#Concealed Door Hinges

[hardwarebywilliam]

Concealed Door Hinges Noida: A Hidden Gem for Your Interiors

Have you ever walked into a room and felt something was just… off? You may not realize it, but clunky, visible hinges on your doors might be the culprit. Now imagine doors so sleek they appear to float—no hinges in sight, just pure elegance. Sounds amazing, right? That’s the power of concealed door hinges in Noida.

 Let’s go on an interactive journey to discover how concealed door hinges in Noida can transform your space into a masterpiece. Ready? Let’s dive in!

1. Quick Question: What’s the First Thing You Notice About a Door?

Think about it. Is it the color? The material? Or do your eyes get drawn to the hardware—the knobs, the hinges, the stuff sticking out?

With concealed door hinges, the answer changes. The hinges disappear, leaving a flawless, uninterrupted door design. No distractions, just pure elegance.

2. Picture This: A Door Without Distractions

Close your eyes for a moment. Picture a modern living room with minimalist furniture, sleek lines, and perfect symmetry. Now imagine a clunky traditional hinge breaking the harmony.

Switch that out for concealed door hinges, and voilà! The space instantly feels more polished and luxurious

Why concealed door hinges in Noida are the go-to choice:

• Hidden elegance: No visible hinges to disrupt the aesthetic.

• Improved security: Tamper-proof design keeps your doors safe.

• Smooth functionality: Say goodbye to creaky, stiff hinges.

3. What Makes Door Concealed Hinges So Special? 

Here’s a fun fact: Doors are one of the first things people notice when they enter a room. With concealed door hinges, you’re making a subtle yet impactful statement.

 Let’s break it down:

Traditional Door Hinges:

• Visible, clunky, and outdated.

• Prone to wear and tear over time.

Concealed Door Hinges:

• Completely hidden when the door is closed.

• Seamlessly integrated into the doorframe.

• Perfect for modern and minimalist interiors.

Which one would you choose?

4. Why Noida Loves Concealed Door Hinges

If you’re in Noida, you’ve likely noticed the city’s modern architecture and design-forward spaces. Concealed door hinges in Noida are gaining popularity for good reason—they’re the perfect blend of form and function.

Think about:

• Sleek apartments with flush doors.

• High-end offices with hidden entryways.

• Luxury homes with secret rooms (yes, they’re a thing!).

5. Let’s Talk Benefits: Why You Need Concealed Door Hinges

Here’s a quick interactive checklist. Which of these benefits appeals to you most?

• A) A clean, modern look.

• B) Enhanced door security.

• C) Durable and long-lasting performance.

• D) All of the above.

If you chose D, concealed door hinges are your perfect match. 

6. Real-Life Ideas: Where Can You Use Concealed Door Hinges?

Take a look around your home or office. Could any of these ideas work for you?

• Hidden Storage Doors: Keep clutter out of sight with a secret cabinet or room.

• Flush Doors: Achieve a smooth, wall-like appearance with no visible hardware.

• Glass Doors: Maintain elegance with invisible hinges on glass panels.

• Wardrobes and Cabinets: Elevate even the smallest spaces with concealed hardware.

Which of these spaces are you ready to upgrade?

7. How to Choose the Right Concealed Door Hinges in Noida

Shopping for concealed door hinges in Noida doesn’t have to be complicated. Here’s a pro tip: Look for hinges that match your door type and usage.

Ask yourself:

• Is my door heavy or lightweight?

• Do I need soft-close functionality?

• Am I aiming for a secret or flush door look?

At Hardware by Williams, we offer a wide range of concealed door hinges in Noida. Whether you’re designing a secret room or upgrading your bedroom doors, we’ve got you covered.

8. Installation Tips: Let’s Keep It Simple

Think concealed door hinges are hard to install? Think again! With the right tools and a little patience, it’s a straightforward process. 

Here’s how it works:

1. Measure and mark: Precision is key.

2. Cut slots for the hinges: A router can help with this.

3. Install and adjust: Align the hinges perfectly for a smooth finish.

Not confident in your DIY skills? No worries! Our team at Hardware by Williams can help with professional installation services in Noida.

9. Why Choose Hardware by Williams for Concealed Door Hinges in Noida?

When it comes to hardware, you want the best. Here’s why customers in Noida trust Hardware by Williams:

• Premium quality: Our concealed hinges are durable, reliable, and stylish.

• Expert advice: Not sure which hinge suits your needs? We’re here to help.

• Wide range: From soft-close to heavy-duty hinges, we’ve got it all.

• Installation support: Hassle-free installation by our experts.

Ready to transform your doors? Browse our collection online today!

 10. Where Can You Use Concealed Door Hinges?

Now let’s get creative. Think beyond regular doors. Here are some unique applications for concealed door hinges in Noida:

• Hidden Rooms: Perfect for creating secret storage or panic rooms.

• Flush Doors: Ideal for achieving a wall-like appearance.

• Wardrobes: Upgrade your closets with hidden hinges for a clean look.

• Cabinets: Give your kitchen or office a modern edge.

Question: Which of these ideas would you use in your space?

11. How to Choose the Right Concealed Hinges

Not all concealed door hinges are created equal. Here’s a quick guide to help you choose:

1. Door Material: Wooden, glass, or metal? Ensure the hinge matches the material.

2. Weight Capacity: Heavy doors require heavy-duty hinges.

3. Functionality: Need soft-close? Look for hinges with built-in dampers.

4. Design Goals: Flush doors, hidden doors, or minimalist aesthetics? Pick accordingly.

12.  Common Myths About Concealed Door Hinges

Let’s bust some myths:

Myth 1: Concealed hinges are fragile.

Truth: High-quality concealed hinges are incredibly durable.

Myth 2: They’re only for luxury spaces.

Truth: Concealed hinges are affordable and versatile, making them perfect for any home or office.

Myth 3: They’re hard to maintain.

Truth: Concealed hinges require minimal upkeep—just occasional lubrication!

Question: Did any of these myths surprise you?

 13. How Concealed Door Hinges Make Your Space Look Bigger

Let’s play a quick game of imagination. Close your eyes and picture your living room. Now, imagine all your doors blending seamlessly with the walls, with no visible hinges breaking the flow. Feels larger and more sophisticated, doesn’t it?

That’s the magic concealed hinges bring to your space. They remove visual clutter, making even compact areas feel expansive.

Your Turn:

Stand in your room right now. Look at your doors. How much better would they look with concealed door hinges?

14. Are Concealed Hinges Worth the Investment?

Quick quiz: Would you rather pay a bit more upfront for long-lasting, stylish concealed hinges or stick with cheaper, outdated hinges that creak and rust?

The answer is obvious, right? Concealed hinges aren’t just an upgrade; they’re a long-term investment in style, security, and durability.

Your Thought:

Would you invest in something that improves your home’s value and aesthetics at the same time?

15. Hidden Hinges and Soundproofing

Raise your hand if creaky doors have woken someone up at night.

Concealed door hinges don’t just look good; they operate smoothly and silently. Combine them with soundproofing door materials, and you’ll never hear another squeaky door again.

Quick Poll:

Would you use concealed hinges to create a quieter, more peaceful home or office?

16. How Do Concealed Hinges Fare in Extreme Weather?

Here’s a question for you:

What’s worse—rusty hinges in Noida’s monsoons or hinges that warp during summer heat?

Concealed door hinges are designed to withstand Noida’s weather extremes. They resist rust, don’t warp, and maintain their performance year-round.

 Your Thought:

Do your current hinges perform this well, or is it time for an upgrade?

17. Concealed Hinges for Smart Homes

Picture this: Your automated smart door opens with a gentle touch, revealing no visible hinges. It’s like living in the future, today.

Concealed door hinges complement smart home designs by keeping the focus on technology and sleek aesthetics. 

Imagine:

Wouldn’t concealed door hinges add that finishing touch to your tech-savvy home?

18. Maintenance Hacks for Concealed Hinges

Let’s make maintenance easy. Here’s a quick interactive tip:

Set a calendar reminder every six months to check your concealed door hinges for alignment and lubricate them.

By doing this, your hinges will last longer and perform like new.

 Your Turn:

What’s your current hinge maintenance routine? Could it be simpler with concealed door hinges? 

19. Are Concealed Door Hinges Kid-Friendly?

Parents, this one’s for you:

Would you rather deal with noisy doors slamming shut or opt for concealed hinges with a soft-close feature?

Concealed door hinges reduce noise and prevent pinched fingers, making them a safer choice for homes with children.

Your Thought:

Wouldn’t a quiet, child-safe home be worth the switch?

20. How to Pair Concealed Door Hinges with Modern Door Handles

Why stop at concealed door hinges? Pair them with chic door handles for a cohesive, modern look.

Imagine:

A door with sleek concealed hinges AND a stylish matte black handle. It’s a match made in interior design heaven. 

Your Turn:

Explore Hardware by Williams to find the perfect pair for your doors.

21. Hidden Door Trends: Concealed Hinges as a Must-Have

What’s cooler than a hidden door that blends seamlessly into the wall? A hidden door with concealed hinges!

Quick Question:

If you could add a hidden door anywhere in your home, where would it be? A secret library? A wine cellar?

Fun Challenge:

Design your dream hidden door in your mind, then explore how concealed hinges can make it real!

22. Customer Stories: How Noida Residents Are Loving Concealed Hinges

Let’s hear from Aditi, a Noida resident who recently renovated her home with concealed hinges:

“I love how modern myspace feels now. My doors are silent, secure, and look so sleek. Guests can’t stop complimenting them!”

Your Turn:

Could you be the next Noida homeowner to transform your space with concealed hinges?

23. Green Interiors with Concealed Hinges

Are you eco-conscious? Concealed hinges improve door alignment, reducing energy waste from air leaks.

Fact:

Doors with concealed hinges help maintain indoor temperatures better, cutting down on AC and heating costs.

Your Question:

Would you make a small change like this to support your eco-friendly goals?

24. Common Mistakes When Installing Concealed Hinges

Let’s test your hinge knowledge:

What’s the biggest mistake people make when installing concealed hinges?

            •         A) Choosing the wrong size hinge.

            •         B) Skipping proper alignment.

            •         C) Installing without professional help.

            •         D) All of the above. 

The correct answer? D!

Pro Tip: Avoid these pitfalls by trusting the experts at Hardware by Williams. 

25. Ready to Transform Your Space?

Let’s wrap this up with a question:

What’s stopping you from upgrading your home with concealed hinges?

Whether it’s aesthetics, durability, or functionality, concealed door hinges in Noida can transform your space. Ready to Make the Switch?

Now it’s your turn. Take a look at the doors in your home or office. Could they use a modern upgrade? With concealed door hinges in Noida, the possibilities are endless.

Start small with a single door or revamp your entire space. Whatever your vision,

Hardware by Williams is here to help you bring it to life.

Pro Tip: At Hardware by Williams, we offer a wide range of options to suit every need.

[handlescare]

Concealed Door Hinges for Easy To Use | Shop Now

Get premium concealed door hinges to guarantee smooth functioning and an attractive look. Perfect for business and private homes. Ideal for trendy, simple spaces. visit the site for more products.

[euroartofficial]

Concealed Hinges Dubai: A Hidden Gem for Your Interiors

Have you ever walked into a room and felt something was just… off? You may not realize it, but clunky, visible hinges on your doors might be the culprit. Now imagine doors so sleek they appear to float—no hinges in sight, just pure elegance. Sounds amazing, right? That’s the power of concealed hinges in Dubai.

Let’s go on an interactive journey to discover how concealed hinges in Dubai can transform your space into a masterpiece. Ready? Let’s dive in!

1. Quick Question: What’s the First Thing You Notice About a Door?

Think about it. Is it the color? The material? Or do your eyes get drawn to the hardware—the knobs, the hinges, the stuff sticking out?

With concealed door hinges, the answer changes. The hinges disappear, leaving a flawless, uninterrupted door design. No distractions, just pure elegance.

 2. Picture This: A Door Without Distractions

 Close your eyes for a moment. Picture a modern living room with minimalist furniture, sleek lines, and perfect symmetry. Now imagine a clunky traditional hinge breaking the harmony.

 Switch that out for concealed door hinges, and voilà! The space instantly feels more polished and luxurious.

 Why concealed hinges in Dubai are the go-to choice:

• Hidden elegance: No visible hinges to disrupt the aesthetic.

• Improved security: Tamper-proof design keeps your doors safe.

• Smooth functionality: Say goodbye to creaky, stiff hinges.

 3. What Makes Concealed Hinges So Special?

 Here’s a fun fact: Doors are one of the first things people notice when they enter a room. With concealed door hinges, you’re making a subtle yet impactful statement.

Let’s break it down:

 Traditional Door Hinges:

• Visible, clunky, and outdated.

• Prone to wear and tear over time.

Concealed Door Hinges:

• Completely hidden when the door is closed.

• Seamlessly integrated into the doorframe.

• Perfect for modern and minimalist interiors.

Which one would you choose?

4. Why Dubai Loves Concealed Door Hinges

If you’re in Dubai, you’ve likely noticed the city’s modern architecture and design-forward spaces. Concealed hinges in Dubai are gaining popularity for good reason—they’re the perfect blend of form and function.

Think about:

• Sleek apartments with flush doors.

• High-end offices with hidden entryways.

• Luxury homes with secret rooms (yes, they’re a thing!).

5. Let’s Talk Benefits: Why You Need Concealed Door Hinges

Here’s a quick interactive checklist. Which of these benefits appeals to you most?

• A) A clean, modern look.

• B) Enhanced door security.

• C) Durable and long-lasting performance.

• D) All of the above.

If you chose D, concealed door hinges are your perfect match.

6. Real-Life Ideas: Where Can You Use Concealed Door Hinges?

Take a look around your home or office. Could any of these ideas work for you?

• Hidden Storage Doors: Keep clutter out of sight with a secret cabinet or room.

• Flush Doors: Achieve a smooth, wall-like appearance with no visible hardware.

• Glass Doors: Maintain elegance with invisible hinges on glass panels.

• Wardrobes and Cabinets: Elevate even the smallest spaces with concealed hardware.

Which of these spaces are you ready to upgrade?

7. How to Choose the Right Concealed Door Hinges in Dubai

Shopping for concealed hinges in Dubai doesn’t have to be complicated. Here’s a pro tip: Look for hinges that match your door type and usage.

Ask yourself:

• Is my door heavy or lightweight?

• Do I need soft-close functionality?

• Am I aiming for a secret or flush door look?

At EuroArt, we offer a wide range of concealed hinges in Dubai. Whether you’re designing a secret room or upgrading your bedroom doors, we’ve got you covered.

8. Installation Tips: Let’s Keep It Simple

Think concealed door hinges are hard to install? Think again! With the right tools and a little patience, it’s a straightforward process.

Here’s how it works:

1. Measure and mark: Precision is key.

2. Cut slots for the hinges: A router can help with this.

3. Install and adjust: Align the hinges perfectly for a smooth finish.

Not confident in your DIY skills? No worries! Our team at EuroArt can help with professional installation services in Dubai.

9. Why Choose EuroArt for Concealed Door Hinges in Dubai?

When it comes to hardware, you want the best. Here’s why customers in Dubai trust EuroArt:

• Premium quality: Our concealed hinges are durable, reliable, and stylish.

• Expert advice: Not sure which hinge suits your needs? We’re here to help.

• Wide range: From soft-close to heavy-duty hinges, we’ve got it all.

• Installation support: Hassle-free installation by our experts.

Ready to transform your doors? Browse our collection online today!

10. Where Can You Use Concealed Door Hinges?

Now let’s get creative. Think beyond regular doors. Here are some unique applications for concealed hinges in Dubai:

• Hidden Rooms: Perfect for creating secret storage or panic rooms.

• Flush Doors: Ideal for achieving a wall-like appearance.

• Wardrobes: Upgrade your closets with hidden hinges for a clean look.

• Cabinets: Give your kitchen or office a modern edge.

Question: Which of these ideas would you use in your space?

11. How to Choose the Right Concealed Hinges

Not all concealed door hinges are created equal. Here’s a quick guide to help you choose:

1. Door Material: Wooden, glass, or metal? Ensure the hinge matches the material.

2. Weight Capacity: Heavy doors require heavy-duty hinges.

3. Functionality: Need soft-close? Look for hinges with built-in dampers.

4. Design Goals: Flush doors, hidden doors, or minimalist aesthetics? Pick accordingly.

12.  Common Myths About Concealed Door Hinges

Let’s bust some myths:

 Myth 1: Concealed hinges are fragile.

Truth: High-quality concealed hinges are incredibly durable.

Myth 2: They’re only for luxury spaces.

Truth: Concealed hinges are affordable and versatile, making them perfect for any home or office.

Myth 3: They’re hard to maintain.

Truth: Concealed hinges require minimal upkeep—just occasional lubrication!

Question: Did any of these myths surprise you?

13. How Concealed Door Hinges Make Your Space Look Bigger

Let’s play a quick game of imagination. Close your eyes and picture your living room. Now, imagine all your doors blending seamlessly with the walls, with no visible hinges breaking the flow. Feels larger and more sophisticated, doesn’t it?

 That’s the magic concealed hinges bring to your space. They remove visual clutter, making even compact areas feel expansive.

Your Turn:

Stand in your room right now. Look at your doors. How much better would they look with concealed door hinges?

14. Are Concealed Hinges Worth the Investment?

Quick quiz: Would you rather pay a bit more upfront for long-lasting, stylish concealed hinges or stick with cheaper, outdated hinges that creak and rust?

 The answer is obvious, right? Concealed hinges aren’t just an upgrade; they’re a long-term investment in style, security, and durability.

 Your Thought:

Would you invest in something that improves your home’s value and aesthetics at the same time?

15. Hidden Hinges and Soundproofing

Raise your hand if creaky doors have woken someone up at night.

Concealed door hinges don’t just look good; they operate smoothly and silently. Combine them with soundproofing door materials, and you’ll never hear another squeaky door again.

Quick Poll:

Would you use concealed hinges to create a quieter, more peaceful home or office?

16. How Do Concealed Hinges Fare in Extreme Weather?

Here’s a question for you:

What’s worse—rusty hinges in Dubai’s monsoons or hinges that warp during summer heat?

Concealed door hinges are designed to withstand Dubai’s weather extremes. They resist rust, don’t warp, and maintain their performance year-round.

Your Thought:

Do your current hinges perform this well, or is it time for an upgrade?

17. Concealed Hinges for Smart Homes

Picture this: Your automated smart door opens with a gentle touch, revealing no visible hinges. It’s like living in the future, today.

Concealed door hinges complement smart home designs by keeping the focus on technology and sleek aesthetics.

Imagine:

Wouldn’t concealed hinges in Dubai add that finishing touch to your tech-savvy home?

18. Maintenance Hacks for Concealed Hinges

Let’s make maintenance easy. Here’s a quick tip:

Set a calendar reminder every six months to check your concealed door hinges for alignment and lubricate them.

By doing this, your hinges will last longer and perform like new.

Your Turn:

What’s your current hinge maintenance routine? Could it be simpler with concealed door hinges?

19. Are Concealed Door Hinges Kid-Friendly?

Parents, this one’s for you:

Would you rather deal with noisy doors slamming shut or opt for concealed hinges with a soft-close feature?

Concealed door hinges reduce noise and prevent pinched fingers, making them a safer choice for homes with children.

Your Thought:

Wouldn’t a quiet, child-safe home be worth the switch?

20. How to Pair Concealed Door Hinges with Modern Door Handles

Why stop at concealed door hinges? Pair them with chic door handles for a cohesive, modern look.

Imagine:

A door with sleek concealed hinges and a stylish matte black handle. It’s a match made in interior design heaven.

Your Turn:

Explore EuroArt to find the perfect pair for your doors.

21. Hidden Door Trends: Concealed Hinges as a Must-Have

What’s cooler than a hidden door that blends seamlessly into the wall? A hidden door with concealed hinges!

Quick Question:

If you could add a hidden door anywhere in your home, where would it be? A secret library? A wine cellar?

Fun Challenge:

Design your dream hidden door in your mind, then explore how concealed hinges can make it real!

22. Customer Stories: How Dubai Residents Are Loving Concealed Hinges

Let’s hear from Rehana, a Dubai resident who recently renovated her home with concealed hinges:

“I love how modern my space feels now. My doors are silent, secure, and look so sleek. Guests can’t stop complimenting them!”

Your Turn:

Could you be the next Dubai homeowner to transform your space with concealed hinges?

23. Green Interiors with Concealed Hinges

Are you eco-conscious? Concealed hinges improve door alignment, reducing energy waste from air leaks.

Fact:

Doors with concealed hinges help maintain indoor temperatures better, cutting down on AC and heating costs.

