#unable to make yourself accept. unable to make yourself resist

[finniestoncrane]

You know what I'll bite first(?)

I want reader to convince Hector to let them care for him instead in the bedroom tonight and it's basically a mix of body worship and general praise while jerking him off

Hector x GN!Reader, word count: 1.4k ooooooooh ok i had to write this, he was living in my brain and skittering around in my pipes up there!! i've not finished his storyline yet, so no spoilers for me please!! but i know regardless of what happens next, he deserves a bit of praise and pleasure >:3c request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: a lot of praise for this boy, body worshipping, masturbation/handjobs, tiny bit of hair pulling, pre-ejac, little bit of yandere dialogue because it's hector...

"You told me you couldn't relax for yourself, so please, please let me help you. You need to learn to embrace your body. That way, I can embrace it too."

Hector's heart skipped a beat at the emphasis on your pleading, and he found himself unable to catch his breath in enough time to respond. Instead, he let himself be pushed back towards the bed in your room, sinking down into it as the back of his legs hit the edge.

"Good boy, Hector. This is the first step to changing how you see yourself. Let me show you how I see you."

The bed shifted as you sat down next to him, hand on his chest as you gently pushed him backwards, waiting until he was laying down, his dark curls resting on the pillows, before you began to stroke your fingers through his hair, twirling the locks around your fingers and hoping to soothe him. But he was still nervous, enough that he began to tug at your sheets, trying to hide himself with them out of his instinctual urge to conceal the things that he disliked so much.

"No, no. Don't cover yourself up. I want to see all of you."

"Are you sure? I still find it so hard to believe that someone as magnificent as yourself would be interested in any aspect of me."

"Really? When you're so handsome, and so sexy. I'm almost angry that you'd hide yourself away for so long, Hector. Seems wrong to keep this a secret."

It was all he could do to keep his smile from widening, but he'd warmed up to you so quickly that it was impossible to hide himself from you. And you were determined to keep things moving in that direction, so positive reinforcement was required. Luckily, you knew now how he worked, and you were able to pull the sheets away, uncovering his body and noting the slight tenting of his cock underneath his clothes. It was distracting, but not more so than his satisfied grin.

"Such a sweet smile, it makes your eyes light up. Your cheeks are so warm, so cute. And your lips, so soft... so welcoming."

"Only for you..."

Each milimetre of the tiny distance between you was tension filled and wrought with a dire need that was immediately turned to passionate satisfaction once the kiss begun. Hector was content to lay back and let you take over, offering no resistance as you deepend the kiss, and even less when your hands began to travel down his front and to the stirring below his waist. Your fingers teased below the material, skimming over the skin above his erection, feeling the contrasted texture of his thick, black pubic hair. And as the kiss broke off, Hector struggling to catch his breath, you let your lips follow his soft jaw line to his neck, your pecks and the gentle nips of your teeth interspersed with words that amounted to yet more compliments.

"I know you've felt so comfortable behind the security of the grate, but I need you, Hector. More than you could imagine, more than I think you're willing to accept. But I can show you. Let me heat you up for a change, I want to see your skin flushing, that sparkle in your eyes."

His cock was freed now, and it protruded into the air as you wrapped your fingers around the length. Average, but thick, and just a few shades darker than his perfectly clear skin. You leaned your head against him, angling your view to watch the way your hand fit so perfectly around his length. Hector shuddered, stuttering out something, but you assuaged whatever concerns he was fabricating.

"You've given me so much, all of those years, unappreciated. Now I want to pay you back, it's only right."

Your gentle strokes firmed up, quicker movements as your determination took over. You wanted him to be happy, to see him satisfied, relieved, and to at least offer him something physical in the way of evidence of your attraction to him. With your tempo set, you kept up the motions, noting that Hector's hips began to shift, pushing his cock upwards into your fist as his body squirmed slightly against the mattress.

"I'm... This is... Wow..."

With a giggle, you whispered against his skin, still loud enough that he could hear you past his own hushed whimpers.

"That sense of contentment? Of pure joy? you deserve that. You work so hard to make me happy, and I think you deserve the same back ten-fold."

"I live to please you. I ask for nothing in return. Your pleasure is just as ah... ah..."

Your other hand reached for his balls, cupping them before gently squeezing.

"All of that time you spent watching me, I think it's fair that I get to see you as you reach complete ecstacy, too, no?"

As Hector let out a sigh of relief, his body giving in finally to the looming and certain orgasm that was beginning to wash over him. A little coaxing was all it would take to get him to finally let go of the last of his tensions.

"All that stress, the nerves, your worries and concerns about how I'll perceive you? I'm going to make them all... go... away."

It sounded like a stifled groan, a strangled sound that he was trying to cover up. And you weren't having that.

"I want to hear your sweet voice, Hector. Your moans, your sighs, your screams."

Hector's stomach was tensing, the slight hint of muscles below the softness of his stomach as he clenched in response to his quickening climax. Each stroke of your fist down the shaft of his cock had him quivering, and you relished in the view of his body that you had from this perfect position. One of his hands rested in your hair, occasionally gripping at the root as he became overwhelmed with arousal. Even without the firm placement of his palm against you, there was no way you would have lifted your head from his chest. From there you could see your own hand working, pumping at his twitching cock, his precum leaking, dribbling from his head down to the visible frenulum as you pulled back his foreskin with your movements. And as you watched his body react to your stimulation, you could hear his heart beat thudding in his chest against your ear.

You were worried for a moment when his gentle whining turned into a sharp shriek, concerned that in your distractions you might have become to firm or too quick. But as you felt the warm, yet quickly cooling, liquid begin to drip over your fingers, you understood.

"Ah... I, I've ruined it. A moment so perfect, so pure. I'm so sorry. Faced with your charitable gesture, the idea that you would be so willing to help me seek the same satisfaction as I've helped you with so many times... Well, my excitement got the better of me. Yet another reason that you could do far better in-"

"Did it feel good?"

He paused his nerve driven rambling, all desire to self-flagellate superceded by his need to offer you an answer when one was asked of him.

"Of course! It was marvellous. For all that I've dreamt of how your hands might feel on my body, it was better than I ever could have guessed."

When it seemed as though he might start apologising again for something that in truth you found flattering, quite endearing to his adorably desperate nature, you placed a finger on his lips and hushed him.

"Then there's nothing to apologise for, Hector. We both got what we wanted."

You lay your head next to his on your pillow, watching his eyes scan the room, as if he were looking for the final bit of confidence to say what he said next.

"In that case... perhaps it wouldn't be too much to ask if I could lay here a while longer. I could warm you in a more manual manner than either of us are accustomed to."

Hector lifted his arm, offering you the space between that and his chest, and you willingly dove into it, wrapping your arms around his body and settling in with a sigh.

[ambrosiagourmet]

I think one of the biggest tragedies of Laios & Falin and their relationship is how much his actions impact her life. But like. Specifically how much they WOULDN’T impact her life as much if they weren’t both stuck in such a shitty abusive situation.

This part of the Falin-tries-makeup daydream hour comic is what got me thinking about it again because truly it just... it seems like such a like an offhand comment that I'm sure Laios didn't mean to be cruel or anything. That's just like. A little kid not thinking about what they are saying. ESPECIALLY when the kid in question is Laios.

But man they depended on each other SO much as kids. Too much. It really feels like they didn't have any other source of positive reinforcement, or anyone else to share themselves with. So of course an offhand comment like that has a huge impact on Falin.

Or this little bit from one of the flashbacks:

This tears me apart. Do you think it tears him apart to think about? I think it does. I think Laios holds every small failure to care for Falin against himself.

And then there's the Bigger stuff. The way that him coping with his own trauma ended up impacting her.

Like his interest in monsters. Like him going to find a ghost, and accidentally revealing Falin's magic to the whole village in the process.

Like him needing to leave. And leaving her behind.

He shaped her life so much, and he carries so much guilt for it. And again, there should have been other people there to help. The same things that made Laios need to leave home are the things that made his leaving so hard on Falin. She ate alone after that. She shouldn't have had to eat alone just because Laios wasn't there.

She was 9 when he left for school, and he was 11.

Nine. And Laios feels like he failed her because he didn't stand by her through this better. As an eleven year old.

Both of these kids deserved so much better from the world.

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

Can I please request a headcanon of MC sharing a bed with Ace, Floyd, Kalim, Sebek, and Riddle? (Not nsfw at all, btw)

(This ask predicted the birthday card theme this year bless you)

Ace Trappola:

Ace was actually happy that he didn’t have to leave you with a goodnight. You fell into bed next to each other, watching some silly video on his phone that he wanted to show you, mentioning another video he should watch if he thought that one was funny. You’re cuddled close but it feels as natural as breathing, your head resting on his arm as you fought to keep your eyes open. The room fell silent as Ace pulled the blanket over you both, pleased that you wanted to sleep so close to him rather than making yourself comfy on the far side of the bed.

Floyd Leech:

You almost had to give up on sleeping next to Floyd. He seemed to have zero consideration that he was sharing his bed, flopping his limbs around lazily, almost as if he was testing you. He complained that he was trying to find a comfortable position to lay in now that you were taking up part of his space, but he scowled when you suggested you’ll just sleep on the floor. He soon finds an acceptable spot as he wrapped you in his arms, legs entangled with yours to prevent an easy escape for his prey. You count yourself lucky that he fell asleep at all, accepting your own lack of personal space as you had suspected you’d end up here from the start.

Kalim Al-Asim:

Kalim loved to talk. He talked about where his sheets came from, and why he chose this particular color that matched Scarabia’s uniform, then tells you the price of said sheets that has you wanting to sleep on the floor. They’re cooling and comfortable, unable to resist the temptation to rub your face against them in appreciation while Kalim laughs and tells you to enjoy them to the fullest. He has plenty of pillows and is willing to sacrifice them all to you for your comfort, seeming to fret over your normal sleep conditions as he wants you as comfortable as possible during your sleepover.

Riddle Rosehearts:

You feel like you’re observing an endangered species in their natural habitat, seated quietly on Riddle’s bed as you watch his nightly routine. You knew he was a man who valued rules and discipline but despite how tired you knew he was, he was still running through every single normal task to prepare himself for a restful sleep. Even the way he peels back the covers and slides himself under them feels entirely put together, until he faces you as if acknowledging he has a bedtime partner. He mumbles that he doesn’t know what to do as normally he’d fall asleep, but at the moment he just wants to talk to you… but he has an early morning. You teased that a little talking would be just fine, promising to have all alarms set to the appropriate time so there was no sleeping in.

Sebek Zigvolt:

Sebek is unnaturally stiff, not stepping a toe over the invisible line that led to your side of the bed. You allowed him a few moments of stress as he came to terms with how little sleep he would be getting before tugging at the covers, unable to fight your laughter as he glared. Telling him to lighten up doesn’t help but eventually he turned his body to you, mumbling as he asked if you were comfortable, if you had enough pillows, if you needed more of the blanket – You can tell the sleepier he got the more his feelings slipped through, and you gently caressed his face before telling him to just sleep.

[iluvbuckets]

please a fic of reader thirsting over paige’s arms and trying to hide it but paige notices anyway and teases her about it also maybe leading to some smut where reader leaves a hickey because she’s seen way too many stans thirsting over paige and she gotta stake her claim 🙂‍↕️

flex for me

paige bueckers x fem!reader 

summary: paige had invited you to come with her to a late-night solo practice session and you agreed, expecting to finally be able to finish the book you were reading. however, you quickly find yourself unable to tear your eyes away from her biceps and neglecting the book altogether. you just hoped she didn't notice.

warnings: sub!paige but vers!paige fits too!, some plot, semi-public and a mirror, fingering, dirty talk, you're a lil bossy and possesive (but she likes it), hickeys, biting, praiseee, a little choking

word count: 4.3k

notes: i was gonna work on other requests first bc this was only sent like 2 days ago but omfg i couldn't resist teehee

✷✷✷

you tried to play it cool as you sat on the floor of the gym, your back against the wall to support you behind the basket.

it was late, but paige wanted to get some extra shots in after a particularly poor shooting percentage in her last game. when she extended you the invitation to come with her, you accepted without hesitation. not that you ever denied it unless you had a good reason though. you usually spent the time reading a book, scrolling through your phone, or if neither of those sounded appealing, grabbing rebounds for her. 

today was a reading day–or at least, was supposed to be. you had ditched your book a long time ago, setting it down in your lap like you were just taking a break. but you just couldn’t tear your eyes away from paige. she was wearing an old uconn shirt that she had cut the sleeves off of, giving you a perfect view of her arms. 

and damn, was the view great.

it was blatantly obvious how much time she had been putting into the weight room just by looking at her arms. the way her biceps flexed when her arm was bent, the way her triceps flexed when she followed through on her shot, how defined her shoulders were when her arms were just at her side, and the way muscles in her forearms flexed when she crossed her arms. obviously, you weren’t the only one noticing either, you had seen so many videos on tiktok about them too. 

you weren’t ashamed to say that you had a favorites folder dedicated to those videos, and you often got called out for saving them on her fan pages. you were just glad she barely used tiktok anymore so she couldn’t see that. even though it was never in a bad way, the pictures of your account in their notifications were usually attached with a caption saying something like same, y/n, same. 

you couldn’t help it, though, watching her muscles work while she put shots up was actually mesmerizing. like, you could probably hypnotize yourself this way.

“you’re distracting me,” she said loudly from the elbow. she was dribbling the ball in front of her absentmindedly with a goofy smile on her face out of amusement. 

you put your hands up in confusion, furrowing your brows. “literally how?”

she shook her head as she picked up the ball, resting it on her hip while she walked over to you. you tried to make eye contact, you really did, but her arms were genuinely so distracting. and the way her veins were popping in her hands? 

“i can feel you objectifying me from all the way over there,” she laughed, towering over you because she didn’t sit down. you froze, your cheeks heating with embarrassment–you didn’t know why though, you’re allowed to stare at your girlfriend like you wanted to rip her clothes off right there.

“i was not,” you weakly attempted to defend yourself. you tried not to be obvious, but you definitely were not looking at her face. it felt like you physically could not pull your eyes away from her arms, no matter how hard you tried, now that they were close to you.

“no?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow with a smirk. 

she noticed the way your eyes didn’t meet hers, of course she did. she always noticed everything–it was kind of annoying, you never had any peace. not that this was hard to notice, anyway.

“am i not allowed to appreciate the hard work and dedication you’ve been putting in lately?” you asked sassily, finally making eye contact with her. her foot nudged yours softly.

“don’t play w’me,” she replied. “i saw the folder.” 

before you could ask her to specify what folder, she held her arm that wasn’t holding the basketball up to flex. she nodded with a cocky facial expression, but put her arm back down for a few seconds. you felt your face heat up, embarrassed to be caught even though you shouldn’t have been.

at least you had a good method of deflection. well, it was good in theory.

“why were you going through my phone?” you asked, trying to sound offended and mad but failing miserably. you really didn’t care if she did or not, so it was a weak way to change the subject. though, she did usually mention she was going to use it beforehand, and you don’t remember her telling you she was going to go on tiktok lately.

she shrugged, holding out her hand as an offer to help you up. “wanted to watch your tiktok drafts while you were in the shower.”

you took her hand with one hand and grabbed your book with the other, letting her do most of the work to pull you up so you could watch the way her muscles moved under her skin. you were probably already soaked through your underwear just from this. yeah, you were definitely going to have sex with her when you got home (not that you wouldn’t no matter what).

“my drafts? what’s so interesting in there?” you asked, absentmindedly smoothing your hands over your backside to swipe away any dirt from sitting on the floor.

“you got all those thirst traps that you’ll never post,” she smiled, leaning forward to press a soft kiss against your forehead fondly, slinging her arm around your shoulders. it wasn’t embarrassing; you did have lip-synching videos from moments you thought looked good that would probably never see the light of day. “i think you got a little drool on your face.”

your mouth dropped open like you were offended as you jabbed your elbow into her side, making her flinch away from you without moving her arm. “you’re annoying,” you mumbled as you turned away from her a little bit. paige took the opportunity to slide her arm from your shoulders to wrap around your neck lightly, putting you in a loose headlock. “hey!”

“what?” she asked innocently, flexing against your jaw. you tried to stifle the irritation because she knew exactly what she was doing–and it was working.

without even thinking, you turned your head slightly and sunk your teeth into her bicep, not too hard but not softly either. it was meant to be playful; you expected her body to jolt and for her to yank her arm away, but instead, she let out a shaky breath. in retaliation for her lack of reaction, you bit down harder for a second to test it, but she still didn’t move. you released your bite and pulled back slightly, just enough for your lips to brush against her skin.

“you like that?” you asked in shock, not really meaning for it to sound as sexual as it did coming out of your mouth. there were probably a lot of other phrases you could’ve chosen instead of that one, but your mouth moved too fast for your brain to compute.

“relax,” she said quickly, almost too quickly to be considered nonchalant.

there was a beat of silence as you weighed your options for where to go from here. on one hand, you’re quite literally in a public gym where there are definitely cameras, but on the other, you were both so clearly worked up. 

“i’m trying,” you mumbled, shifting your weight from one leg to the other awkwardly. then, you blew out a breath, feeling suddenly bold. “i just–” you hesitated, wondering if you should really say what you wanted to say right now. if you should tell her what she was doing to you just by existing. “i really want to fuck you right now,” you finished with a low voice.

you heard the basketball hit the wood floor, followed by the feeling of her hand fisting your t-shirt at your waist to pull you against her.

“fuck, babe,” she muttered into your ear. 

“careful,” you said quietly. the intention behind your words was that she needed to keep herself together because you were in public, and anyone could walk in at any moment. of course, it was a little unlikely at this point in the night, but anything is possible. 

paige scoffed a little, like what you said was ridiculous. “you’re not exactly making it easy right now,” her voice was low. there was no amusement but no irritation, just a tone telling you that she was ready to take your clothes off.

“i haven’t even really done anything,” you said innocently, a smile rising to your face because of how easy it was to get her worked up. 

she didn’t say anything at first, at least not right away–just let out a slow breath, pressed her forehead against the back of your head, and groaned quietly in frustration. the sound was so whiny, you almost expected her to stomp her feet like a toddler who wasn’t getting her way. she lifted her head and dropped her arm to turn you around lightly to face her. her lips were pulled into a tight-lipped smile, cheeks flushed, and pupils already starting to widen from lust. 

“this isn’t fair,” she whined, setting her hands on your waist.

instead of wrapping yours around her neck like you usually would, you settled for placing one on her upper arm instead, the other being occupied by holding your book. she raised her eyebrows when you did that, either out of shock or a challenge, or maybe both.

