages.

"Go hard, honey," Chaewon moaned, still looking at you. "Please forget your position and fuck me like I'm all yours."

"Oh, if you insist that much," you nodded slowly, and let out a spank so hard that the shape of your hand was instantly marked in red. Chaewon squealed into the pillow. You then started going really hard on her, making the sound of her ass slapping against your pelvis reverberate through your room.

"Fuck! Just like that!" Chaewon squealed, and buried her face into the pillow. You gave her another spank to make her scream. "Fuck!! More!" another spank. "MORE!!"

One more spank, and this time you grabbed a handful of her blonde hair and pulled it back, in turn separating Chaewon's face from the pillow. Now her moans were fully audible as you pounded her pussy like she was a human fleshlight.

Yunjin had already recovered, and without asking Chaewon's permission, she did her best to get under her and stack their pussies together. Before the baby tiger could protest, Yunjin began kissing every corner of her face and neck to make her melt quite efficiently, as Chaewon was still entirely focused on you and your cock.

"God you are such a pillow slut," Yunjin teased Chaewon, grabbing her ass cheeks and spanking her in the same spots as you. "A little more and you'll be calling him daddy."

"Stop giving her ideas, Jennifer!" you growled through clenched teeth at how good Chaewon's pussy felt in that position.

"I'm gonna cum daddy! Mmmgh fuck!!" Chaewon squealed, burying her face in Yunjin's neck.

"Late," Yunjin laughed looking at you. You just shook your head. "It's your fault for falling into our trap."

"Listen here you little piece of..." you said, being interrupted by Chaewon's orgasm and cute whimpers. You placed a hand on her lower back, fucking her slowly until her body stopped shaking. Then you pulled out of her pussy to switch directly to Yunjin's.

"Hey!" Yunjin squealed when you got balls deep inside her again. "Warn me!"

"For what?" you raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure you got down there because you were desperate for me to be inside you again."

Yunjin blushed and rolled her eyes, which was enough to prove you right. You smiled, and grabbed her thighs to press them against Chaewon's. With her, you took off at full speed from the start, already in search of your own climax, which was only getting closer by leaps and bounds.

Yunjin clung to Chaewon with her arms around her neck, moaning in her ear as you hammered her pussy even harder than Chaewon. Sweat was already pouring down your temples, proof that you were giving it your all when you were already exhausted after so many hours of work. It was definitely worth it, because just like Chaewon's, Yunjin's pussy felt so good that it made you use energy reserves you didn't even know you had.

But what kept you going at your best wasn't that, it was the possibility of seeing those two girls go crazy with pleasure thanks to you, and Yunjin's face being fucked mercilessly was like an expensive piece of art in the Louvre museum, especially when a couple of minutes later she came for the second time on your cock.

"Dear fucking lord please cum honey!" Yunjin screamed as you fucked her like an animal through her orgasm. "Oh my god cum!!"

Seconds later, when you felt yourself about to explode, you quickly pulled yourself out of her and went to kneel right next to both of their heads. They both turned their faces towards you, and stuck their tongues out as you stroked your cock rapidly, until with a loud moan you exploded.

The thick strings of cum came out in strong jets and landed on both of their angelic faces, every corner being painted white and getting sticky. What fell on Chaewon's face spilled onto Yunjin's, who collected most of the drops in a pool on her tongue. By the time your climax passed those two were a mess, so covered in cum that Chaewon kept one eye closed and Yunjin had her lips stuffed.

"Oh my god..." you gasped, mesmerized by the sight. "Stay there."

Even though you felt on the verge of collapse, your protective manager instinct kicked in and you were forced to go to the bathroom to get some toilet paper and help them clean themselves up. But as you did so, you realized something that you hadn't realized in all the fuss, something that left you staring into space.

Sakura's room was right next door.

Shit.