Your Question:

Would you make a small change like this to support your eco-friendly goals?

24. Common Mistakes When Installing Concealed Hinges

Let’s test your hinge knowledge:

What’s the biggest mistake people make when installing concealed hinges in Dubai?

                        •            A) Choosing the wrong size hinge.

                        •            B) Skipping proper alignment.

                        •            C) Installing without professional help.

                        •            D) All of the above.

The correct answer? D!

Pro Tip: Avoid these pitfalls by trusting the experts at EuroArt.

25. Ready to Transform Your Space?

Let’s wrap this up with a question:

What’s stopping you from upgrading your home with concealed hinges in Dubai?

Whether it’s aesthetics, durability, or functionality, concealed hinges in Dubai can transform your space. Ready to Make the Switch?

Now it’s your turn. Take a look at the doors in your home or office. Could they use a modern upgrade? With concealed hinges in Dubai, the possibilities are endless.

Start small with a single door or revamp your entire space. Whatever your vision,

EuroArt is here to help you bring it to life.

Pro Tip: At EuroArt, we offer a wide range of options to suit every need.

FAQs About Concealed Hinges in Dubai

Q1: What makes concealed hinges popular in Dubai homes?

A: Concealed hinges are favored in Dubai for their sleek, modern design that blends seamlessly with contemporary interiors. They also provide smooth operation and durability, which are ideal for premium furniture and cabinetry.

Q2: Are concealed hinges adjustable?

A: Yes, most concealed hinges offer three-way adjustment options: vertical, horizontal, and depth. This makes them ideal for achieving precise alignment during installation or adjustments.

Q3: Can I install concealed hinges on any cabinet in Dubai?

A: Concealed hinges are versatile and can be installed on most cabinet types. However, specific measurements and hinge types (overlay, inset, or full overlay) are required to match your cabinet design.

Q4: Are concealed hinges durable in Dubai’s humid climate?

A: High-quality concealed hinges made of rust-resistant materials, such as stainless steel or nickel-plated steel, are durable and suitable for Dubai’s humid climate.

Q5: What brands of concealed hinges are available in Dubai?

A: Popular brands available in Dubai include Blum, Hettich, and Hafele, known for their high-quality concealed hinges.

Q6: Do concealed hinges come in different sizes?

A: Yes, concealed hinges are available in various sizes to fit different door thicknesses and cabinet types. It’s essential to choose the right size for proper functionality.

Q7: Can I use concealed hinges for soft-close doors?

A: Yes, many concealed hinges come with built-in soft-close mechanisms, providing a smooth and quiet closing experience.

Q8: Are concealed hinges easy to maintain?

A: Concealed hinges are low-maintenance. Regular cleaning and occasional lubrication ensure smooth operation and longevity.

[rehauindia]

Concealed Hinges for Kitchen Cabinets and Wardrobe Doors

High-quality concealed hinges for kitchen cabinets, bedroom cupboards, and office wardrobes. Choose hidden cabinet hinges for efficient door opening and closing of all furniture drawers.

[bucketbueckers]

MUTT

pairing: azzi fudd x fem!reader

content: decent bit of plot before literal filth. language, light weed usage, sub!azzi, freak asses being freak asses in public (just a lil tho), choking, oral, fingering, thigh riding, idk what else i should be tagging tbh

wc: 7.1k

synopsis: It wasn’t even Azzi’s draft night, yet she still managed to steal the show – and your attention. With nothing but time, you were counting down the hours until the end of the draft and the afterparty, wanting nothing more than to finally get your girlfriend alone.

notes: sorry im ovulating

If you had to be honest with yourself, you weren’t sure how you were supposed to make it through your draft night without combusting.

It started early in the morning. You were surrounded by your hair and makeup team in your hotel room, trying (and failing) to be patient as they meticulously styled you. Then, the FaceTime from your girlfriend came through and your heart all but fell out of your ass.

“Holy shit,” you remember saying, hardly able to take your eyes off your phone screen. Azzi was surrounded by her team, too, looking as beautiful as ever. She was in the process of getting her hair straightened and you were just able to see that glint of mischief in her eyes, the one that told you she knew exactly what she was doing to you and that she wasn’t planning on making it any easier for you. Her makeup was subtle, bringing out the contours of her face and the warm cocoa of her eyes, and if the two of you weren’t separated by a few hotel doors and a phone screen, you’re sure you’d be down on your knees to propose. Or something entirely different. “Azzi, you look – holy shit.”

Her warm laugh echoes through the speakers, sounding far too pleased with herself. Taking her in, you silently went through today’s itinerary. You had hair and makeup for another half hour, then Brittany – Azzi and Paige’s stylist, whom you’d hired for the draft since both of your teammates swore by her – would be by with your outfit. You might have a little time before you are supposed to head out for the orange carpet. You wondered if you’d be able to convince Azzi to sneak away with you, but the amusement reflected in her expression told you that she was fully intending to make you squirm tonight.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this speechless,” Azzi says to you, the tease in her tone betraying the faux concern on her face. “Are you okay?”

“No,” you say without hesitation. “You’re – Jesus Christ.” You reach up to rub a palm across your jaw in disbelief but your makeup artist swats your hand away, muttering about concealer, and Azzi’s tinkling laughter makes you feel just a little more unhinged – although you wonder if you’ve ever truly had hinges in the first place when it came to Azzi.

“You haven’t even seen my dress yet,” she reminds you.

You try to keep your increasingly inappropriate thoughts at bay, swallowing thickly. “When can I see it?” you ask, shifting slightly in your chair.

Then Azzi’s grinning at you, mischievous and evil and beautiful all at once. “Soon,” she promises, and she hangs up on you.

If you weren’t already keyed up by that point, then you’re sure you are when Brittany finally arrives with your outfit in hand. You’re wearing a custom, sleek, midnight blue Louis Vuitton pantsuit, so dark that it’s nearly black, with silver accents and embellishments reminiscent of stars. Your slacks hang low on your hips to barely reveal the waistband of your boxers – something Azzi had “innocently” suggested you do when you revealed you were interested in wearing a pantsuit for the draft, so you’re sure it’s more for her than it is for you. Your vest has a subtle crop, ending just a few inches above your belly button, and the matching blazer is snug. You’re adorned in jewelry to match the accents on your pantsuit – rings, layered necklaces, and the piercings you usually forgo when you’re on the court. God bless Brittany Hampton is what you think to yourself, and then your phone buzzes on the desk.

You glance at it. You almost collapse. It’s a selfie from Azzi, but it’s just from the chest up. She’s glowing, her dress a dark black and doing very little to cover much. You haven’t seen the whole thing but you’re sure you’ll die if you do. She texts you before you can even think about formulating a response, simply reading See you soon! with the black heart emoji.

When you’re ushered out of the hotel room to get into the van to go to the draft, you swear you see a glimpse of Azzi, but the door closes before your brain can catch up with you. You fumble with your phone to text her. You’re still on Delivered by the time you make it to the venue and all you can think about is finding your tease of a girlfriend.

You pose for pictures. Smile politely for reporters who ask you the same question in different ways. You sign a jersey or two and throw up peace signs for fan photos until you’re led inside towards the orange carpet. More photos – you adjust your poses, making sure to flaunt the clutch at your side for sponsorship purposes. The camera flashes are almost numbing but you just remind yourself you have to make it through a few more hours until you get to sit at the table and listen to your name be called.

Then, from the corner of your eye as you’re sitting through the interview with Hannah and Rickea, you finally spot Azzi, and you’re sure your heart starts beating all together. Your jaw hits the floor, which probably ruins the whole private, not a secret thing you have going on, because holy fucking shit. Her hair is straightened, cascading down her chest beautifully, her make-up done to the nines, but her fucking dress? It’s backless, swooping layers at the front with a plunging neckline, and the skirt is transparent, revealing her long, toned legs. She catches your eye from across the room, her lips curling into a satisfied smirk, and Rickea nudges you gently with an amused smile to remind you that you’re still very much on camera, live.

“What are you looking at?” Hannah asks, none the wiser, and you clear your throat.

“Sorry,” you say smoothly, adjusting the lapels of your blazer. “I just saw someone puke in a plant.”

Rickea snorts, hiding her face in her free hand, and Hannah perks up again. “Azzi Fudd is here!” she announces, turning back to the camera. “Here to support her teammates, I’m sure. UConn has four seniors ready to hear their name called.”

You smile knowingly as Hannah ushers Azzi into frame. She smiles at you, the meaning of it not lost on you as she slides up next to you. You throw a platonic arm over her shoulder, your fingers tightening on her shoulder – not hard enough to hurt or to bruise, but just enough to let Azzi know that as soon as the draft and the afterparty wraps up, she’s yours. You catch the way her smile sharpens as she glances at you out of the corner of her eye. 

You barely make it through the rest of the interview in one piece, distracted by the floral scent of her perfume and the rich, smoothness of her voice. The both of you are dragged back onto the orange carpet for photos together. You know you’re being obvious, but you really don’t care. You take photos with the rest of the team – Paige, KK, Ice, Nika, and countless others, before you and the other three seniors are drawn away for more media.

Eventually, you make it back to your table, finding Azzi waiting for you. You knew that having Azzi at your table meant something. She was seated next to your parents and your younger sibling, smiling as they talked, and you were very aware of the fact that you could have had anyone else at the table with you. Paige had dibs on Coach, but you knew CD wouldn’t have hesitated if you asked. Or Jamelle. But Azzi? Your girlfriend-but-not-quite-publically-official girlfriend? That means something.

You tap your younger sister on the shoulder, immediately raising a brow at her. “Move,” you tell her, wanting to sit next to Azzi.

“Bruh,” she says, but she scoots one chair over and you happily take a seat next to your girlfriend.

“You’re so mean to her,” Azzi murmurs jokingly, her hand brushing against your thigh momentarily before retracting innocently.

“Me?” you echo, a disbelieving gasp building in your throat as you lower your voice so the rest of your family can’t hear your conversation. “You’ve been teasing me all day. The FaceTime, the picture–” you pinch the fabric of her dress in between your index finger and thumb, “–this fucking dress?”

Azzi smiles, swatting your hand away, but she can’t do much to deter your gaze. “Behave,” she whispers, motioning subtly to the cameras that are most definitely picking up on how wrecked your expression is.

You exhale, leaning back in your chair, having to fight all of your baser instincts to keep your eyes off of Azzi before you drag her off to a bathroom somewhere. You could make it through a few more hours. You just had to wait to hear your name called, then you’d be distracted by media, then you’d be back in time to hear Kaitlyn and Aubrey’s names called, too, because they would be getting drafted, too, damn it, and then you’d have to make it through a socially appropriate amount of the afterparty before you could take your girlfriend back to the hotel. The way she’s looking at you – she knows just how much you’re struggling, but she’s intent on breaking you down and making you work for it. You wouldn’t expect anything less from Azzi Fudd, but you know that she’s not the one in charge tonight.

It takes a while, but the draft starts. You and Azzi are on your feet, clapping and cheering when Paige is drafted first overall – as if anyone had any doubts. You clap for Dominique to the Storm, then Sonia and Kiki to the Mystics, and then the Valkyries are on the clock. You’d been projected to go top ten, most likely to the Sun or the Sky, which is why you’re not prepared to hear your name called fifth overall to the Valkyries.

You blink, almost confused, the cheer of the crowd nearly deafening. Someone at your table is yelling at you to get up – probably your sister – so you push yourself to your feet, your chest relaxing with relief and gratitude. Your parents are rising, and your sister is jumping up and down, but the only person you stare at is Azzi, whose eyes shine a little brighter as she stands, too. You hug her first. You know what the headlines will say, but you can’t find it within yourself, especially not when she tells you that she loves you. Heart in your throat, you hug your parents. You do your handshake with your little sister, grinning all the while, and then you make your way up the stairs to pose with the Valkyries jersey.

The subsequent media is a blur. You don’t think you’ve ever taken so many pictures before in your life. You get your hat. You speak with Natalie Nakase on the phone and you tell her you’re ready to get to work. You’re out for the remnants of the second round, settling back into your seat, returning Azzi’s proud smile as she squeezes your hand.

And when Kaitlyn is drafted 30th overall to the Valkyries, you’re sure that your entire world implodes. You’re the loudest one in the room, you’re sure, and when the room explodes for the fourth time that night when Aubrey’s drafted to the Lynx, you couldn’t be any prouder of your teammates. 

Part of you doesn’t even want to go to the afterparty, still thinking about getting Azzi alone to celebrate with her, but your teammates – granted, you and Kaitlyn are Golden State Valkyries right now, but your girls will always be your teammates – don’t let you get too far away. You leave your blazer with your younger sister. As if you weren’t running on need and pure want and desire, Azzi’s outfit change is almost enough for you to drop to your knees right then and there.

Somehow, you manage to keep it together, but before you and your teammates walk into the afterparty venue, you catch her by the elbow, pressing your lips to her ear to whisper, “You have one hour and then we’re leaving.”

She smiles at you like she’d been expecting that response. Azzi trails her ringed fingers across your abdomen, pulling the waistband of your boxers and letting it snap against your skin soundly. “We’ll go when I’m ready,” she murmurs to you. “Behave.”

You don’t behave – not that anyone’s really surprised. You’re not sure how Azzi expects you to act right when she’s been teasing you all day. Her afterparty dress isn’t helping you, either. It’s snug, somehow revealing a whole lot more than the draft dress did, the straps on her shoulders thin and all you can really think about is getting her out of it. But you have to be tactful.

You start slow. Fleeting touches that would otherwise be uncordial if the lights were any darker, your fingers firm against her waist as you pull her into you as you dance. You unbutton your vest, claiming that it’s too hot, the material being held together by a bare minimum single button. You had Azzi’s attention now – you just had to finish the job, so you go ahead and call an Uber because you know she’ll be eating out of the palm of your hands before the night’s over.

Azzi’s nursing her drink at the private booth when you slide in next to her. You don’t let her get a word out before you say, “Look what I have.”

She raises a brow when you reveal the blunt between your fingers. You can tell she’s still trying to act like she’s in control, but you can see the flicker of curiosity in her eyes, the barely masked desire because she knows what you’re planning on. “You want?” you ask, goading, your voice low.

In lieu of a response, she plucks the blunt from your fingers, her free hand reaching up to trace your bottom lip, her gaze dark and seeking. Her index finger taps your cheek and you hardly think as you open your mouth for her. She places the blunt between your teeth, reaching for the lighter held in your hand, and ignites it for you.

Already throbbing, your first drag is slow, methodical, your body relaxing as you inhale. You reach for Azzi’s jaw, your eyes locked on hers, and her lips part when you lean in, shotgunning the smoke directly into her waiting mouth. Her fingers thread through your hair, her grip tightening as she sighs against you. When you pull back, her pupils are blown wide, eyes glossy, and you smirk to yourself when you watch her thighs press together.

“Want another?” you ask teasingly, not really wanting to get fucked up tonight, but she nods. You bring the blunt back to your lips, inhaling again, and her fingers tighten around your waist as you pull her in. This time, she inhales more than you exhale, like she’s truly trying to breathe the air from your very lungs. It makes you ache all over, wanting nothing more than to crawl under the table and throw her legs over your shoulders, but you remind yourself to be patient. You were close to making her crack – you could feel it.

When the smoke is gone, she sighs against you softly. You press your lips to hers – slow, not meant to lead anywhere, but to work her up and make her desperate for it. But when Azzi fucking whimpers, you know you’re gone. You lean in again, your kiss more insistent this time – needy. It’s sloppy, led by pure desire and the ache that’s been building in your core all day, wet when you brush your tongue against her lips and she lets you in immediately. It makes you lightheaded, moreso when she reaches for your free hand and guides it to her waist. You groan into the kiss as you feel her, your hand dragging across the definition in her abs, down to her thigh, slipping your fingers under the skirt of her dress, your head spinning when you press against the damp spot at the apex of her thighs.

She pauses, breathing heavily like it was a secret you weren’t supposed to know about, and you grin at her, because you’ve won. “Oh, Azzi,” you coo, your voice dripping with faux concern.

“Don’t even–”

“You’re soaked,” you murmur, relishing in the way her breath hitches when you drag your fingers across her again. She curses under her breath, her head lolling, and you waste no time before you’re leaning in and pressing your lips to her neck. You nip at her skin, your touch dangerously featherlight against her, only meant to tease. “You were just gonna sit here all night, dripping down your fucking legs, acting like you don’t need me? Like you’re not bothered?”

“‘M – fuck – not,” she argues weakly, her breath catching when you draw her skin between your teeth, enjoying the way her skim blooms.

You laugh a little. Your fingers drag against her a little harder and her hips buck. “So, you wouldn’t mind it at all if I stopped?” To punctuate your point, you retract your hand from her thighs. She whines, bratty and displeased as you adjust her skirt, acting as though nothing was wrong. “Since you’re so unbothered, right? I’m getting a little thirsty, too. I think I’m gonna go up to the bar, say hi to Paige, make sure she’s not dead.”

Azzi whimpers, your name falling from her lips. It sends heat straight down to your core. Before either of you can say anything, KK slides into the booth next to the both of you, drink in hand. “Hey, y’all!” she chirps happily, blissfully unaware of what she’s just interrupted. You can feel Azzi burning next to you – you are, too, but after what she’s put you through today, she can sit through it a little longer.

“You seen Paige?” you ask KK nonchalantly, raising your fingers to your mouth, sucking the remnants of Azzi’s arousal off in a show of checking for something in your teeth. Azzi’s breath catches in her throat, her expression beyond wrecked.

“Mmm,” KK hums around her straw, glancing over her shoulder. “Think P Boogs was tryna get everyone drunk last I saw. Big ass crowd around the DJ.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes slightly. “Sounds like her.”

Then, before KK can say anything else, Azzi groans, pressing her palms to her forehead.

“Damn, you good?” KK asks, concerned.

“I don’t feel great,” Azzi mutters. You have to hold back your laughter, but KK buys it – hook, line, and sinker.

KK presses her hand to Azzi’s temple. “You’re burning up,” she states. “Maybe you caught a lil cold.”

You rub your hand across her back. Her skin is warm but her posture is tense. You’ve won. You know it. “Lemme take her back to the hotel so she doesn’t throw up everywhere,” you say to KK, trying for a concerned expression as the both of you stand. “Make sure Paige doesn’t get too lit, okay?”

KK offers a two-fingered salute. You reach for both yours and Azzi’s bags, saying your final goodbyes to KK, and you lead Azzi through the crowd. “You’re so fucking evil,” Azzi says, lengthening her strides.

“Just playing the game, baby,” you retort, squeezing her hip possessively.

The Uber ride back to the hotel is tense, but not with hostility. You rest your hand over Azzi’s thigh, who trembles with unrestrained need, but you’re content to tease her. She hasn’t admitted it yet although you know you have her right where you want her. When you make it to the hotel, you make sure to thank the driver, and you guide Azzi through the hotel lobby.

As soon as the elevator doors close, she’s on you, her hands around your neck as she pulls you down to her level. Your kiss is desperate, pure heat and desire, pent up frustration from being teased all day. You want her as bad as she wants you, so you sink into her, wrapping an arm around her waist and your free hand trailing under her skirt again to grip her thigh. Sliding a knee between her legs, she grinds down on you, and all you can do is swallow her moan as you drag her across your leg.

The chime of the elevator barely cuts through the haze between the two of you. Azzi drags you along with a purpose and presses her lips to your neck while you’re fumbling through your wallet for the keycard. Once it finally registers, you push open the door and you have her pressed against it before it even clicks shut. Her heels fall off, her legs tightening around your waist as you hold her up, your hands firm under her ass. Azzi’s fingers tangle in your hair, lessening the space between the two of you.

Slowly and blindly, you navigate through the darkness in the hotel room until your knees hit the bed. You lay her down on the pillows, not stopping the drag of your lips until you’re aching and breathless. Your fingers reach for the remaining button on your cropped vest while Azzi’s fumble with your belt buckle, both your vest and your pants coming off with ease. Left in just your boxers, Azzi’s hands reach for the waistband, too, and you let her pull it off you.

Her pupils are wide with want, her eyes dragging across every inch of your body. You let her touch you, her hands sliding across your hips, cupping your breasts and tweaking your nipples with a sort of reverence that you’re too wound up to fully appreciate. You gather her hands in yours, pressing them over her head as you lean down to kiss her soundly.

It’s pure filth, pure desire, the way she keens into you, her hips bucking up for the slightest contact or friction. The knowledge that she wants you makes you throb. You press her hips into the mattress with one of your hands, and with the other, you drag your fingers across her chest, as if trying to memorize her body.

“Don’t tease me,” she pleads, her doe eyes wide and gone, still slightly rimmed with red from the smoke you’d exhaled directly into her lungs.