“how?” you questioned, squeezing her arms a little bit. it wasn’t necessarily to add anything to the moment, though, you just wanted to.

“you know what you’re doing,” she said with an exasperated tone, throwing her head back for a second. you giggled at her, tilting your head fondly. “see? you want to see me suffer.”

you gasped dramatically. “me? what about you? you wore this,” you said, pinching the shoulder of her shirt and then settling your hand on her arm again.

she shrugged, glancing to the side for a second like she didn’t know what you were talking about, but she obviously did it on purpose. you didn’t know why else she’d be wearing her uconn shirts when she had collected a plethora of brand new wings gear–especially while in the practice facility.

“i dunno what you mean,” she replied. 

“liar,” you rolled your eyes. “you were hoping to get fucked tonight.” 

“god forbid a girl wants to see her sexy girlfriend naked,” she shrugged again with a goofy smile on her face. 

you laughed at her, shaking your head in disbelief at her silliness. you couldn’t believe how lucky you were to have bagged a girl like her. like really, with the amount of people who thirsted over her every day and were in her dms, you were so lucky that she picked you out of all of that. 

“shut up,” you said, your cheeks heating from the compliment. you probably should’ve been able to receive a compliment from her without getting flustered by now, after all this time, but it still felt like you were finally talking to your crush every time. 

she leaned forward and pressed your lips together in a peck, pulling away with a mischievous smile and glint in her eyes. “make me.”

“don’t tempt me,” you narrowed your eyes at her, smirking a little. 

she paused to consider her options, what she wanted to say. but then she smiled smugly. “and what are you gonna do about it?”

you stared at her for a moment, trying to find any sign of backing down, but you were met with nothing but a mix of lust, mischief, and playfulness. there were a lot of places you could go from here–so many replies you could give her. some that were playful and some that would get her even more worked up. 

“what do you want me to do about it?” you asked, your voice almost a whisper as you stared into her eyes.

her confidence seemed to falter a little bit, her mouth parting and a whimper so quiet you almost didn’t hear it falling from her lips. she tried to hide it, licking her lips and swallowing nervously to act like nothing happened. you waited for her to reply, but she didn’t, seemingly too stunned to do so.

you took a step back, dropping your free hand to grab one of hers and dragged her toward the locker room. well, dragged was a strong word–she definitely was not going to fight you and would follow you like a lost puppy. her fingers gripped yours like she was struggling to keep up with you, even though she was so hot on your heels, you thought that she might accidentally stop on them and take your shoe off.

when you finally burst through the doors of the locker room, she practically ripped the book from your hands and tossed it onto one of the benches carelessly. after, she pushed you up against the closest sink, pressing your back flush against her front again. your hands gripped the edge of the sink, staring at her intensely through the mirror, while she dug her fingernails into your clothed hips.

then, without breaking eye contact, you grabbed one of her hands–which made her immediately release her grip–and set it on your opposite shoulder, signaling that you wanted her to wrap her arm around you like she did earlier. so she did, of course. she was always pretty obedient for you. 

“you’re crazy,” she breathed.

“for you, maybe,” you just smiled in return. 

her arm tightened unintentionally, making her bicep flex against your jaw again. you took the opportunity to lean forward and press a kiss against the skin, keeping your eyes trained on hers. her jaw clenched slightly, her eyes refusing to look away. almost like the eye contact was a challenge, you turned your peck into an open-mouthed kiss, then sunk your teeth into the muscle and sucking to leave a hickey.

her breath caught in her throat at the sight, mind wandering to all kinds of filthy places that would definitely land her a fiery place in hell. she didn’t even know how to react at that point. all she knew was that she was wet as hell and throbbing already, and so were you.

you pulled back after a while, looking at the dark hickey and smiling in satisfaction. “mine,” you said softly. 

“yours,” she nodded in agreement, looking a little dazed. normally, she probably would’ve whined about it, especially because it was visible and she needed to stay professional, but she just couldn’t bring herself to care at the moment.

“paige,” you said, your voice commanding but still fond. you didn’t have to say anything else, she knew what you were asking for–knew what you wanted. she gently pulled you away from the sink slightly.

you expected her to tease you, to act like clueless and make you tell her what to do, because she loved when you did that. her entire life revolved around being a leader and commanding a room, so giving up the control to you felt like she could finally let her stress melt away and take a breath. she would take far too long getting to where you wanted her just to hear you boss her around, you expected her to trace her fingers over your stomach and the waistband of your pants, allowing you to get restless under her touch.

instead, though, she wasted no time dipping her hand into your sweatpants. her fingers ghosted over your clit almost immediately like she was expecting to feel underwear, but she should know by now that if you’re wearing sweatpants, there’s probably nothing under them. it resulted in a whimper slipping out, her lips parting in both surprise and desire.

“no panties?” she asked quietly, mostly to herself. her eyes were no longer on yours through the mirror, favoring watching her hand instead. she traced lower toward your entrance, feeling the wet slick, and swirling one finger in it teasingly. when she spoke again, her tone wasn’t playful or teasing, it was laced in pure amazement, like she couldn’t believe that your body actually reacted to her like that. “this wet already?”

“you know what you do to me,” you said flatly, shifting your weight from one foot to the other impatiently.

she kept swirling her finger slowly, her arm tightening around your neck for a moment before loosening again. her eyes moved back up to meet yours, shooting you a small smile. you took your bottom lip in-between your teeth to try to bite back any words of impatience you wanted to throw at her, because it was only fair if you let her tease you. after all, you did it to her all the time just to see her squirm.

“i do?” she asked, playfully. her fingers trailed through your folds back to your clit, using two fingers to gently rub slow circles into the throbbing bud.

“paige,” you tried to say as a warning for her behavior, but it came out as more of a breathy gasp from her touch.

she placed a firm kiss to the side of your neck, and then another behind your ear, then opened her mouth to speak. “i want you to tell me what i do to you,” she murmured, lips brushing against the outer shell of your ear, not even breaking eye contact.

her gaze held a glint of mischief because she knew what she was doing–she was taking a page from your playbook, stealing your moves. making her use her words was something you did pretty much every single time, because you wanted to hear the desperate praise coming from her mouth as she babbled whatever came to her mind without thinking about it first.

“you want me to tell you how watching your muscles flex as you shot the ball turned me on?” you started, attempting to shift the lead back to you. 

though, you didn’t mind letting paige take control every now and then, watching as she attempted to be dominant. in fact, it was kind of nice to sometimes just sit back and let her do whatever she wanted, let her do the work and the talking, do whatever she says, but it usually never lasted long–it was just her way of being bratty, so you’ve learned.

she swallowed nervously, her dominating demeanor already cracking before she could even really begin to use it. you tried to resist the smirk threatening to rise, but the attempt failed miserably.

“you want me to tell you how–” you paused to push a slow breath out once you felt her fingers speeding up slightly, “–how wet i was thinking about just fucking you right there in middle of the gym where everyone could see?”

her hips subconsciously pressed forward slightly, straight into your backside like she was trying to dry hump you, and her arm tightened again, but not enough to press against your throat. not that you would mind if it did, though. you were usually the one grabbing her throat, but you loved it when she did it back.

“or how when you were at practice this morning, i scrolled through those edits your fans make of you. thinking about how they can thirst over my girl all they want because at the end of the day, i’m the only one who gets to see you like this–have you like this, feel you touch me like this,” you added for good measure. 

she always loved it when you got possessive, especially when it resulted in you telling her things like this. knowing that even though you didn’t mind that being with her meant that she had people shooting their shot with her or talking about how hot she is all the time, you still wanted them all to know that she was yours. and you really didn’t mind at all, you were always liking, reposting, and commenting on edits of her, fangirling alongside the fan accounts like she wasn’t lying next to you while you did it.

“fuck,” she managed to choke out, her voice strangled. her eyes fell shut, too, like looking at you was sending her into a frenzy, and she was trying to keep her composure. 

you smiled in satisfaction at not only that, but the feeling of her fingers dipping lower again, teasingly pressing against your entrance. when she finally pushed her fingers deep inside of you, her head dropped down to press her forehead against your shoulder, like she was the one getting fingered right now. you gasped at the intrusion, bucking your hips forward slightly. you couldn’t help but moan at the feeling of your clit brushing against her palm from the position of her hand. almost as soon as she felt it, she adjusted her wrist so you could efficiently grind against it when your hips moved.

she curled her fingers just the way she knew you liked, immediately hitting that spongy spot with minimal searching. it caused a strangled moan to rip from your throat–trying to stay quiet just in case–and your eyes closed; she continued to thrust her fingers at a steady pace, curling her fingers every time. her thighs were clenching tightly against her will, trying to find even an ounce of friction, but she ignored it–putting her full attention into pleasing you.

“look at me, baby,” you choked out in between moans, your eyes half-lidded. “i want you to see how good you make me feel.”

with just a small amount of reluctance, she picked her head back up. her pupils were fully blown, eyes glazed with lust now, cheeks flushed, lips parted like she was struggling to breathe just through her nose–she looked wrecked, and you hadn’t even touched her yet. 

“good girl,” you muttered.

you lifted your hands to wrap around her arm, one around her forearm and the other around her bicep, and to try to stay upright in her grip. and she adjusted her hand again so she could use her thumb to rub circles into your clit while her fingers moved at a slightly quicker pace, causing you to buck your hips forward violently.

her eyes stayed glued to your face–taking in the sight of how gone from pleasure you were. she almost felt amazed by how you were responding to her touch, even though this definitely wasn’t the first time she had fingered you like this (it probably wasn’t even the hundredth time either, given how long you had been together). she always paid close attention to every twitch of your lips, every scrunch of your face, what made you moan the loudest every time, so she could perfect her craft, making sure that she was pleasing you as best as she possibly could, and that each time was better than the last.

and you loved that about her. that she was as much of a pleaser as you were.

“shit,” you moaned quietly. “fuck, it feels so good, paige.”

she buried her fingers deep, curling and flicking instead of thrusting, circling her thumb faster. your mouth dropped open in pure pleasure for a few moments before you snapped it shut, biting your bottom lip to keep it from happening again in case you accidentally got a little too loud.

“i want to make you come,” she said, her voice almost a whisper, like she didn’t trust that she could speak. “can i?”

you nodded, a whimper sounding from your throat without your permission. you barely even registered that you had started speaking. “yes. yes, please. keep doing that. show me how good you are for me. make me come on your fingers.”

she does what she’s told–doesn’t change anything about her rhythm. your hips ground against her while you subconsciously chased your high, hitting her thumb just right when you pressed forward and her fingers when you pressed back. she flexed her bicep again, tightening her arm around your throat to choke you lightly.

and that was enough to send you tumbling over the edge almost immediately, your body jerking roughly when it hit. you didn’t even moan, couldn’t speak, too focused on the way her arm was pressing on your throat and how tightly your stomach was clenching from the hard orgasm. she kept the pace of her fingers to draw out your orgasm as long as she could, but then gradually slowed them down and loosened the arm around your throat to let you come down.

when tension in your stomach finally released, you relaxed your entire body, sucking in a deep breath. she stilled her fingers completely, but didn’t pull out to allow for a moment to recover. her eyes broke away from your face in the mirror as she turned her head to pepper light kisses over your cheeks, jaw, and temple.

“damn, i gotta say,” she started quietly, pausing to laugh and place another kiss on your cheek, “watching you come like that,” she paused again for dramatic effect to shake her head and huff out a breath, “it’s gotta be, like, the 8th wonder of the world. feel bad for the people who don’t get to witness it.”

you rolled your eyes fondly at her, still trying to catch your breath. “guess you’re pretty lucky, huh?”

“you have no idea.”

[neeeooon]

hi!! how would bllk characters react to the reader complimenting them out of the blue and they get all flustered ><

trying a different format with this one. i hope you enjoy!

how they’d react to you complimenting them

bf bllk x gn!reader. fluff, crack, might be ooc (i tried to make them all fit but some just don’t lol)

sakura haruka-level flustered. red cheeks, ears on fire, unable to speak without stammering type flustered. walking down the street, holding hands, his focus on the ahead and your focus on him. “you look really pretty today.” and he’s down for the count

-> isagi yoichi. itoshi rin. niko ikki. nanase nijiro.

lowkey bullies you to distract from the fact that his face is pink and his palms are sweating. “you’ve been working really hard lately,” you blurt over dinner. “i’m proud of you.” he’s internally in distress but clears his throat and tries to play it cool. grinning or not, he’ll go, “whatever you say, y/n.”

-> itoshi sae. mikage reo. karasu tabito.

flips the script. you complimenting him? no, no. “you think i look nice? have you seen yourself, love? show-stopping. ten out of ten. light kisses the ground you walk upon—“ “okay, that’s enough.” and now you’re the flustered one

-> yukimiya kenyu. otoya eita. sendou shuto.

refuses to accept your affection. “oh wow! babe, you smell so g—“ covers your mouth with his hand. “um. thanks. go over there.” and you laugh, completely used to his resistance to take a compliment and finding it adorable

-> michael kaiser. barou shouei. kunigami rensuke. chigiri hyoma.

takes it as an invitation to get down and nasty. “you’ve been doing so well recently. i’m super happy to call you my boyfriend and hope you’re remembering to take care of yourself, babe.” “… so the pants are coming off—“

-> shidou ryusei. oliver aiku. nagi seishiro.

bites you

-> bachira meguru. hiori yo. kurona ranze. charles chevalier.

[yoongelectric]

On your own - lando norris

— you can do it on your own while you’re looking at me

genre: smut (just a little bit of angst and fluff)

warnings: switch!lando, switch!reader, pet names, make up sex, p in v, mutual masturbation, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, they just can’t resist each other

The first rays of sun of the day interrupted your sleep, and after a lot of useless shifting around the bed you finally accepted that you wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, as you reached for your boyfriend to say your good mornings and cuddle for a bit before getting up, you were surprised to find only empty and cold sheets. confused by his absence you checked your phone in search of any signs of his whereabouts, but you didn’t find a single message.

As you got up, the cold winter air brushed your bare legs, and as you walked to the kitchen, the empty house made you feel more and more needy of affection.

Hours passed and you still had no news or messages from Lando, you understood that he didn't have to spend his vacation glued to you and that he was probably having a good time with his friends, but you felt neglected, he wasn’t answering any of your phone calls and he hadn't even woken you up to tell you that he was leaving. and the worst part was the internal battle between your anger because of how thoughtless he was being, your worry that something might had happen to him, and the need for touch that was growing in you was killing you.

Just as you were about to call him again you heard the sound of keys in the door, indicating that Lando had arrived home

“Hi, honey” he said trying to kiss you, a kiss you were quick to dodge as you stood up from the couch and walked to the room giving him the silent treatment.

“how mature y/n” you thought to yourself, you knew this wasn’t the right way to solve this problem but sometimes a girl just wants to be showered with attention, so you just waited in your bed for Lando to come beg for forgiveness

you heard your boyfriends hurried footsteps before he appeared at the door

“baby, i’m so sorry, i meant to text you but my phone died as soon as i left, i didn’t mean to get you worried” he said carefully sitting on the bed next to you

“You could have woken me up to tell me where you were going, I don't even know where you were all day”. You were trying really hard to keep up your angry appearance but having him next to you after waiting for him all day was getting to you.

“y/n, i really am sorry, i didn't wake you up because i know how tired you've been these last few days and you looked very peaceful sleeping, i didn't have the strength to wake you up, my love. Max asked me to go with him to buy a gift for Pietra’s birthday, then we went to have lunch, i guess one thing led to another and I lost track of time”

You decided that was enough anger for the day and you gave him a soft smile “did you only buy gifts for Pietra?” you said half jokingly

Lando laughed, holding your face in his hands and taking that kiss he had wanted so much since he had arrived at your home

“you know i never forget about you, beautiful” He said, handing you a bag you didn't know where he had hidden. You carefully opened it, finding the dress you’ve been wanting for months, it was on your wishlist since it came out and every time you went shopping with Lando you looked at it for so long, too embarrassed to ask him to buy it for you.

“how did you know i wanted this?” you said unable to hide your joy

“i just know you so well, baby” Lando said kissing you again, this time much bolder and confident

You melted in his arms, with no hope of being able to resist him for another second, sometimes you get angry at yourself for how much at his mercy you are. but this time he had really screwed up, you couldn't just let this happen, that’s you felt like a light bulb had gone on in your head.

You straddled him, grabbed his hair and kissed him with the same intensity, until you felt him tense under your touch, you began to move your hips slow and hard on him and when you felt his erection grow beneath you, you mumbled on his lips “i see you missed me too, love” going down to kiss his neck

“mmhm baby, i need you so bad, been thinking about you all d-ay” He was having trouble putting his words together and that gave you the signal that it was time to play with him a little

“you know it’ll take a little more for me to forgive you, right?” you stood up and started taking of your top, surprising him with your bare chest since you weren’t wearing a bra

“i know, pretty, come here i’ll make it up to you i promise” he said taking his pants off and pulling you so you would sit in his lap again, and oh god how tempting it was to just give in

“you don’t deserve that, Lando, i’m afraid you won’t get to touch me today, baby, so just touch yourself” you saw how Lando opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out “go on, love, do it for me”

Seeing him hesitate, you licked your fingers slowly and started to play with your nipples, just the way he would, it didn't feel as good, but just to turn him on more you started to moan softly, moving your hips back and forth on the bed.

you were teasing and touching yourself but even though it felt good, what was really getting you worked up was seeing him fight against touching his painfully hard dick

“y/n please, don’t do this baby, i want you so bad please just touch me” he was starting to get desperate and to push him further to the edge you started giving him wet kisses up his thighs, very close to where he wanted them most but without getting there “fuck, you’re gonna kill me one day” he finally gave in, wrapping his hand over his swollen member

You watched him go up and down with his hand, you heard his moans and grunts and they only turned you on more and more. You were finally seeing in all its glory the effect you had on him and you were becoming addicted to that feeling. As you were feeling brave, you decided to experiment, so you leaned over him and spit on his cock just to see his reaction. Lando had to gather all his strength not to cum in that moment, his entire body trembled and tensed at your action, you were driving him crazy and although he wasn't going to admit it, maybe he was enjoying this more than you.

this was probably the most turned on you’ve ever been and when you couldn't take it anymore, you decided to take off your shorts and show him how wet you were “i want you to fuck me so bad, baby - a moan escaped your mouth- it’s a shame that you were so bad to me today”

“y/n fuck fuck fuck- you saw the tip of his member, angry red, and you swore you were drooling- don’t do this to me baby, i’ll make you feel so good, let me taste you please, i need you” he was just so close to cumming but he had to hold it, he needed you, he didn’t care if it was your hands, your mouth or your wet and warm pussy, he wanted you and only you

you fingered yourself and played with your clit at the same time and with how turned on you were you pushed yourself over the edge embarrassingly quick, there was just one problem, you just couldn’t cum, you never had that problem, when lando was away you did what had to be done, but watching him so needy in front of you, all sweaty and bothered just for you, just for watching you, was making it impossible for you to finish without him

“fuck, love, please, i’m gonna cum” you heard him say, pulling yourself out of your thoughts, you saw him squeeze his eyes shut, mouth slightly open and you felt so bad but you just had to interrupt him

“no, you won’t” he opened his eyes, his face a mixture of pain and disbelief, you slapped his hand softly so he would let go of himself and straddled him again, sitting on his dick in one swift motion, you were grateful that you didn’t have any neighbours nearby because the moan the two of you left was sinful

“love, i hope you had fun with your little game because you’re gonna be so sorry” he said grabbing your hips hard and slamming you against him without mercy, so delicious, just the way you liked, it felt so good you couldn’t think, you didn’t even hear yourself, the only thing you knew is that you were screaming his name again and again

You don't know when or how, you didn't even feel it building, but from one moment to another the two of you were reaching your climax stronger than ever in your lives, as you came down from your high you heard your boyfriend whispering sweet nothings and compliments in your ear, you were ready for a long session of aftercare when you felt him flipping you both so he was on top of you

“did you think i was done with you, princess?”

and with that you knew he was making up for all the lost time.