[wonderlandwalker]

Developments

𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 / 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 / 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 / 𝐩𝐭. 𝐈𝐈

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: steve harrington x reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.7k 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Steve keeps finding Polaroids of you in… compromising positions. Each one burns hotter than the last, until his ‘just friends’ act is ashes 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: pining, explicit language and insinuations, pure smut too, Steve is a disaster really, hurt, comfort and whole nine yards of my ramblings, au where mario kart existed in the 80's

𝐚/𝐧: had an anxiety attack while abroad in Germany. Slept for 14 hours. Debated deleting my blog. Wrote this instead

The first time it happens, Steve is three beers deep at The Hideout, loose-limbed and laughing at something Robin just said—something crude, probably, given the way Eddie’s wheezing into his whisky, shoulders shaking. Steve’s still grinning when he reaches into his jacket pocket for his lighter, fingers searching for the familiar shape.

Instead, they brush against something stiff.

What the hell?

He pulls it out under the dim, beer-stained lights of the bar, and—

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

It’s you.

Not just you—your bare skin glowing in the grainy tint of a Polaroid, the flash catching every curve, every shadow. One knee is drawn up, giving way to the perfect view, and your arm is thrown across your face like you couldn’t bear to be seen. But your mouth—Christ, your mouth is open in silent ecstasy, lips swollen and parted, and your fingers—

Jesus Christ.

Your fingers are buried in your cunt, working deep like you’re trying to feed an insatiable ache, the wet shine unmistakable even in the cheap film. His throat goes dry. His pulse kicks so hard he can feel it in his fucking teeth. Eddie says something then, some smartass remark that has Robin snorting into her drink, but Steve doesn’t hear it. Doesn’t care. All he can think about is how you’re sitting right across from him, legs crossed, sipping your drink and quipping back like it’s the most normal evening in the world. He slaps the photo face down against his thigh, grip so tight the edges crumple.

How the hell did this get in here?

He doesn’t remember you giving it to him. Doesn’t remember touching it, period. But now that he’s seen it, he can’t unsee it—the curve of your hip, the desperate arch of your back, the way your brows were scrunched together like you were right on the edge—

Stop.

He shoves it back into his pocket, but it’s too late. The image is seared into his skull—it’s just a stupid Polaroid, but now it’s all he can think about. His pulse thrums under his skin, restless and too warm. He shouldn’t be this affected. He shouldn’t. But his traitorous mind keeps circling back to it— how easy it would be to move closer, to let his hands settle where they’ve been itching to go, to see if your breath would catch the way he imagines it would. All he can think about is how badly he wants to tiptoe that thin line between friendship and sex, but it’s a dangerous game. One he’s played before and lost spectacularly. He knows the rules—knows how quickly almost turns into too much, how just friends becomes we shouldn’t have done that in the space of a single reckless moment.

But god, the temptation is killing him.

The way your knee brushes against his under the table like it’s an accident, but he knows it’s not. The way you lick salt off the rim of your margarita, eyes locked on his, like you’re waiting for him to break first. The way you shift just slightly, just enough for him to catch the ghost of a smirk—like you know exactly what he’s picturing.

It’s a slippery slope he’s sworn off.

Or at least, he tried to. But then you catch his eye, lips quirking like you can read every filthy thought racing through his head, and—Fuck. He’s too far gone already.

The following four days, Steve lives in a special kind of hell. The photo should’ve been forgettable. Just some stray Polaroid lost in the chaos of his life—another piece of clutter tossed onto the pile of things he doesn’t have the energy to deal with.

But it’s not. It’s you, branded into his brain with the precision of a lit match pressed to skin. No amount of pretending—no amount of jerking off in the shower with his forehead braced against the tile, teeth gritted around your name—dulls the ache. If anything, it makes it worse. Every time he closes his eyes, there you are.

The worst part?  Nothing’s changed. You still sling your legs over his lap like it’s nothing, like you hadn’t ruined him with a single fucking square of film. No sly glances, no secretive smirks. Just normal, like you haven’t been haunting his dreams with your fingers between—

God. He’s losing his goddamn mind.

The next one hits him like a slap to the face. He’s rummaging through the disaster zone of his coffee table—shoving aside empty beer cans, a half-eaten bag of chips, a crumpled pack of cigarettes—when his fingers brush against something that isn’t his keys. Cold dread slithers down his spine even before he pulls it free.