You smile down at her, sharp, unyielding, ruined in your own right. Azzi Fudd is beneath you, laid out and begging for you to touch her, and it’s almost disastrous when you realize that you’re the only person in the world with the power to deny her a little longer, to make her work and beg for what she wants from you. You smooth your hand across her chest again, feeling the cool metal of the necklace she’s wearing, until you inch up slightly to rest your palm against her throat. You can feel her pulse hammering – you don’t apply any pressure, just letting her feel the weight of you, teasing her with the possibility of what’s coming. “You’ll take what I give you,” you murmur, listening to her soft sigh. “Been together how long and you don’t think I know you? Know what you need, how to give it to you? Don’t be silly, Az.”

You lean down, brushing your lips against hers again, featherlight and barely there. She chases after you when you pull away but freezes when you apply pressure to her throat, squeezing the sides lightly – not enough to cut off her air flow, but enough to warn her. She keens, hips shifting, and truthfully – a part of you feels a little bad. You want to give it to her – everything, if you could, but she’d left you wet and wanting for the better part of the day, too. “Be good,” you whisper, and she nods emphatically, tears pooling in her eyes from how badly she wants this.

Once you’re sure you’ve earned her submission fully, you reach for the straps of her dress. Gingerly, as if unwrapping a present, you tug them down her shoulders; she raises her arms to help you, and you throb with desire, your eyes taking in every inch of caramel skin revealed to you. The slope of her collarbones, the dusty brown of her nipples, her soft sigh when you can’t help but take one into your mouth, your hand reaching up to brush against the other one – it all makes you ache. You alternate motions, listening to her delicate moans, kissing her once more on the lips before you draw back to continue pulling the dress off of her.

The knowledge that you’re the only person who gets to see her like this makes your head spin. Azzi is so beautiful, so pliant beneath you, so willing. You could never get enough of her.

You discard the dress at the foot of the bed, spreading her legs a little wider and slotting yourself in between them. Cupping her cheeks, you press your lips to hers again, hardly needing to ask before she’s opening her mouth, her tongue meeting yours, swallowing her soft sighs and the sounds of need.

“How do you want me?” you ask, your lips trailing across her jaw. She tilts her head to give you more space to work with, soft whimpers building in her throat as you nip and suck, soothing the sting your teeth leave behind with your tongue. You’ve hardly done anything but she’s wrecked, already teetering on the edge of being fucked out that you take your time with her, letting her try – and fail – to gather her thoughts.

You lick the salt off her skin, deciding to have mercy on her. “You want my mouth?” You kiss the sensitive spot under her ear, smirking when her breath comes out in a shudder. “My fingers?” Your hand drags against her navel, dipping dangerously low and feeling the heat radiate off of her body.

“Both,” she begs, hands reaching for yours for stabilization, like she’s afraid she’s going to melt away completely.

“Both?” you echo, teasing, kissing her lips again when a blush rises on her cheeks.

“Please?” she tries – anything to get you to stop torturing her and to get on with it. Her lip trembles, a tear slipping out, and her breath comes in increasingly fast bursts that makes you think you’ve dragged this on for too long. Azzi’s needy, desperate, wet for you – what kind of monster would deny her for so long?

So, you don’t. You descend, marking your path with soft kisses and nips to her skin, energized by the soft gasps falling from her lips. “I got you, baby,” you promise, your hands massaging the tension out of her thighs. “Breathe for me, okay? I got you.” Azzi nods, her fingers tangling in the sheets if only to have something tangible to hold onto.

You rest one arm over her hips to keep her in place, already knowing that your girl has the inability to sit still, but before you press your lips to her, you reach up and twist your Valkyries cap over your head so it faces backwards. The sight of you above her, the self-satisfied smirk, the backwards hat, the strength in your arms makes her eyes glaze over, her gaze heated, needy, already ruined.

You kiss her thighs gently, easing her into the feeling, listening to the change in her breathing as she tries to calm herself. With her other hand, you spread her folds, groaning in appreciation for the sheer amount of wetness you find waiting for you. The duvet beneath her is damp. Knowing that you can’t keep her waiting anymore, you lean in, dragging the flat of your tongue across her, relishing in the long, drawn out, deep moan that spills from her lips. 

You’re everywhere, her wetness spreading across your cheeks, your nose brushing against her clit with every up and down and back and forth motion of your head. Your free hand wraps around her strong thigh, trying to keep yourself rooted – Azzi tastes fucking divine, unlike anything else you’ve ever experienced. Ever since you cut down the net nearly a week ago, you’ve been on a perpetual victory tour. Getting drafted was a new high, but right here, right now, with your girlfriend trembling for you, it feels like winning all over again.

You alternate between short, quick flicks of your tongue to her clit and long, slow, broad strokes against her. You delve inside, drinking directly from the source, groaning when her nails scratch across your shoulders. The bite of pain keeps you from getting too lost in her, in her taste, in the cries spilling from her throat.

“Please,” she gasps, her body trembling, seizing up, shaking with pleasure. “More.”

“Breathe, Azzi,” you remind her, rubbing her navel, and when she does, you oblige. You quicken your pace, the intensity. Your jaw aches, but her soft cries and whimpers do nothing but motivate you. You suck her clit into your mouth, releasing it with a pop, continuing to work her until her thighs shake. For good measure, you trace the letters of your name over her, just to remind her who’s doing this. She gasps, realizing what you’re doing, her body melting into the mattress. When you glance up just to check on her, your pace falters, a groan spilling from your lips when you realize she’s squeezing her chest to keep herself grounded, her thumbs tweaking her nipples.

Unable to resist, you reach up to cup one of her breasts, taking over for her. Her hand wraps around your wrist just to hold on. You can hear the shift in her breathing, the way her breaths transform into gasping moans, and you can tell she’s close. You double down, focusing your attention to her sensitive clit, and abandoning her breast to tangle your fingers together. 

“I’m close,” she warns you, her voice pitchy, squeezing your hand.

“Breathe,” you say one more time. You don’t have to look up to see her nodding, listening to her whimpers as you work her closer to the edge. You can tell when she gets there, the way her hand tightens in yours, the way her cries increase in volume. And when it finally hits her, you’re almost not ready for the intensity of her orgasm, but you ease her through it, keeping up your motions and slowing down until her hands push your head away.

You can’t help but grin, pressing one last kiss to the inside of her thigh as she breathes heavily, coming down from her high. You rub her stomach soothingly, adjusting until you’re hovering over her fully, and with your free hand, you wipe the tears off of her cheeks, the smudged mascara. “You good?” you ask softly, brushing a strand of her hair out of her face, the gentleness of your voice a stark contrast from the heat of the moment prior.

“Mhm,” she hums, her voice sounding a little wrecked, and you can’t help the smug smile that appears on your face. You press a firm kiss to her lips, deepening it as soon as she lets you, relishing in the moan she lets out once she tastes herself. You pull back to kiss her cheek, your thumb gentle on her skin.

“You’re not done yet, are you?” you coo, your fingers trailing down her chest, brushing against her ribcage. She glances up at you, her gaze ruinous, pliable, soft. “Know you’ve got another one in you, baby. One more for me?” Her response is instant, emphatic nods as her hand reaches for yours. You smile, pulling the cap off of your head and settling it over hers, enjoying the sight of her in Valkyries gear far too much. That was your team now. Your girl. It makes you suddenly aware of the ache between your legs, the throbbing need you’d ignored until Azzi felt good.

You drag your hand down her torso, feeling the warmth of her skin, the sweat pooling in the ridges of her abs. She’s quivering like she wants more, like no matter what, she’ll take it as long as you’re the one giving it to her. Your fingers find the dampness between her thighs, brushing up and down to coat them, and your eyes find hers as you reach to rub featherlight circles against her clit. It makes her hips jump up, her breath catching, but she hurries to keep her body in place, knowing exactly what you expect of her.

It makes you smile, your free hand reaching up to cup her breast again, thumb brushing against her nipple. “So good for me,” you murmur, pressing your lips to her neck as you keep up with the barely there motions that make her tremble. You suck another dark spot against her neck, uncaring of who might be able to see – let them. A plea falls from her lips, her brows drawn up and tight, and the sight makes you ache, still working her with your fingers. “You want more?” you ask. But she nods, so you press a little firmer against her, just to get her attention. “Words, baby. Let me hear you.”

“More, please,” she whispers, her voice small, begging, gone.

You smile to yourself, tapping her chest directly over her heart – a reminder. She understands instantly, breathing in and out deeply. Your fingers dip down to brush against her entrance, just teasing, before you sink one finger in her. She’s so soaked that you push to your knuckle without any resistance, her jaw falling slack, face contorting with a silent moan. You pull out, then push in again, feeling her walls squeeze your finger.

Suddenly aware of your own ache now, ready to combust purely from the feeling of being inside her, the sounds she’s making, and she way her face twists with pleasure, you shift, your knees pressing into the mattress as your legs bracket one of her thighs. Slowly, you sink yourself down, groaning when your clit brushes against the firm muscle of her thighs. Azzi chokes on her breath, her eyes flying open when she feels you – just as wet, as wanting, as desperate as she is. With the hand not inside her, you tangle your fingers together, resting your joined hands over her navel.

You recognize the needy expression on her face, so you add in a second finger, murmuring nonsense to soothe her when she breathes a little heavier. You sync your motions, rutting against her thigh in tandem with every push and pull of your fingers. She’s dripping everywhere, her slick cascading down your wrist and onto the duvet, and she whines, babbling a whole lot of words that are more like sounds than they are like sentences.

��Fuck,” she pants, her voice cracking a little. “More? Please, I–”

“I got you,” you whisper, your voice low, hungry, wrecked, your hips still seeking out your orgasm. “Relax for me, Az. So good for me, you know that, baby?” You adjust the angle of your fingers, your thumb pressing against her clit, rubbing slow, methodical, firm circles, gazing down at her reverently when she cries out. “You’re so beautiful Az. You hear me?”

She nods, eyes slipping shut, but you press down on her stomach with your joined hands, gaining her attention as she gasps from the feeling. “Eyes on me, baby. Let me see you.” She nods again, a whimper falling from her lips as her gaze finds yours. Her eyes are glassy, tears pooling at her waterline again from the sheer amount of pleasure, and you grin. “There we go. Perfect girl, just taking it all, aren’t you? You want more?”

Azzi hums again, her fingers tightening around yours over her navel. “Please,” she begs, “wanna feel you.”

“Whatever you want,” you agree breathlessly, dizzy from the pleasure of rutting against her thigh and from the sight of her jaw falling open as you squeeze in a third finger. Her walls clench around you, a moan spilling from her lips, and before you know it, her hips are bucking up to meet your thrusts. Watching Azzi chase her pleasure makes you feel a little weak, so all you can truly do is let her ride it out, trying to maximize the feeling as best as possible.

It doesn’t take much. She’s still sensitive from her previous orgasm and you’ve been wound up all day, so you sigh raggedly, releasing her hand to drag your palm up her torso, brushing across her chest until it comes to rest over her throat. You don’t apply any pressure – not yet – but the way she gazes up at you, her brown eyes full of tears and trust, makes your hips stutter although you try to keep your fingers and your thumb moving consistently for her.

“‘M close,” she murmurs, rocking against you, her slick soaking your fingers. Her body glows with a light sheen of sweat, her chest rising and falling erratically, her face contorted and desperate as she breathes for you.

You tighten your grip around her throat, applying just enough pressure to make her light-headed, and her hands reach up to hold onto your arm for stability. You’re not one to usually deny Azzi, but you do like to delay – to draw her pleasure out until she’s trembling and a breath away from slipping off of the edge completely. You press your thumb a little firmer against her clit, circling it, although the amount of slick gathered there makes you fumble, and you order, “Hold it.”

Her eyes find yours, a bit of desperation reflected in her gaze as you speed up both your hips and your fingers. “Fuck,” she whimpers, “I can’t, baby, please.”

“You can,” you press, your stomach burning with your rapidly approaching climax, your wrist cramping from how consistently you’ve been splitting her open. Her pulse hammers against her ribcage and you can feel it in her neck. “You will. You’re so good for me, I know you can.”

Azzi nods, like she’s believing it too, and her body all but melts into the mattress as she takes it, her face screwing up with the willpower it takes to hold back. Her thighs start trembling again, legs shaking, and her grip on your arm tightens ever so slightly. Her eyes meet yours, a single tear streaking down her cheek, pupils blown wide, her gaze needy and trusting, letting you make that choice for her.

You can’t deny her for much longer. “Let go for me, baby,” you instruct, body burning at the whimper that spills from her lips. Azzi is fucking ruinous. Her mind, her body, her heart – every bit of Azzi makes you unravel at the edges, makes your composure slip until you’re nothing but a vessel for want, love, desire. You gaze at her with sharp, desperate eyes, determined to watch her fall apart beneath you, to sear the image on your eyelids for as long as you’ll live, to replay this very scene every time you close your eyes to sleep.

She clenches around you, gasps falling from her lips, and it’s then that you finally release your hold on her throat, watching her suck air in as she unravels completely, soaking your hand and the bed below her with her release. It’s enough to push you over the edge too, spilling over her thigh as you move your hips and your hand in tandem to ride out the aftershocks.

The pleasure gives way to overstimulation and she taps on your wrist. Gingerly, you remove your fingers – you shudder when you take in just how wet they are and Azzi sighs, almost as though she misses the stretch – and you wipe them against the duvet, figuring that it’s already destroyed enough.

Your legs feel a little weak when you crawl off of Azzi’s thigh, collapsing onto your side next to her, taking in her expression with a mix of smugness and mild concern. “You okay?” you whisper, brushing your clean hand through the hair sticking to her forehead, cupping her jaw gently.

“I think you just destroyed me,” she says, voice hoarse, and you laugh a little as you press an affectionate kiss to her cheek.

“I’m not that lucky,” you retort, watching the smile light up her face.

The both of you lay in silence for a while, nothing but the sound of your breathing and the hotel air conditioner to be heard in the room. Then, Azzi shifts, meeting your gaze. Her eyes are a little brighter, a mix of exhaustion and love in her pupils. “You got drafted tonight,” she reminds you.

You were too swept up with her to consciously think about it, but in the quiet of the room with Azzi breathing next to you, the realization begins to creep in. It hasn’t set in fully yet – you’ll probably truly realize you’ve been drafted when you and Kaitlyn board the plane tomorrow morning to go visit the Bay, or when you sign the lease for your new apartment.

For now, though, you’re content with the simple understanding, to get lost in this moment together with Azzi, where the time doesn’t feel like it’s moving as fast anymore.

“I did,” you agree.

“To GSV,” she continues. “California.”

You search her eyes, knowing where she’s going with this. You’ve had this conversation numerous times before, knowing that there was a chance the draft would take you away from her. “You think a couple miles can keep me from annoying you? Try again, baby.”

Azzi quirks a small smile. “Try three thousand.”

You cup her cheek, angling her face so she’s looking you directly in the eyes. “I love you,” you promise. Her features brighten at your admission. “That’s all we need. No matter how far away we are, I’m yours. And our schedules aren’t that bad. You can come see me during the offseason. And I’ll be at every single one of your games. Coach thought he got rid of me but he’s wrong. I’m gonna be sitting courtside yelling about how you��ve literally never fouled anyone in your life.”

She laughs, a relieved sort of sound, and you press your lips to hers, soft and lingering – a vow. “I love you,” she whispers back. “And I’m so proud of you.”

You smile mischievously at her. “Think you love me enough for a third round?”

Azzi rolls her eyes, faux-annoyance in her expression – but your smile widens when she throws a leg over your hip to straddle your waist, kissing you in a way that makes you think about how nice forever sounds with her.

[manicmanuscription]

By The Candlelight

Pairing(s): Azriel x Reader

Summary: When you and Azriel finally get a chance to sleep after traveling for so long he gets a glimpse of you through your shadow being reflected.

Word Count: 1041

Warnings: Mutual Pining, slight seduction, Azriel being a mess over reader. Forced proximity. Mostly written in Azriel's perspective.

Based on the request here. Thank you so much for your request enjoy!

acotar masterlist | main masterlist

divider by @cafekitsune

“Sorry.” Azriel had murmured as you finally, finally, reached the safe house. Although ‘house’ probably wasn’t the best term. It was more of a single room with walls. It could barely fit Azriel and his large frame but at least there was a small mattress and a sink so you weren’t complaining, happy to just finally be out of the cold and have the chance to rid your rain soaked leathers. “It’s usually just me staying here.” 

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve stayed in worse.” You chirped, throwing your go-back on the mattress rifling through it as you looked for a change of clothes pulling out various daggers, healing potions and salves, and of course a few necessities for your hair.

“Sorry I was added to the mission so late. I don't mean to overstep or be a burden.” You mentioned a pang of guilt pulling on your heart. 

“You are not a burden.” Azriel said quickly from behind you. You ignored the way your stomach flipped at the determination in his words. 

A few moments of silence passed, the rain beating against the wooden walls, the very faint hum of magic as the few wards strained to keep this place concealed and warm.

Azriel shuffled closer so you were now standing shoulder to shoulder, his hand slightly brushing against yours and his breath hitched at the contact. He picked up your hairbrush and what looked like to be a bottle of face wash. “Really?” The Shadowsinger teased. “Rhys told us to pack light.” 

You flashed him a smile, snatching the items from his hands. “I may be a Spy, Azriel but I am still a female.” You said with a playful smile, simply brushing your wet hair over your shoulder. Your smile, the way you said his names- gods- it had his knees buckling slightly. 

You picked up your bundle of fresh clothes after stuffing everything else that wasn’t needed back in your bag and faced Azriel a few beats of silence passing, your face inches apart.  He was too focused by the faint blush on your cheeks to notice your timidness as you spoke shyly.

“I..need to change.” Your voice broke the moment of staring and Azriel cleared his throat. “Of course, my apologies.” He moved towards the door, a miracle it was still on its hinges, his hands brushing against the wooden knob when you spoke again. “You…don’t have to go outside, it's raining pretty bad.” 

Azriel froze momentarily. His heart was pounding in his ears, he was sure it roared louder than the clap of thunder that rolled across the mountain. Lightning was next, flashes of it echoing through small cracks in the walls.

“Alright.” Azriel finally spoke, his voice hoarse and he slid his hands in his pockets trying to hide the slight tremor that ran through them. He still faced the door but took a step back inside if only to appease you. 

He could hear your clothing being removed from behind him and a lump formed in his throat as lust and imagination clashed in his mind.

A few candles had automatically lit as the door opened when you two arrived and their light stayed a strong steady presence. He did his best to ignore your shadow perfectly casted on the wall, yet each movement you made had his eyes straying to the illusion there. The tiny space made your silhouette as accurate as possible and he did his best to breath through the desire that hit him like a brick. 

He needed you more than he needed anything or anyone in his life and right now you were playing a dangerous game, albeit unknowingly.

He couldn’t even feel the wetness that seeped into his leathers, no longer feeling the cold that had settled so firmly. His shadows dispersed even further away from him, settling underneath floorboards and cracks in the walls, their absence somehow making the candles brighter and his breath hitched as your shadow enhanced at the new light. He hissed under his breath and his shadows laughed at his dilemma.

A few more minutes of intense silence passed and he tried to focus on the rain, on the cracks in the floorboard, yet his eyes could not stop straying to your shadow, to your curves and elegant movement.

Azriel was sure his breathing had stopped and his mind had emptied of all other thought’s that weren’t about you. He was clenching his teeth so hard they might break. Shame and guilt tingled in his gut yet he could not look away.

Everything about you enchanted him and knowing that you were changing just a few paces behind him, knowing that you trusted him enough to do that? His cock struggled in the confine of his pants and his mind whirred at the possibilities. 

“Alright.” You spoke gently and he turned around slowly, drinking you in. You were wearing an old t-shirt that seemed just a little bit too big for you and some long sweatpants that hugged your thighs perfectly. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, staring at you with that intensity he always seemed to possess.

“Hope I didn’t take too long.” You whispered and he shook his head no, not trusting his voice. 

He was entranced with your movements as you set your bag on the floor, sliding underneath the covers of the mattress and moved over, very deliberately leaving a space for him there and his heart was going a million miles a minute, his breathing stopped as you started talking once again, it took him a minute to process your words as the sound of your voice hummed in his chest pleasantly, drowning everything else out. 

There was only you.

“Make sure to dry off before coming to bed.” 

He nodded, turning around and running his hands through his hair, trying to calm his heart and steady his breathing. Did you not see how you were affecting him?

How having you so close yet so far was physically painful. He ached for you and silently cursed Rhys for this mission. Azriel rolled his shoulders and reached for his own bag. His hearing hyper focused on the sound of your breathing, on every shift you made in the bed. 