[yzzart]

I KNOW, MY EYES ALREADY LOVE YOU ── KENJI SATO

── summary: What could be Kenji Sato's certainty and weakness?

── content warnings: F!reader, 18+, nsfw, morning sex, unprotected, riding, playing w/ nipples, dirty talk, praise, petnames, kenji being a fucking tease, explicit words, explicit content.

── word count: 1.798!

Kenji did not know, or did he understand, some certainties about his life, and, perhaps, it could sound like imprudence, the purest act of negligence he had the opportunity to tolerate; in fact, it was obvious. — He believed in this line of consciousness, attempted reasoning.

He declared that he made mistakes, countless mistakes, and, currently, he still thinks about the hypothesis that he could make them to this day; even though he wanted to, and tried, as much as possible, not to reveal what he believed to the cameras, journalists and specific people around him. — Sato wouldn't stand it, he knew that.

However, resonating with a merciless and sweet irony, seeming such a surprising incongruity, Kenji was, he knew, certain about one thing in his existence, something that he would not dare lie, deceive himself or dissemble; he imagined he might die if he did that. — His chest burned, sharply, just thinking about it.

You were one of Sato's weaknesses; in his view, the only one. — At the same time, it was his strength; knowing that, you can destabilize him, with ease and incomplexity, conceiving a change in his concentration and everything around, just by directing your eyes against his would be able to be seen as ridiculous and playing a vulnerable side and stealing his attention was peculiar. — Something incredibly curious.

But in Sato's eyes, it was a form, way of how to worship you; being able to feel a passion, intensely, disoriented and burning in his heart. — Admitting something so angelic and serene. — Not hiding the fact that you were his refuge, a place where he felt safe and loved and knew that it would protect him at all costs in his life; experiencing being worthy of you.

And every morning, every second and minute of it, at dawn next to you, with his body entwined with yours, Kenji thought about it.

"A kiss for your thoughts?" — A sleepy, so sweet voice exclaims in the boy's ears, spontaneously bringing a cunning smile to his lips; Kenji loved your humor, even during the early morning. — "What do you think?" — Even with the huge cuts in the windows, showing weak and soft bands of light, you refused to open your eyes at that moment, yawning.

"That's a very good proposal, should i accept it?" — He asked, looking down at your leg, which was in the region of his hips, and felt, deliciously, you pressing yourself against him; Sato's smile grew even wider due to the fact that you only had the blanket stuck to your bodies. — "Good morning to you too, kitten."

He considered some sleepy, boring mumbles and grunts that came out of your mouth as a response, and found it adorable; bringing his lips to your forehead, kissing it, while stroking your hair. — Taking care of his girl with delicacy and gentleness. — And more melodic hums were made by you.

You couldn't stop that familiar and delightful tingling between your legs, and soon you was clumsily rubbing yourself against Kenji's hips, — who didn't fail to find your morning boner fascinating and hungry — without a hint of shame.

"I see someone…" — A sensual laugh vibrated in your temple. — "…woke up very well." — He added, feeling a lump in his throat, unable to contain his shaky breath. — "No?" — Your hand snaked over Kenji's athletic chest, a line of coldness crossed his skin, caused by the ring you had on your finger; your engagement ring.

Not knowing how to resist, and never could, your movements, the painful, throbbing sensation began to burn, sharply, Kenji's dick, showing the large bulge developed in the blanket; he was already starting to feel needier than usual, wanting to fit his face into your neck and dive into your pussy.

Just thinking about being inside you makes Sato's breathing become a panting mess, not wanting or admitting to waste another second.

"I always wake up right next to you, Kenji." — You replied, lifting your head, directing your lips to the eldest's shoulder, trailing kisses across his skin; showing affection. — "Always." — The little kisses went up to his collarbone, your warm hands remained on his chest.

During the small movement between the sheets, caused by you, part of your boobs were exposed and shivering as they hit Kenji's skin; he didn't wait and anxiously felt the beak of one of them, squeezing it with a certain and frank force. — Drawing a sigh from you and making the player bite his lip, like prey. — The damn man liked doing that.

Sato was, indisputably, diabolical, the most arrogant and delighting provocation to ever stand before you.

“Come here, come.” — He asked in a whisper, cunning and with eyes clouded with desire, looking at every point of your face and eyes, running his tongue over his lips, leaving them wet and, faintly, shiny; waiting to be responded to, which didn't take long. — "Pretty girl."

Yours lips, eagerly, came together in a sinful, appetizing and wet kiss; Kenji's sharp tongue rubbed and caressed your, wanting to taste your mouth, as if it were the first time. — Sometimes causing a shock of contact between your teeth and his, nothing could stop you. — Moans, coming from you, delighting in his mouth, were muffled and made Sato smile bewildered.

Kenji felt, even so apprehensive and focused on your mouth, his body being touched, covered by your hands, and, lightly, your nails scraped his skin, desperate to touch him. — He couldn't help but find it cute and naive the way your hand moved to the back of his neck, shocking your bodies even more. — Feeling himself throbbing more and more.

You would be the death of Kenji Sato. — That was another certainty that covered his mind.

Moaning during the mediocre fraction of a second in which your lips disconnected, feeling an emptiness, you came across thin and fragile strands of spit slowly breaking and you vibrated when you heard Sato's smug laugh; his eyes surrounded your mouth, wanting it again. — He smiled, forming a pretentious and ambitious expression as he brought his thumb to your chin, holding it.

"Ride me like a good girl," — Sato clicks his tongue, incoherent. — "my good girl." — Aa words, referring with a hint of possessiveness and premise, made your pussy throb with exultation. — "Please, huh?" — Your lover pouted, almost sounding mocking but not hiding the need he burned for you.

He didn't need to say it twice, he knew there would be no need, even though he saw some clouds of pleasure, leaving you completely at the mercy of the excitement, leaving you beautiful head. — And, also, it wasn't long before your legs were around Kenji's hips, grabbing them with the limited strength you had; abandoning the silky, white sheet somewhere on the mattress.

Settling down, adjusting his posture on the soft, padded pillow, hoping for a good view, Kenji couldn't help but adore the image before his eyes; you were deliciously mounted on him and comfortable on his lap, in your honored place and feeling deified. — It seemed like an inexplicable, surreal and reprehensible scene, it could be the taste of the paradise they prophesied. — No, you were Sato's own, true and only paradise.

Your body surrendered to him, precise movements, with a moderate, almost weak strength and still clouded with sleep, against the young prodigy's hips, feeling his entire length sink, preciously, into your sticky and hot walls; never getting used to the way you was filled by Kenji, — and, wanting, dirty, at no point to get used to it. — leaving you more stimulated. — When you felt him completely, your lips opened, moaning harmoniously and delightfully, attracting panting sighs in the name of your lover.

And, with your boobs, delicious and juicy boobs, exposed, wide open, which, according to your movements, swayed and shivered in front of Kenji, wanting to devour them with desire and modesty. — And not tolerating losing the delicious vision, he preferred to remain where he was; but, he didn't hesitate in sliding his hand towards one of them and squeezing it, now, tightly.

"Ken..ji." — You moaned, whimpered, moving your hand towards his, which held your nipple, unbearably, sensitive with his calloused fingers. — "Fuck-k!" — You sobbed, threatening to release tears from feeling all that pleasurable pressure in your system; and, feeling the lack of sustenance, with the other hand, you moved across Kenji's chest. — "Ken, Kenji..."

"Is it good, my love?" — He says, removing his hand from your boob and repositioning it on your waist, guiding your movements, noticing your almost exhausted rhythm, poor thing. — "Fucking good, huh?" — He growled when he noticed a sudden tightness in his cock; your pussy choked and sucked him, divinely, well. — "O-oh, look what we have here." — He laughed, digging his short nails into your flesh.

The sharp, thin lamentations and melodic moans vociferated in Sato's ears sounded like masterful music, stirring him with every descent and ascent that you made in his lap; also mentioning the wet, filthy melody that your pussy made while swallowing his cock. — Such a greedy, hungry, desperate little thing for every inch of him.

"Keep it up, kitten." — He swore, quickly guiding your hips and showed a satisfied and happy smile when he saw that you responded to his orders, winking shamelessly in your direction. — "I love filling this pussy, fuck…" — He breathed deeply, shaking with another grip on his dick. — "with my cum in the morning." — Listening to Kenji's filthy words was a sin.

It was blasphemous, unacceptable to be able to tolerate, endure, for so long, all that excitement, — all that infernal provocation coming from your man — and adequately endure the stings that reached, perfectly, your sensitive and delicate spot, which only Kenji knew how to reach. — And he took advantage of that.

With incandescent, burning pleasure replacing all sensations, reactions of your body, finally, that nervous, tingling thread, trapped in your stomach, breaks free; accompanied by a tearful and disoriented scream, crying out for Sato, coming out of your mouth. — Cumming on his cock, having some spasms around it, you feel weak, about to become weak. — Like a pathetic little doll.

"Baby." — Hot, delicious jets of sperm painted your inner walls, taking him to the limit, as always; cumming inside you, Kenji filled you, leaving you satisfied, sated and fulfilled. — Having the impression that, still sitting on his lap, you was leaking yours mixed releases, causing an appetizing mess. — "Holy shit." — Ken moaned softly, smiling bewildered and drunk for you.

Tilting your head to the side, merely acting in a naive and harmless way, still with a look of tiredness and exhaustion, a thin and innocent smile tugged at the corner of your lips; making you even more adorable, captivating.

"Good morning to you too, Ken."

Yeah, in fact, you were Kenji Sato's main weakness.

[if-loves]

goodbye, my king 

// Mydei

sum: you knew this day was coming, that your time with him was ticking; but you'll always wish you could've had him for a little longer.

wc: 991

warnings: 3.1 story quest spoilers, ooc mydei, written before mydei release

a/n: ok maybe i did have stay a little longer and die with a smile playing when i wrote this

likes & reblogs are appreciated :)

You had a dream once, a long time ago, around the time you and Mydei had first unofficially gotten together. Most of your memory of it has been eroded by time, but you remembered one part of it quite vividly. Mydei had left, and he was never coming back.

The days following it were plagued with a relentless anxiety that took hold of your fragile state of mind, waiting anxiously for his return from his latest battle. You know death evades him now and forever, but you also knew that if death could not take him away, then he'd be the one to do it himself.

However, even before this dreaded dream, you felt as if you already knew deep down that he was going to leave you one day, even before you would die. You knew the weight of the crown that yearns to rest on his head and the burden he carries for being unable to lead his people home, and that one day he'd finally allow himself to bear its weight atop his head. You just didn't expect it to be today.

On your way back from grocery shopping at Marmoreal Market, you had overhead some gossip that started floating around. 

“I heard Mydei will be leaving Okhema.”

“Leaving? As in, permanently?”

“That's what the rumours say, that he is bidding farewell to all those dear to him.”

It had frozen you in your steps, the crowd fading into nothing but muted sounds. You could see your hands starting to shake, and you suddenly felt as if you were drowning. Your vision had started to blur, the telltale sign of tears blurring your line of sight. With your head down and anxiety clawing up your throat, you make it home and break down into silent sobs the moment the door closes.

~~

Mydei had thought long and hard about this decision of his. He could accept leaving behind most, in the name of reclaiming his home and protecting what remains of his people and the Okhemans, but if he had one regret that truly gnawed at his immortal existence, it would be leaving you behind. You, who loved him sincerely, with every beat of your mortal heart, who always waited for his return regardless of how much time had passed, who always cleaned his wounds gently even if he insisted that it was of no use. You, who did it because you loved and cared for him. And now, he has to leave you too.

The walk to your house is agonising. He finds himself taking his time, taking in the sights of Marmoreal Market, the eternal sunlight and the bustling crowd one last time. He thinks he can take the silence in Castrum Kremnos, but he doesn't know if he can take the lack of you. 

Mydei stands in front of your door, hesitant. He wants to, he has to, knock on the door. He needs to see you one last time, to feel your lips on his again, to say goodbye even as it devastates both you and him. Because you deserve at least that much.

He raises his hand, and finally knocks. You don't answer, but he opens the door anyway. He knows your schedule like the back of his hand, and he knows you're home right now. He's proven right when he sees you standing in your kitchen, your back towards him as your arms rest on the counter. You don't turn to face him, and it hurts. He deserves it.

“(Y/n),” your name leaves his lips in a sound that's all too pleasing to your ears, but you resist the desire to turn around, to see him standing in front of you. 

“Mydei.” His name leaves your lips, and he wishes that he wasn't going to do this. 

Silence settles over, Mydei not daring to push you and you not daring to face him. 

“...It's true, then? That you're leaving forever?” You force yourself to speak, desperately holding back the sobs that threaten to shatter your voice. 

“Yes, that's why I've come to see you, one last time.” He is straightforward with his answer, because he knows that time is not and never on his side. He wants you to turn around, even if your face is stained by tears.

He takes a tentative step forward, unbecoming of a king like him. Gently, he takes you in his arms again, in a silent apology. You finally let your tears go, turning around to bury yourself in his chest, your tears running down your cheeks only to land on him. 

You don't know how long you've stayed there, crying like a child in the arms of your lover. When your sobs finally calm down into hiccups do you speak.

“Stay a little longer, please?” You plead in your broken voice, your watery eyes meeting his. “Please, just until I fall asleep.” 

Mydei has never been one to deny your requests, and he doesn't plan to start. He leads you to your room and settles on your bed, pulling you on top of him and holding you with a tenderness only you have had the privilege of seeing. 

Even as your tears continuously fall, he doesn't say anything. All he does, and all he can do, is to just hold you one last time. 

“Goodbye, my king.” You murmur, before he hears your breathing even. He waits a few moments before he manoeuvres himself out of the bed, taking great care to not wake you. He pulls the blanket over you and looks at you, trying to carve your every feature into his head. You'll always be beautiful to him, your visage forever home in him. He kneels by your side one last time, and lays a gentle kiss on your lips, savouring the feeling.

When Mydei steps out of your house and finally starts his path back home, he allows a tear to fall. 

[16ferrari]

I’ll make your body a habit | S.R

୨୧ Spencer Reid x reader

୨୧ summary: bad habits always die, but the habit between you two is far too good to let go of.

୨୧ warnings: porn with plot (??) 17+ only!. Toxic relationship, fingering, degradation, choking, Spencer calls reader a whore and slut, crying, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink, dom!spencer, sub!reader.

୨୧ a/n, i want Spencer Reid (who doesn’t?). Can’t lie this sat in my drafts for a while and i touched it up after so long. Hopefully this made sense

Clothes were shredded across the floor as soon as he made entrance into your home. You knew this wrong on so many levels, but the high amount of adrenaline that ran through you body as you felt his hands all over you body made up for the mistake you were gonna feel in the morning.

“You opened the door for me”

You couldn’t speak back to him. The high intensity in the room made you unable to. He was right. You did open the door for him. And you don’t exactly know why. was it because you knew exactly what lurked behind your door when you did open it?, or was it because you just couldn’t say no to the man you told yourself multiple times that you would cut off for good?

“I knew you would, sweetheart” he spoke in a cocky tone as he pushed you down to lay on the couch. “Can’t resist me, is that it”

You breath got stuck in your throat as you felt his wet lips kissing from your chest down to your stomach. You knew what was about to happen, were you gonna stop it? Fuck no, you had accepted your bad faith that was Spencer Reid.

“I-i can’t” he gave you a cocky smirk and a roll of the eyes. Your back arched off the couch as he licked your throbbing cunt up and down through your panties causing a even bigger wetter spot to appear.

“Fuck Spencer” he hummed, the added vibration made your legs tingle.

He touch every inch of your body with such knowledge that only he knew would make you weak and weaker to resist him, and god did you hate it, but you couldn’t say that out loud no matter how much you wanted to.

“You’re such a fucking pathetic girl, letting me use you like this again” you jumped feeling his large hand lay a slap to your cunt. “Dumb slut, can’t stay away from me” he pulled your panties completely down your legs, tossing them behind him. He gave you no warning as he licked a stride of your wet cunt. Your hand immediately flew to grab onto his hair, back arching even further up into the air.

He was right again, you couldn’t stay away from him.

Each second that passed was like torture he licked and abused your cunt to his liking, stopping and speeding right back up when he knew you were about to cum. You hated it. But he loved it, loved breaking you close to the edge, just to restart all over again. And that alone made you cry.

“Aw are you crying?’’ You ignored him, dumbfounded and lost in the stars you were seeing on the ceiling from having been denied another orgasm.

“Too much please” you jumped, feeling him start to make circles on your clit again, pure torture.

“Never too much for you” he pushed his index finger into your cunt hitting that oh-sweet spot that he knew could make you even weaker than you currently were. He pinched your jaw tightly and made you watch, watch as he finger moved in and out of you “See that?”

Your eyes rolled back into your head, body starting to shake as you felt another orgasm approaching. And then he fucking stopped again.

“No!, fuck please Spencer I can’t anymore” you pleaded with him. Hand moving down to finish the job he couldn’t do, but he slapped it away.

“So fucking needy” he finally gave in. He pushed three digits into your cunt, making you moan in silence. You felt him, felt his hand moving in and out again at a much rougher speed. God it felt so fucking good.