Another fucking picture.

It steals the air from his lungs.

You.

On your back, sheets a mess beneath you, your hair fanned out like some kind of halo. The angle is intimate, almost reverent—the curve of your bare hip, the dip of your waist, the way your fingers dig into your own thighs, holding yourself open.

Wet.

Exposed.

Your head is tipped back, lips parted around a moan he can almost hear, eyes half-lidded, lost in it. The flush on your chest, the way your body arches—like you’re caught in the thick of pleasure, like you’re drowning in it. Steve’s not sure if he’s surprised or jealous or just furious that he wasn’t the one to pull that expression from you.

He knew you were beautiful—that wasn't news. Everyone with working eyes and half a brain could see that. But this? The way golden light caressed the sweat-slick curve of your throat, the way your pleasure wasn't performative but private, intimate, real—

Christ.

It wasn't just erotic. It was sacred.

The Polaroid nearly slips from his trembling fingers before he catches it, the glossy surface warping slightly under his desperate grip. He forces himself to relax, to breathe, but the damage is done—the image already tattooed behind his eyelids.

Are you leaving these on purpose?

The question claws its way up his throat like a living thing.

It can't be.

But God help him, he needs it to be

His thumb traces the edge of the photograph as he drinks in the details: Your lips—swollen, glistening, the faint indentation of teeth where you'd bitten down to silence yourself. Your eyes—black as spilt ink, heavy-lidded yet startlingly aware, staring through the lens like you were seeing him, like you wanted him to witness this unravelling. A voice whispers through the static of his thoughts: You're missing something, and the realisation hits like a sucker punch—he's been here before, trapped in this limbo between wanting and having, between friends and something else. He remembers the exact moment he first knew you held his heart: The air in family video had been thick with the scent of stale popcorn and the hum of the ancient AC unit fighting a losing battle against the summer heat. You'd laughed at something he had said—and the sound had punched through him like a bullet. Your tongue darted out to catch a drop of Cherry Coke from your lower lip, and suddenly his hands were sweating, his collar too tight, his entire body electric with the need to move, to touch, to— "Steve?" You'd caught him staring, your head tilting in that way that made his ribs ache. "You okay?"

Now. Say it now.

But his tongue had turned to lead. Three words lodged in his throat: I want you. Then the bell chimed, Robin bursting in with arms full of candy, grinning as she spoke, “Okay, who wants to bet Eddie eats all the Red Vines before the movie even starts?” and the moment shattered like dropped glass.

Now, staring at this damning photograph, the same fear coils in his gut—what if he's wrong? What if these Polaroids aren’t for him?

What if they’re just—

Lost.

Left behind.

Not meant for his insatiable eyes.

The thought sends acid flooding through his veins. Because the alternative—that you planted these for him to find, that you wanted him to see you like this—that wasn't just hope. It was arson. And he was already burning; the way you look at him sometimes, like you’re waiting for him to figure it out; the way your fingers linger when you pass him a drink; the way you smile when he stumbles over his words, like you like that he’s flustered.

And now—

The Polaroids. Left where only he would find them.

Taunting him.

Testing him.

Tempting him.

The third Polaroid nearly fucking kills him. By the time your group crowds into the diner booth, Steve's almost convinced himself he imagined it all. Almost. But then, after about an hour of comfortable familiarity, his fingers brushing the edge of his milkshake glass, the coaster shifts –

There.

Tucked beneath it, glossy and damning. He chokes so hard Eddie has to thump him on the back. "Jesus, Harrington, are you allergic to strawberries now?" Eddie's voice is all amusement, but Steve barely hears it over the blood roaring in his ears. He doesn't answer. He's too busy slipping the picture under the table, pulse hammering in his throat as he glances at you across the booth. You're stirring your drink absently, the neon diner lights catching in your hair. And then he risks a look at the Polaroid.

Fuck.