Gods you were going to be the death of him. 

[2-dsimp]

Would Temothy like it if his darling dressed up in one of those sexy cow print undies? Complete with horns and a tail and thigh highs of course x3

『Featuring your Yandere Assistant paying your office a nightly visit』

—————-;——————

Cw: MDNI 🔞Fem!reader, Temothy going feral, mentions of breeding, impregnation, very suggestive

—————-;——————

It all started with you wanting to reward your devoted lover and Assistant. For always giving his all in producing the best results for the company. But it soon ended with you fearing for your capability to walk. Since the Bull hybrid who was trying his hardest to persuade you to let him inside you Your office.

Temothy can hardly stand it any longer - the bull’s desire for his darling boss wearing sexy cow print lingerie. Alongside the signature cow ear headband and cowbell that was dangling from the cute choker around their neck. Sent his head spinning and his balls itching to be emptied out in that sweet womb of yours.

Temothy: “My dear please open the door! I promise I won’t fuck you till my balls are empty—shit! That slipped out. Sorry, what I meant was…”

Your Assistant was trying and failing to convince you to open the door after nearly going feral. In trying to quite literally snatch you up and fuck you senseless on sight. Right then and there on top of your pristine desk. After catching a glimpse of your provocative choice in attire. By chance of walking in on you changing within the safety of your office after closing hours.

Y/n: “Tem I heard that! I’m sorry but I can’t open the door and risk having my office in complete shambles cuz of you”

Temothy nearly growled at your soft rejection as he had the insatiable urge to bully his heavy cock. That was leaking copious amounts of pre within his slacks within your velvety walls. The more you kept him away from your delectable form. The more his shaft was hardening in anticipation and need. To sink his meat deep inside your walls and knock you up with his calves. Despite his best attempts at trying to contain himself by gnawing on his bovine tail. But Your Assistant couldn’t conceal how much he looked like a bull that’s about to go rogue from seeing the color red.

The bull hybrid was quite literally hanging on his last thread of common sense before he crashes out. And turns into a polar opposite of himself that was a savage beast. Who wants nothing more than to satiate his needs than that of his sweet little cowgirl. So by total accident he broke the door off its hinges and glowered down at you with wide eyes. A big hungry expression on his face as he completely lost his mind. With you being the sole one to blame for his loss of composure.

[polaritydisturbed]

The 8th doctor is jacked

I recently re-watched the 1996 Doctor Who TV movie and I simply cannot stop thinking about how the Eighth Doctor physically breaks down the morgue door to escape. And not like, some flimsy little swing door. No. This man bursts out of what is clearly a walk-in industrial freezer door, barefoot and freshly regenerated.

So I did a little digging (and math. there was math. I suffered) to figure out just how insanely strong that makes him.

That morgue door?

Based on visual cues and standard industrial build, here are approximate specs (not exact, but close enough to be unhinged):

Material: Steel plate

Thickness: 4 inches

Width: 3 feet

Height: 8 feet

Weight: ~3,920 pounds

Hinges: Triple concealed

That’s nearly 2 tons of “absolutely not something you open with your squishy mortal hands,” and the Doctor didn’t just open it—he launched himself through it like a Renaissance ghost with a personal vendetta.

And here’s the kicker: he dented it.

Not just broke the hinges, not just forced it open—he left multiple visible dents in solid steel with his bare fists. Even if we’re being generous and the hinges were weak, that door still looks like it lost a fistfight with a Victorian poet.

Industrial freezer doors like this are:

Built from dense, insulated steel

Often vacuum-sealed or magnetically locked

Designed to resist internal pressure

Not meant to be defeated by dramatic amnesiacs in bedsheets

To bust through one, you'd need to overcome:

The inertia of nearly 2 tons of reinforced steel

The resistance of triple concealed hinges

Possible vacuum seals or latch locks

Basic Newtonian laws

And apply enough impact force to deform cold-forged steel

Conservative estimate: Even assuming the door wasn’t locked and only held shut by weight and seal pressure, you'd still need thousands of Newtons of force—possibly several hundred pounds of pressure per square inch—just to budge it, let alone dent it.

That’s enough to:

Body-check a cast iron stove through drywall

Bench-press a baby elephant

Leave knuckle-shaped regrets in steel plating

Give Optimus Prime second thoughts

Physically intimidate a forklift

Get banned from IKEA for structural damage

And the Doctor does it:

Shoeless

Shirtless

Fresh from being legally dead

Wearing nothing but a sheet

In a morgue

In San Francisco

In December

In the movie, he claims he's “half human on [his] mother’s side,” which… okay, sure. Let’s split the difference and say he did all this with 50% human squish strength and 50% alien dramatics.

The Eighth Doctor woke up with no memories, no sonic, no clue what year it is—and still broke out of that freezer, dented a 2-ton steel door with his fists.

Time Lords are built different. Eight is built feral.

(I am not a expert on math or freezer doors so be aware this might not be accurate)

[beckyninja]

The End... And the Beginning

Pairing: SalamanderOC x FemReader

Warnings: Wedding night spiciness abounds! MDNI

Description: Finally, Nev'ran and his Diamond get their happy ending, and a start to a new life.

This is the end of these two's story for now, though I do plan on returning to them in the future. I've had so much fun writing them and their love story. Find the chapters leading up to this finale on my Masterlist.

(And don't forget to ask if you'd like to be added/removed from the Taglist.)

The brand over your heart still stung. You didn’t mind, running your fingers over the mark as you sat on the edge of the bed. Your eyes travelled around the large room. The intricate wall carvings. The metallic mosaics. The massive floor cushions you could sink into and never find your way out again.

So very different from our quarters aboard the Flamewrought.

A smile flitted across your face as you remembered Nev’ran leading you to his clan house, a dwelling so seamlessly carved from the stone of the city-sized cavern, that it seemed to have grown from the floor. To be honest, you’d first found the structure a tad forbidding.

Nev’ran had sensed your tension.

***

“I have not returned here since the passing of my youngest grand-niece,” he said apologetically. “I am afraid it has lain empty for… longer than I care to remember.”

You smiled up at him. “The Chaplain said it was my duty as your wife to bring light and life. I might as well start here.”

A look of awe came into his fiery eyes. “My wife.”

Then he scooped you into his arms and carried you, giggling, across the threshold.

***

The great door, carved with twining dragons, swung open to reveal your husband. He still wore his wedding robes of deep green and ebony, though now loosened to display the muscled expanse of his chest. They revealed the new brand placed on his chest between his two hearts.

Your heart leapt at the sight.

He carried two bowls of what smelled like stew in his hands, one significantly larger than the other. Nudging the door with his foot, he frowned at the creaking of the hinges.

“One more thing I need to repair.” He rumbled.

“How long is the list now?”

“Too long.”

You laughed and beckoned him closer. He approached, handing you one of the bowls. The spicy scent filled your nostrils and your stomach growled.

“Throne, I haven’t eaten since last night. Did you make this?”

How strange it was to see a fierce Space Marine look bashful. “I did. I hope I was successful, it has been some time since I cooked.”

“It smells wonderful.”

 You dug in, using flatbread to shovel meat and sauce into your mouth with reckless abandon. After a moment, you realized he watched you.

You swallowed and blushed. “Not very refined of me, is it?”

“You honor me with your appetite.” A mischievous glint came into his eyes. “I can fetch water if you require it.”

“Nev,” you scoffed, “if I haven’t grown used to spices by now, I never will.” You gestured toward his own bowl. “Now eat!”

“Yes, ma’am.” He chuckled.

You ate in silence. But not the cold, empty silence you’d known before. This felt… comfortable. You snuggled up to his side, basking in his presence. Inhaling, you could still smell the red-hot metal from a few hours ago, when the two of you stood, facing each other across a fiery brazier.

***

The emerald green robe covered you from neck to foot, thick material meant to protect your skin from flying embers. A veil likewise concealed your face and the sweat rolling down it. If not for the priestess assigned to fan you from behind, you felt you might have fainted from the sweltering heat.

The Chaplain’s chanting seemed never-ending. You barely understood the prayers, rumbled in the ancient Nocturnean tongue you’d only recently begun to study, but knew he asked the Emperor to bless your union. 

You managed to pick up the words “fruitful” and “womb” and blushed.

Finally, the elder Salamander ceased and approached the brazier. Your heart leapt to your mouth as he lifted a branding iron from the flames and held it out for you to take. Somehow, your fingers remained steady as you grasped the handle with gloved hands.

The Chaplain switched to Gothic. “Repeat after me, child. With this brand….”

You prayed your voice could be heard over the crackling fire. “With this brand, I seal you, Nev’ran, to me. Fire-forged in bonds of duty and love, unbreakable forever more. In the names of Vulkan our father, and his father who sits the Golden Throne eternal, I do this.”

Nev’ran opened his robe, and you pressed the brand to his flesh.

He never broke eye contact, even as his skin seared. The love in his gaze burned away your nerves.

Then he took the iron offered to him and repeated the same vow. The sincerity in his words brought tears to your eyes, and you opened your own robes. He lifted the brand, hesitating as an unspoken question passed between you.

You nodded slightly. You wanted this.

Still, the pain almost caused you to cry out. You squeezed your eyes shut, sucking air through your clenched teeth as the smaller brand pressed into your skin. Almost as quickly as it was there, it was removed, and the priestess behind you stepped forward to smear a numbing salve over the burn.

“Joined in fire!” The Chaplain intoned.

The chapel rang with the cheers of those who’d come to witness your union. But you only had eyes for your husband.

***

Nev’ran swallowed the last few bites of his stew without tasting them. His eyes fixed on you. His Diamond.

My wife.

He still had trouble processing the fact. It seemed only yesterday you kissed him for the first time, as a corrupted colony burned beneath them. The dragon within had demanded he make you his without delay. The man had urged patience. Despite your smile, you had been fragile.

He remembered having to restrain you as you scrubbed your skin raw in the baths that first night. He remembered the many nights that followed, when you had clung to him, seeking refuge from relentless nightmares. 

He’d held you as you cried, watched over your battered mind and body as you slowly healed. 

Nev’ran thanked the Emperor every day you’d shown no signs of corruption. If you had… if he’d been forced to….

He pushed the unbearable thought away.

“What has you looking so glum?” Your voice roused him from his reverie. “Regretting saddling yourself with me already?”

Shocked, he prepared to refute such a preposterous statement. Then he saw your smirk.

“You are teasing me.”

“I am.” You laughed.

By Vulkan’s burning eyes, I love that sound.

Setting his empty bowl aside, he caught you up in his arms, burying his face in your neck. You squealed as he wiggled his fingers against your sides.

“Dangerous to tease a dragon, my love.”

He continued his assault against your sensitive body until you writhed in his grasp, tears of laughter running down your cheeks. His own deep guffaws mingled with your sounds of mirth. No longer the sad, fearful ice maiden. Freedom from the shackles of your old life had transformed you. You glowed with an inner fire he’d always known burned somewhere deep within.

Finally, he relented. You lay limp and gasping in his arms. 

“I… should never have… told you I… was ticklish.”

“A mistake I intend to exploit.” 

“Cruel dragon.” You pouted.

He relaxed his grip. He should’ve known better. 

With a triumphant cry you lurched upward and poked a finger directly into a neural port on his abdomen. Sensation ripped like wildfire through his nerves, sending sparks through his brain. Vision blurred as his abdominal muscles contracted involuntarily, a deep groan tearing from his throat.

“Throne! Nev, I’m sorry!”

He panted. Soft little hands cupped his cheeks.

“I didn’t mean to press so hard! I-”

Your words died as his eyes snapped open. He saw the light in your eyes, the pulse in your throat. He followed a bead of sweat as it rolled from your neck down between your breasts.  

Over your brand. His brand.

“Diamond….” He growled.

That scent… my mate’s scent….

Grasping the back of your head in one hand, he covered your mouth with his own.

***

You couldn’t breathe. You didn’t care. Everything in you surrendered to the man kissing you like he meant to devour you whole. 

I’d let him.

You’d been starved for his touch. First there had been the interviews with the Chaplain of the Salamanders’ 4th Company. The man’s grimness intimidated you at first, before you learned of the deep kindness behind his stoic facade. He’d explained to you what it meant to be the wife of an Astartes, the difficulties you would experience, the trials, the expectations. 

He’d emphasized the need for discretion when the Company encountered other Chapters or Imperial agencies.

When he found your responses satisfactory, he moved on to Chapter history and customs. The lectures lasted the entire remainder of the trip to Nocturne. In your brief moments of respite, when you took meals with Matia and Lili, you’d joked about feeling like a neophyte.

Matia had recounted tales of her own instruction with the Chaplain, after Hur’reth’s proposal. Though, already being a daughter of Nocturne, you doubted her education had been so exhaustive.

Lili mostly remained quiet, still mourning the loss of her family and home. She’d been taken in by an older serf couple aboard the Flamewrought, and seemed to be adjusting well last you saw her.

With everything, you and Nev’ran had been lucky to snatch a few scant minutes together each day. Though you’d made sure to make the most of them.

You moaned into his mouth, hungry for more. You ran your hands over his hard chest. Even now, his sheer power amazed you. Your fingers traced the bumps and ridges of innumerable scars and brands. Each a testimony to his prowess in battle.

An image of him tearing through a horde of monsters to reach you sent heat rippling through your veins. You trembled. When his tongue pushed past your lips, you welcomed it. 

Then he pulled away and you whined, clawing at his chest to pull him back to you. Another growl rumbled through him.

Next you knew, you lay flat on your back on the firm mattress of the bed. He crawled atop you. His movements reminded you of some great predator, and a primitive part of your brain shrilled a warning. But desire overruled all caution.

“Nev’ran….”

His chest heaved like a forge’s bellows. Flame danced in his eyes. Rocking up on his knees, he stretched forth huge hands and grasped the edges of your robe.

Then, all at once, you were no longer in the bedroom. No longer on Nocturne. The mattress beneath you turned to slimy stone. The hands on your body turned cold and hard. Mad eyes leered down at you from a cadaverous face.

“NO!”

***

The cry extinguished Nev’ran’s ardor like cold water. He jerked back, watching in bewildered dismay as you clawed out from under him, curling into a trembling ball.

“Diamond?”

You stared through him. “Nonono…!”

“Diamond, what is wrong?” He pivoted, searching the chamber for any threat that could explain your panic, hands reaching for something to use as a weapon. 

A whimper drew him back. You’d covered your face with your hands. Your shoulders shook.

Realization struck him. He’d encountered enough traumatized baselines in his long years of service to know the signs. So he moved slowly, approaching but not touching.

“It is all right. You are safe.”

The salty tang of tears filled his nose. Your whimpers turned to sobs. Everything in him screamed to pull you into his arms, but he forced himself to remain still.

“I am here. Nothing will hurt you.”

He repeated the words over and over again, hearts breaking, until at last you seemed to hear.

“N-Nev’ran?”

“Yes, Diamond. I am here.”

Your hands dropped away and you stared at him with wide, wet eyes. Then you threw yourself into his arms.

“I… I’m sorry.”

“No.” He wrapped himself around you, armoring you with his body.

“I just… when you touched me I saw… him.”

Nev’ran fought the rage threatening to erupt like a volcano within. 

I should have taken my time with that abomination. I should have ripped him limb from limb and fed him to the fire like kindling. I should have-

“I ruined everything.” 

Your tiny voice shattered him. “No, Diamond. No! Nothing is ruined. I should have realized you were not ready. We will stop.” He tucked your head beneath his chin.

For now, this is enough.

You were silent for a while. “I… I don’t want to stop.”

He loosened his grip as you pulled back to look up at him. The determination in your eyes made him smile. He cupped your face, wiping away the remainder of your tears with his thumb.

“Do not push yourself. We have time, and I desire nothing but your pleasure.”

He watched the color return to your pale face. You settled on your knees, head barely reaching his chest, and reached out to run your fingers over his skin once more. He sucked in a breath, body stirring. Your hands fell to the cloth belt at his waist.

He covered them with his own. “You are sure?”

You nodded. “Yes but… I’ve never… you know I’ve never….”

You’d told him of your inexperience. The thought of possessing what no other man had touched made his dragon purr. 

But he would not be selfish. “I should not have lost control before. We will go slowly now. Tell me what you want.”

“... can I see you?”

Throne, she cannot know what she does to me.

He let her untie the belt, and shrugged his robe from her shoulders. As custom dictated, he was bare beneath. She stared. His shoulders tensed.

“I know this old drake is not much to look at.” 

***

Your mouth dropped. He wasn’t serious. He couldn’t be! 

You’d thought the merest glimpse of his chest arousing. And now that he knelt, completely unclothed, before you, heat pooled in your lower stomach. He was an ebon statue come to life. Worn, perhaps, and cracked, with edges softened by time. But these details only made him that much more striking. 

“You’re beautiful.” You breathed.

You hadn’t thought it possible for his face to darken even further, but it did.

“That is… not something I have oft been called.”

You barely heard his words, eyes drawn to what bobbed between his thighs. Hard and thick and huge.

“Throne….”

Nev’ran said nothing, but you felt his tension like an animal poised to spring. You knew he wouldn’t, though. Not without your consent.

“Can I touch it?” You blushed at your own words.

“Please.”

His deep growl made the blood rush in your veins. Reaching out, you ran a single finger down its length. He whined.

You jerked back. “Does it hurt?”

“Yes.” He seemed to shake himself. “And no. Forgive me, Diamond. It has been so very long since….”

Pleasure. I’m giving him pleasure.

The thought sent a rush through you. You cupped your hand around his length, your fingers unable to meet, and stroked.

He threw his head back with a gasp. “For the love of the primarch, woman!”

“I’m sorry-”

“Do not be. I am yours to explore, only,” he gave a breathless laugh, “I do not know how much more this old body can take.”

“Stop calling yourself that. You’re in your prime.” Growing bold, you stroked again. 

“Ahhh,” he moaned, eyes snapping to yours.

If you didn’t know better, you’d say he looked desperate. “May I see you now, my love?” 

You hesitated only a moment before slipping your own robe off your shoulders. Despite the warmth of the room, and the heat radiating from your husband, your skin pebbled. You found you couldn’t look him in the face.

What if he doesn’t like what he sees?

You needn’t have worried.

“Vulkan’s burning eyes,” you shivered at his drawn-out sigh, “you put your namesake to shame, my Diamond.”

“Nev, touch me?”

He groaned. “Tell me where.”

Biting your lip, you motioned to your waist, and gasped when hands encircled it. Calloused skin pressed against yours, thick fingers sank into the flesh of your belly. 

“So soft. I’d almost forgotten.” He seemed to speak to himself.

Reaching up, you could barely brush your fingertips over his cheek. “Nev’ran, higher.”

The hands slid up your abdomen, over your ribcage, and paused beneath your chest. “May I?”

“You may.”

You gasped when he caressed your breasts. He squeezed gently, cupped, and lifted. When his rough thumbs brushed over your hardening nipples you gasped out loud.

“Do that again!”

He chuckled and obeyed. Now it was your turn to throw your head back as you basked in pleasure. Your eyes opened to find Nev’ran bent nearly double, face inches from your chest.

His eyes searched yours, and you nodded. Then his lips closed over your nipple and you moaned. You could have spent hours like that, with his mouth alternating between your breasts. But far too soon he pulled back.

***

Nev’ran revelled in the dazed look on your face, a look he’d put there. The memory of your fingers on him spurred him on. His dragon roared to take and claim. 

But he would be patient.

“More?” You whispered.

He smiled and released your breasts, sliding his hands back down your body until his thumbs rested on the crease between your hips and thighs. He pressed further. You stiffened, mouth opening. Your scent thickened.

“May I touch you here?”

No sooner had you voiced assent than he cupped your mound. He stroked the soft curls there, drinking in the sounds you sang for him. 

“So sensitive, my Diamond. But there is more and better to come. Let me show you.”

When his fingers first encountered your wetness he had to bite down hard on the inside of his cheek. He wanted… wanted. 

But I will… maintain… control.

And so he slipped his fingers between your folds in measured strokes while your cries drove him to the brink of madness. He found the little nub that gave women such pleasure, proud of himself for remembering correctly. When he rubbed a finger against it….

Your back arched. He had to quickly stabilize you with his other hand to keep you from sprawling back on the bed.

“So sensitive.” He murmured.

And then he continued, his member throbbing in time to your cries.

Your little hands gripped at his wrist, not attempting to push him away, but clinging for support as he pleasured you. 

“N-Nev’ran!”

Throne, say it again.

“I know, my love.”

“I feel, I feel-!”

“Let it come. I have you.”

You sobbed, your nectar soaking his fingers as you shook apart in his arms. And then you went limp.