Your legs and body shook, this time he didn’t stop. A porn-like scream fell from your mouth as the intense pressure from the orgasm hit your body like a fucking train. You tried closing your legs on instinct, but he prided them open, wanting to see the cum fall, which he watched with a proud look on his face.

You looked and were a complete mess and he loved you like that, all because of him.

He hovered above you, hands on either sides of your head. He leaned down and placed soft and tender kisses to your lips. Your body and mind felt confused, he was rough with you before, now he was back to man you fell for. He absorbed your body with such admiration, it made you shy away from him. confused is right

“You look a mess” his voice was soft, but a hint of darkness was still behind it.

You knew what was about to happen next, and you weren’t going to stop it. you craved it just as much as him.

He stood up to unzip his pants, As a matter of a fact you helped rid him of his pants, wanting his cock in you so badly.

Spencer chuckled seeing you so eager for his cock. He lightly slapped at your cheek making you whine, “want my cock that badly?, what, my hand wasn’t enough for you?. Such a needy whore” He grunted as he stroked his cock against your red and puffy cunt.

You said nothing, too ashamed to and honestly so fucking horny for him, you wrapped your legs around his waist and brought him in closer. You leaned up towards his ear, “wasn’t enough, now fuck me please” he wrapped his hand around your throat as he pounded into your pussy with absolute no mercy given.

Each corner in your house was filled with moans, grunts and skin slapping against each other. His cock hit all the right places that had your eyes rolled back. “Is this enough now, huh” he spat out, hand coming down to rub harsh circles on your clit, that alone sent you over the edge.

“It’s funny, because a couple hour ago you were telling me to leave you alone” he grabbed a fistful of your hair bringing your face closer to his, you could his hot breath on your face. “Now, we’re here. And I’m balls deep in your pussy, must not mean what you said’’

“f-fuck you, Reid.

“Oh i am dear, and i plan on filling you with my baby so we could never leave each other’s side” he slowed his movements down once he saw your body beginning to shook repulsively

“Your body is my habit to keep coming back”

[thedilfdiaries]

Divide my legs like a mathematician

Dbf!Joel x virgin!reader

Masterlist

Wordcount: 4K

Summary: you find yourself drawn to Joel's confidence and charm, unable to resist the forbidden fruit. After sharing an intimate moment by the pool, you're left feeling both guilty and exhilarated, eager for more.

Warnings: 18+, virginity loss, reader has first kiss, age gap (reader is early 20's and Joel is however old you need him to be.) Reader has hair and breasts, and wears a bikini, unprotected p in v, m&f oral receiving, fingering, Joel comes twice. Joel, being a typical middle-aged man, saying "you know.."

Notes: please do not read if this kind of dynamic or situation is offputting or something you do not like or enjoy or object to. Please be responsible for yourself and your fic reading. Love you bye 💝 and don't ask about the title unless you wanna hear and see something weird 😂

The sun beats down relentlessly, its fiery rays reflecting off the shimmering surface of the pool. You've sought refuge by its side, lying on a vibrant, floral towel, your swimsuit clinging to your skin. Your eyes flutter closed, and you breathe in the scent of chlorine and sunscreen, letting the warmth of the day lull you into a state of peaceful relaxation.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice a shadow eclipsing the sun. You squint up, the brightness giving way to the familiar face of Joel Miller, your dad's old buddy. The one you haven't seen in a few years.

His salt-and-pepper hair, flecked with silver, is styled in a casual yet purposeful way. His muscular build is evident through his t-shirt and swim trunks. Joel's eyes, a stunning shade of chocolate brown, crinkle at the corners as he turns his attention to you, a smirk playing on his lips. "Well, well, well, who do we have here?" he asks, his gaze sweeping over your body in a way that makes you feel a bit nervous.

You shield your eyes from the sun with your hand before you reply, "Hey Joel, my dad's not here. He had to run some errands."

Joel chuckles, a small smile playing on his lips. "Well, good thing you're here to keep me company while I wait for him.”

You roll your eyes, but you can't help the heat that rises to your face. "I'm not here to entertain you," you say, trying to sound stern.

Joel chuckles, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "You know you've sure grown up since I last saw ya, more beautiful than ever."

You can't help but feel a little flattered by his words, even if you try to hide it. You've always had a bit of a crush on Joel, but you know that he's off-limits, the forbidden fruit. He's your dad's friend, and he's much older than you. You've never even had a boyfriend, but there's something about him that you find irresistible. Maybe it's his confidence, or his sense of humor, or the way he makes you feel when he looks at you. Whatever it is, you can't help but be drawn to him.

You try to play it cool. "Oh, please, you're just saying that because you feel awkward being alone with me and you're trying to be nice."

"Maybe, maybe not," he admits. "But that doesn't change the fact that you're beautiful."

You feel your heart flutter at the way the word rolls off his tongue, but you try to hide your reaction. "Prove it," you say, challenging him.

Joel raises an eyebrow, chuckling. "Prove it?" he repeats. "How do you propose I do that?"

You shrug, trying to act nonchalant. "I dunno, race me to the other side of the pool, maybe?"

Joel's laughter rings out, his eyes gleaming with a hint of mischief as he accepts the challenge. "You're on.” With a swift and fluid motion, he peels off his shirt, revealing his muscular chest and arms. The garment lands carelessly on a nearby chair, but you barely notice as your gaze follows the contours of his physique. You notice how broad he is and how beautiful in return you think he is.

Joel dives into the pool, cutting through the water with surprising grace and agility. The splash startles you, breaking your reverie, and you take a deep breath diving into the pool swimming as fast as you can towards the other side of the pool.

The cool water feels refreshing against your skin, but you're determined to win the race. You swim with all your might, your legs kicking furiously behind you. But despite your best efforts, Joel reaches the other side just before you do.

You come up for air, panting slightly, and Joel grins at you. "I win."

You stick your tongue out at him. "Fine, you win," you concede. "But that doesn't mean you're right about me being beautiful."

Joel's expression softens, and he looks at you with a seriousness that takes you by surprise. "You know darlin, I'm not just sayin' it to flatter you," he says as he gets out of the pool and then helps you out. "I've always thought you were beautiful. But now, you're all grown up, and I can't help but notice the way you move, the way you challenge me, it's all so - intoxicating."

His words make you feel self-conscious, but also excited. You've never had anyone talk to you like this before, and it's both scary and thrilling.

Joel notices your reaction and takes a step closer to you. "I know this is unexpected, and maybe even a little inappropriate," he says. "But, I can't help the way I feel. And I think you feel it too, don'tcha darlin?”

"I-I don't know," you stammer.

Joel's expression softens, and he reaches out to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face. "It's okay, take your time. I'm not goin’ anywhere." You take a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. You've never felt this way before, and you're not sure what to do. "It's okay," he repeats. "I know it’s a lot to take in.” Joel moves so his body mere inches away from yours. "You ever done anythin' before, you got a boyfriend?”

You pause, feeling the air get tense. You can't believe how abrupt he is to just ask like this. You shake your head, feeling a bit ashamed you've never even kissed a boy before, let alone have a boyfriend.

Joel can see the uncertainty in your eyes, but he also sees curiosity and desire. He takes a deep breath, and his eyes never leave yours. "You know, I can teach you how to please a man, how to be pleasured. I wanna make sure that when you do decide to be with someone, you're not so inexperienced."

Your eyes flitter around, never fully meeting Joel's gaze. "I dunno I've never done anything like this before," you admit.

Joel's expression softens, and he reaches out to gently take your hand. "I know babygirl," he says. "And I'm not going to push you into anything. But I want you to know that I'm here for you, if you want me to be."

You take a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. You know that what Joel is suggesting is wrong, but you can't help feeling like a snake, trying to convince yourself to take a bite of the juiciest looking apple you’ve ever seen. He's always been so helpful, and now that he's offering to show you the ways of intimacy, you can't help but be tempted. You really don't want to be so inexperienced when it's your real first time. "I want you to teach me Joel," you whisper.

Joel's face lights up, "I promise to make this a learning experience for you, somethin’ you'll never forget."

He takes your hand and leads you to a secluded spot by the pool, sits down on the grass, and pulls you down next to him. "First things first, let's start with the basics. You ever touch yourself?"

You shake your head, feeling yourself fill with embarrassment.

"S'okay," he says. "This is all new to you. Just do what I do, okay?"

He takes your hand and guides it to your bottoms, helping you to slip your fingers under the fabric. You can feel the heat radiating from your core, and you gasp as Joel's and your fingers brush against your clit.

"Just relax," he says, his voice soothing. "S’all about pleasure."

As you continue to touch yourself, you can feel something building inside of you. It's a strange, unfamiliar sensation, but it's also incredibly pleasurable. You moan softly as Joel continues to guide your hand, his lips close to your ear.

"That's it," he murmurs, his lips close to your ear. "Just relax and enjoy the sensation." You can feel the heat radiating from your core, and you can feel your body tensing as you get closer and closer to your first orgasm. Joel can sense this too, and he places a hand on your belly, feeling each jolt and tremor as it passes through you.

"Just let go, baby," he whispers. "I've got you. You're safe."

But suddenly, you pull your hand away, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

"I can't," you say, your voice shaking. "It feels too weird."

Joel can see the look of fear and uncertainty in your eyes, and he pulls you against his chest.

"Yes, you can, I promise," he says, his voice soothing and reassuring. "Just let yourself feel the pleasure. Let me help you, baby. Tell me what you're feeling, baby," he says, his voice gentle and coaxing. "What does it feel like when I touch you like this?" He starts rubbing circles on your clit again.

You take a deep breath, trying to put your feelings into words. "It feels...good," you say, your voice hesitant. "But it's also scary. I've never done this before."

"I know, baby," Joel coos. "But there's nothing to be afraid of. I'm here with you, and I'll never let anything bad happen to you."

Joel can see that you need a different approach, something that will help you to relax and let go of your inhibitions.

He pulls away from you, his eyes meeting yours. "Let's try something a little different," he says with a gentle voice. Before you can protest, Joel is moving down your body, his lips pressing gentle kisses against your skin. When he reaches your thighs he gently guides them further apart, leaving kisses all the way until he reaches your swimsuit bottoms, he pulls them to the side, exposing your clit. You gasp as you feel his tongue flick against your clit, the sensation almost too much to bear.

"Just relax," Joel murmurs, his voice soothing. "Let me show you how good this can feel."

He continues to lick and suck at your clit, his fingers slipping inside of you to stroke your G-spot. You can feel pleasure building inside of you, more intense than anything you've ever felt before.

"Yes, just like that," Joel murmurs, his voice low and husky. "Let go, babygirl. Let yourself feel it."

And suddenly, you do. The orgasm crashes over you like a wave, so intense that you can barely breathe. You cry out whatever vowels and constants your brain can, and your body shakes with the force of it. Joel doesn't stop, his tongue and fingers continuing to work their magic. Another orgasm builds inside of you, even more intense than the first. You can feel yourself on the edge, your body trembling with pleasure.

"Come on, babygirl, come again, such a good girl."

And you do. This orgasm tears through you like a lightning bolt, so intense that you see stars behind your closed eyes.

Finally, the orgasm subsides, and you collapse back onto the grass, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Joel moves beside you, his arms wrapped around you as he holds you close to his body.

"How do you feel?" he murmurs, his lips close to your ear.

You take a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. "I feel...amazing," you say, quietly.

Joel smiles, his eyes meeting yours. "I'm glad," he says. "That's exactly how I wanted you to feel." Joel's expression is gentle as he looks at you, gauging your reaction. He then reaches down and slowly starts to undo the drawstring of his swim trunks. "You ever seen a cock before?"

You shake your head, feeling a mix of curiosity and nervousness. Joel seems to sense your apprehension, and he takes his time as he pulls down his swim trunks, revealing his erect length. Your eyes widen as you take in the sight before you, the way the sunlight dances off his smooth, taut skin, the way the veins protrude just slightly, creating a roadmap. Your gaze drifts down to the base, where the same salt and peppered hair that graces his head dusts his pelvis. Joel gives you a moment to take it all in before speaking again, his voice barely above a whisper, "Do you wanna touch it?" The question hangs in the air.

You nod, feeling a surge of excitement and curiosity. Joel's hand finds yours, guiding it towards his stiffening cock. You can feel the heat radiating off of him. As you wrap your fingers around his shaft, you marvel at the weight and firmness of it in your hand.

"Mmm, that feels so good," Joel moans, his eyes fluttering closed as he relaxes into your touch.

Encouraged by his reaction, you begin to explore his cock more fully. You stroke your hand up and down its length, feeling it twitch and throb beneath your fingertips. Joel helps guide your movements, his hand covering yours as he shows you the rhythm he likes best.

"Tighten your grip a little... yeah, just like that," he murmurs, his breath hitching as you increase the pressure. Joel's moans become louder and more frequent, and you can feel him grow even harder in your hand. It takes no time at all for Joel to reach his peak.

"Fuck baby, I'm gonna come," Joel gasps, his hips thrusting forward.

You pull your hand away, unsure of what to do. Joel opens his eyes and looks at you. You look like a deer in headlights, and the sight almost makes him come without help. "It's okay, baby," he says with a gentle voice. "You don't have to do anything. Just wanted to give you an idea of what it feels like, what it looks like, what it tastes like," he says softly, "But, if you're curious, I can show you how to pleasure a man with your mouth."

You nod, your curiosity getting the better of you. "I want to, I wanna learn."

Joel smiles, his eyes softening. "Okay, just remember to take it slow. There's no rush."

Joel takes your hand and guides it down to his cock, which is already rock-hard and pulsing with desire. You can feel the heat radiating off of him, and you're eager to explore him further. With a gentle nudge, he encourages you to take him into your mouth.

At first, you're hesitant. You've never done this before, and you're not sure what to do. But Joel is patient and kind, gently stroking your hair and murmuring words of encouragement.

"That's it, baby," he whispers. "Just relax and take your time. Mmm, yeah, just like that."

Emboldened by his words, you begin to explore him more fully. You wrap your lips around the head of his cock, swirling your tongue around the sensitive tip. Joel lets out a low moan of pleasure, and you can feel his hips bucking up towards you.

Encouraged you take him deeper into your mouth. You suck harder, your cheeks hollowing out as you work him over. Joel's moans grow louder and more frequent. Suddenly, he grabs a handful of your hair, guiding your head up and down in a steady rhythm.

"Fuck, baby, I'm gonna come," he gasps, his voice tight with pleasure.

You pull back, letting his cock slip out of your mouth with a wet pop. Joel opens his eyes and looks at you, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "Keep goin’ like you were, just swallow if you can, it's natural."

Joel's eyes flutter closed as he helps guide your head back down to his cock, savoring the feeling of him growing hard in your mouth once more. You wrap your lips around him, taking him in slowly, and begin to move your head in a gentle rhythm. Joel's breathing grows heavy as he lets out a low moan, his fingers finding their way into your hair.

You can feel him tensing up, and then, with a shudder, he comes, filling your mouth with warmth. The taste is strange and unfamiliar, but you swallow, determined to please him. You pull your mouth away from him quickly, probably a little too quickly. "Joel," you say, your voice hesitant as you look over at him, catching his breath. "Can we... do it?"

Joel looks at you, his expression serious. "Do what, babygirl?" he asks, puffing out a response through caught breathes even though he knows what you're asking.

"You know...have sex," you whisper.

Joel's eyes widen, and he looks at you with a mix of surprise and desire. "Baby, I just came," he says, his voice gentle. "Let me catch my breath for a bit, and then we can figure somethin' out."

Joel's eyes meet yours, and he can see the slight hint of disappointment in them. But he understands, and he takes your face gently in his hands, leaning in close so that his mouth is almost touching yours. "Don't worry, babygirl," he says, his voice soft and soothing. "I'll make it worth your while." You can feel your heart flutter at his words, and you can't help but smile. Joel's breathing begins to return to normal, and he pulls back slightly, looking at you with a serious expression. "I think I have a couple of ideas," he says. "But, it's gonna take some effort on both our parts."

You nod, eager to please him and experience more of the pleasure he's shown you.

Joel takes a deep breath, looking at you with a serious expression. "I want you to take your top off."

You look at him in surprise, your hands instinctively going to cover your chest. "What? Why?" You ask, your voice hesitant.

Joel reaches out to take your hands in his, his eyes meeting yours. "Because it's a natural part of a woman's body, and it's one of the things that turns me on the most," he explains. "And I want to be able to pleasure you fully, without any barriers between us."

You bite your lower lip, you've never been naked in front of anyone before, and the thought of doing so with Joel is both terrifying and thrilling. But you trust him, and you want to please him. Taking a deep breath, you nod your head, signaling your agreement. Joel's eyes softened as he smiled, his hands moving to gently guide you onto his lap. You feel a flutter in your stomach as you straddle him, your thighs brushing against his. His fingers deftly undo the knot that holds your bikini top in place, and the fabric falls away, leaving your breasts exposed to the warm summer air. You feel a shiver run down your spine, your nipples hardening in response to the exposure.

Joel's eyes darken as he takes in the sight of your bare chest, his breath hitching in his throat.

"Mmm, so perfect baby.” Before you can respond, Joel leans in, his mouth capturing one of your nipples. You gasp at the sensation, your hands instinctively going to his hair as he sucks and licks at your breast. Joel's hands come up to cup your other breast, his fingers teasing your nipple. You had never felt anything like this before, the sensation of his mouth on your breast, his hands caressing your body. It's intoxicating.

Joel's hands start to wander down your body, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin. He reaches your bikini bottoms, and you can feel him tugging at the fabric. "Lift up for me, baby,"

You do as he asks, lifting your hips off the ground as he pulls your bikini bottoms down your legs. You're completely naked now, exposed to Joel's gaze, but instead of feeling embarrassed, you feel a thrill run through your body. Joel's eyes are dark with desire as he takes in the sight of your bare body.

"Fuck, babygirl, you are so damn delicious," his hands reach out to touch you. He runs his fingers along your inner thighs, teasing you. "Spread your legs for me, baby, nice and wide," he says, his voice low and commanding.

You comply, spreading your legs apart.

He leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear. "You have no idea how fucking sexy you are, do you? I've been dreaming about this for years, imagining what it would be like to touch you, to taste you."

You gasp as Joel's hand slips between your legs, his fingers finding your clit. "You're so wet," he growls, his fingers circling your clit in slow, deliberate movements. "I can feel how much you want me, how much you need me. You think you're ready, baby?"

You nod, feeling a surge of excitement and nervousness. Joel moves between your legs, his body hovering over yours. He looks into your eyes, searching for any signs of doubt or hesitation.