This one's... worse. Or better. He doesn't fucking know anymore. It's a close-up. Your face, tilted up toward the camera, tears streaking through smudged mascara, pupils blown wide. And Christ— there's cum dripping off your chin, your lips parted like you're showing off. The flash had caught every detail: the wet shine on your bottom lip, the way your eyelashes stick together, the way you look up with a glint in your eyes like you were looking at him, like you wanted him to see – His jeans grow uncomfortably tight. He shifts in the booth, pressing his thighs together as heat floods his face. It turns his brain to static.

Obscene. Perfect.

No.

Across the table, you tilt your head, voice dripping with sweet concern. "Steve? You okay?"

That's what really drives the stake in. The way you sound normal, like you're not the same person in the photo — wrecked and wanting. Like you haven't been systematically dismantling his self-control. He forces a smile, fingers twitching against the sticky diner table. "Peachy." His voice comes out strangled. Robin kicks him under the table, her eyes sharp with knowing.

He spends the rest of the evening in quiet agony, debating whether to bring it up, tearing himself apart for an answer that won't come. Every time you laugh at something Eddie says, your throat bobbing, he remembers how it looked in the photo – stretched taut as you tilted your head back. Every time you lick ice cream off your spoon, he thinks about your lips, shiny and parted. His mind drifts back to the first time he met you — Robin's bright smile as she introduced you, her "You two will get along so well!" ringing in his ears like a prophecy. Then, the first flicker of something more – that slow, dawning realisation as you sat there, a giggling mess from the joint he'd rolled, clumsily teaching him pat-a-cake like it was the most crucial lesson in the world. Your fingers had brushed against his palms, warm and sure, and something in his chest had clenched tight. Every moment since has been hidden torment. Every glance across the Family Video counter when you'd come to visit Robin, your eyes lingering just a second too long. Every laugh you'd smothered behind your hand when he'd fumbled his words. Every time he'd caught himself staring at the curve of your neck, wondering how you'd sound if he pressed his mouth there. Every time he caught himself wondering if you felt that same invisible pull.

And now?

Now he's stuck with this.

What the hell is he even supposed to say? "Hey, so, funny story—I found a Polaroid of you fucking yourself the other day. Any reason that might be lying around?"

Yeah. That’d go over real fucking well.

But who else would be leaving these? He knows it has to be you. Because no one else looks at him like that. No one else smirks like that when he stumbles over his words. And God help him—he loves it. But he's Steve Harrington, and Steve Harrington doesn't ruin good things. Doesn't risk friendships for fleeting moments of pleasure, no matter how badly his hands itch to touch. So he tucks the Polaroid into his pocket, lets Eddie tease him about spacing out, lets Robin shoot him looks that promise future interrogation, and pretends his heart isn't pounding loud enough for the whole diner to hear. And when you brush your foot against his under the table, he doesn't pull away; he wonders.—

How much longer can he keep pretending before he snaps and does something stupid? Like pin you against the nearest flat surface and find out if you taste as good as you look in those photos. The thought sends another wave of heat through him. He takes a too-big gulp of his milkshake to hide the way his breath hitches. You smile at him over the rim of your glass, all innocence and sharp edges, and Steve realises with dawning horror that he’s already in too deep to climb back out.

The fourth photo is the last straw. He finds it in his glove compartment that same night, the edge jutting out like a taunt as he sits there, engine off, the silence of the parking lot pressing in around him. For a second, he just stares.

Jesus.

A mirror shot—the kind that feels private.

Except now it’s in his hands.

And fuck, it’s— You’re on your knees, but you’re not facing the glass. No. Your face is tilted up, lips stretched obscenely around your own fingers, glistening with spit, your tongue pressing against the pads like you’re imagining them as something else—someone else. Your lashes flutter, heavy with the kind of pleasure that borders on pain, like the strain is its own sweet torment. And shit, your ass—arched high, round and perfect, the curve of it taunting him, the dimples at the base of your spine begging for his thumbs to press into them. The way your hips tilt just slightly, like you’re already waiting, already needing the sharp bite of a handprint blooming across your skin. He can almost hear the sound it would make—the sharp crack of his palm meeting your flesh and the punched-out whimper you’d choke on right after. Your other hand claws at your own tits, fingers digging in, squeezing hard enough to make your breath hitch. The fabric of your shirt is rucked up, your bra shoved aside, and the sight of your nipple pebbled tight under your own touch—

Christ.