He removed his hand and gathered you against him, feeling the wild fluttering of your pulse.

“Are you all right?”

It took you a minute to answer. “That was… it’s never felt like that before, when I used my own-” you stopped, eyes darting away.

He chuckled and pressed his lips to your forehead. “There is nothing to be ashamed of, Diamond.”

He let you rest for a bit, cradling you close. His own body screamed for release. But he would endure.

“Would you like to-?”

“Yes!” 

***

You hadn’t thought anything could be better than what you’d already experienced.

“Nev’ran!”

A low grunt came from between your thighs. You’d been placed farther up the huge bed. Your husband stretched out on his stomach before you, head buried between your legs, tongue buried in your core.

“Oh, Throne! Nev’ran!”

You’d blanched when he first told you his intentions. Of course, you’d heard rumors growing up. Like any young girl you’d giggled with friends over stolen novels full of flowery language and ridiculous metaphors. But you’d never quite believed people actually did such things.

Your hips jumped as Nev’ran’s tongue pressed deeper, deeper than your own fingers had ever gone. The unexpected heat of the organ only added to your pleasure. That, and his fingers circling your bud in relentless circuits. 

The way he held you down with a single hand spanning the breadth of your waist, the way he devoured you like a beast, growling and snarling…!

And yet the fear did not return. You were prey and you were safe, at the same time.

Another press of his fingers and you felt the coil within wind even tighter. 

“Nev’ran, I’m-!”

It snapped.

When you returned to sensibility, your husband leaned over you, stroking your cheek.

“Are you all right? Was that too much?”

Your heart swelled at the concern on his scarred face. Instead of answering, you lifted yourself with all the strength you could muster and pressed your lips to his. He tasted of smoke and spices and something that had to be your own musk. 

“I love you, Nev.”

His great arms cradled you. “And I love you.”

You snuggled into his embrace. Your body felt molten and heavy. Liquid cooled between your thighs.  And yet….

“Nev?”

“Mmmm?”

“Shall we… continue?”

“You are certain?”

You felt a sudden burst of frustration. “Yes! I am! I want… I want everything, Nev’ran.”

He lowered you back onto the mattress. The look in his eyes almost burned you in its intensity.

“You know what will happen.”

You nodded, eyes travelling down to his swollen member. 

Dear Emperor, that has to hurt!

“It will… go inside.”

You didn’t know how. But other women, hundreds of women if Matia and the Chaplain were to be believed, had taken Salamanders before. So there must be a way.

He nodded, almost solemn. “I will use my fingers first, to prepare you. Then I will enter you. There may be pain-”

“I don’t care. I want it.”

“If it becomes too much, tell me, and I will stop.”

“It won’t. I-”

He grasped your chin, making you look him in the eyes. “If it becomes too much, TELL ME, and I will STOP.”

“I… I will.”

“Swear it.”

“I swear.”

Your core clenched in anticipation.

***

Nev’ran rose back up onto his knees and looked at the woman beneath him. Sweat streaked your skin. Your hair cascaded about your head in unruly tangles. Reddish marks covered your breasts and thighs. He winced at one hand-shaped bruise forming over your waist.

I must be more gentle.

Licking the last of your juices from his lips, he reached for the small stone table next to the bed. You hadn’t noticed the jar he’d brought along with the food earlier. Lifting it, he poured its viscous contents over his fingers.

His member throbbed when he spread your thighs once more, revealing your swollen, dripping center.

Just a little longer.

You whimpered when he stroked you. 

“Breathe, Diamond.” He murmured, before pressing a single finger inside.

Having his tongue inside you had been hard enough, but the tight, wet sensation of your core around his finger nearly undid him. He found himself having to take his own advice, expanding his third lung to drag as much oxygen into his body as possible. 

Your soft cries didn’t help matters.

I want to be inside her. I want to fill her until there is no room for anything else. I want to mold her body to my shape. My precious little mate.

His dragon clawed at his control.

A second finger. You gasped as he scissored them, working you open. Not quite enough yet. The image of you tearing as he took you quieted the beast within.

I will not allow it.

In and out he moved his fingers. A preview of what was to come. To his amazement, he felt your body tightening once more.

“Again, my love?”

Your frantic nodding brought a prideful smile to his lips.

He had done this. Centuries the elder of many of his battle brothers, and he still knew how to drive a woman half-mad with ecstasy. Faster and faster he moved his fingers, curling them within, searching for that spot he remembered. 

“Can you take another, my Diamond?”

“Please!”

“Throne.” He groaned and slipped third within.

You took him more easily now. He pushed deeper with each thrust.

Where is it? There!

A patch of spongy flesh. He pressed.

“Nev’ran!”

Liquid gushed around his fingers for the third time, your fragrance nearly overwhelming him. Panting like a beast in rut, he worked his fingers through your climax, finally withdrawing when you lay boneless before him.

And yet, when your eyes opened, he still saw desire. “Nev’ran, more.”

Forget orks or tyranids or any of the other horrors he was bred to fight, you would be the death of him. 

He poured more of the viscous liquid over his member. Slipping his hands beneath your knees, he lifted your legs until they pressed against your chest. You winced, and he allowed you time to adjust to the stretch.

“It must be like this, or on your hands and knees.” He growled. “Choose.”

“Like this.” You panted in reply. “I want to see you.”

“Relax your body as much as you are able, and breathe deep.”

He lined himself up with your entrance. Both hearts pounded like hammers on anvils in his chest.

Then he pushed in, his groan mingling with your cry as your body struggled to take him. 

“Tight. Throne, so tight.” Nev’ran fought to hold onto rational thought as he sank inside you, inch by inch. 

Slowly, Warp damn it! Slowly!

“Is this… all right?”

You didn’t respond. He glanced down to find you with your eyes tightly shut, teeth clenched as you breathed in short gasps.

“Diamond!”

He hadn’t meant it to come out so harsh. But his control frayed more with every passing moment. It had been too long.

Your eyes snapped open. “It… stings.”

“Too much?”

Do not tell me to stop. By the Emperor and all the primarchs, do not tell me to stop!

“No….” The word trailed off into a long moan.

His eyes fixed on the place of your joining. More and more you took, your entrance stretching around him. 

So good.

Had it felt this good before? He couldn’t remember. His mind filled with the tight, wet heat of the present. Nothing else mattered.

An eternity seemed to pass before he looked down and found himself fully seated inside you.

The dragon emerged. “Mine.”

***

You couldn’t describe the feeling. The stretch. The fullness. The heat.

Oh, Throne. The heat!

You burned from the inside out. Your brain sparked like a damaged cogitator.

“Nev’ran, Nev’ran, Nev’ran!”

You couldn’t tell if you merely thought the name or spoke it aloud. He was all. Everything around and in you. Only him.

And then he moved. In and out, like a piston. Your body screamed, in pain or pleasure you couldn’t tell. The two sensations melded. You wanted him to stop. You wanted him to never stop.

“Mine.”

Did he say that? Did you think it? It didn’t matter. You agreed.

“My mate.”

You wanted to say something, anything. But only screams and moans passed through your lips. You couldn’t catch your breath.

“Only mine.”

Finally, your brain formed one coherent thought. “Yes! Yours!”

A hand slid under the back of your head, yanking you upward. You had the briefest glimpse of wild red eyes before a mouth slammed into yours. You clutched at the short-cropped hair, digging your nails into the scalp.

All the while the piston within you never faltered.

When you grew faint from lack of air, the mouth moved to your throat. Teeth sank into your skin. You felt claimed. You wanted to claim in return.

A memory flickered and you raked your nails down the impossibly broad chest, searching, searching for….

There!

Fingers sank into neural ports and the dragon roared.

The piston sped up. Whatever coherent thought you’d managed to gather splintered into a million fragments. All you could do was cling to your mate and feel and feel and feel. 

The volcano within erupted without warning.

You saw white. You heard the snarling of a feral beast. You felt molten fire pulse into your womb.

Then, everything went dark.

***

You stumbled into the Apothecarion, gasping for breath. “I’m here, Nev’ran! I’m sorry for being late. I was helping Lili and Matia with the children and I-”

Your words halted with a gasp.

The medical center of the Flamewrought, usually so austere, now gleamed with the light of a hundred candles. The surgical tables had all been pushed to one side to make room for a low circle of cushions surrounding-

“Where on Terra did you find flowers?!”

Nev’ran stood to one side of the cushions. He was unarmored, dressed in a simple green tunic. In one hand he held a bottle of wine. In the other, two glasses. They looked comically small in his hands.

His smile almost looked nervous. “Do you like them?”

You approached the bouquet of pale blooms, reaching out to stroke the petals. “It’s been so long.”

“One of my Brother Techmarines’ wives has a small garden on one of the lower decks. It is something of a marvel actually, she uses heat lamps and water condensers-” He seemed to realize he was rambling and cut himself off. “Anyway, she graciously gifted me a few.”

“A techmarine with a wife who likes flowers.” You laughed. “That sounds like an interesting pair.”

“That they are.” Popping the cork on the wine bottle, he filled a glass and offered it to you.

You accepted with a grin. “And where, might I ask, did you acquire this?”

He chuckled. “Apparently there was a particularly grateful planetary governor a few years back who offered almost his entire wine cellar to the Company. The Captain accepted a few bottles just to stop him groveling.”

You raised the liquid to your lips and your eyes widened. “I can’t say I’m an expert, but this is delightful.”

Nev’ran motioned for you to recline on the cushions. He settled next to you with a groan. 

“How I will get up again, I do not know.”

You rolled your eyes. “You are not that old, Nev.”

He humphed and you giggled. 

For a few minutes you simply drank together in silence, enjoying the way the candle light reflected off the white blossoms. Finally, Nev’ran cleared his throat. 

“I have made you something.”

You gasped when he produced a small, ornate box from the folds of his tunic. “Is this where you’ve been this last week? Nev’ran….”

He held it toward you, and you could have sworn you saw his hands tremble. “Please, open it.”

You did. And your heart all but stopped.

There, nestled amidst velvet padding, was a necklace. A single diamond the size of a bird’s egg nestled inside a net of silver mesh, the whole thing hanging from a chain of the same metal. 

“Oh…!”

Nev’ran reached out and took your hand. “Among the Salamanders, it is customary for a man to craft a gift for the woman he… that he wishes to marry.”

You couldn’t breathe.

He continued. “I love you, Diamond. From the moment I saw you, I knew I was destined to keep you warm and safe. I have done battle for you, and I would do so a thousand times without hesitation. I cannot offer a life of ease, but I offer all that I am.”

You would never forget the look in his eyes when he asked. “Will you marry-?”

“YES!”

***

Nev’ran lifted the glass of water to your lips. “Easy now, slowly.”

He watched you gulp the liquid down, then gently lowered you back into the pillows he’d piled around you like a nest.

“How are you feeling?”

“Mmmm.” Your eyelids fluttered. “Tired.”

“Sore?”

You shook your head. “Prob’ly tomorrow, though.”

He winced. By the time he’d come back to his senses, you’d been unconscious, his seed pouring from your core. It had been the closest he’d come to panic in long years. But several glasses of water, a nutrient bar, and a change of clothes later, and you smiled at him like he hadn’t ravaged you like a rutting beast a mere hour earlier.

“You are sure you are-”

“Nev’ran,” you sighed, “I’m fine.” Your lips quirked upward even as your eyes closed. “That was wonderful.”

He felt a rush of pure male pride. “Was it now?”

“Mmm-hmm.” One eye opened. “Not bad for an old man.”

He stared at you for a moment before throwing his head back and laughing. “Diamond! You really will be the death of me!”

You reached for him, and he lowered himself to his side next to you, pulling you tight against his chest. “Sleep now, my love. We have a week to enjoy ourselves.”

And then it would be back to the Flamewrought, to battle. His duty still remained. 

Nev’ran looked down at the precious gift he’d been given in the form of this woman. At least, this time, he would not be alone. You mumbled something, and his hearts skipped a beat.

“What was that, my love?”

Your hand drifted to your stomach. “I hope it took.”

His eyes moistened. “I hope so too.”

“What do you want?”

“Hmm?”

“Son or daughter?”

He laughed, even as a single tear ran down his weathered cheek. “Healthy.”

“Good answer.” You snuggled closer. “Love you, Nev.”

He wrapped his arms around you. “I love you more than my own life, my precious Diamond.”

He watched you, memorizing ever feature, until your breathing deepened. “No matter what comes, I will keep you warm. Always.”

And the Dragon and his Mate rested.

@remembrancer-of-heresy @solspina @sleepyfan-blog @moodymisty @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@bispecsual @kit-williams @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond @adhd-fandom-hyperfocus @lemon-russ

@justeverythingnothingelse @scriberye @bleedingichorhearts @c-u-c-koo-4-40k @mooniequeen

@passionofthesith @noncon-photobomb @sinistermojo @b-rabbitboss @vyzz-undercover

@missmannequin @rivalriotrenegade @iloveoutlinesiswear @jaghatai-khock @hatsubara-8chan

@justanothermemestrider @meervalv0 @grimdark-raccoon @garlickedbreads @riokunova

@ailujsenutna @emiemiemiii @astrohymn @synfiction @soul-of-leya

@n0cturn4 @mgrm99 @seirensou @zamzmak @elita1

@ilovewolvezz @primordialsneeze @summersong2262 @nereidof40k @ahrianee

@sunsetlobster @nekotaetae @toto-the-cactus @thevoidscreams

[h-rlequiin]

  𐙚  𓂃   ࣪    ◌      ' the brutal woman. '  🪽  𓉳    

 ྐ𖥨 pairing , 𓊇 jennifer jareau x reader 𓊆 summary _ ͏ৌৄ়়ৗ. you are a new agent in the bau, and your supervisory agent has just suffered the loss of her husband. you find her in the restroom after she's been crying. છਊ tags!     𓊇   degradation , slutshaming , mean!jj , sadist!jj , fingering (r. receiving) , semi - public sex , porn without plot.

word count : 4, 240 <3

Your stomach turns over when you hear it.

Not just crying, sobbing. Exhausted, grief-stricken, pained sobbing. Echoing out of the furthest stall from you, whose door is still swung open on its hinges, its occupant not worried over privacy.

You swallow, tears pricking at your own lashes, for you know just to who these sobs belong.

You close the door behind you, quiet as a mouse, yet when you turn the lock, quite selfishly so as you’d like not to be interrupted in a private moment which you so crave, the crying hiccups to a pause.

The bereaved sniffles, readjusts herself, emerges from the stall.

Jennifer.

You have worked under her for just under a month, and though you’ve known her for so brief of a time, you have already seen her at her very lowest. You feel so foolish now, harboring a crush on a woman who you have only just met, whose husband has just died, the funeral to which you were invited, yet did not attend for fear of overstepping. It feels as though any sense of morality has long since flown out the window, for you still find yourself blushing every time her gaze meets yours, the hair at the nape of your neck pricking to a stand each time her hand brushes against yours to exchange a file. Her husband has only just been buried; it is cruel of you to feel at all romantically towards this woman.

Yet, as she steps from her hiding place, pressing a tissue to the mascara which runs down her gaunt cheeks, you feel the pang of cupid’s arrow straight through your heart once again.

Though she glances towards you, she all but ignores your presence, leans against the sink in that signature way— the way which you’re sure is intentional in that it flexes the muscles of her arms so precisely that it makes you feel faint every time. The blonde takes several low beaths, her exhales shaky, her eyelids fluttering as if she is concealing another wave of tears. She stares at herself in the mirror, yet her eyes are glassy, unfocused. If she can even see her reflection through weak pupils, she is unhappy with the unprofessionalism that stares back at her.  

You chance a few steps toward her, standing at the furthest sink, finding her reflection in the long stretch of mirror.

“Are you—” You begin, voice lower than the fan buzzing throughout the room.

“I’m fine.” The blonde returns, her voice low, graveled and unemotional. She shoots you a look, blue eyes gone impossibly dark, like you best not approach her, like a lion in a cage that’s been hurt so frequently by the human touch that its temper has grown utterly violent.

You swallow once again, throat suddenly dry as she begins her approach towards you, likely past you, back into the bullpen, back to her desk to pretend that she has not shed tears on company time.

“If you need anything,” you try again, and as soon as the words have left your lips you regret them, for she’s stopping in her tracks. The blonde thrusts against you, slamming you against the wall with just enough force to startle you, to rocket your heartbeat up to a potentially dangerous speed, to force the tears into your own ducts.

“I said I’m fine,” she growls, her forearm pressed against your collarbone so that you are trapped entirely beneath her weight. She must sense the fear that has sparked beneath your skin, must feel the heartbeat which is so loud you feel it over every inch of your body, for the smirk that so subtly spreads across her lips is devilish. Your eyes, wide and pleading and wet, find hers for the first time since you were hired into the unit, blinking erratically, your chest heaving as you gaze up into her.

Her mind must be foggy, must be shadowed by guilt and grief, is certainly clouded by years of repression, for her next act truly pulls the breath from your lungs—

She kisses you. It is hot and rough and sloppy, her teeth crash against yours, the force of her arm against you pooling blood beneath your bone, bruising you. She does not aim to harm you, does not do this out of anger. If you were to ask, and yes, you will certainly ask once the feeling has returned to your knees and your senses can intake anything but the sweetness of her perfume, she would reveal that she has found you somewhat irresistible these past weeks. Young and bright and eager to please, ready to do anything she asks at the drop of a hat. Try as she has all these years to repress her true feelings towards the fairer sex, yet it all came crumbling around her the moment you stepped into the office in that tight little pencil skirt, gripping your briefcase so nervously, standing in front of the team like a deer in headlights.

Had her life not suddenly been targeted by the reaper, had her marriage continued on like any other day, had she convinced you to go out drinking with the rest of the team, perhaps she would have had her lips on you significantly earlier. Perhaps you would have fallen into a rhythm, like you do now, yet one with a far calmer state of mind.

The older woman cannot help herself, the hand not at your shoulder gripping into your hip, handling you so brutally that it makes your mouth water against hers. You kiss her back just as roughly, and if you weren’t caught so off guard your hands would make their own marks in her flesh, but they fall limp at your sides, your body motionless below her, entirely under her control.

A skip in your heartbeat must bring her back to her good graces, for she pulls back, a strand of spit holding in the air between you.

“Fuck,” she groans softly, taking a moment to capture the image of you like this, nose and chest flushed bright red, eyes gazing up at her so desperately, lips puffy from the violence of her teeth. The blonde drops her arm from its imprisonment of your chest, and it’s as if she’s been holding all of your weight, for you drop in height quite significantly at the motion.

“I’m sorry.” She swipes at her own purpled lips, thumb lingering for a moment, like she’s shell shocked by her own actions. “I shouldn’t have... Fuck, I’m sorry.”

Jennifer shakes her head, presses thumb and forefinger against between her eyes, turns her back to you. She starts to pace along the restroom, her boots loud and clunky like she barely has the energy to lift them.

“Whoa…” You hum, just barely above your own breath, looking down at your own shoes, using all of your might to stand upright. You stutter through a shy smile, trying to find the right words to tell a woman who has just kissed you while wearing the wedding ring of a dead man.

Just before she turns to leave, to flee the restroom, to likely give you the cold shoulder at least for the rest of your shift if not for the remainder or your career, you capture her wrist, take the little bit of control you have in this situation, force her attention to you. Her eyes are wild when they meet yours, worried and distant and furious at herself— she hasn’t slipped up like this in quite some time.

Jennifer always knew, somewhere deep down in the pit of her stomach, deep beneath bile and flesh and muscle, that her marriage to Will would never sustain her. She kept her urges at bay, would barely allow herself glances towards scantily clad women in bars the unit would visit, had forced herself into friendship with the gray-haired profiler whom she had once felt so deeply for. The southern drawl was the easy choice, the white picket fence in the suburb, the boys, the fairytale life… it was a way to ensure her safety, a guarantee of her legacy. At least she would be survived by two young men which bore her own downturned smile.

“JJ.” You whisper softly, the two consonants feeling impossibly thick on your tongue. You have little to say to her, have not undergone the stress of suppressing your true feelings for forty years. All you can offer her is the gentleness of your touch, as your fingers lift to delicately caress her jaw, thumb swiping over her cheek before you press a short kiss there, not to taunt or to excite her, but to test her waters, to ensure her comfort in the action. When she responds only with the fluttering closing of lashes, the subtle tightening of her jaw, you allow her what she’s braced for.

You press your lips to hers, soft and gentle and not at all what she has previously attacked you with. You still kiss her with that same fervor, your own need for this woman beyond anything she could possibly comprehend. Now is your turn to grab into her sides, to feel the strong obliques that taunt you beneath those tight longsleeves every single day. She moans softly into your lips when you paw at her musculature, slowly beginning to match the rhythm of your kiss, her hands falling from their clenched fists to lay flat against your sides.