"If you want to stop at any time, just tell me," he says. "I won't be upset."

You nod and shyly say, “I'm ready.”

Joel positions himself at your entrance, his tip pressing gently against your opening. He looks into your eyes, searching for any signs of discomfort or fear. "Just breathe, babygirl," his voice soothes you a bit. "It might feel a little uncomfortable at first, but I promise it'll feel good real soon."

You nod, taking a deep breath as Joel starts to push inside of you. You feel a sharp pain as he breaks through your barrier, and you can't help but gasp at the sensation. “Ah, Joel, it hurts," you whimper, your eyes watering.

Joel curses under his breath, his eyes filled with concern. "I'm sorry, babygirl," he says, his voice gentle. "I know, I know, I gotcha.” He continues to move slowly, giving your body time to adjust to the intrusion. You can feel yourself stretching to accommodate him, and you can't help but wince at the discomfort. Joel leans down, almost kissing you, his lips soft and gentle against yours. "It's okay, babygirl," he murmurs. "Just relax and let me take care of you."

As he continues to move, the pain starts to fade, replaced by a strange, unfamiliar sensation. It's not entirely unpleasant, but it's not exactly comfortable either. Joel seems to sense your confusion, and he starts to move his hips in a slow, circular motion. "Feel that, babygirl?" he touches your lower belly where you can feel his cock hitting. "That's your body gettin’ used to me. It's gonna feel good soon, I promise."

And he's right. As he continues to move, the sensation begins to shift, becoming something more pleasurable. You can feel yourself getting wetter, your body responding to Joel's movements. "That's it, babygirl," Joel murmurs, his voice low and husky. "Let yourself feel it. Let yourself feel me."

He starts to move faster, his hips thrusting harder against yours. You think you can feel yourself getting closer to another orgasm and Joel can sense it too. "You like that, babygirl? You like feeling my cock inside of you? You like feeling me stretch you open, fill you up?"

You nod, a small whimper coming from the back of your throat.

"Good," he breathes, pushing his hips deeper into yours, the friction making him groan. "Tell me when you're gonna come, sweetheart."

You feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "I-I'm gonna come," you gasp.

Joel's eyes widen, and he nods, his hips thrusting harder against yours. "Come for me, babygirl," he growls, his voice low and commanding. "Come on my cock."

The orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, so powerful that it feels like every nerve in your body is firing at once. You can't help but cry out, a loud, primal sound that probably alerts everyone in close proximity to what's happening. Your body convulses with pleasure, every muscle tensing and then releasing as waves of ecstasy wash over you.

Joel's thrusts become more erratic, his hips slamming against yours with a fierce urgency as he chases his own release. His breath comes in short, sharp gasps, each one hot and moist against your ear. "Fuck, babygirl," he groans. "I'm so close. I'm gonna come too." You can feel him throbbing inside of you, each pulse of his cock sending another shiver of pleasure through your body. You wrap your legs around him, pulling him deeper inside of you, wanting to feel every inch of him as he fills you up with his warmth.

And then he's there, his body tensing as he reaches his own peak. "Fuck, babygirl," he groans. "Oh fuck!" He collapses on top of you, his breath hot and heavy against your neck.

You can feel his heart pounding against your chest. For a moment, neither of you say anything, both of you too caught up in the afterglow of what just happened.

Finally, Joel lifts his head, looking down at you with a mixture of awe and desire. "Fuck, babygirl," he murmurs, his voice still low and husky. "That was...incredible."

You wrap your arms around him, feeling a surge of affection and gratitude. "Thank you," you whisper into his ear as you instinctively start stroking his hair.

Joel looks up at you, "What are you thankin’ me for?"

You feel a mix of embarrassment and shyness. "For showing me how good it can feel."

Joel smiles. "You're welcome, baby girl. I'm glad I could be the one to show you." He leans in, his lips capturing yours in a soft, gentle kiss. You can feel yourself getting lost in the moment, in the feeling of Joel's lips on yours, in the warmth of his body pressed against yours.

Your first kiss.

But all too soon, the bliss comes to an end. Joel pulls away, his eyes meeting yours. "I better get goin'," he says. "Your dad will be back soon."

You nod, feeling a surge of disappointment. "Okay," you say kinda pouty.

Joel smirks and lifts your chin in his hand so you're looking at him. "Don't look so sad, babygirl," he says, his voice gentle. "This is just the beginning. I promise to show you so much more."

With that, he gives you a quick kiss on the forehead and he gets up, putting his swim trunks back on. You watch as he walks away, your heart heavy in your chest. You know that what just happened was wrong, that it's not something that should have happened. But you can't help the way you feel, the way your body responds to Joel's touch. You take a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. You know that you should feel guilty, that you should be ashamed of what just happened. But all you can feel is a sense of excitement, of anticipation. You know that this is just the beginning.

And you can't wait.

[temilyrights]

golden hour

emily prentiss x gn!reader

summary: emily comes to find you on the jet after you're hurt on a case.

word count: 776 words.

disclamers: injured!reader (bullet wound, blackeye - just description and discussing pain. not graphic). soft!emily. they're doing anything but talking about the thing between them™

“Here, take this.” Emily murmurs, pulling your gaze from the jet window. Your lips tilt up into a gentle smile as you carefully accept the blanket from her hands. 

“Thank you.” You reply sincerely, draping the polyester fabric over your body. The pain meds you’d taken before boarding were doing their job to dull your pain to a manageable level, but with the addition of a soft blanket you feel some of the lingering tension melt away. 

She leans against the small table in front of you, dark eyes examining the bruise that was already purpling around your eye. Her brows furrow as the sunset streams in through the small window and captures her face in a pretty orange and yellow glow, highlighting the line of her nose and angle of her jaw.

The tightness in your chest is obviously just residual pressure from the sling currently on your arm. Or maybe from the bullet you’d taken in the same bicep earlier today. 

“How’s the pain?” She asks. 

She’s barely left your side since she found out you were shot. The others had done their initial fret and have since been watching you from afar. You understand it’s out of love and concern but it makes your skin crawl, it’s the reason you’d found a seat at the back of the jet away from prying eyes. But Emily was always there like a steady column, wherever you turned. No fretting, no wincing, just sure and comforting. 

It felt dangerously safe. 

“It’s okay.”

She arches a skeptical brow, “Come on, I’ve been shot and had a black eye before. I know they both hurt like hell.” 

You huff, unable to resist rolling your eyes, even as a laugh falls from your lips. “Then why are you asking?” 

“I was giving you the opportunity to be truthful.”

Truthful.

Like that was something the two of you did.

Her eyes sparkle like maybe she sees the irony in her statement, as her tongue darts out to lick her lips, before the wet skin is quickly pulled back by her teeth. 

You clear your throat, wrenching your gaze away.  “Fine,” You choke and force yourself to meet her eyes. Be normal. “My eye is tender and my arm aches like hell.” 

Her brows furrow, the smile falling from her lips. Like maybe the truth wasn’t actually the victory she was expecting. 

“Can I get you anything?” She inquires. The blanket slips down your body, exposing your shoulder to the cool air. Emily reaches out and corrects it before you can move, her grasp featherlight, and leaving you with a hot flush. Her hand lingers as if she wants to touch you, maybe caress the fragile skin on your face and there’s a part of you that desperately wishes she would. Her mouth stands open, lips frozen apart, words she can’t find or doesn’t dare to speak never falling from her lips. 

You watch her closely, feel the nerves swarming in your stomach. You can’t resist the urge to free your hand from the blanket and clasp hers, gently tangling your fingers together. And, you don’t do this. Sure, there are careless arm touches and rare hugs that are over before they even have the chance to begin – careless in the sense Emily touches everyone, but you have every moment memorised and feel the lasting imprint that every contact with her leaves, burning your skin like it was the searing sun touching you for the first time – but there were never moments this brazen, never fingers intertwined and eyes holding each other. The line you couldn’t blur felt awfully blurry. 

Her hands are so soft they almost tickle, a stark contrast to her red-raw nail folds. They weren’t like that this morning, you were certain. You noticed when she handed you a cup of coffee, how unripped the skin had been.

Your chest constricts, eyes moving up to meet her wide ones. Dark brown eyes wide and darting between yours and where your hands are gently intertwined. 

“Emily—”

She pushes herself up, pulling her hand away from yours and hiding her eyes behind a shield of raven hair. “I’m going to get you some water. You need to stay hydrated.” 

You release a frustrated sigh, but nod. Forcing a flimsy smile to your lips. “Thank you.” 

“Be right back.” She murmurs, already disappearing behind the curtain. You don’t watch her leave.

You sink back into your seat, eyes drifting out the window and into the blinding sunset. A sad laugh escapes your throat. The prominent ache in your chest doesn’t budge, but the sunset is good enough company for the meantime.

[shizuturnspages]

I love the idea of male reader rejecting yandere men and their reactions. And I have

Can you do a Headcanon about all the yanderes who where rejected till now and how they treat the reader after the rejection?

Scaramouche – The Puppet's Denial

Immediate Reaction: Scaramouche is stunned by the rejection, unable to comprehend that someone could refuse him. He oscillates between disbelief and anger, questioning your decision and accusing you of lying to yourself.

Post-Rejection Behaviour: He becomes increasingly manipulative, attempting to gaslight you into questioning your own feelings. He might say things like, "You're just afraid to admit how you feel."

Treatment of Reader: Scaramouche starts to isolate you from others, ensuring that he's the only constant in your life. He may monitor your interactions and become hostile toward anyone he perceives as a threat to his claim over you.

Capitano – The Silent Sentinel

Immediate Reaction: Capitano takes the rejection silently, his stoic demeanour masking any emotional turmoil. He simply nods and walks away, leaving you to wonder about his thoughts.

Post-Rejection Behaviour: He becomes your shadow, appearing wherever you go, always watching but never speaking. His presence is both protective and oppressive.

Treatment of Reader: Capitano ensures your safety, eliminating any perceived threats without your knowledge. He believes that, in time, you'll come to appreciate his unwavering dedication.

Diluc – The Smouldering Flame

Immediate Reaction: Diluc is visibly hurt by the rejection, his usual composed self faltering. He might respond with a curt, "I understand," before retreating into solitude.

Post-Rejection Behaviour: He becomes more reserved, but his protective instincts intensify. He ensures you're safe, often intervening in situations without revealing his involvement.

Treatment of Reader: Diluc respects your boundaries outwardly, but harbours hope that you'll change your mind. He may leave anonymous gifts or notes, expressing his feelings indirectly.

Tartaglia – The Smiling Predator

Immediate Reaction: Tartaglia laughs off the rejection, masking his hurt with humour. He might say, "Well, that's unexpected," before changing the subject.

Post-Rejection Behaviour: He becomes more intrusive, inserting himself into your life under the guise of friendship. His actions are calculated, aiming to wear down your resistance.

Treatment of Reader: Tartaglia manipulates situations to make himself indispensable to you. He may create scenarios where you need his help, reinforcing the idea that he's always there for you.

Alhaitham – The Rational Obsession

Immediate Reaction: Alhaitham is perplexed by the rejection, viewing it as an illogical decision. He might respond with, "That doesn't make sense," and begin analysing your behaviour for inconsistencies.

Post-Rejection Behaviour: He becomes more analytical, studying your habits and preferences to find the optimal way to win you over. He may adjust his own behaviour to align with what he believes you desire.

Treatment of Reader: Alhaitham engages in subtle manipulation, presenting arguments and scenarios designed to challenge your stance. He believes that, with enough reasoning, you'll come to see the compatibility between you two.

Zhongli – The Eternal Patience

Immediate Reaction: Zhongli accepts the rejection with grace, expressing understanding. However, his eyes betray a deep sorrow, hinting at the depth of his feelings.

Post-Rejection Behaviour: He remains a constant presence in your life, offering support and wisdom. His demeanour is unchanged, but there's an underlying intensity to his actions.

Treatment of Reader: Zhongli is patient, believing that time will bring you together. He ensures your well-being, often intervening subtly to guide you away from harm. His actions are driven by a belief in destiny and the conviction that you're meant to be together.

[thef1diary]

One Last Night | G. Russell

Summary: As you finalize your divorce from George, he convinces you to spend one last night together in the home you once shared, leading to a night filled with intimacy and emotional complexity.

this one is for @chilling-seavey the sole reason why George is in the top 5 of my fav drivers, I hope you like this one 🤭

masterlist

warnings: 18+ smut, angst, unprotected sex, a bit of hand kink, choking, fingering, oral, lots of emotions

wc: 7.1k (I got a lil carried away with this one ngl)

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work

The sun sets over the horizon, casting a warm, orange glow over the house you once called home. The day’s emotional exhaustion weighs heavily on you, the act of signing papers and exchanging awkward glances, finalizing the divorce that both of you knew was inevitable yet difficult to accept. You sit on the porch steps, wanting a breath of fresh air while your eyes lingered on the small garden you and George once tended with care. The flowers, once vibrant and full of life, now stand shriveled and faded, mirroring the love that once flourished between you has since withered away.

George’s voice breaks the silence, a gentle intrusion on your thoughts as he calls your name, his tone devoid of the pet names he once used. You lift your head to see him standing there, his face a blend of sorrow and nostalgia. He takes a step closer, before lowering himself to sit beside you, a few inches too far away.

The space between you feels like an insurmountable chasm, filled with all the words left unsaid, all the efforts that fell short, and the moments you can never get back.

He speaks again, his voice softer and if your heart didn’t already ache with the necessity of leaving him, it would’ve when he said your full name, emphasizing your maiden name. The sound of it, spoken by him, sends a shiver down your spine, a bittersweet reminder of the life you lived before becoming George’s wife, before dating him.

“It’s been a while since I called you by that name,” he murmurs, his bright blue eyes searching for yours with an intensity that seemed to pierce through the silence. You find yourself unable to resist, drawn into his gaze as if pulled by an invisible force. The familiarity of his eyes, the depth of longing ensnares you, like it always did.

“Yes, it has,” you reply, your voice a mere whisper, barely breaking through the hush of the evening. The weight of his words lingers in the air, filling the space between you with a poignant nostalgia that tugs at your heart. The simple utterance of your maiden name, once so familiar, now feels like a delicate thread connecting you to a past filled with both love and loss.

Even though there’s a physical distance between your bodies, your hands find each other, resting lightly on the porch. Slowly, your fingers inch closer, making a tentative connection that speaks volumes without words. The warmth of his skin, the familiar feel of his touch, sends a ripple of emotion through you, a vivid reminder of the intimacy you once shared.

You try to keep your thoughts clear, reminding yourself that you’re no longer his, no longer Mrs. Russell. The weight of that truth hangs heavy in the space between you, a stark contrast to the intimacy of your touch.

The tenderness in your fingers grazing his is a reflection of what you once had, but also of what has irrevocably changed. You feel the echo of old feelings stirring, the ones you had just begun to push down, but you hold onto the reality that this moment, this connection, is all that remains. The warmth that used to be a part of your everyday life now feels like a fleeting memory, a bittersweet echo of a love that has transformed into a shared, yet separate, past.

“So, what’s next for you?” he asks, his voice tinged with a mixture of curiosity and sadness, a reflection of the weight of letting you go from his life. The question hangs in the air, imbued with a sense of finality and the unspoken acknowledgment that this might be one of the last times he will ask about your future. A future that you’ll be spending without him.

“I’ve decided to finally open that bakery I’ve always dreamed of. It’s something new to look forward to.”

His eyes lit up with a hint of the old George you remember, a small smile playing on his lips. “Will I get any special treatment whenever I visit?”

You shake your head, the smile fading slightly as reality intrudes. “You probably won’t have time to stop by with your busy schedule.”

An awkward silence descends, punctuated by the weight of unfulfilled promises and unmet expectations. The stillness is heavy with the echoes of unspoken regrets and the haunting reminder of what could have been. The conversation stirs a whirlwind of memories, each one a testament to how, over time, George’s career began to overshadow your relationship.

The subtle shift began with small, seemingly insignificant changes—dinner dates frequently postponed, weekend getaways cancelled, and conversations that once flowed effortlessly now reduced to hurried exchanges. His passion for racing, which you once admired and supported, gradually turned into an all-consuming force that claimed more of his time and energy. The promise he made to never let his work come between you gradually eroded, like a fading echo in the vast expanse of his ambition.

You initially accepted the demands of his career, understanding that racing was his first love and the source of his greatest fulfillment. You saw it as an inevitable part of his life, one that you could accommodate as long as it didn’t overshadow your shared moments. But as the months passed, the imbalance became increasingly unbearable. The distance grew, not just in physical terms but in emotional connection. The shared dreams and future plans you once held close began to dissolve, replaced by a solitary sense of longing and disappointment.

Each missed milestone, each neglected promise, built a wall of isolation between you. What started as an occasional inconvenience became a persistent source of heartache. The intimacy you once shared, the spontaneous affection and deep conversations, gave way to a routine marked by George’s relentless pursuit of success. The career that once bound you together now stood as a formidable barrier, leaving you feeling like a secondary consideration in the grand scheme of his ambitions.

You don’t allow your thoughts to linger on the past for too long, on wondering what could’ve been if you both put in a little more effort instead of watching it play out like a movie

You break the silence, your voice trembling slightly as you ask, “and what about you? What’s next for you?”

George’s gaze drifts to the horizon, as though the future is mapped out in the darkness of the night. “I’ll be back on the track as usual. Flying out next week, you know how it goes. It’s a busy schedule but it’s what I do.”

His words are matter-of-fact, yet there’s an undercurrent of melancholy in his tone. He turns his eyes back to you, a flicker of something almost wistful crossing his face. “I’ll miss having you there,” he adds quietly. “Your support, your presence—it made a difference. I always looked forward to seeing you in the stands.”

The sincerity in his voice tugs at something deep inside you. You nod, forcing a smile. “I’m sure the races will be just as thrilling without me. You’ll have plenty of fans cheering you on.”

He smiles faintly, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s not the same,” he says softly. “There was always something special about having you there, cheering me on. I’m going to miss that.”

The honesty in his confession stirs a pang of regret within you. You both know that his career, while a source of pride, has become the very thing that separated you.

George sighs, his thumb brushing lightly against your fingers, reminding you that his hand never left yours. “I never wanted it to end like this,” he said, his voice filled with regret. “In fact, I never wanted it to end at all.”

He clears his throat, the raw emotion evident in his next words. “I thought I could balance everything—my career and us—but I failed. I’m sorry for making you feel like you were never enough. The truth is, you were and still are everything to me.”