His hands shake. The photo nearly slips from his grip, and he has to white-knuckle the steering wheel just to steady himself. His throat is too tight. His jeans are too fucking tight; he shifts, grinding his hips down against the seat just to relieve the pressure, but it’s worse—so much worse—because now he can feel the rough drag of fabric, the heat of his own desperation, and God, he’s dripping, already slick with the image of you burnt into his skull. This isn’t—

This isn’t fair. He’s imagined it a hundred times. Fantasised about the way your mouth would look wrapped around him, the sounds you’d make when he finally got his hands on you. But never like this. Never with the cruel twist of being nothing more than a spectator to his own undoing.

Fuck.

His head thuds back against the seat, eyes squeezing shut like he can erase the image burnt into the backs of his eyelids. But it doesn’t help. The photo is branded into his soul.

He should stop looking.

He should.

But he can’t.

Because this isn’t just some fantasy anymore. This is proof. Proof that you think about this. Proof that you want this. Proof that you might—

Might—

Want him.

And that’s what terrifies him. Because if he’s wrong— If he misreads this—He’ll ruin everything.

But God, the way your back curves in the photo. The way your lips glisten. The way your fingers dig into your own skin like you’re aching for someone else’s touch. His fingers twitch against his thigh. He could—

He could find you.

Right now. Pull you into the backseat. Make that look in the photo a reality. But what if he’s just—

Projecting. Hopeful. Pathetic. His jaw clenches. He can’t risk it. He won’t. The photo goes back into the glove compartment. His keys twist in the ignition. The engine roars to life. But he doesn’t drive away. Not yet. Because one thought won’t leave him alone—

What if she wants you to come find her?

So he plans to ask you about the Polaroids—if he can ever figure out how the hell to bring it up without sounding like a complete creep.

His apartment is spotless, scrubbed down in a frenzy of nervous energy. Just a regular movie night, he tells himself. You’d had dozens. Nothing to panic about. And for a while, it is normal. You steal his fries, mock his shitty taste in films, and press your ice-cold hands against his thigh just to hear him yelp. It’s easy. It’s you.

But then—

Halfway through, as he gathers empty food containers, something flutters to the floor. Upside down. He knows what it is before he even turns it over. His heart stops. You’re still on the couch, laughing at something on screen—but he can’t help himself. He picks it up. And—

Fuck.

It’s you—sinking down onto a toy like you need it, like you’d die without it. Your eyes are closed, lips parted in relief. One hand braces against the bed, the other at your throat, fingers pressing in like you’re chasing more, like you want to feel it everywhere. The angle is obscene, the slick shine of your arousal glistening where you’re spread open for the camera. Steve swears he can feel it—the phantom roll of your hips, the way you’d clench around him if it was his cock instead— "Something wrong?"

Your voice is too soft, too normal, and it guts him. The photo sticks to his sweat-damp palm as his brain short-circuits between this you—wanting, wrecked, fucking yourself like it’s your only salvation—and the you standing in front of him now, all wide-eyed concern and bitten-pink lips. Ask her. The thought burns through him. Just fucking ask her. But what comes out is, "Nah, just—uh—dropped a napkin." God fucking damnit. You tilt your head, and for one heart-stopping second, he thinks you know. That you’ll smirk, step closer, and whisper, "Like what you see, Harrington?" But you don’t. You just hum, "You’ve been weird all night."

Weird. Yeah. That’s one word for it.

He shoves the Polaroid into his back pocket like it’s evidence of a crime. His crime. Because, Christ, he shouldn’t have looked. Shouldn’t be hard right now, straining against his sweatpants as you blink up at him, all wide-eyed innocence. Like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing to him. He forces himself to step around you, putting the couch between you like it’ll save him. "Just tired," he mumbles, grabbing his half-finished beer. The bottle is slick with condensation, and he clings to that—the cold—instead of the sliver of skin exposed when you stretch, the curve of your waist he knows by heart. Intimately. He’s catalogued every dip and slope of you—the way your hip fits perfectly under his palm when he guides you through a crowded room, the way your waist nips in just enough for his fingers to span it. He’s thought about it. Too much.