There’s a growl from the back of her throat when your fingers hook into the loops of her waistband, tugging her just slightly closer, as if to further affirm that you are perfectly pleased by what she is doing, that you could kiss her like this for an eternity and never grow bored.

The integrity of it eludes you, your hands so full of her hips, mind all-consumed by the way that she captures your lower lip between her teeth, you can’t chance a thought to the gold ring around her finger, cannot conjure a thought towards her inner turmoil. You only think of making her feel better, of taking those tears from her eyes and replacing them with that low moan that’s hidden at the pit of her throat.

Jennifer pushes against you until she has you pinned once again, this time against the sink, sculpted arms lifting you up effortlessly until you sit on the edge of the porcelain. Your skirt, penciling your thighs together until it reaches just below your knees, constricts you so much that the blonde must force it up, angrily pushing at the material until it is bunched around your waist, until she can slot herself between your thighs to continue her assault of your lips.

Her tongue is wild, brushing over your lips before pushing past them, eager to taste every inch of you, while the rest of her body is completely stationary, hands holding your waist, hold strong and harsh, as if stopping any possibility of your wiggling free of her. It’s as if all of her energy is dedicated only to your taste, as if you are silencing all of the noise and the stress that has built into a knot in her shoulders, as if you are easing the tension in her hands and her thighs and her mind all at once.

Your hands are far more exploratory than her own, lightly tugging at the navy shirt, the one that she’s unbuttoned ever so slightly, likely to relieve the choking sensation it has caused, but also successful in making you drool at the small bit of cleavage it reveals. Your hands slip beneath the material, finding her tense muscle, and she flinches a bit because she’s so hot and overwhelmed by the sensation of kissing you that she’s begun to sweat, your freezing fingers making her abdomen contract.

“Jennifer,” you whisper in the short moment that you pull back to catch your breath, but her kisses do not stop, continuing to kiss eagerly against your chin and jaw. You want to speak more, want to ask her if she’s sure about this, but her hands slide to your thigh in a way that makes you speechless, your head falling back against the mirror behind you, separating your kisses.

The older woman watches you intensely from behind long lashes, her eyes just as dark and menacing as you remember, watching the heaving rise and fall of your chest, eying the buttons of your blouse like she’s telepathically willing them to be undone. There’s a blush across her nose and those protruding ears that you find so damn charming, but her mouth is straight-lined, her eyes boring into you as if you are under investigation.

She stares into you, calculating, as if waiting to see which of you will first fall back into the madness of your affair, your breath bated from the intensity of her glare. Ultimately, it is she who relents, who dips her head to teeth at your neck, pushing past the collar of your shirt, sucking in smooth skin so that you are covered in reminders of just how rabid you’ve made her feel.

Her hands are sneaky, slipping beneath the satin of your skirt, finding the lace underwear beneath. It makes her chuckle, lightly dusting vibrations across your collarbone as she pushes the lace down over your knees until it lightly dangles off of one heeled foot. Her touch is so rough, so cruel and demanding, up until the moment that she meets the heat between your thighs. She inhales sharply, her chest heaving against you, like she is faltering for the very first time, feeling the wetness she herself has caused in the first place.

“Fuck,” she whispers once more, her fingers twitching against your cunt, like she is so greedy, desperate, to sink them into you, yet somewhat disgusted by her own need for you. “This is exactly what you wanted, isn’t it?” She mewls, voice now dripping with the slightest Appalachian accent, her forehead leaning against your bare chest.

You nod a little, hips bucking, chasing after her touch, but she is so heavy atop you, other hand stabilizing your waist, that you cannot do much in your chase.

“Dressed up in this pretty little skirt, locking the door behind you when you came in. You’re just a little whore.” Her voice has even dropped an octave since last she spoke, her hold on you tightening with every breath.

The cruelness of her words has you clenching your thighs together, and you both can feel the way you’re practically dripping onto the counter below you. The blonde is impossibly stuck to you, her head not lifting, even as you frantically unbutton your top, desperate to feel her skin against your own, freeing the lace of her bra for which she’s sure to degrade you further.

The blonde teases a finger through your folds, forcing a moan from your lips which is far too loud for an affair of this caliber, and once again she is kissing you just to shut you up.

“God, you love this. You’re so filthy.” She whispers against you, mouth hot, breath tasting so vaguely of your own vanilla lip gloss. It’s sudden, the way she slides two fingers into you, so easy and controlling and forcing the whimpers from your mouth. You can feel the baring of her teeth, the grin from her own pleasure in hearing your depraved little noises, the glee radiating off of her in that she’s got you in this position so easily.

You love it too, you want to tease, want to prove that you may really be worthy of your status as a profiler. Your lips part to talk, to taunt, but the lithe fingers curl within you, and your teeth clamp down around your bottom lip so hard that you’re certain you’ve drawn blood.

Your fingers fling to her head, and you’re so dizzy from her sloppy kisses to the bits of flesh that poke out from your bra that you find yourself furious at the tie that holds up her hair. You tug at it a bit, want it out, but wind up pulling the weft of hair too tightly, make the blonde curse from the pain. Her head snaps up from its position at your tits, and when your lips part again to apologize profusely, her arm hand lifts from its position at your waist to grip at the curls at the nape of your neck. She pulls, hard, far harder than you had expected, making you squeak, hiss through your teeth.

“That hurt, baby?” She muses, only tugging tighter when it takes you even a split second to answer. You find it impossible to speak, some tightness formed in your throat from the downright maliciously slow pace that the blonde has developed that makes it hard for you to do much more than babble. You even try to nod, but her grip on you is so tight that any attempt at movement is futile, so you refrain to simply looking up at her, jaw slacked, hips greedily grinding against her palm.

“Good.” Jennifer hums, does not allow for a moment of slack, keeps her your hair tightly fisted, only now begins to increase her pace. She allows the smallest of brushes of the heel of her palm against your clit, making your body begin to twitch up towards her, just as she wants. For a woman who has been married to a man for the past decade, she seems to know just how to touch you to make your vision blurry, your stomach contract, your hands clench around nothing.

You reach for her again, this time far gentler in your approach, eventually flatten your palms against her arched back. You claw at the material of her shirt until you feel warm skin, gently tickle her spine with your nails. You’re just lucid enough to feel the way her skin ripples under your touch, to hear the heavy pants of her breath.  

Her fist falls from your hair, the pain still throbbing there from her pulling. It is a delicious pain, one that you revel in, one that you’d like her to inflict endlessly.

The blonde’s hand moves now in favor of forcing the lace over the mound of your breast, the short-cut fingernails gently pinching at your flesh, pebbling your nipple beneath her masterful hand. She sighs contently, mockingly hitching her breath in unison with you, softly chuckling at the way that you brokenly whisper her name in between pants.

She knows that you’re close, cannot hide the grin that parts her lips when you tighten around her fingers. She knows you’re close, but she’s not quite done with you just yet.

She continues to draw those salacious moans from you, thumb lifting to circle your clit, her pace quickening, fucking you hard and rough and all of the ways you’ve been too shy to ask for in the past, but that you’ve so desperately needed. You’re bouncing against her, almost frightened for the porcelain that you sit atop, fingers digging into her flesh so deeply that she’s bound to be covered in long scratches. The way that her eyelashes flutter, so shallow with eyes unfocused, you’re sure that she has been longing for this pain as well.

JJ hasn’t felt this way in years— no real pleasure nor pain, not even a real hurt when stubbing her toe or hitting her head. She has become all but numb to the world, to the gore that comes with her environment, to the agony of losing the only relationship she’s ever known. Yet now, with your nails so sharp against her that crimson blood slides down muscle, she feels alive again. Feels the sting of scraped skin, is finally able to enjoy the indulgence of pressing lips to skin.

The blonde lifts her gaze to look up at you, strokes your face so delicately, swipes a thumb by the tears which have begun to form on your heavy lashes. Once again, her own actions are uncontrollable, and her caressing hand dips from cheek to chest, lightly pressing into collarbone, into neck. She applies pressure only where she knows it is safe, only where she knows you’ll lose breath for a heartbeat of time, knows that the loss of air will have you unravelling below her.

She must know you too well, far better than you know yourself, for the moment that her thumb applies that pressure to your carotid, you’re coming hard against her palm, back arching towards her, begging for her closeness.

You do lose the breath, and she takes it, insatiable for your taste, capturing your lips once again beneath her own, as if she is bound to swallow you whole. The older woman releases her clasp around your neck, gently pets your cheek, your hair, pulls back to ensure that she hasn’t overdone it.

You blink up towards her, heartbeat a million a minute, blood rushing so close to your skin that you’ve turned entirely bright pink. While she assesses you, you can only stutter against your own lips, feeling as though a piece of you has gone missing, for the lack of her lips against your own feels to be a catastrophic loss. You don’t quell on it too long, for the way in which she pulls her fingers from you and up to her own lips, cleans the slick from them in a downright egregious display, makes you so dizzy that you fall against the mirror.

“God, look at you,” she groans, finally releases the ponytail you had once been so desperate to free, runs a hand through her hair. “Such a mess.”

Her chuckle is dark and gluttonous, frown feigning a pity that makes your stomach flutter, and though you don’t notice for the fog of lust that fills your brain, Jennifer reaches down ever so slightly to slip the panties from your ankle, slips the pink lace into her back pocket.

JJ then takes your hand, her touch now ginger and trepidatious, helping you off of the sink’s edge and onto your wobbling feet. She spins you just a few degrees so that you are once again trapped under her, this time so that you look into the mirror, pinned between the two strong arms which hold you in place. You blush profusely at the sight of yourself— hair messy around your shoulders, eyes wide and pupils dilated, lips so puffy from her violence that you might pass it for an allergic reaction of some sort.

“Are you okay?” Her voice is just as low, but utterly sweet now, as she pushes some hair to the side, presses a kiss to your cheek. “I didn’t hurt you too bad, did I, sweetheart?”

Your knees, already as weak as they could ever be, falter below you from her sickeningly sultry tone, so that the blonde has to hold you up by the waist while she helps button your blouse.

“I’m far better than okay…” You smile, entirely unconvincing as you’re so fucked out by her that you can hardly stand on your own. You lift a hand to angle her face in just the right way, pressing one more kiss to her cheek.

She blushes a bit, turns her head so that she can nuzzle her nose into the crook of your neck, dot small pecks into the skin which has already begun to purple.

You evaluate yourself in the mirror, building a mental file of all of the things you’ll need to fix in your appearance in order to return to your desk and go about your day. It is a hard thing to do, to think practically, to even consider returning to work, when there’s a woman who has just completely blown your mind, tongue dancing around the protruding veins in your neck, hands undoing the work that you’ve just done to tuck your shirt in just for one last touch of your soft belly.

“We need to go back to work…” You whisper softly, through gritted teeth, horribly angry at yourself for bringing it up in the first place, but so eager to please your superiors that you’re almost willing to let JJ peel herself away from you in order to do so.

Jennifer sighs, her body finally lacking its typical tension, her arms around you so strong and warm that you’re certain this is the safest, the most comfortable, that anyone has ever been in their history.

“If you insist…” JJ rolls her eyes quite dramatically, typical disposition returned, far from the woman that you had walked in on just minutes earlier. She stands, finds it impossibly difficult to remove herself from you, chances one last sneaking kiss to your cheek before she parts. “Give me a few minutes before you come out, hm? Wouldn’t want to start a rumor, would we?”

She flashes a wink in your direction, laughs a bit to herself, clicks open the lock, slides out the door.

You swallow hard, finally intake the breath that has been eluding your lungs. You fix your hair, buttons, swipe at the makeup that has pooled beneath your eyes. You do just as you’ve been told, wait a few minutes, replaying the moment over and over in your mind, think of nothing but Agent Jareau.

[hardwarebywilliam]

Concealed Door Hinges Noida: A Hidden Gem for Your Interiors

Have you ever walked into a room and felt something was just… off? You may not realize it, but clunky, visible hinges on your doors might be the culprit. Now imagine doors so sleek they appear to float—no hinges in sight, just pure elegance. Sounds amazing, right? That’s the power of concealed door hinges in Noida.

Let’s go on an interactive journey to discover how concealed door hinges in Noida can transform your space into a masterpiece. Ready? Let’s dive in!

1. Quick Question: What’s the First Thing You Notice About a Door?

Think about it. Is it the color? The material? Or do your eyes get drawn to the hardware—the knobs, the hinges, the stuff sticking out?

With concealed door hinges, the answer changes. The hinges disappear, leaving a flawless, uninterrupted door design. No distractions, just pure elegance.

2. Picture This: A Door Without Distractions

Close your eyes for a moment. Picture a modern living room with minimalist furniture, sleek lines, and perfect symmetry. Now imagine a clunky traditional hinge breaking the harmony.

Switch that out for concealed door hinges, and voilà! The space instantly feels more polished and luxurious.

Why concealed door hinges in Noida are the go-to choice:

• Hidden elegance: No visible hinges to disrupt the aesthetic.

• Improved security: Tamper-proof design keeps your doors safe.

• Smooth functionality: Say goodbye to creaky, stiff hinges.

3. What Makes Door Concealed Hinges So Special?

Here’s a fun fact: Doors are one of the first things people notice when they enter a room. With concealed door hinges, you’re making a subtle yet impactful statement.

Let’s break it down:

Traditional Door Hinges:

• Visible, clunky, and outdated.

• Prone to wear and tear over time.

Concealed Door Hinges:

• Completely hidden when the door is closed.

• Seamlessly integrated into the doorframe.

• Perfect for modern and minimalist interiors.

Which one would you choose?

 4. Why Noida Loves Concealed Door Hinges

If you’re in Noida, you’ve likely noticed the city’s modern architecture and design-forward spaces. Concealed door hinges in Noida are gaining popularity for good reason—they’re the perfect blend of form and function.

Think about:

• Sleek apartments with flush doors.

• High-end offices with hidden entryways.

• Luxury homes with secret rooms (yes, they’re a thing!).

5. Let’s Talk Benefits: Why You Need Concealed Door Hinges

Here’s a quick interactive checklist. Which of these benefits appeals to you most?

• A) A clean, modern look.

• B) Enhanced door security.

• C) Durable and long-lasting performance.

• D) All of the above.

If you chose D, concealed door hinges are your perfect match.

6. Real-Life Ideas: Where Can You Use Concealed Door Hinges?

Take a look around your home or office. Could any of these ideas work for you?

• Hidden Storage Doors: Keep clutter out of sight with a secret cabinet or room.

• Flush Doors: Achieve a smooth, wall-like appearance with no visible hardware.

• Glass Doors: Maintain elegance with invisible hinges on glass panels.

• Wardrobes and Cabinets: Elevate even the smallest spaces with concealed hardware.

Which of these spaces are you ready to upgrade?

7. How to Choose the Right Concealed Door Hinges in Noida

 Shopping for concealed door hinges in Noida doesn’t have to be complicated. Here’s a pro tip: Look for hinges that match your door type and usage.

Ask yourself:

• Is my door heavy or lightweight?

• Do I need soft-close functionality?

• Am I aiming for a secret or flush door look?

At Hardware by Williams, we offer a wide range of concealed door hinges in Noida. Whether you’re designing a secret room or upgrading your bedroom doors, we’ve got you covered.

8. Installation Tips: Let’s Keep It Simple

Think concealed door hinges are hard to install? Think again! With the right tools and a little patience, it’s a straightforward process.

Here’s how it works:

1. Measure and mark: Precision is key.

2. Cut slots for the hinges: A router can help with this.

3. Install and adjust: Align the hinges perfectly for a smooth finish.

Not confident in your DIY skills? No worries! Our team at Hardware by Williams can help with professional installation services in Noida. 

9. Why Choose Hardware by Williams for Concealed Door Hinges in Noida?

When it comes to hardware, you want the best. Here’s why customers in Noida trust Hardware by Williams:

• Premium quality: Our concealed hinges are durable, reliable, and stylish.

• Expert advice: Not sure which hinge suits your needs? We’re here to help.

• Wide range: From soft-close to heavy-duty hinges, we’ve got it all.

• Installation support: Hassle-free installation by our experts.

Ready to transform your doors? Browse our collection online today!

10. Where Can You Use Concealed Door Hinges?

Now let’s get creative. Think beyond regular doors. Here are some unique applications for concealed door hinges in Noida:

• Hidden Rooms: Perfect for creating secret storage or panic rooms.

• Flush Doors: Ideal for achieving a wall-like appearance.

• Wardrobes: Upgrade your closets with hidden hinges for a clean look.

• Cabinets: Give your kitchen or office a modern edge.

Question: Which of these ideas would you use in your space?

11. How to Choose the Right Concealed Hinges

Not all concealed door hinges are created equal. Here’s a quick guide to help you choose:

1. Door Material: Wooden, glass, or metal? Ensure the hinge matches the material.

2. Weight Capacity: Heavy doors require heavy-duty hinges.

3. Functionality: Need soft-close? Look for hinges with built-in dampers.

4. Design Goals: Flush doors, hidden doors, or minimalist aesthetics? Pick accordingly.

12.  Common Myths About Concealed Door Hinges 

Let’s bust some myths:

Myth 1: Concealed hinges are fragile.

Truth: High-quality concealed hinges are incredibly durable.

Myth 2: They’re only for luxury spaces.

Truth: Concealed hinges are affordable and versatile, making them perfect for any home or office.

Myth 3: They’re hard to maintain.

Truth: Concealed hinges require minimal upkeep—just occasional lubrication!

Question: Did any of these myths surprise you?

13. How Concealed Door Hinges Make Your Space Look Bigger

Let’s play a quick game of imagination. Close your eyes and picture your living room. Now, imagine all your doors blending seamlessly with the walls, with no visible hinges breaking the flow. Feels larger and more sophisticated, doesn’t it?

That’s the magic concealed hinges bring to your space. They remove visual clutter, making even compact areas feel expansive.

Your Turn:

Stand in your room right now. Look at your doors. How much better would they look with concealed door hinges?

14. Are Concealed Hinges Worth the Investment?

Quick quiz: Would you rather pay a bit more upfront for long-lasting, stylish concealed hinges or stick with cheaper, outdated hinges that creak and rust?

The answer is obvious, right? Concealed hinges aren’t just an upgrade; they’re a long-term investment in style, security, and durability.

Your Thought:

Would you invest in something that improves your home’s value and aesthetics at the same time?

15. Hidden Hinges and Soundproofing 

Raise your hand if creaky doors have woken someone up at night.

Concealed door hinges don’t just look good; they operate smoothly and silently. Combine them with soundproofing door materials, and you’ll never hear another squeaky door again.

Quick Poll:

Would you use concealed hinges to create a quieter, more peaceful home or office?

16. How Do Concealed Hinges Fare in Extreme Weather?

Here’s a question for you:

What’s worse—rusty hinges in Noida’s monsoons or hinges that warp during summer heat?

 Concealed door hinges are designed to withstand Noida’s weather extremes. They resist rust, don’t warp, and maintain their performance year-round.

Your Thought:

Do your current hinges perform this well, or is it time for an upgrade?

17. Concealed Hinges for Smart Homes

Picture this: Your automated smart door opens with a gentle touch, revealing no visible hinges. It’s like living in the future, today.

Concealed door hinges complement smart home designs by keeping the focus on technology and sleek aesthetics.

Imagine:

Wouldn’t concealed door hinges add that finishing touch to your tech-savvy home?

18. Maintenance Hacks for Concealed Hinges

Let’s make maintenance easy. Here’s a quick interactive tip:

Set a calendar reminder every six months to check your concealed door hinges for alignment and lubricate them.

By doing this, your hinges will last longer and perform like new.

Your Turn:

What’s your current hinge maintenance routine? Could it be simpler with concealed door hinges?

19. Are Concealed Door Hinges Kid-Friendly?

Parents, this one’s for you:

Would you rather deal with noisy doors slamming shut or opt for concealed hinges with a soft-close feature?

Concealed door hinges reduce noise and prevent pinched fingers, making them a safer choice for homes with children.

Your Thought:

Wouldn’t a quiet, child-safe home be worth the switch?

20. How to Pair Concealed Door Hinges with Modern Door Handles

Why stop at concealed door hinges? Pair them with chic door handles for a cohesive, modern look.

Imagine:

A door with sleek concealed hinges AND a stylish matte black handle. It’s a match made in interior design heaven.

Your Turn:

Explore Hardware by Williams to find the perfect pair for your doors.

21. Hidden Door Trends: Concealed Hinges as a Must-Have

What’s cooler than a hidden door that blends seamlessly into the wall? A hidden door with concealed hinges!

Quick Question:

If you could add a hidden door anywhere in your home, where would it be? A secret library? A wine cellar? 