Tears prick at your eyes, threatening to spill over, but you blink them away with a deliberate effort. Drawing a deep breath, you muster the strength to respond. “It’s not entirely your fault, you know,” you say softly, your voice quivering with the weight of your emotions.

“You don’t need to apologize. I suppose I should apologize for intruding on your well-laid plans. You always wanted a world championship under your belt, and I genuinely hope you achieve that soon, without having to worry about me.”

As he begins to shake his head in protest, you turn away, pulling your hand gently from his grasp before standing up. “I should’ve realized sooner that your trophies would always hold a higher place in your life than I ever could.”

You made the mistake of glancing at him after your words, and saw him visibly flinch, the impact of your parting words etched clearly on your face. The pain in his expression mirrored the ache in your heart, a stark reminder of the mutual suffering this conversation had caused. The intensity of the moment made it clear that any further discussion would only deepen the emotional wounds.

Deciding to end it there and spare both of you more heartache, you turned away and headed towards the porch steps. You had already planned your leave with a sense of reluctant resolve: you would spend the night at a nearby hotel before flying out the following morning to stay with your sister, seeking comfort and a fresh start in her home.

As you begin to walk down the steps, George’s voice reaches out to you, filled with a mix of urgency and regret. “Where are you going? You’re supposed to leave tomorrow, please, stay here for just one more night.”

You pause, the sincerity in his voice making you hesitate. Turning back, you see the raw vulnerability in his eyes, and something in you shifts. The weight of your decision presses heavily on your chest.

George steps closer, his face pleading as he gently cups your cheeks in his hands. “I want to make it up to you,” he says softly. “I know I should’ve valued you more, I could’ve balanced my life better, I would’ve done everything to keep us together if I’d realized sooner.”

You feel the weight of his words, the sincerity evident in every syllable. You placed your hand atop of his, and for a brief moment, he braces himself for you to push him away. Instead, you simply hold on, a gesture that speaks of the lingering affection between you.

“Should’ve, could’ve, would’ve,” you repeat softly. “It’s too late to blame our past selves for the consequences we face now.”

“Please, stay,” George’s voice trembles, his eyes pleading as he grapples with the reality of your departure, even though the papers are signed and the decision is final.

The raw emotion in his eyes, the vulnerability of his plea, makes your resolve waver. With a sigh, you nod slowly, feeling the tight noose around your heart loosen, giving it a chance to beat. “Alright,” you agree softly. “I’ll stay for one more night.”

In an instant, you close the distance between you, wrapping your arms around him. You cling to him tightly, the familiar warmth of his embrace bringing a flood of bittersweet memories. Despite everything, despite knowing that the circumstances could never change, the love you still feel for him is undeniable.

George holds you just as tightly, burying his face in your hair. “Thank you,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you for giving me this one last chance.”

You stay like that for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms, letting the silence speak for the love and regrets that words can’t fully capture. For tonight, you can forget the world outside, the signed papers, and the impending separation. For tonight, it’s just you and him, holding on to the remnants of what once was.

George leads you back into the house, his hand warm and steady in yours. Inside, a calm, almost sacred stillness envelops you both. You hadn’t known what to expect, but this quiet comfort is a relief. As you step further in, your eyes fall on the photo frames carefully placed around the room. Each one tells a story of you and George, moments frozen in time, even a few from your wedding day, radiant and full of promise.

Your breath hitches as a thought crosses your mind, a pang of uncertainty mingling with nostalgia. You wonder how soon George will clean up, scrubbing away the memories of your relationship. Part of you knows he still loves you and wouldn’t simply discard them. Yet, you also know the ache these images must bring, a constant reminder of what was and what could have been.

You don’t ask him. The question lingers unspoken between you, too heavy to voice. You can’t bear to hear his answer, whether he’ll keep them or not. It’s easier to pretend, to let the silence hold the unknown.

He glances at you, his eyes following your gaze to the photos. The sadness in his expression mirrors your own thoughts, a silent understanding passing between you.

“Would you like some tea?” he asks, his voice gentle, pulling you back from your reverie.

“That sounds nice,” you reply softly, following him into the kitchen.

The initial awkwardness lingers as you move around each other, carefully choosing your words, mindful of the delicate peace. But as you start to talk about random things, the tension begins to ease. George makes a conscious effort to avoid mentioning racing, and you appreciate it, finding solace in the mundane topics that once filled your conversations.

As hunger sets in, you decide to cook dinner together. In the kitchen, it’s like clockwork. You move around each other with ease, falling back into old routines.

George chops vegetables while you stir a pot on the stove, the familiar rhythm soothing your frayed nerves. You pass utensils and ingredients back and forth without a second thought, your movements synchronized like a well-rehearsed dance.

“Can you hand me the garlic?” George asks, glancing up at you with a familiar warmth in his eyes.

“Sure,” you say, passing it to him. Your fingers brush, sending a jolt of electricity through you. You catch his eye, and for a moment, the tension is palpable.

As you continue preparing dinner, the air thickens with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. The scent of sautéing garlic fills the room, mingling with the warmth of your shared history.

At one point, you reach for a spice jar on a high shelf. George steps in behind you, his body just inches taller than yours. He places his hands gently on your waist, his fingers barely grazing the bare skin beneath the hem of your shirt, steadying you as you stretch to grab the jar.

You open your mouth to question the unexpected intimacy, but before you can speak, he steps away, his touch lingering like a ghost. He moves to another task, his presence still wrapped around you even though he’s no longer at your side.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart, and continue cooking. The moments of contact are electric, charged with the sexual tension that neither of you dares to act on yet. The unspoken connection between you simmers, waiting to boil over.

As you both move through the kitchen, old jokes and new stories begin to flow. The dinner preparations become an unexpected dance of nostalgia and bittersweet reality, each touch and glance filled with meaning.

As you and George finish cooking, the comforting aroma of the meal fills the kitchen. Together, you set the table, your movements in perfect harmony.

Though you sit across from each other, the table is small enough that if either of you were to stretch your legs, you’d touch. That closeness adds a layer of anticipation, your legs brushing occasionally as you both take your first bites. The flavours are rich and familiar, but the food is secondary to the charged atmosphere around you.

“Remember the first time we tried making this?” George says, his smile tinged with nostalgia.

You laugh softly, nodding. “How could I forget? We nearly burned the kitchen down.”

He chuckles, the sound warm and comforting. “I think we’ve improved since then.”

As you share this moment, you can’t help but graze his leg with your foot under the table, a fleeting touch that sends a thrill through you. George’s eyes flicker with something deeper, a response to the subtle contact. He reached across the table, taking your hand in his, the warmth of his touch grounding you. His thumb gently strokes your knuckles, and the simple act feels intimate, rekindling the connection you thought you had lost.

As he holds your hand, you’re acutely aware of the difference in size. His hand, though not drastically larger, envelopes yours with a comforting presence. You watch as his slender fingers wrap around yours, their familiar warmth a stark reminder of the countless times they explored every inch of your body—especially around your neck, constricting your airway, or on your thighs, gripping tightly as he held them spread open.

George brings your entwined hands to his lips, pressing a tender kiss on the back of your hand, letting his lips linger on your skin for a few moments too long.

A playful impulse overtakes you. You let your foot drift up from the floor, lightly tracing its way up his leg. The touch is feather-light, a teasing caress that sends a thrill through both of you. Your foot slides slowly up his calf, over his knee, and eventually finds its way to his thigh, lingering there.

George’s breath catches, and you feel the tension in his body tighten as his grasp on your palm loosens. His gaze locks with yours, a mixture of surprise and desire flickering in his eyes. You keep your foot gently resting on his thigh, savouring the intimacy of the contact, watching his expression shift from playful to deeply affected.

He mutters your name, “what are you doing?”

Your eyes twinkle with mischief as you shrug. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

George raises his eyebrows, a sly smile painting on his lips as he decides to play your game. “Oh really?”

You maintain your playful facade, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “Really,” you reply, trying to keep your tone innocent despite the heat building between you.

George’s hand slips from yours, moving with deliberate slowness to rest on your leg, his fingers lightly brushing against your ankle, pressing it deeper against his thigh.

He leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin. “And here I thought you wanted me to be a gentleman tonight,” he murmurs, his voice a sultry whisper that makes your pulse quicken.

Without breaking eye contact, you let your foot inch higher, sliding it delicately between his thighs. It comes to rest over the zipper of his jeans, the contact making you both shiver. His reaction is immediate—his breath catches, and he whispers your name, the sound slipping from his lips with a sinful sweetness that sends a wave of heat through you.

“You thought wrong,” you reply swiftly, a sultry smirk playing on your lips.

George’s breath hitches at your words, a shiver running through his body as you maintain your foot’s gentle pressure, knowing you can feel his hardening cock straining against the denim.

He extends a hand towards you, his fingers curling in a beckoning motion, deliberately mimicking the way he would caress you in more intimate moments. The gesture sends a shiver down your spine, making your breath catch, and instinctively clench your thighs, fighting to control the rush of sensations.

“Come here,” he murmurs, his voice husky and insistent.

You can’t resist the command, the raw magnetism of his presence pulling you towards him. You stand up slowly, the chair scraping softly against the floor as you move. George’s eyes follow your every motion, his piercing eyes remaining on you as you near him.

As you stand between his legs, he pushes his chair back slightly, creating space needed for you to be close. He reaches out, his hands grasping your hips gently but firmly, drawing you nearer. His hands slide up your sides, a touch both tender and possessive, as he gazes up at you with a look that promises more.

He’s quick to pull you on his lap, earning a gasp from your parted lips. George’s grip tightens around your waist, his touch a mix of possessiveness and tenderness. He pulls you closer, his body pressed against yours, and you can feel the fierce need in his actions.

“You have no idea what you’ve started,” he murmurs, his voice a seductive purr. He leans in, his breath warm against your ear. “No matter what papers we’ve signed, you’re still mine tonight.”

“This,” his fingers hold your left hand, grazing his thumb over the ring still adorned on your finger, “stays on. Just for tonight.”

You close your eyes, letting the weight of his words sink in. The reality of your separation fades into the background as you allow yourself to sink into the fantasy of being his again, if only for a few hours. His touch is intoxicating, a heady blend of past affection and present desire. You give in to the moment, your body responding to his with a familiarity that is both thrilling and deeply comforting.

George’s lips trace a burning path down your neck, leaving kisses that deepen into marks. His lips press against your skin with an almost reverent touch, a dark bruise forming beneath his kisses, a parting gift of sorts that will serve as a reminder of what you shared tonight. He smiles against your skin, satisfied with the mark he’s left, knowing it would evoke memories of tonight whenever you see it over the next few days.

His kisses drift lower, his hand subtly pulling your shirt lower, exposing more of your bare skin to his hungry lips. The heat of this touch, and the slow, deliberate exploration of your body made you shiver, your head tilting back instinctively as you gasp his name. Your hips shift, seeking the friction you crave, driven by the intense need building between your legs.

When George finally pulls back, he chuckles softly as the whimper that escapes your lips. “Look at you,” he murmurs with a teasing edge to his tone. “So desperate already.”

He shifts slightly, his hands sliding up your sides to cradle your face. The tender yet firm grip draws you closer, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours. Suddenly, you feel a moment of hesitation, a thought flitting through your mind about the intimacy of kissing him. You almost speak, wanting to tell him that perhaps this was too much, too close for a night meant to be a parting. But the look in his eyes, the sheer depth of his need, pulls you in, rendering you speechless.

In a heartbeat, his lips meet yours, and you lose yourself in the kiss. It’s a fierce, consuming connection, full of all the love and desire that has simmered between you for so long.

As you kiss him, you’re painfully aware that your actions now will likely lead to regret and heartache for your future self. But in this moment, you’re allowing yourself to enjoy the intimacy and closeness, even as you recognize that tomorrow’s pain is a consequence of tonight’s decisions. You surrender to the moment, letting it erase the boundaries the divorce created, allowing yourself to be his once more, just for a few more hours.

His tongue slips in between your lips, teasing and caressing with a gentle insistence that makes your knees weak.

Your hand lingers on his chest, fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt, a silent plea for him to remove it. But he’s so absorbed in your kisses that he barely notices. You pull back just enough to murmur against his lips. “Mm, take your shirt off, baby.”

With a low, breathy chuckle, he pulls away just enough to slip his shirt over his head, tossing it aside. As his bare chest comes into view, you can’t help but trace your fingers over his skin, the muscles beneath your fingertips tensing with every caress.

Before you can place your lips on his skin, his hand gently rests against your throat, holding you back with just enough pressure to make you pause. “Your turn, sweetheart,” he commands.

The return of the pet name makes a blush creep up your cheek. With a slight nod, you move back, your hands reaching for the hem of your shirt. Your eyes stay locked on his as you slowly pull the fabric up and over your head, letting it slip from your fingers and fall to the floor.

George’s gaze roams over you, drinking in the sight of your exposed torso. He pulls you back towards him, his hands sliding up your sides, tracing the curves of your body with utmost care.

He leans in, pressing a lingering kiss to the hollow of your throat, the spot where his hand had just been. The warmth of his lips sends shivers through your body, and you feel a surge of anticipation. As he kisses your skin, his hands move with practiced ease to the clasp of your bra. In one fluid motion, he undoes it, and the flimsy material falls away, landing softly in your lap, leaving your upper body fully exposed to him.

George pulls back slightly, his gaze roaming over you with unabashed desire. His eyes darken as they take in the sight of you, the soft glow of the kitchen light casting a warm hue on your skin. He reaches up, his fingers tracing the curve of your collarbone, down to the swell of your breasts, his touch light but electric.

“You’re perfect,” he breathes, his voice thick with admiration and lust. The words send a rush of warmth through you, making you feel both cherished and desired.

His lips return to your body, this time trailing down from your throat, licking each darkening mark he left earlier, to your collarbone, then lower. Each kiss is slow and deliberate, as if he’s savouring the moment, etching each inch of your body into his mind. When his mouth reaches the sensitive skin of your breast, his tongue flicks out to tease, eliciting a soft moan from you. He takes his time, worshiping you with his lips and tongue, making you arch into his touch, seeking more.

Your hands find their way to his broad shoulders, gripping him tightly as the pleasure builds. George’s fingers dance across your skin, exploring every inch exposed to him, while his mouth continues its maddeningly slow descent. He pauses to take one nipple in his mouth, sucking gently before grazing his teeth lightly, as his other hand kneads your other breast. The dual sensations make you gasp, your head falling back in pleasure.

As he continues to lavish attention on your chest, you feel the heat pooling in your core, your body responding to his every touch. You grind against him, seeking friction, feeling the hardness of his cock, still strained underneath his jeans.

George lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours, filled with a mix of tenderness and hunger. “I want you,” he whispers.

You nod, breathless and needy. “I’m yours,” you reply, “just for tonight, I’m yours.”

Without another word, George lifts you effortlessly, his hands strong and sure as they grip your waist. You wrap your legs around his torso, feeling the heat of his body against yours as he carries you upstairs. He pushes the bedroom door open with his shoulder, his lips finding yours again in a hungry kiss.

George sets you down gently in the middle of the bed, placing a tender kiss on your lips before moving down your body as you lie back. His touch is both reverent and teasing, his fingers trailing down your skin, igniting a trail of fire in their wake. He stops at your breasts, giving each nipple the attention it craves. He circles his thumb around the peak, teasing you, before pinching the bud sharply between his fingers, earning a needy whine from your lips. He envelops your nipple in the heat of his mouth, easing the sting with a filthy, wet kiss, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak. Moving away, he repeats his actions on your other nipple, each touch sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

George continues his journey down your body, his lips leaving a trail of kisses and love bites, sucking as many marks as he wishes. Each bruise is a reminder of his presence, a mark of possession that makes your core throb with desire. He reaches the hem of your pants and glances up at you, his eyes widening when he realizes you are already watching him, your gaze intense as he drives you to the brink of madness.

“Please, George,” you mutter, your voice already raw from the moans you’ve let out. The plea is filled with desperation and need, your body aching for more of his touch.

He slides his fingers below the waistband of your pants, his touch electrifying. You lift your hips to help him remove the fabric, making it easier for him to pull your pants away from your body. He parts your thighs, settling himself on his knees between them. His eyes glaze over with desire as he takes in the sight of your soaked panties. You might have felt embarrassed by how wet you are, but the way his eyes darken with hunger reassures you. He licks his lips, his gaze never leaving your covered pussy.

He reluctantly shifts his gaze to meet your eyes again. “You’re dripping, love. Glad to know I still have that effect on you,” he states, dragging his thumb over your cunt, causing you to instinctively push your hips up, but it’s no avail as he moves his hand away, leaving you aching for more.

You roll your eyes at his words. “You always have that effect on me, don’t act like you didn’t know that.”

He chuckles, sitting back on his haunches, bringing his thumb up to his lips. Your mouth drops open as he licks your wetness off his thumb, humming delightfully at the taste.

“Ah, mouthy now?” He shook his head in faux disappointment. “By the time I’m done with you, the only word you’ll speak is my name.” He leans over you, pressing a kiss to your cheek before properly settling between your parted thighs, his face near your covered cunt.

With a sudden rough motion, he grabs your panties and rips them off, the fabric tearing easily in his hand. The sheer force of it sends a thrill through you, a gasp leaving your mouth as you mutter his name.

He tosses the shredded material aside, gaze remaining between your legs. “There’s my pretty cunt,” he mumbles, his voice low and filled with desire. He barely sticks the tip of his tongue out as he notices the glint of your wetness coating your folds.

You clench involuntarily at his words, not going unnoticed by him. He glances at you, a smirk playing on his lips. “Yeah? It’s mine isn’t it?” His voice is a seductive whisper, egging you on, as he watches your reaction.

You nod, a whine escaping your lips as you meet his gaze. “Yes, it’s yours,” you admit, the truth of your words resonating in the heated space between you.

George’s smirk deepens, satisfaction evident in his eyes. “Good girl,” he praises, his words sending a shiver down your spine.

He dips his head, his tongue finally making contact with your pussy. The sensation is electric, your back arching instinctively as your hips lift from the bed. His hands press you back against the mattress, splayed wide on your thighs, his fingers digging into your skin to hold you spread open.

His tongue flicks and circles your clit, driving you wild with need. George takes his time, savouring every moment as he gathers your wetness with his tongue, moaning against your cunt, the vibrations adding to your pleasure.

Your hand finds its way into his hair, tangling in the soft strands as you hold him close. His name falls from your lips like a prayer, your body arching into his touch as he brings you closer and closer to release.

George’s eyes flick up to meet yours, the intensity in his eyes sending another wave of pleasure through you. He moves one hand from your thigh to your cunt, collecting the slick between your folds. He coats his finger before sliding it inside you, the sensation making you gasp.