You don’t push. Just flop back onto the couch, tucking your legs under you. "Well, hurry up. This movie’s shit, but I want to see how it ends." Steve exhales through his nose. Right. The movie. Except all he can focus on is the weight of the photo in his pocket. The way you’d looked—fuck—like you were made to take cock, like you’d beg for it, like you’d whimper his name if he just—

That’s the problem, isn’t it? He knows you. Knows the way your nose scrunches when you laugh. Knows how you cling to your coffee mug in the morning, both hands wrapped around it like it’s the only thing keeping you upright. Knows the way you’d held his hand that one time he got too high and swore the ceiling was breathing, your thumb brushing over his knuckles like you were anchoring him. But this?

This is a version of you he isn't allowed to have, isn’t allowed to need.

One he is desperate for.

The movie drones on, some cheap horror flick with terrible effects, but Steve’s pulse hasn’t slowed since he found the damn photo. You’re curled into the corner of the couch, knees drawn up, fingers idly tracing the rim of your soda can. Innocent. Bored.

Too innocent.

Because he’s seen the way your gaze lingers on him when you think he’s not looking. The way you bite your lip when he rolls his sleeves up. The way you lean in just a little too close when you laugh. Steve exhales, rough, dragging a hand down his face.

Fuck.

He should say something. Should’ve done something. But the truth is, he’s fucking scared. Terrified of being wrong. Terrified of ruining this—whatever this is—with his stupid, greedy hands. Because what if the Polaroids aren’t for him? What if the way you look at him, all slow smiles and heavy-lidded glances, is just him, reading into things? What if he reaches for you, and you pull away?  Every time you shift, his gaze flicks to your thighs. Every time you laugh, he imagines the way your breath would hitch if he dragged his teeth over your pulse. Every time you look at him, he wonders—

Is this a game to you?

Are you waiting for me to break?

Because he’s close. So fucking close.

When you leave, you linger in the doorway—just a second too long. Your fingers toy with the hem of his shirt, the fabric slipping between them like a secret. It’s innocent. It’s not. The way your knuckles brush against his hip, featherlight, makes his breath catch.

You’re tempting fate.

You’re torturing him.

"Night, Steve," you murmur, lips quirking in that way that drives him insane—like you know exactly what you’re doing to him. And for a wild, reckless moment, he considers it: Pinning you against the door. Trapping you with his body. Letting his mouth finally, finally ask the question that’s been clawing at his ribs for weeks—

Are you doing this on purpose?

But then you’re gone. The door clicks shut. And all he’s left with is the ghost of your perfume—something sweet and sharp, clinging to his clothes like a promise—and the Polaroid in his pocket, burning a hole straight through to his skin.

The get-together on Friday is a grand fucking disaster from minute one. Steve's apartment swims in a haze of cigarette smoke and the stale tang of spilt beer, the kind of party atmosphere that usually feels like second nature but tonight just makes his skin itch. The laughter rings too loud in his ears—Eddie's wheezing cackle from the couch, Robin's snort-giggle as she loses at poker again. Normally, he'd be right there with them, tossing out stupid jokes and soaking up the chaos. But tonight, every word sticks in his throat like gum, and every forced smile makes his jaw ache. And you.

Fucking hell, you.

You're everywhere. Perched on the arm of Eddie's chair, your knee brushing his. Leaning over Robin's shoulder to peek at her cards, your hair falling in a curtain that smells like vanilla when it grazes Steve's arm. Laughing at some stupid story Nancy's telling, your head thrown back, the column of your throat working as you swallow your drink. Every glimpse is a fresh punch to the gut. He's two beers deep and still wound tighter than a spring when it happens. You turn just as he steps forward, and his drink sloshes over the rim, drenching the front of your shirt in cold amber liquid. "Shit—fuck, I'm sorry—" Steve stammers, already grabbing for napkins he knows won’t help.