Fun Challenge:

Design your dream hidden door in your mind, then explore how concealed hinges can make it real!

22. Customer Stories: How Noida Residents Are Loving Concealed Hinges

 Let’s hear from Aditi, a Noida resident who recently renovated her home with concealed hinges:

“I love how modern my space feels now. My doors are silent, secure, and look so sleek. Guests can’t stop complimenting them!”

Your Turn:

Could you be the next Noida homeowner to transform your space with concealed hinges?

23. Green Interiors with Concealed Hinges

Are you eco-conscious? Concealed hinges improve door alignment, reducing energy waste from air leaks. 

Fact:

Doors with concealed hinges help maintain indoor temperatures better, cutting down on AC and heating costs.

Your Question:

Would you make a small change like this to support your eco-friendly goals?

24. Common Mistakes When Installing Concealed Hinges 

Let’s test your hinge knowledge:

What’s the biggest mistake people make when installing concealed hinges?

            •         A) Choosing the wrong size hinge.

            •         B) Skipping proper alignment.

            •         C) Installing without professional help.

            •         D) All of the above.

The correct answer? D!

Pro Tip: Avoid these pitfalls by trusting the experts at Hardware by Williams.

25. Ready to Transform Your Space? 

Let’s wrap this up with a question:

What’s stopping you from upgrading your home with concealed hinges?

 Whether it’s aesthetics, durability, or functionality, concealed door hinges in Noida can transform your space. Ready to Make the Switch?

 Now it’s your turn. Take a look at the doors in your home or office. Could they use a modern upgrade? With concealed door hinges in Noida, the possibilities are endless.

Start small with a single door or revamp your entire space. Whatever your vision,

Hardware by Williams is here to help you bring it to life. 

Pro Tip: At Hardware by Williams, we offer a wide range of options to suit every need.

[handlescare]

Online Invisible Concealed Door Hinges

The purpose of concealed door hinges is to remain invisible when the door is closed.  After installation, heavy-duty, adjustable door hinges. Purchase today!

[rubiehart]

can you write something where reader tests the orange peel theory on jj??

sending tiktok’s back and forth in the groupchat w sarah and kie and sarah sends one where a girl tests the ‘orange peel theory’ on her boyfriend, sarah agreeing she’d do it to john b too so you think it’d be cute to film jj’s reaction for the girlies.

settin’ the camera up against the coffee table and sitting on the couch and flicking on the tv, tucking your legs under yourself as you hear jj messin’ around in the kitchen, apparently fixing a hinge on one of the doors. you stick your tongue out playfully at the hidden camera and call for him “jj?” he appears ‘round the corner like a lost puppy, messy blonde mop resting on top of his head making you giggle. “what’s up baby?”

“could you please pass me an orange?” you smile, him nodding and disappearing back around the corner with your requested fruit in his hand, throwing it in the air and catching it and flashing you a wink, making you smile, glancing back at the camera which caught both of your reactions. without any other request from you he begins fiddling with the orange, presumably trying to peel it for you.

“watcha doin’?” you ask playfully, eyes trained on his struggle and trying to stiffle a giggle. he stuck his tongue out of his mouth a little on concentration, not looking away from the task at hand (literally) and replying, “tryna’ peel this fuckin’ orange for you..” he replies a little agitated “shit.” looking around for something, you weren’t quite sure what, raising an eyebrow in his direction as he taps his thigh impatiently whilst looking around the living room, “keys, keys, keys..” he mutters under his breath as he looks around for his keys, “gotcha.”

when he finds them, pricking a little hole in the orange skin and peeling it, a prideful smile in your direction as he walks over to hand you the orange, “there y’ go m’lady.” making you roll your eyes at his antics but leaning up to place a peck on his lips, which he tries to make deeper but you pull away with a giggle, reaching for your phone which was hidden, making his draw drop in faux shock.

“and, what’s that for?” he questions with hands on his hips and raised eyebrows. “just somethin’.” you smile, looking at your phone screen, sending it in the group chat waiting for the girl’s reactions. closing it dow, him sinking down next to you on the couch with a knowing smirk, reaching for the orange and peeling a segment apart, tossing it into the air and catching it in his mouth, raising his eyebrows. “beat that.” he says trying to conceal his smirk. “watch me.” you smile, as your phone erupts with notifications, presumably from the groupchat which makes you smile, leaning in to capture jj’s mouth in a heated kiss.

[ilongfor-the-arts]

Tea and Music

Pairing: Marquis de Gramont x fem! Reader

Warnings: smut!, language, mild begging, choking, unprotected sex, use of “good girl”

Summary: Part two of Poetry in Motion! These are the events that happen after Marquis meets our ballerina reader.

Word Count: 6.7k

Read Part one HERE!!!

Taglist: @jiawalker

The limo crushed the small stones under its tires as it drove along the white gravel path. The entire estate was completely covered in trees and green once we passed through the golden gates. I couldn't see the sides of the gate from the car, so I assumed his estate extended for miles.

Not a blade of grass was out of place.

I would have flirted with Vincent sooner if I had known he was concealing a mansion.

Our conversation two nights ago was extremely straightforward. He introduced himself, and I asked him one question before he insisted on speaking with me in person.

His address was on a street I'd never heard of before. I thought that perhaps it was in the Paris slums. His fancy suits and elegant demeanor were just a ruse to convince people he was wealthy.

But, alas, he lives in a mansion. Who would’ve guessed?

As the car approached the large front doors, I tried to hide my surprise. His house was something out of a movie. To take it all in, I had to turn my head completely left and right. It possessed at least three levels. It was made of lovely white vintage brick and black shingles. Two poles supported an enormous balcony on opposite sides of the large double front doors.There were dozens of tall arched windows. The architecture was inspired by the French countryside, but it was elevated to the highest level.

It appeared vintage and loved, but not worn.

“Alright madame, we are here.”

My trance was broken by the posh driver.

“Oh, yes.”

He opened the door for me, offering his hand to ensure that I would not be inconvenienced in the slightest.

I could grow accustomed to this type of treatment.

I hoisted myself up by grasping his smooth palm.

“Have a pleasant visit, madame.”

He spoke with a classy accent. His elegance, however, couldn't compete with Vincent's. The elderly driver jumped back into the driver's seat and began bustling away, rocks crunching beneath the tires.

I cocked my head upwards, hesitant. I could feel nerves brewing within my stomach. The butterflies were flying free. I took a deep breath, steadying my mind.

I honed in on the rustling of the trees, waiting until the butterflies had completely dissipated.

I couldn’t believe I was about to enter the home of a man I had just met.

I knew his name.

I knew he liked ballet.

I knew where he lived.

And, that’s it.

I climbed the few steps leading to the glass double doors.

Should I knock?

No, he was expecting me.

I gently pushed open the door. The hinges didn't creak in the least.

The doors opened to reveal a large room with white marble floors and a double staircase that swirled to the top floor. The banisters were made of gold, the dark wood walls were covered in expensive-looking paintings, and each room was separated by a large, open arch.

“Hello? I’m here!”

The waves of my voice echoed around the large, nearly empty room. I felt dwarfed by the high ceilings.

“Welcome.”

my heart skipped a beat. Vincent appeared out of nowhere, sauntering through the archway on my left, hands in pockets.

He remained silent, waiting for me to break the tension.

“Uh-Thank you for having me… your house is beautiful.”

As the gravity of the situation became clear, my tone became somewhat shaky. Vincent gave a small smile.

“Thank you very much. I have quite a few estates-“

Woah, woah, woah. A few estates? As in more than one?

“But this one is by far my favorite. It’s lavish, and quiet.”

The trees gently rustled. In the distance, birds chirped. My heart was pounding in my ears.

“See? Nothing. No sounds except those of nature.”

My knees shook. Those two previous statements felt like one big, blatant sexual innuendo. I hoped that sex wasn't the sole reason for having me in this lovely estate that just so happened to have no neighbors for miles.

He leaned against the wooden arch, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his dress pants. Vincent furrowed his brow as he observed my concern.

“Please, don’t be worried. I know I was just given the pleasure of becoming your acquaintance. But, I assure you, I possess a sophisticated character.”

The corners of his mouth turned upwards.

“Come.”

He said this as he stepped away from the arch, motioning for me to follow him into the next room.

“I have something I believe you will enjoy.”

I returned his stare. His beautiful eyes shone with warmth. He seemed to have changed slightly now that I was in his house. He appeared to be... more at ease. Neither his gaze nor his tone indicated any discomfort. He was no longer concerned with maintaining any sort of facade.

I couldn't bring myself to be afraid of him.

I smiled.

“Alright.”

My short heels clacked against the marble. As I strolled past him, I captured his familiar scent and was overcome with nostalgia.

The room I entered was significantly smaller than the one prior. Rather than being adorned in paintings, there was merely one green landscape above the unlit fireplace. One wall was entirely covered in wooden shelves, each of which was crammed to the brim. When I looked closer, I noticed that each section was filled with vinyl records. Some are still wrapped in plastic, while others have clearly been loved for years.

“Oh wow! You have quite the collection!”

I exclaimed as I ran my fingers along the spines of various records. Marquis laughed, amused by my intense interest.

“Oh wow!”

I had to use a surprising amount of force to pry one of the vinyls off the shelf as it was jammed into a completely full rack.

“You have the music from Giselle!”

Vincent strolled over to me, leaning over my shoulder to observe what had captured my attention. It was a record, with a lady and man engaged in dance. The lady wore a blouse and bodice, while the man donned tights and a decorated top.

“Do you enjoy this ballet?”

His hot breath cascaded across my face and neck as he inquired. A shiver ran down my spine as I realized he had placed his frame directly behind mine.

“Yes, I do. I was in it a long time ago. And, ever since it’s been one of my favorites.”

“Ah, you were in it?”

I flipped the vinyl to the back, reading each track and reminiscing.

“Yes, I was Giselle.”

“But of course you were.”

I scoffed, dismissing his high opinions of me.

“It really was not that impressive. It was a small community theater, and it was years ago before I decided to pursue ballet professionally.”

“It makes little difference where you do it. I'm sure you danced as well as someone from the Opéra National de Paris. Your talent is just as visible in a small theater as it is in the world's largest.”

I pushed my finger between two vinyls to create a gap so I could slip the record back into its original position.

“You flatter me.”

Vincent dragged his fingertips along the spines. As he did so, I fixed my attention along his veiny digits, my brain beginning to slip into places it hadn't been in a long time. I closed my eyes, forcing my mind to return to the present. Vincent drew his gaze across the records, studying them and searching for a specific item.

“Ah!”

He discovered what he was looking for.

“Swan Lake, another one of my favorites.”

He pulled it from the shelf and began to study it.

“Tchaikovsky's music is a work of art. He manipulates the instruments, allowing them to move in a poetic manner. It truly is unparalleled.”

He cocked his head to the side, meeting my eyes.

“Do you enjoy this ballet?”

He raised his brows, inviting me to respond. I shuffled towards his hot body, nodding.

“Yes, of course, it’s a classic.”

This cover depicted a woman bending over a lake, with a swan at her side. Beautiful blues were used to paint the entire cover.

“One of my dream roles is the swan queen.”

Vincent's lanky fingers pried the record's cover apart, and he slid the vinyl into his palm.

“One day, that role will be yours. I have no doubt about it.”

He handled the record with extreme grace and care. Despite being a large and rather intimidating man, his touch was featherlight. He opened a small cabinet located in the middle of the shelves with his opposite hand, revealing a beautiful maroon record player.

“And when you appear as the swan queen, it will be your role for the rest of your life. The audience will know instantaneously that no performance before or after yours will compare.”

Vincent placed the needle on the record's edge. The sound of a rich oboe filled the entire room. He placed his hands on his hips and viewed the black circle spin in a circle. The atmosphere became cozy and inviting. Despite being in a secluded mansion in the middle of the French countryside, I felt oddly at home. My heartbeat was regular.

Vincent glanced over his shoulder.

“Do you drink tea?”

He inquired.

I was so enthralled by Vincent's lovely figure that I had to shake myself awake when he spoke.

“Oh! Yes, of course. I love tea.”

Vincent unbuttoned the cuffs of his white dress shirt, rolling his sleeves up to reveal lovely veins dancing across his forearms. I gulped, my face growing hotter as butterflies began to hatch within my lower abdomen.

“Would you care to drink tea with me on the porch as we indulge in this lovely music?”

I nodded, unable to hide the grin playing on the corners of my mouth.

“I would like that very much.”

-

Vincent brought out a large silver tray, atop which was a lovely china set with pink flowers and gold stems.

“I would expect a wealthy man like you to have help. Rich men don’t make their own tea.”

I said, my tone slightly mocking. Vincent chuckled, plopping down onto the cream colored cushions.

“I don't usually make my own tea. But I specifically requested that we spend the day alone. The bustle of people detracts from the peaceful energy.”

I put a sugar cube in one of the adorable cups and poured tea on top, watching the sugar break and dissolve.

I picked up the saucer and leaned back, my body relaxing against the plush cushions. I had a fantastic view. My back was to the house, leaving the entire garden open for inspection. The green stretched as far as the eye could see, interrupted only by a few healthy trees. The property had a gray gravel path that twisted and turned. At the horizon, the gentle hill of the land met the flawless blue sky.

The scenery was lovely. I wish I knew how to paint.

My hair was tousled by a gentle breeze. The soothing music wafted through the house, reaching my ears as a mere whisper.

“Are you enjoying the view?”

I closed my eyes for a brief moment, savoring the cozy energy as I sipped my tea. The steaming liquid poured down my throat, warming me from within.

“Yes, it’s beautiful.”

I rested the cup in my lap.

“Why don’t you tell me about yourself? I feel like we talk so much about me.”

I said, chuckling slightly.

Vincent sipped his tea while crossing his legs and gazing out at the horizon. His gorgeous side profile was highlighted by the gentle glow of the sun.

“My life is… not very interesting.”

His demeanor had transformed. Instead of being charming, he had become aloof.

“Oh, I’m sure your life is plenty interesting. I mean, come on, this house is ginormous! What do you do?”

Vincent grit his teeth, avoiding the question.

“I made all of my money in real estate.”

He returned my gaze, his fondness restored.

“Oh! That sounds interesting.”

I took another sip of my delicious tea.

“You must’ve gotten extremely lucky.”

He flashed me a tight smile.

“Yes, absolutely. I consider myself extremely fortunate to be where I am now.”

The birds in the distance chirped peacefully, blending with the music to create a cohesive energy that flowed through my being.

“Please, tell me if I am crossing any boundaries with this question.”

I perked up. He had piqued my interest.

“However, you are a very attractive woman. And you are constantly expressing yourself through the arts. I find it difficult to believe you don't have suitors flocking to you at all times.”

I gulped, my gaze fixed on the tea in my lap.

“Well, honestly, it’s difficult to keep a relationship when you’re constantly either in the theater, or searching for your next opportunity. The little free time I have almost never lines up with the free time of others.”

He fixed his gaze on me, listening intently to every word I said. I'd never had a conversation with a man who was so enthralled by me.

“I’ve had relationships, but it's difficult to make them stick. Lately, I’ve kinda given up. It’s stressful, y’know?”

Vincent hummed.

“Yes, I can imagine.”

He sipped his tea one last time, leaning back completely to display his stunning neck. He leaned forward and placed the china cup atop its saucer before assuming his previous position.

"Well, with me, you never have to worry about that, ma chérie." My few important obligations rarely interfere with my personal life. And, if they do, I promise to commit to our relationship and not let it fall through the cracks."

His dedication surprised me. I raised my brows.

“Well, that is very kind of you. I appreciate the reassurance.”

“That is, if pursuing a relationship with me is something that entices you.”

His statement piqued my interest. I suppose I hadn't considered the question, "What are we?" I was definitely interested in pursuing a relationship with him, despite only having become acquainted a few days ago. I felt a genuine connection, and I'd be a fool to pass up this opportunity.

Also, the reality that he was filthy rich drew me to him.

I finished the sweet tea, placing it on the black wire coffee table.

“Yes, I believe I would be interested in that.”

I gave him a genuine smile, which he returned.

“Good, I am glad to hear that.”

He folded his hands and tucked them into his lap, his gaze following. He was deep in thought, as if caught between reality and his thoughts. Vincent came to after what seemed like an eternity. He returned his gaze to mine. His attention had been drawn to a new emotion. He was looking at me with calculating eyes, as if he was carefully pondering what to say next.

This was unusual for him, as he always seemed to know exactly what to say.

“I don’t mean to sound creepy when I say this, but I have been admiring you for a while.”

To be honest, I didn't mind. And I didn't think he was creepy at all for expressing his admiration for me.

“In all honesty, I’m flattered. The way I see it, I wouldn’t put myself on the stage if I was afraid of extreme admiration. I mean, that is kind of the goal of a performer. Y’know, to make people fall in love with the performance.”

Vincent nodded, his smile widening. He was pleased with my response.

“I recall seeing you perform for the first time. It was about two years ago, in Coppélia. You played a minor role, but your beauty captivated me, and the more I sought you out, the more I fell in love.”

There was something sensual about the thought of Vincent admiring me from afar for years. It all seemed so forbidden, him watching me from a box, carefully calculating the best time to ask me out.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why didn’t you ask me out sooner?”

Vincent shrugged.

“I assumed you were in a relationship. I tried to forget about you, but you were always on my mind. Then I didn't see you at the Opéra national de Paris for a year. My job was particularly demanding at that time. It was best if I concentrated solely on that. So I didn't go looking for you. I assumed that chapter of my life had come to an end. Then I notice you're performing in La Bayadère. And I knew that whatever force governs our universe had given me the opportunity to become your acquaintance.”

I couldn’t stop my face from breaking into a grin. I’ll admit, it felt insanely good to be admired by someone.

“Are you a nostalgic person?”

Yes, extremely.

“Yes, I am.”

“Ah!”

He exclaimed, rising to his feet.

“In that case, I have one more thing I think you would like to see.”

I followed him through the house. If I didn’t have him, I would undoubtedly be lost. Each lavish hallway felt as if it extended for miles. I followed, and followed, and followed. Until eventually we reached a pair of black double doors. They were covered in beautiful flower designs. Vincent turned the golden knobs, pushing the doors open to reveal… a bedroom?

Wow.

It was a nice bedroom, to be sure. The floors were tan wood, and the walls were a dark brown color. A large, black chandelier hung from the ceiling with an expensive crystal thread. The bedframe, curtains, and dresser with a large mirror all looked like they were plucked from the queen's bedroom.

In fact, the whole place felt like it belonged to a king. The gold accents, intricate details, and visibly expensive fabrics all gave me the impression that I was in Buckingham Palace.

Vincent headed over to his dresser, which was located on the opposite side of the room as the bed. He began rummaging through various objects, searching for something.

“Ah! Here it is! I knew I kept it!”

He gave me... a leaflet? No, it's a program. It was the program from my first performance ever at the Opera Nacional de Paris, Coppélia. My eyes shot open.

“Oh my God! I can’t believe you kept this!”

I flipped through it, reading the names and contemplating all the wonderful people I'd had the pleasure of working with.

“Of course I kept it.”

I raised my eyes to him. He smiled, pleased that I had found enjoyment in this little bit of nostalgia.

“Um-”

I began.

“I-I don’t mean to take your memories from you.”

I said with a small laugh.

“But, would you mind if I kept this?”

“But of course! There is no need for me to keep a silly little booklet now that I have had the pleasure of meeting the object of my affection.”

We shared a moment of peaceful, happy silence.

“Besides, if it makes you happy, I'll gladly give it to you. We've decided to pursue a relationship. So, it is my responsibility to do everything in my power to please you.”

His gaze darted to my lips before returning to my eyes, implying something taboo.

His eyes grew dark. My posture became stiff. Vincent took a large step towards me, and I had to tilt my head almost completely backwards to look him in the eyes.

I was hit with a wave of déjà vu. I was no longer on the streets of Paris, but rather in Vincent's bedroom. This time, there was nothing preventing us from delving head first into our desires.

He cupped my cheek, running his calloused thumb over my cheekbone. My breath caught in my throat. My lower abdomen was in knots, more from anticipation than from nerves. There wasn't much that could happen on the dark streets of Paris. But suddenly everything was possible and within reach. All I had to do was reach out and grab them.

“The relationships you’ve been in… have any of them had the pleasure of…”

His voice trailed off, beckoning me to finish the thought.

I gulped, a lump forming in my throat.

“No.”

My voice quivered as I felt overpowered by his pressing gaze.

Vincent tutted crispy.

“Pity.”

He stated, his voice lowering to a sensuous whisper. I envisioned him whispering sweet nothings into my ear while thrusting mercilessly into my tight cunt.

My stomach flipped.