One finger quickly turns into two, pumping them in and out of you, matching the rhythm of his tongue. His fingers, long and skilled, find that perfect spot inside you, making you see stars. The pleasure builds rapidly, each thrust and lick driving you closer to the edge.

When he adds a third finger, your body reacts instantly, a cry escaping your lips. “George,” you moan, barely able to utter a warning before your orgasm crashes over you. Wave after wave of pleasure washes through your body, your muscles clenching around his fingers. You call out his name, your body trembling as he continues to work you through your climax, his relentless tongue and fingers not stopping until you’re completely spent.

He finally eases his fingers out of you, his mouth trailing kisses up your body, tasting the sheen of sweat on your skin. He reaches your lips, pressing a gentle kiss there, tasting yourself on his mouth.

You’re breathless, your body still tingling with the aftershocks of your orgasm. “I want you,” you manage to whisper, your voice hoarse from the intensity.

George’s eyes darken with desire, his own breath coming in shallow gasps. “I want you too,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. He leans back, quickly shedding the rest of his clothes, the sight of his naked body stirring a fresh wave of arousal within you.

George leans over you, positioning himself between your legs once more, but this time his hardened cock nudges your pussy. Sliding it between your folds, he slicks up his length with your cum, nudging your clit a few times with the tip, each touch sending jolts of pleasure through you.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. “Please, George,” you plead, your voice breathless with desire. “Stop teasing me.”

With a deep groan, George finally slides into you, filling you completely. He pauses for a moment, allowing you to adjust to the sensation, then almost pulls out before thrusting back in, taking your breath away. The sensation is overwhelming, your bodies perfectly in sync as he sets a brutal pace. Each thrust is powerful and deliberate, hitting the perfect spot inside you.

The world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you intimately connected, lost in the moment. The room is filled with obscene sounds—gasps, moans, the slick sound of skin slapping against skin. Every thrust sends waves of pleasure through your body, each movement driving you closer to the edge.

George’s movements become more urgent, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he loses himself in the heat of your cunt enveloping him over and over. “You feel so good,” he mutters, his voice strained with desire and pleasure.

Your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving marks as you cling to him. Your only response is a moan, your voice filled with raw need. The pleasure builds rapidly in your core, your body tightening around him, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge.

George brings his fingers to your lips. “Open,” he commands, his voice deep, his accent more prominent. You obey him, sticking your tongue out and taking his fingers into your mouth, sucking on them and muffling your moans.

His fingers, now slick with your spit, leave your mouth and travel to your clit. He pinches it between his fingers, then begins rubbing tight circles, the added stimulation making your body tremble. His other hand finds its way to your throat, applying just enough pressure to restrict a bit of oxygen entering your body. The combination of sensations makes you clench down on him, your body responding to every touch, every thrust.

George’s thrusts become even more frenzied, his grip on your throat tightening slightly. The pleasure is overwhelming, your body on a brink of another release so soon. His fingers on your clit, his hand on your throat, his cock filling you completely—it’s all too much.

“Cum for me,” he demands, his voice rough. “Cum for me, love.”

The command sends you over the edge. Your orgasm crashes over you. You cry out his name, your body trembling as you cling to him, your nails digging into his skin.

George follows you over the edge, a deep groan escaping his lips as he reaches his own release. His thrusts slow down as he fills you with his cum, his body shuddering.

Pulling out, he collapses on top of you, his body spent but his arms wrap around you, holding you close. Your breaths are ragged, your bodies covered in a sheen of sweat but you stay entwined, savouring the closeness and intimacy of the moment.

After a few moments, George lifts himself off you, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead. He leaves the bed and returns with a warm damp cloth, carefully cleaning you up. His touch is soft and soothing, a stark contrast to the raw intensity you just shared.

As you lie there, your eyes drift to the clock, noting the time with a heavy heart. Only a few hours remain before sunrise. Though you keep your thoughts to yourself, a mental countdown begins, marking each fleeting minute as the fantasy edges closer to its inevitable end. For now, you push those thoughts aside, unwilling to let them intrude upon the closeness you’ve been granted.

George settles back into bed, drawing you into his embrace. His body is warm and reassuring, and he holds you close, as if trying to anchor you both in this fragile moment. His fingers gently stroke your hair, and his murmured words are soft, a soothing balm against the emotional rawness you both feel.

In his arms, you allow yourself to savor the love and tenderness that had been absent from your relationship, even though you know it comes too late. You stroke his cheek with your thumb, pulling him in for a kiss that’s slow and filled with an aching sadness. This kiss is not driven by the fiery passion of earlier but is instead a testament to the longing and melancholy that now defines your connection.

George tries to change the pace, his hands cupping your face as if to draw you back into a passionate kiss, but you resist, determined to let this moment linger. Each touch, each kiss, is a memory you wish to imprint deeply into your mind, a final, bittersweet echo of what might have been.

When you finally pull away, you rest your forehead against his, eyes closed as if to shield yourself from the inevitable morning. The silence between you feels dense and heavy, like quicksand pulling you both deeper into an emotional mire. It’s a silence that speaks volumes, a quiet weight that settles heavily on your hearts.

His voice breaks through the silence, soft yet resolute. “I love you,” he murmurs, the words wrapped in a tenderness that makes your heart ache.

You take a shaky breath, feeling the sting of tears behind your eyelids. “I’ll always love you too,” you reply, your voice barely more than a whisper, yet filled with a depth of emotion that words alone can scarcely capture.

In that fleeting, fragile moment, you hold onto each other, letting the intimacy of your shared silence and the echo of your promises wrap around you like a bittersweet embrace. The world outside begins to stir, but within this cocoon of quiet, time seems to stand still, allowing you both to savor the final fragments of a love that was beautiful but not enough.

As the first light of dawn begins to creep through the curtains, a soft glow starts to illuminate the room. George remains close, his breathing steady and calm as he sleeps beside you, but you lie awake, your mind awash with the bittersweetness of the night.

The silence is no longer just a weight; it’s a space where every unsaid word and unresolved feeling seems to echo. You trace patterns on his chest with your fingers, savoring the warmth and the closeness while feeling the sting of impending farewell.

The morning light casts gentle shadows across the room, highlighting the contrast between the intense passion of the night and the tender, almost fragile peace of the morning. You take in the sight of George, his features softened in sleep, a small, wistful smile playing on his lips. It’s a reminder of the affection you’ve longed for, now tinged with the realization of its fleeting nature.

You let your gaze linger on him, the hurt and longing swirling within you. The memory of his touch and his kisses will linger, a beautiful ache that will accompany you as you face the day ahead. Each moment shared is a precious token to be cherished, even as you prepare to confront the reality of your separation.

Gently, you begin to disentangle yourself from his embrace, careful not to disturb him. The softness of the bed and the warmth of his body seem to hold you in a tender cocoon, but you rise, moving with a quiet grace. You dress in the dim light, each movement a silent farewell to the night that has just passed.

With one last look at George, you take a deep breath, trying to memorize the calm of his sleeping face, the last remnant of the passion and intimacy you’ve shared. You leave the room, stepping into the dawn, where the world is awakening and the day is ready to begin.

The fantasy of the night dissolves into the morning’s reality, but the memory of his touch and the echoes of his love will remain with you, a haunting yet beautiful reminder of what once was.

Taglist: @lochnoch @llando4norris @monsieurbacteria6 @namgification @lilymurphy03 @sargeantdumbass @hiireadstuff @racingheartsposts @d3kstar @namjoonswaifu @thedecalcomania-blog @casperlikej @khaylin27 @mlioravanfleet @mehrmonga @wobblymug @bokutos-babyowl @chilling-seavey

[emmiesoverthemoon]

✧ overwhelming warmth

Pairing: g-dragon / kwon jiyong x reader

Word Count: 4,309

Summary: Management has forced G-Dragon to collaborate with you—a renowned producer who creates sound like no other—in order to push his creative boundaries with another set of ears, and he is not happy. Unable to accept his jealousy of your skill, he takes it out on you and learns that may not have been the right decision.

Tags: rivals to lovers, forced proximity, jealousy, tension, enemies to lovers, second pov

cross posted on ao3 here

bonus chapter (sexual content warning) here

Resentment had settled in Jiyong’s chest long before he even met her. It twisted through his ribs like a parasite, feeding on his pride, his ego, the carefully built persona he had spent very well over a decade perfecting.

“Have you heard of her? She has been in the industry for only a year, and has already smashed records and won awards, with only one studio album…” His manager’s voice droned out; or Jiyong stopped caring about what he had to say. When he had stated your name, he had barely resisted the urge to scoff. Her? He had spent over a decade crafting his empire, pushing boundaries, redefining sound. He had done it alone. And now, this woman—this newcomer—was being handed his album as if he were some small incapable baby in need of training wheels.

G-Dragon was not a man accustomed to feeling second best. His name was carved into the very bones of the Kpop industry—his sound, his vision, his ideology. He had bled for every note, burned for every lyric, and now, he was being told that did not suffice. It sat horribly in his chest.

“I can do it myself,” he had snapped. He was the King of Kpop for goodness sake, he didn’t need another person in the room constantly with him, poking in his studio, lecturing him how to make his own album.

His elder had barely blinked. “Then don’t even bother imagining a release date. Not with us.”

That had silenced him.

“Right then,” His manager started, “You two will stay together in your home until the project is completed. This is because I know that otherwise you would never show up to work. It will help to have a fresh pair of hands and ears.” Jiyong walked out of the office, not leaving a single word in his wake.

Now, standing in the threshold of the house where they would be forced to coexist, Jiyong felt that disgust and resentment swell again like bile in his throat. He had not even seen her yet, and already, his skin burned with irritation.

And then, you opened the studio door.

You didn’t look smug. Didn’t look victorious or condescending. A nonchalant expression was worn across your face. A polite one; a normal look you’d expect for someone welcoming a new coworker to the office. If anything, the only readable emotion was confusion. As if you, too, had been thrown into this situation against her will.

"Let’s get this over with," he muttered, shouldering past you without waiting for a response.

He didn’t see the way your brows pulled together at his hostility. You did not even manage to get a single word of greeting or introduction out yet, and he had already decided that he had enough of your presence. Even though he is older than you, you were still shocked and a little angered by the audacity of his actions.

But he felt it when you followed him inside, closing the door behind yourself with a quiet, resigned sigh.

彡

You weren’t what he expected.

Jiyong had been prepared for arrogance, for gloating. He had braced himself for some pretentious genius who would relish every second of taking over his album. Or even someone who would immediately start getting all nosy and searching through his studio, eager to copy his work and steal it as your own. But you were… silent.

Not timid. Not weak. Just… observant.

That only irritated him more.

You didn’t react when he snapped in your direction. Didn’t argue when he ignored your suggestions or dismissed your ideas with clipped words. He wanted a fight—wanted you to give him something to latch onto, something that would justify the bitterness clawing at him. Something that would charge him to his management to persuade them that you were indeed the villain he imagined you to be, and to allow him to fly solo once more.

But you never took the bait.

And then, you started working.

It was infuriating, really. How easily you molded sound. How you didn’t force a song into being but rather coaxed it, like you were uncovering something that had already existed in the universe, hidden until you laid your hands upon it.

Worse, you made it look effortless.

Jiyong had spent years honing his craft, bleeding for it, burning himself to exhaustion to achieve what he had. And yet, you stood there, in his studio, weaving together melodies in ways he never would have imagined, as if the music you were creating was an immersive extension of your very soul and being rather than something you had to fight tooth and nail just so it could sound the exact way you desired.

And he despised it.

He despised you.

Not because you were bad at what you did—but because you were better than he was.

彡

You weren't blind.

From the moment he arrived, the animosity radiated from him like heat off pavement. He barely looked at you, barely spoke to you beyond clipped instructions and muttered complaints.

And for what?

You had never done anything to him. Never insulted his work, never dismissed his talent. In fact, you had admired him and his work prior to all of this. You had looked up to him, had studied his music, and had learned from the very foundation he had built. G-Dragon was one of your inspirations.

But now?

Now, you could barely stand to be in the same room as him. It was like walking on broken glass—careful, quiet, blood boiling; knowing that at any moment, he could snap. And when he did, it was over something purely idiotic. It enraged you.

When your manager proposed this idea to you, all you felt was pure excitement and enthusiasm. To work so closely with one of your idols on his newest studio album? You were immediately on board. You had imagined this experience to stimulate the feeling of watching Leonardo Da Vinci sketch out the ‘Mona Lisa’, or witness the frameworks of the Pyramids of Giza in Ancient Egypt be conceptualised and built. Never in your mind did this hatred for you cross over these thoughts. And frankly, you had had enough.

"I think the layering is too heavy here," you had said on one late night together, adjusting the volume on one of the tracks they had been working on. "It’s drowning out the—"

"I know how to produce a song," Jiyong interrupted sharply. "I’ve been doing this shit long before you have even dreamed of touching an instrument."

Your eyebrows ticked, taken aback.

"Okay," you said carefully, trying to ignore the frustration rising in your chest, which was a frequent, uncomfortable feeling you had been having recently. You had repressed enough anger that could cover across several people working with G-Dragon. “But I think if we just—"

"Just what?" He scoffed, turning to face you fully. His eyes held enough rage to kill someone, his expression hard as rock, "Let you take over? Because that’s what you really want, isn’t it?"

The floodgates of your anger management had smashed wide open at that last comment.

"Are you serious?" you snapped, voice incredulous. "I’m literally trying to help you, GD.” Until he held an ounce of respect for you, you had refused to use his real name, which you fore-sought was not going to happen any time in the future. If he did not believe you deserved respect, then neither did he, age-respect hierarchy be damned. “That’s what I was asked to do by my management, just like you were. It’s not my fault if you can’t handle the fact that someone else has good ideas!"

His jaw clenched.

"You’re nothing but a burden in here," he muttered.

Your breath caught.

And then, you laughed—a sharp, humorless sound.

"God, you are insufferable”, you aspersed. "I’m sorry that I am capable of creating something incredible that millions adore. I’m sorry that you like my work. But I can’t help your jealousy, GD. That’s something you have to deal with. Pull your thumb from your mouth and grow up."

You turned on your heel and left, slamming the door behind you.

For the first time, his mouth was left agape; he had nothing to say.

彡

Silence never felt heavier than when you were gone.

Jiyong sat in the now-empty studio, staring at the untouched buttons and controls. The weight of his own words pressed against his ribs.

You’re nothing but a burden in here

He hadn’t meant it, not really.

He had been cruel because cruelty was easier than admitting the truth—easier than saying “I feel threatened by you, I feel small next to you, I hate that I admire you.”

To G-Dragon, guilt was a foreign sensation, but he felt it now, curling in his gut like something alive. He pulled out his phone, opening his message app to request your address from your manager.

The next day, he showed up at your door, embarrassed. Behind his back, he clutched a bouquet of lilies; nothing overly extravagant, but prettier, larger than average to hopefully settle some of the rocky waves between you that his tidal current had forced at you.

After looking in the peephole of your door, you opened it cautiously, your eyes flickering across his face, analysing his inability to meet your eyes as normal, but this time, not for disdain, but out of humiliation. The way his brows were furrowed and eyes low, drifting toward the floor and your feet; you soaked it all in, the powerhouse of the Kpop industry G-Dragon, was here, on your doorstep, flushed as a beetroot. A part of you liked what you saw. Suppressing those images down, you remember his words; you were pissed off at him. Your gaze sharpened.

"What is this?" you asked.

He exhaled. "An apology." He revealed his left arm from behind his back, bringing the bouquet of beautiful pink and white lillies into your line of vision. The sharpness you held in your eyes was loosened. Flowers were an achilles heel in your anger.

Crossing your arms, your right eyebrow raised expectantly as you broke the silence once more, “For what?”

Jiyong met your eyes. Finally, you could see into the pools of his irises and truly pick apart his humiliation.

"For being an ass. For—" He hesitated. "For taking out my insecurities on you."

A beat of silence.

And then, to his surprise, you smirked. Small and amused.

"Well," you sighed, stepping aside, your words dripping, sticky with sarcasm, “I guess you do know how to learn and grow after all."

And just like that, the tension between the two of you shifted. It had initially started small, like a bud of a lily that had yet to bloom. Glances that lingered too long. ‘Accidental’ touches that weren’t so accidental. One night, while adjusting a track together, his hand brushed against yours. Neither of you moved away. A crack of electricity shivered through the both of you. You could see goosebumps quickly scatter and raise across his hand.

It built slowly, like a cacophony of an orchestra rising to its crescendo. Jiyong started to notice small quirks about you. The way you pulled the edge of your bottom lip between your teeth when you were truly focused. How you counted the beat of anything by tapping your pinky finger against your palm simultaneously to the sound. Your incessant habit of humming the same tune he could not identify when you were deep in thought. How your voice sounded when the hours you would spend with him would reach the night, a soft, almost whispery tone that eluded him to a softer, sweet version of yourself he had rarely received the honour to see.

Before he knew it, you plagued his mind. In his solitary moments away from you physically, you invaded his mind. He imagined all different kinds of situations with you as the focal point. Taking you out to dinners, exploring the world together, spoiling you for as long as you would allow him to, being beside you in galas, showing you off to the world as his girl. As long as you were a part of it, he had yearned for it.

His own realisation interrupted his fantasies and caught him off guard. He draped his fingers across the lower sector of his face, which he had just realised was quite warm. Goodness, were you aware of just how big the effect you have on him is?

彡

The house was quiet except for the faint hum of your phone playing music from down the hallway in the bathroom. Jiyong sat on the couch in the vast living area, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone, pretending not to be listening for the sound of the shower running echoing, bouncing across each wall, reverberating in his head.

It was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.

But lately, everything about you had started to feel that way.

The way you laughed—low and warm, like the last sip of wine. The way your voice lingered in his brain and had no means of budging away, similarly to how his cigarette smoke would cling to his clothing and continue to hold on tight no matter how many wash cycles it endured. This woman must be completely unaware that she was making his stomach tighten. The way they worked cooperatively together now, in sync, as if their hands had learned the rhythm of each other’s movements without even trying. It felt oddly domestic, and that was natural to him, too natural.

It was ridiculous.

And worse? Jiyong had no idea if she felt the way he did. If he invaded her head in every possible moment, clawing at the inside of her mind and filling every groove and cavity. If when she gazed at the moon after sunset, she imagined the beacon of it's light illuminating his features just as he did. If he was the first thing she thought of as the morning sun beckoned her awake, and if her last thoughts at night were of him as the stars in the sky tucked her in the guest bed's silky sheets. All he could do was hope.