You look down at the mess, then back up at him with an expression he can't quite read. "Real smooth, Harrington," you deadpan, but there's no real heat in it. Just that same unreadable something that's been in your eyes all night. The fabric clings to your skin as you peel it away, and Steve's mouth goes dry. He forces his gaze up to your face, but it's too late—he's already seen the way the wet cotton moulds to the curve of your breast, the shadow of your nipple through the thin material. "Do you mind if I use your bathroom?" you ask, and your voice is so normal, so casual, like you didn’t just notice him staring. Like you're not standing there half-drenched because of him.

Steve swallows hard. "Yeah, no, I mean—go ahead." He gestures vaguely down the hall, his face burning. "Towels are under the sink if you... you know." You nod, sliding past him so close the heat of your body sears through his shirt, your arm brushing his in a way that sends sparks skittering down his spine. The party's dying embers surround you—empty cups littering sticky tables as the four of you remain in the hollowed-out quiet of the now-empty apartment, and when you disappear into the bathroom, Steve exhales like he's been holding his breath for hours.

Robin materialises at his elbow like the world's smuggest ghost. Her grin vibrates with barely contained glee, fingers digging into his bicep hard enough to leave crescent moons in his skin. "Dude," she stage-whispers, her breath scalding his ear, "you're a walking fucking disaster." Steve doesn't deny it. He's been digging his own grave for weeks – every aborted reach across the Beemer's console, every confession drowned in stale beer, every time he's nearly had you pinned against the Family Video horror section only to choke at the last second. "Christ, Buckley," he hisses through gritted teeth, "not now—" The bathroom door creaks open. You. Polaroid pinched between your fingers like an executioner's blade, edges worn soft from how often he's traced them. Steve's stomach plummets through the scuffed floor.

Oh, fuck.

Oh fuck, oh fuck—

The drawer. He'd forgotten about the goddamn bathroom drawer he left the Polaroids in.

Your approach is lethal. Purposeful. The sharp staccato of your boots on hardwood echoes like a firing squad cocking their rifles. The air between you curdles – thick with tension and something darker, something that makes Steve's pulse stutter in his throat. When you speak, your voice drops to that register—the one that turns his bones to liquid, something that makes the fine hairs on the back of Steve's neck stand at attention.

"Where did you get these?" Not a question. A goddamn death sentence.

Robin's nails bite deeper. "Holy shit," she breathes, eyes darting between you like she's watching the best tennis match of her life. "This is better than my parents' divorce." Steve's heartbeat riots against his ribs as you stop just beyond reach—close enough that your perfume coils around him. The Polaroid dangles from your fingers, the image facing him like an indictment: your lips swollen, lashes fluttering against tear-stained cheeks, fingers twisted in sheets that should be his. The lights hum overhead as you tilt your head, catching the sharp challenge in your gaze. "Where did you get these?" you repeat, each word dripping with deliberate intent. Steve's throat seals shut. Every lie he'd prepared withers under your burning stare, under Robin's vibrating presence at his side, and under the way his body betrays him with every inch you close between you.

"I—" His voice cracks like dry kindling. "My jacket. And—fuck."

You step closer. The brush of your knee against his sends electric currents through the denim. "And?"

"My glove compartment." The admission tears from him like flesh from a wound.

Robin makes a sound between a wheeze and a dying air horn. Your smirk could strip paint from walls. "Interesting."  Another step forward, and now your chest nearly grazes his with each breath. He can't tell if you're moving in for a kiss or a kill shot.

"And what were you planning to do with them, Steve?" His mouth floods. A dozen filthy images flash through his mind—his teeth marking your thigh, your back arching against the employee break room wall, that broken moan you'd make when—

You lean in. Your lips ghost over the shell of his ear as you whisper, hot and deliberate: Steve's vision tunnels to pinpricks. "You—you've been—" Your grin cuts deep. "Leaving them for you?  Yeah." The world tilts on its axis. Steve stares at you, caught between outrage and a hunger so deep it terrifies him. "You've been messing with me this whole time—"

A careless shrug as you step closer—so close your thighs slot between his, your skirt riding up just enough to make his hands twitch with the need to touch. "Maybe I wanted to see if you'd crack."

"Why?" It's barely more than a breath. Your expression turns sweet, soft. "Because I like how you look at me when you think I'm not watching." A heartbeat of silence stretches between you, thick and charged.

"Did you like them?"

The question hangs suspended, heavier than the humid air between your bodies. Steve's control shatters. “I hated those photos,” he grits out, voice shredded.  “Not because—fuck, not because I didn’t want you. But because every time I looked at them—”  His jaw clenches so tight it aches. “All I could think was it should’ve been me making you look like that.”

Your lips part, just slightly, and you step closer. Just one more step. But it’s enough to make his pulse riot. “Prove it,” you murmur, your lips brushing his with provocation.

His hands find your waist.

Your breath hitches.

The space between you collapses. And when he kisses you, it’s not sweet. It’s desperate. It’s what I’ve wanted forever. It’s why the hell did we wait so long? You gasp against his mouth, fingers twisting in his shirt, pulling him closer, every desperate inch of his body imprinting itself on yours like he’s trying to melt into your skin. Then his mouth crashes down—hot, demanding, lips moving with a possessive hunger that rewrites your pulse into something wild. You whimper into the kiss, fingers scrambling at his shoulders as Steve licks into your mouth like a man starved. There's nothing gentle about it – he kisses like he's determined to rewrite your DNA with teeth and tongue and the relentless press of his hips until every cell in your body sings his name. It's everything he's fantasised about and so much more – the heat of you pressed flush against him, the crescent moons your nails carve into his shoulders, and the broken little whimper you make when he nips at your bottom lip. When he finally tears away, you're both panting, foreheads pressed together, his ragged breaths scalding your swollen mouth.

"Took you long enough," you murmur, voice wrecked. Steve huffs a laugh, thumb swiping across your kiss-slick lips with a reverence that belittles the hunger in his eyes. "Yeah, well. You could've just told me."

You grin, all teeth. "Where's the fun in—" "Hell no," Eddie's voice cuts in, strangled. "I am not witnessing Harrington's sexual awakening live and in colour—" Robin's already dragging him backwards by his collar. "We're leaving! Enjoy your— Jesus Christ, Steve, just— use protection—!"

The door slams. Steve's on you before the latch clicks – no hesitation, no space between. He pins you against the wall hard enough to knock the air from your lungs, his body a furnace against yours. One hand fists in your hair while the other slides up your thigh with deliberate roughness, calloused fingers branding your skin through the fabric. "Should've done this years ago," he growls against your throat, thumb circling your nipple with just enough pressure to make you arch into him. "Why the hell didn't we?"

His forehead drops to yours. The warmth of his breath ghosts across your lips as he confesses, "Because you're Robin's best friend. Because Eddie would've never shut up about it." His hips grind forward, the hard line of his erection leaving no room for doubt. "Mostly because I was fucking terrified of losing you."

"You?"

"Thought you'd get bored of me," you admit, the wall biting into your shoulder blades as he presses closer. "Worried I'd just be... another conquest." Steve goes utterly still. When he meets your eyes, the raw intensity in his gaze makes your stomach flip. "You were never just anything." His whisper is rough, like the words were clawed from his chest. "I've been in love with you since you beat me at Mario Kart drunk off your ass in '86." A surprised laugh punches out of you. "That was like our fifth hangout."

"Yeah." His grin is all boyish charm, obscenely at odds with the filthy drag of his fingers on your inner thigh. "Fucking devastating." Then his mouth is at your ear, teeth scraping that sensitive spot that makes your knees weak. "Gonna spend the rest of the night proving it to you," he promises, voice dark with want. Something feral flashes in his eyes. In one fluid motion, he hauls you up — arm hooked under your thighs — and carries you toward the bedroom, your laughter dissolving into a moan as his mouth finds yours again. The last coherent thought you have before he drops you onto the mattress is that you should've let him find those Polaroids much, much sooner.

𝐩𝐭. 𝐈𝐈