A sudden noise pulled him from his thoughts—the sharp creak of the bathroom door cracking open, followed by the softest, most hesitant voice.

“Jiyong?”

His breath hitched. The voice was small, unsure. Embarrassed. His heart stuttered, completely unprepared for the sheer intimacy of hearing his name spoken like that. Now that he thought about it, he did not think he had ever heard his name slip from her lips; at least not so sickeningly saccharine. The fantasies that generated as a result of your voice speaking to him that way made his blood rush all through his body.

He cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice casual. “Uh… yeah?”

A pause. And then, with the quiet resignation of someone who really really didn’t want to ask but had no other choice— “I… forgot my towel.”

Jiyong’s brain short-circuited.

For a moment, he just stared at the hallway leading to the bathroom, as if his body hadn’t yet caught up with what he’d just heard. And then—heat. So much heat. It crawled up his neck, spreading fast, filling every inch of him with something unbearably awkward and hot. It all was so overwhelming and so so pleasurable at once.

He swallowed hard. “O-okay. Um.” His voice cracked. He winced. “Where is it?”

“In my room. Top drawer.”

Jiyong shot up from the couch like he had been set on fire. It was a simple request. A completely normal, mundane situation. You had revealed how your memory was not amazing sometimes. But the sheer implication of this situation—the fact that you were in the bathroom, wet, barely wrapped in anything, waiting on him—sent his mind and imagination into overdrive.

Jiyong all but sprinted to your room, yanking open the drawer with more force than necessary. His hands fumbled as he grabbed the first towel he could find, cursing under his breath at his own inability to act normal. When he returned to the hallway, the bathroom door was still mostly closed, cracked open just enough for him to see a sliver of your smooth, bare shoulder and your exposed clavicle glistening with droplets of water reflecting the light from the ceiling. His throat went dry, he had never knocked so quickly in his life.

“Here,” he blurted, shoving the towel toward the opening like it was a lifeline.

Your hand appeared, fingers brushing against his as she took it from him. Too warm. Too soft. Jiyong could have sworn he heard your soft lips inhale sharply.

“Thanks,” you murmured, voice somehow even quieter than before. Something thick and charged filled the small space between them. His fingers twitched. He needed to leave. Needed to walk away before his face actually caught fire.

But before he could, she let out a soft, breathy laugh. “You’re blushing.”

Jiyong groaned, running a hand down his face as he took a step back. "No way.”

“Yes, you are.” He could hear the smirk growing on your features. He let out a humoured breath, his embarrassment still at an all time high.

“I am not.”

Her laughter grew, muffled by the door but still unmistakably amused. Teasing.

“Shut up and finish your shower,” he muttered, already turning on his heel before he could embarrass himself even further. Behind him, the door locked shut, and Jiyong exhaled sharply.

Ridiculous.

Absolutely, completely ridiculous.

Later that night, technically approaching the a.m., you had found yourself back in the studio alone. The release date was approaching within the next week, and you were giving the album files a listen to ensure that everything was in order for the umpteenth time. Jiyong had grown to know that you were a perfectionist. Even more so than he could be; but he still understood your need to nitpick.

After your first—and currently only—album had soared so successfully after releasing, you had felt antagonising pressure to succeed again. Your fans were expecting the world and more from you—and even though you were eternally grateful for them, you needed a second to breathe. You had grown antsy, nothing that you were adding to this song was making it work. You let out the occasional groan or heavy sigh anxiously; had you really reached your peak before your career prolonged?

Wondering why he could still hear noise from the studio long after he had retired to his room for the night, Jiyong cracked open the door and looked upon you, a look of sympathy in his eyes. The scene of you before him screamed that you felt a heavy weight on your back.

Your hands trembled, the corner of your lip was tucked in your teeth, a tick lay across your expression as your head held the headphones that were drumming noise into your ears worryingly loud told Jiyong everything he needed to know about what was going through your mind currently. You were completely zoned in, your eyes not breaking contact from your monitor screen, so you would not have expected to see a ringed finger reach down to press the spacebar, and the same hands brush against your hair to remove headphones—alleviating some pressure from your head—to be gently placed on the table. You swivelled in your chair to the culprit.

"Jiyong, what are you doing..?" You spoke, your tone unsure of whether it should be angry, sad, or whispered.

"Giving you a chance to have a second to breathe." He replied, softly seeing through you. You stood and let out a sigh.

"I just need it to be perfect. I don't want to release something the people won't like, I need them to value it——"

"People will like what we have made. They will hold it dear to them and value it because you have made it. Not because of its objective value. Because they like you." He interrupted you, his tone soft, holding gentle finality. You nod, breathing softly. A beat passes, and suddenly you realise just how closely you are standing—too close—to Jiyong. A pit forms in your stomach, your mind racing at a million miles an hour. Is it hot in here? You needed to remove your hoodie, you were wearing it because it was cold when you entered.

Was it always so overbearingly warm in here? You tug on your sleeves and look into Jiyong's dark eyes and see something unreadable.

Your breath mingled with his, the air charged with something unspoken. His eyes flickered to your lips. Your fingers twitched at your side. And then——

You moved away, your temperature burning too high to handle. You could barely hear Jiyong exhaling sharply, running a hand through his hair because your heart was thrumming extremely loud in your chest, you were causing a racket in your own head with thoughts and fantasies.

What the hell was happening to you?

彡

The next week had passed much faster than you expected, and the release date had come and gone. It was globally renowned as a masterpiece. It was your masterpiece with Jiyong. Expected by many, it had been nominated for several awards, including Album Of The Year at the Grammys. And of course, it had won by a landslide. Jiyong's half of your shared acceptance speech astounded you.

"I dedicate this to my co-producer," he had opened with, voice steady. "She put up with me. She challenged me. And she’s the reason this album is what it is. She’s the most talented person I’ve ever met, and if I had to do it all over again she would be the first person I would run to in a heartbeat." The crowd cheered loudly after the rest of his speech finished, concluding with the typical thank-yous and acknowledgments.

After the Grammys had ended, the air in the vehicle back to Jiyong's home was heavy. You knew your time together had concluded, and now you needed to go home. This made you melancholy, knowing your paths did not cross paths at all before production commenced, and it would be unlikely that the both of you would converge often afterwards either. After you completed packing your things into your travel bag, you dragged your eyes to meet Jiyong's sadly.

"This was fun." You sighed, not even bothering to hide any fraction of disappointment or sadness in your voice. Jiyong swallowed.

"It doesn't have to be over, you know..." He replied nervously, confusing you. His face and body language mirrored that day when he showed up to your house with flowers and an apology. You held that morning dear to you, even if it felt like eons ago now.

"It is, isn't it..? The album has been made, now we have to go and live our lives," your right eyebrow raised. You were unsure of where he was going with this, you didn't exactly love when he was vague like this.

"What I mean is that it doesn't have to be... exactly how it was before production started..." His voice dropping low now, the confusion seeping deeper within you. "What I mean is that I want to continue to see you. I need you. As close as this," Gesturing vaguely, but you knew what he meant. He took a step forward, now standing as close to you as that night a few weeks ago in the studio.

"Closer than this," He whispered, and you catch his eyes flickering at your soft lips, the confession fanning across your blazing red cheeks. The familiar warmth was flooding your body, forming that same pit in your stomach. You can barely meet his strong eyes, the confusion long been gone, you understand exactly what he means now.

This time, however, you do not move away. Boldly and impulsively, you meet your lips with his. Everything else seemed to blur, as if the universe held its breath. It started soft, tentative, as if testing the waters of something both of you had wanted for months but couldn’t quite give in to. Your heart raced as you felt his warmth, the slight tremor in his hand as it brushed against your cheek, tracing the outline of your jaw like he’d been waiting for this touch too.

The kiss deepened, slow at first, but then urgent—like every quiet, stolen glance, every touch that lingered a little too long, was finally released all at once. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that mirrored yours, and you melted right into him, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as if you couldn’t get enough. The tension they’d both carried for so long dissolved in that single, searing kiss, leaving nothing but the raw, undeniable truth of how much they’d wanted this. And in that moment, it was as though time stood still, just for them. You pulled back just slightly, your lips curling into that oh so familiar smirk that Jiyong had grown to adore as you met his gaze, still breathless.

“Wow,” you teased, your voice low and dripping with amusement, “you really did need me, huh?” You let the words hang in the air for a moment, your fingers still resting on his chest, watching the flush spread across his face, satisfyingly.

Jiyong then grinned, eyes twinkling with mischief as he leaned in just enough to brush his lips against the shell of your ear. “Oh, trust me,” he murmured, voice rich with teasing confidence, “I’ve been dying to prove that for months.” He pulled back slightly, looking you over with a playful glint in his eyes. “But I guess now you know.”

thank you for reading!

fic number two! i thank you all eternally for the love on my first one, it really helps my confidence when i see you guys interact! so i thank you for that

my reqs are open if you want any kind of prompt in particular! i'm open to anything you got ;)

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Cold-hearted Wolf

Tags: Angst, fluff, arranged marriage, eventual smut, cregan is repressed and mean at first, then falls for the reader.

Master list

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Martell princess reader

All fiction, the reader is a made-up character. Im a long-time reader, but first-time writer.

Chapter 1 - Every decision Cregan Stark made was with a heavy sense of duty to his people. And this union, this upcoming wedding with the Martell girl, was no different. In his mind, you were just a pretty decoration, spoiled by the sun and riches of Dorne.

The skies over Winterfell were gray. The Martells of Dorne had arrived, bringing with them a warmth that was foreign to the North.

Cregan Stark was a formidable figure, trained to rule and fight from a young age. Past generations of Starks ran in his veins. Every decision he made was with a heavy sense of duty to his people. And this union, this upcoming wedding with the Martell girl, was no different. He saw it as a political move. In his mind, you were just a pretty decoration, spoiled by the sun and riches of Dorne.

You, on the other hand, were a bright-eyed girl. Though you have been trained in combat since a young age, as per Dornish custom, you had always been drawn to beauty – not war. The tales of the dashing Northern warrior had you intrigued. Since your announced engagement, you had imagined him with the ice of the North in his eyes and a heroic presence. And as the two of you finally met, you weren't disappointed. He was every bit the man of your dreams.

"You're as handsome as they say, my Lord," you offered with a smile and a bow, your voice tinged with genuine admiration.

Cregan simply nodded, taking you in. You were dressed in a gown the color of a sunset, your bare shoulders and collarbone a bit too revealing by Northern standards, and he could see the goosebumps lining your skin.

You began to second guess your wardrobe as you felt yourself shiver. Your maids tried to warn you of the exposed dress, however, you had told them that it would all be worth it once he sees your beauty.

You overheard a snicker come from the crowd. One of Cregan’s men, unable to resist, whispered loudly, "Looks like the sun forgot a few places."

You blushed as Cregan turned to give the man a deadly look, and the man's smirk instantly dropped.

Cregan’s icy grey eyes fixed on you again. "It's quite cold in the North, princess.”

You chuckled nervously. ”Yes, my lord. I seem to have forgotten.”

Instead of reciprocating your attempt at a joke, he took off the wolf hide around his shoulder and wrapped it around you. You accepted the warmth with gratitude.

“Perhaps in time, you'll learn to dress as befits the wife of a Stark." Was all he offered.

The words landed as a sharp jab. Your smile dropped as you looked down at yourself. You had tried, tried so hard to look beautiful for him, to make a good impression. Instead, you felt the weight of his disappointment.

The ceremony that followed was quite somber. Cregan was stoic. He did his duty, saying the words, making the vows, as did you. But there was a distance between the two of you. As the festivities went on, and the music played, he had not called upon you once to accompany him to the floor.

As you sat, your excitement slowly faded. You felt out of place. And as the night went on, you couldn't help but wonder if this marriage of convenience would ever know genuine affection.

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

On the morning after his wedding, Cregan woke up to an unusual sound – he could have sworn he heard footsteps echoing outside his window. The chill air from the cracked open window mixed in with the fire in the hearth as he rose from his bed of furs. He looked to his side and stirred when he didn't see his bride's sleeping form beside him.

His loyal dog stirred beside the bed. "Easy, Grey," Cregan whispered, his hand soothingly running through the thick fur of his pet, who settled back down.

A glance out the window revealed a figure descending the roofs of Winterfell. As Cregan squinted against the early morning sun, he saw a figure in tight riding leathers, hair escaping from the hood in a braid. The figure turned to assess the distance to the ground, and beneath the hood, he recognized your distinct features. Unaware of his gaze, you scaled down the tower.

Panic briefly gripped Cregan at the thought of you falling. However, as you maneuvered with ease, his concern turned to curiosity. "Where are you going, princess?" He asked no one in particular.

Quickly dressing and concealing his identity with a hood, Cregan descended the stairs of the castle, avoiding working servents to sneak into the barn.

In the quiet darkness of the barn, Cregan spoke softly to his horse, Storm, as he saddled him. He clicked his tongue, guiding the horse as he followed you out of the castle.

Amidst the early morning silence of Winterfell, Cregan spotted you again, tossing a rope around one of the gate's stone columns. With a graceful swing, you scaled the wall before landing nimbly outside the castle grounds.

Cregan urged his horse onward, determined to follow your path.

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

Having successfully snuck out of the castle (your gymnastics instructor was right in saying you would someday need the skill), you now stood behind a railing, quietly overlooking the jeweller at work in his shop.

Yesterday, the same jeweler had gifted you a stunning silver bracelet, crafted to resemble a viper wrapped around your hand. It occupied your thoughts pretty much the whole night, lighting the desire for a matching one for your other hand. Your early morning escapade confirmed the jeweler's location, and here he was—the handsome man, strands of grey hair falling on his forehead as he worked.

"What are you doing?" A voice whispered behind you.

You gasped, jumping to face Cregan, who leaned against the window with an air of anger, clad in riding leathers, his hood hiding part of his face. His eyes roamed over you in suspicion.

You blinked in surprise to meet his gaze. "My lord," you said, questioning. "Did you follow me?"

Raising a single brow, Cregan responded, "Merely concerned over my wife's reputation, what with the sneaking out of castle grounds, out of our marriage bed, no less, in the break of dawn."

Noting the harshness in his words, you retorted. "I don't see why there has to be an issue, given that everyone in Winterfell knows I belong to you anyway."

Something stirred within him at your words, and he took a couple of steps forward, backing you against the railing.

"That's right," he murmured, his voice low so as to not get you two caught. "It will be good you remembered it as well. Do you often sneak away into strange men’s homes?"

You, over your haze since last night, were unimpressed, maintaining your composure, responded, "Should I be alarmed by your sudden interest in me?"

Cregan, feeling oddly aggressive, leaned in, his lips dangerously close to your ear. "Alarmed or not, wife, I am the one who will leave a lasting mark on you."

Your heart sped up, and you felt an odd warmth in the pit of your stomach where his hand lay. You were a princess, after all. No one had ever spoken to you in such a commanding tone before.

You let him pull you through the window, and the two of you took his horse to find your way back to the castle. Neither spoke during the ride.

[concretejunglefm]

vampire!Noah feeds on you to break you and turn you into a more willing pet.

Pairing: vampire!Noah Sebastian x human pet!reader.

CW: blood kink, biting, claiming, dubcon, sadistic!noah.

NSFW below the cut 🔞 Minors DNI.

When you first arrived in California, you were young with aspirations of success—visions of achieving greatness, working behind the scenes rather than in front of a camera. You never imagined yourself as the star, but rather as the orchestrator, pulling the strings, and making others’ dreams come true. Yet, fate had other plans for you. You’ve now found yourself the star of your own gothic nightmare, the story you once envisioned playing out on a screen, now twisted into something far more unexpected.

Now, your mind is hazy and empty, making you pliable, just as they desire. The vampires who have claimed you as their human pet take turns draining your willpower and strength, until there’s nothing left but your body for them to feast upon.

The silk robe you wear offers little protection, barely covering you. It’s just a fragile veil against the sharp, predatory gaze that hovers over you from the shadows. A shiver runs down your spine, and a part of you yearns to pull away and fight it, but the desire inside you grows stronger with each passing moment.

“Little pet.” Noah’s voice cuts through the stillness, smooth and low, his footsteps deliberate as he approaches. His dark eyes gleam with something cold and cruel. You can feel the tremor in your pulse, thrumming in your throat, inviting him, urging him to come closer. When he kneels before you, his smile is slow, knowing, and laced with malice. “You’re not going to fight me now, are you?”

You’re a caged animal, held captive and reminded that there is no escape.

Noah reaches towards you, fingers stroking your cheek in a mockery of tenderness, a touch that is a sharp contrast to the dark plans swirling in his mind. His eyes flash, his hunger deeper than the thirst for blood that burns inside him.

His hand slides down your thigh, his fingers cold yet purposeful, sending shivers down your spine. Your breath catches in your throat, and you instinctively close your eyes, trying to block out his advances, but Noah is relentless. He presses on, his voice a whisper against the tension building in the air.

“You can lie to yourself all you want,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your lips. “But your body knows who owns it now.”

Without waiting for a response, he dips his head, gently brushing his lips against the rapid pulse in your throat. It’s soft, almost reverent—a twisted mockery of affection—before you feel the sharp scrape of his fangs, sinking into your flesh without a moment’s hesitation.

The pain is sudden, searing, a hot flash of agony that erupts behind your eyes. You cry out, unable to control yourself as your body arches toward him, offering yourself. He accepts it, his arm tightening around you, pulling you closer as he feeds. Each drink from you is slow and meticulous, a possessive rhythm that makes your body sway against him as if it belongs to him.

His sharp and brutal bite serves as a stark reminder that you are nothing more than prey to him. With each draw of blood, a subtle shift occurs—a heat spreading throughout your body, an undeniable warmth teetering on the edge of pleasure, and an almost irresistible pull toward him.

You whimper, a broken sound, and Noah hums in satisfaction, as if pleased by how easily you’ve become malleable. A cold thrill runs through you when you realize your body is pressing against his, responding without your consent. You’re no longer resisting; you’re giving in.

When Noah finally pulls away, blood staining his lips, he looks down at you with an expression that borders on satisfaction. His pupils are blown, glowing with hunger—but not just for blood. There’s a new desire there, one that curls through you and makes your heart beat faster, heavier.

“There she is,” Noah croons, his thumb sweeping lazily through the blood on your throat, only to smear it across your trembling lips. “My sweet pet, finally giving herself over to be ruined.”

You tremble with a fresh wave of shame, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you welcome him. You don’t resist as he leans in, tasting the blood on your lips, his tongue sweeping against yours. He devours you, leaving his mark with each kiss and desperate stroke of his tongue, claiming you as his—body and soul.