My knees shook.

All of the blood in my body rushed to my core.

Wetness began to pool in my panties.

I adjusted my weight uncomfortably, anticipating Vincent's next move.

He leaned forward, his lips inches away from mine. I desperately wanted to break the tension by pressing my mouth to his, thereby beginning the downward spiral of pleasure. However, my train of thought was derailed when I felt Vincent’s opposite hand glide up my thigh.

I squeezed my eyes shut, sighing in pleasure as his digits swiftly located my clothed clit. He tenderly massaged my sensitive bud. The subtle sensation was utterly euphoric. My head bowed forward, my hands anxiously clutching his white dress shirt.

Vincent jerked my head upwards, forcing my misty eyes to lock with his lust blown pupils.

“You’re already so wet, ma chérie. And I have barely even touched you.”

His velvety accent became 10 times more seductive now that it had fallen an octave.

“Oh, it will be so wonderful to watch you come undone.”

He pressed his plush lips to my jugular, applying gentle kisses to my neck as he continued to draw figure eights onto my clothed clit. I threw my arms around his neck, hanging onto his strong frame as my knees threatened to give out.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to bury my face between your thighs and taste your sweet little cunt.”

I couldn’t handle the erotic tone combined with the featherlight touches to my clit. It was far too much for my touch starved body to handle. needed something. I was ravenous for his mouth, his fingers, his cock. I wanted so badly to be destroyed by him, to be given such pleasure that I fear coming back to reality.

“Vincent.”

I said between heavy breaths.

“Yes ma chérie?”

My jaw hung upon, mouth unable to form coherent sentences.

“P-Please. I need you-I need you so bad.”

Vincent drew back, his lips slamming into mine. Our mouths matched like puzzle pieces. We were so glorious together that I swear I could hear angels singing in perfect harmony.

“What would you like me to do to you ma belle, hm?”

He said in between fiery kisses.

“Make me cum, Vincent, please.”

His tongue slid into my mouth, giving me a fleeting taste of his passion before he quickly yanked it back. I was flustered. Our connection had been severed, and I was unsure as to why.

Vincent grasped my chin, forcing me to keep my head still.

His hair was struggling to remain neat. The single, dangling strand was a great metaphor for his once well-kept demeanor now crumbling before my eyes.

“Beg. Beg me to fuck you. Beg me to make you cum.”

He demanded.

Mt jaw quivered. His hand had retreated from my core and now lay atop the swell of my hip.

“P-Please Vincent. I need you. I need you so bad.”

Vincent narrowed his eyes disapprovingly.

“Oh, ma chérie, I know you can do better than that.”

He placed his lips to mine, swiftly reigniting the flame before suffocating it once more.

“Be my good girl and beg.”

I locked gazes with Vincent, feeling his sexual energy course through my body in waves.

“Please-“

I began, my desire somewhat strangling the words within my throat.

“Please Vincent… Please, I need you to make me cum.”

I brought my palms to his chest, attempting to quickly unbutton his dress shirt. Unfortunately, my hands were far too jittery and the buttons were far too small for me to make any significant progress.

“What exactly do you want ma belle, hm? Tell me.”

His velvety accent wafted through me whenever he spoke, adding to the wetness that had begun to pool in my panties.

“Please, please. I need you.”

Thankfully, the sexual tension had subsided just enough for me to compose meaningful sentences.

“Please, please, I need you. I need your mouth between my legs. I need-I need you to fuck me. I need your cock so bad. Please, please make me cum it’s all I can think about.”

A devious smirk spread across Vincent’s face.

“Why didn’t you ask me sooner?”

He connected our lips, reigniting the raging fire of desire that burned between us. Vincent hoisted me off the floor, his large hands traveling up my short sundress and resting against my ass. He carried me with ease, his hands gentle but his lips aggressive.

Vincent tossed me onto the bed with little regard for tenderness. However, I was barely impacted by the blow, as the mattress quickly suppressed and conformed to my physique.

I lay, my gaze fixed upwards towards Vincent’s lanky frame. The dim yet sensual lights foregrounded the sharp curvatures of his face. His long digits located his top button and he began to leisurely undo his shirt without breaking eye contact.

Suddenly, I became aware that my dress had ridden up my thighs, exposing my evident desire. I grasped the hem, pushing it downwards in a futile attempt to conceal my yearning. Vincent ceased his movements, crawling over the end of the bedframe with haste.

His hand wrapped around my wrist, pinning my hand above my head.

My eyes darted upwards, the breath hitching in my throat as I perceived his close proximity. Vincent’s previously quintessential appearance was slowly dissolving. A few strands of hair had broken loose from their original location and were now dangling aimlessly above his brow. Furthermore, his shirt was halfway undone, exposing his prominent collarbone and somewhat highlighting his toned chest.

“Don’t cover up for me, ma belle.”

He murmured, his sultry accent sending a wave of desire to my lower abdomen. My cunt throbbed.

“I want nothing more than to see every inch of you.”

Vincent lodged his thigh between my legs, his clothed knee grazing against my hot core. I jolted, a wave of heat coursing through my body. My back arched instinctively, mouth falling open as I involuntarily ground my hips against his thigh in an effort to increase friction.

Unfortunately, he revoked his leg before I was able to procure further pleasure. His free hand followed the soft curve of my side, sending shivers down my spine. My body became cold with anticipation. Goosebumps rose along my skin.

Vincent’s calloused fingertips grazed against my clothed clit. Heat radiated from my wet core as I squeezed my eyes shut. My brow furrowed as he began to slowly draw figure eights onto my clit.

“Ah, you are so wet and I’ve barely even touched you.”

His soft lips connected to my jugular, peppering gentle kisses down my neck.

“I’ve thought about this moment for a long while.”

With his hands required to support his weight as he descended, his powerful clasp released my wrist. I entangled my fingers in his silky hair, further ruining his pristine image.

“Although I pride myself on maintaining a certain level of class, I can’t deny that I’ve often thought about how satisfying it would be to bring you immense pleasure.”

He continued to press his lips against my hot skin, his face now level with my clothed breasts.

Vincent leaned back on his knees. He dragged his eyes up and down my frame, running his tongue across his bottom lip. I suddenly felt small under his gaze.

His tender fingertips located the ball of my ankle, and he hastily removed both of my short heels, tossing them aimlessly to the floor. After he had discarded my shoes, he trailed his large palms upwards, caressing my calves, then my thighs. I watched intently as his veiny hands slipped under the hem of my dress. Vincent hooked a finger in the waistband of my panties, dragging them down my legs at a painfully slow pace.

Once I was fully exposed, he assumed a position between my legs. Thankfully, the bed was grand enough for him to lay comfortably.

All the blood in my body had rushed to my core, and I could feel my heartbeat throbbing vehemently within my lower abdomen.

Vincent trailed his moist lips along my inner thigh, gazing up at me devilishly through his lashes as he did so. He was well aware that his teasing behavior was propelling me into a state of lust filled desperation.

When he established that he had prolonged my suffering enough, he hastily buried his face between my thighs. I gasped, throwing my head back onto the opulent pillows. My thighs instinctively clenched around his head, but Vincent’s strong hands pulled my legs apart to free himself.

He flattened his tongue against my clit, taking his time to draw out his movements so as to not supply me with an orgasm too hastily. He was thoroughly enjoying the elongation of my pleasure.

After a brief moment of supplying delicate sensations to my clit, I felt the tip of his finger prod at my entrance. I threw my hands upwards, grasping onto the bed frame, my knuckles quickly turning white.

“Oh fuck!”

I exclaimed, grinding my hips against his gorgeous face.

“Vincent-Vincent your mouth feels so good, holy shit.”

I spoke in mangled cries, not caring to keep my voice down. After all, there was no one around for miles to be bothered by my proclamations.

His middle two fingers pushed into my entrance, thrusting upwards to stimulate my walls.

“You taste wonderful, ma belle.”

He uttered, continuing to fuck me with his fingers throguhout the duration of his praise. Vincent located my g spot. My nails dug into the bedframe, undoubtedly leaving prominent scratches. He took note of my non verbal cues.

Vincent increased the intensity of his fingers. Quickly, the coil of pleasure began to tighten within my lower abdomen. I bucked my hips against his face, but Vincent quickly stifled my movements by pressing my hips into the mattress.

“Are you close?”

He murmured against my clit. The gentle vibrations set my nerves ablaze with white hot desire.

“Yeah, yeah I’m so close.”

I mumbled, my arms beginning to tremble as I squeezed my eyes shut. I felt my orgasm begin to seep into the corners of my brain.

Vincent’s long digits expertly located my g spot with every thrust.

His warm mouth continued to duck and stimulate my swollen bundle of nerves.

The erotic sounds of his fingers fucking my cunt reverberated loudly throguhout the predominantly empty bedroom.

“Then cum for me, ma chérie.”

His endearing words proved to be the last necessary step in reaching my release. The tension that had built within my stomach exploded as I came gloriously all over his face. My back felt as though it had been rammed into a solid brick wall.

My chest heaved, and I found it arduous to supply my lungs with sufficient oxygen.

My eyelids began to flutter open as the movements of both his tongue and fingers slowed. When he removed his digits and mouth, I was overcome with a glorious sensation of complete satisfaction. Both my mind and body succumbed to bliss. I had never before experienced such an absence of disquiet.

Vincent climbed over me, his torso now bare.

I cracked a small grin, my palms flattening against the expanse of his soft chest. His lips shone with my arousal. I trailed my fingertips slowly downwards, halting when I reached his thick leather belt. I began to undo the buckle, however, Vincent caught wind of my intentions. With one hand, he engulfed both of my wrists, pinning them above my head. I gasped.

“Oh, no, not now.”

His gentle lips tenderly kissed the soft divot behind my ear. I took a deep breath, the scent of his pricey, heavy fragrance clouding my mind.

“I have waited far too long for this moment. It would be foolish of me to allow you to furnish pleasure when my desire has been consuming me for years.”

Vincent moved off of me and stood to remove the remainder of his clothes. With a pleasurable whoosh, he pulled his belt from the loops of his formal pants. Subsequently, he removed his shoes and allowed his trousers to gather about his ankles.

He met my stare, the mellow hue of the faint overhead lights collecting within his green irises.

“You look beautiful.”

Once again, the heat from my body began to travel downwards.

Vincent’s boxers were the final article of clothing to be removed. I gulped audibly, as his sizable cock was now standing fully erect.

Holy shit, I thought to myself.

He possessed one of the most winsome cock I had ever laid eyes on. I clenched my thighs together, my cunt eagerly clenching around nothing.

When he had finished undressing, he climbed back over me and our lips met once again. I melted into the kiss, exhaling sensually as I sunk into the plush mattress. Vincent’s hand grasped the hem of my dress, tugging it upwards until I was forced to raise my arms.

Thankfully, the supportive nature of the outfit allowed me to function in the absence of a bra. As a result, my entire body was now fully exposed for Vincent’s piercing gaze.

He discarded the dress and dropped his hips suggestively until his prominent erection pressed against my lower stomach.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, beckoning him to progress further. Vincent shuffled his hips, tip now dangerously close to my aching cunt. But, before he slipped inside of me, he raised a free hand and tenderly brushed a few unruly strands of hair from my damp forehead.

“If you wish to stop at any moment, merely apprise me and I shall cease.”

I gave him a nod, throwing my arms around his neck to provide an anchor. Vincent pressed his lips to my neck, applying a few gentle kisses before sliding his cock into my wet cunt.

My walls stretched, hastily conforming to his rather large girth. My back arched into his solid torso. I inhaled sharply as he buried the entirety of his length deep within me.

“Are you alright, ma chérie?”

His body stilled. I groaned in mild frustration.

“Y-yeah. I’m more than alright. P-please just fuck me already. I-I need you so bad.”

Vincent pulled back. His lips were plush. His hair was disheveled. His cheeks were a bright shade of pink.

His disarranged appearance was a stark contrast to the previously sophisticated man I had met at the start of this afternoon. However, I do consider the duality of man to be a topic of the utmost enticement. There is something captivating about the notion of commencing a relationship with someone who has a secret side that solely you have the pleasure of becoming acquainted with.

Without further words, Vincent began to roll his hips. The slight pain of his cock quickly dissipated to create room for immense pleasure.

My eyes rolled to the back of my head.

“Does that feel good? Hm?”

He spoke with a slight vocal fry. The raspiness of his tone elicited a visceral reaction. I dragged my nails along his smooth back, undoubtedly breaking skin.

He grumbled deep within his chest.

When I didn’t answer, Vincent pulled his face back, blown pupils meeting mine. I gazed at him through half lidded eyes. I found it difficult to ignite passionate eye contact when I was presented with the distraction of his cock expertly grazing against my g spot with every fervent jerk of his hips.

He wrapped a large hand around my neck. My pulse rose to the top of my skin as black spots began to cloud my vision.

“Come on, ma belle, be my good girl. Tell me how good I make you feel.”

I exhaled a shuddering breath.

“F-fuck… you feel so good inside me Vincent.”

I gulped.

“Y-your cock feels so good.”

Vincent’s skin began to sheen with a thin layer of perspiration. The unruly strands of brown hair deepened in color as they stuck to his forehead. I moaned pornographically as the grip on my neck constricted once more. My jaw dropped. The brief lack of oxygen only added to the flurry of incoherent thoughts bouncing around my skull.

“Oh, my, you’re such a good girl for me.”

He gulped, a soft sigh escaping his swollen lips.

“You’re taking me so well.”

The erotic words combined with his smooth accent contributed to the tightening of my lower abdomen.

I was close, dangerously close.

I could feel my body reaching the edge, and I would soon fall into a state of euphoria.

Vincent’s adjusted his hips ever so slightly, his tip now reaching deeper than before.

I instinctively turned my head away. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes as I buried my face into the bed. My brow furrowed. My eyes squeezed shut as I anticipated my release.

Vincent utilized his thumb to reposition my face.

“No, don’t look away. Be my good girl and look me in the eyes.”

I forced my eyelids open, meeting his piercing stare as ever so slightly increased the frequency of his thrusts. Every instinct beckoned me to throw my head back, but I fought the desire. And, I instead kept my eyes fixated on Vincent’s blown pupils that had almost entirely consumed his irises.

“I want to watch you. I want to see your face as you cum all over my cock.”

I gave him a slight nod, indicating that I could hear while trapped in my lustful stupor.

His hand traveled downwards, gently caressing my curves before reaching my swollen clit. Vincent applied gentle pressure, and, with that, I let go.

I kept my eyes fixated on him, allowing my face to contort as it pleased.

Vincent groaned loudly, his cum coating my walls.

He continued to fuck me throguh my orgasm. His movements gradually slowed as the fog of euphoria began to dissipate. My chest rose and collapsed with fervor.

When I deemed it safe to break eye contact, I allowed my eyelids to flutter shut. Suddenly, I became aware of the gravitational pull the bed exerted on my body.

Jesus, I was exhausted.

Vincent removed his cock from my core. However, he remained atop me, tenderly pushing my unkempt hair back to create mild uniformity.

“You may stay here, if you’d like, for however long you wish.”

His voice was as it had been prior to our physical encounter.

I giggled, my mouth breaking into a slight smile.

“Your house is magnificent.”

I met his gaze, his eyes now possessing a tender quality.

“I don’t know if I ever want to leave.”

I said with a scoff.

A smirk played on the corner of his lips.

“Then don’t, stay here for as long as your heart desires.”

[healinghyunjin]

Blossom

Pairing: Kim Seungmin x Reader (fem)

Genre: crack, smut, fluff; historical!AU, magic!AU, fuck-or-die(ish)!AU, enemies(ish)-to-lovers!AU, 18+

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: swearing, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, outdated sexual norms/attitudes, public sex.

Author’s Note: After another ~long~ hiatus... I'm back! The premise of this fic is heavily inspired by a super old, now deleted AO3 fic I once read for a now dead fandom (showing my age here for you children lol). I love navigating these forced interaction scenarios - so please let me know your thoughts! Feedback and reblogs are love as always - and I now have a Ko-Fi that I would really appreciate contributions to as well (linked in my Bio)! Thank you for your support~

Summary: But what this ritual required of you, the High Sorceress, was not just some spellwork or incantations - no, this ritual involved you losing your virginity. To your King - to Seungmin. On the High Table. In front of the entirety of the royal court. 

You were sure you looked like a thundercloud - dark skirts swirling, white sparks crackling from your fingertips - as you stalked through the castle towards the royal chambers.

“Milady!” Changbin chased after you, your long-suffering knight trying his best to head you off. “His Majesty is in a council meeting right now,” he huffed out. “Maybe we can seek an audience another time?”

“I don’t ‘seek audiences’ from His Majesty, Bin,” the title grating in your mouth. “I talk to Kim Seungmin when I want to talk to Kim Seungmin - especially when he wants to pretend like I don’t exist.” 

You were laying it on a bit thick. But you were the High Sorceress. You had no insignificant amount of pride yourself, and nothing made your temper flare like Seungmin outmaneuvering you - exactly like he’d just done. 

You arrived at the heavy wrought iron doors of Seungmin’s private chambers and, with a swish of your palm, sent the doors flying open, almost rattling off their hinges. A tableful of lords turned around to gawk at you - but you only had eyes for the man at the head of the table. He leaned back in his chair, watching you stalk into the room with a barely concealed grin. “And there she is.” The faint note of humor in Seungmin’s voice made you want to wring his neck.

“Your Majesty,” you greeted in the frostiest voice you could muster up. 

Seungmin smirked. “You only use my proper title when you’re fit to rip my throat out, Lady Sorceress.” 

You ignored the barb. “We have an urgent matter to discuss, my lord.”

One of the old, stodgy lords piped up in a reedy, disapproving voice. “What can take precedence over matters of council and state, Sorceress?”

“Matters of national security, Lord Park.” Seungmin rose to his feet, making everyone else jump up to theirs as well. “Council is adjourned, my lords.”

You held your head high as the councilmen streamed out of the room around you, some barely bothering to disguise their resentment. Seungmin sauntered his way around the table, coming to stand right in front of you. You scowled as you inevitably had to tilt your head back just to look into his amused face. 

“You’ve been avoiding me, my witch.” 

“I wasn’t avoiding you,” you snapped back, cringing at how petulant you sounded even to your own ears. 

Of course you’d been avoiding him. Ever since he’d slapped those scrolls down on your worktable a week ago now, you hadn’t been able to think about him without flushing, let alone be in the same room as him. It would be for the good of the people, he’d announced crisply, looking so tall and prim and regal as he towered over you sitting on your little garden stool. I’m sure you won’t see any harm in it. You’d scanned through the parchment, ignoring the scribe’s careful translations to parse the ancient runes yourself. It outlined an ancient magical ritual to replenish the barrier wards for your nation if they ever fell - which they had. But what this ritual required of you, the High Sorceress, was not just some spellwork or incantations - no, this ritual involved you losing your virginity. To your King - to Seungmin. On the High Table. In front of the entirety of the royal court. 

Seungmin snapped you out of your thoughts with a brief “Ahem,” quirking a skeptical eyebrow at you. “I haven’t seen you in a week. Every time I’ve gone to your rooms since the day I gave you those scrolls, you’re conveniently ‘not there,’ and that poor fool,” he flicked a thumb over to point at Changbin, “is stuck trying - and failing - to make excuses for you.”

You shot a glare over at Changbin - he didn’t look sufficiently embarrassed of himself, but you would deal with that later. “Well, I’m here now, my lord. And I’d appreciate it if you could tell me how you unilaterally decided to add ‘Publicly Deflowering the High Witch’ to your agenda for this evening?”

You’d hoped to embarrass Seungmin, browbeat him - like you’d clearly done to Changbin, judging from the choking sound that came from next to you. But you’d underestimated your enemy. 

Seungmin sighed, clasping his arms behind his back. “Because we don’t have a choice in the matter, my dear witch. If you’d allowed me the chance to actually talk to you this week, I could have convinced you of that, and you'd have had time to prepare yourself. But - you didn’t, and so, I had to force your hand.” You shuffled uncomfortably under his piercing stare as he continued. “I know you translated the runes yourself - you know just as well as I do that this ritual needs to be done soon. Now, if we don’t want the Eastern Army taking advantage and invading us as soon as they muster up the forces. But unlike you, my lady - I don’t have the luxury to pretend like this problem will go away if I ignore it.” 

And that was exactly what you hated most about Kim Seungmin. He was smart and logical to a fault - enough so that he’d trained himself to not let pesky emotions get in the way of doing what needed to be done. You on the other hand… the less said the better on that front. 

Before you could snark something back at him or even just bristle up, Seungmin stepped away from you, rubbing his hands together. “Now that that’s been settled, I’m sure you have no more objections. Anyways, you have a busy afternoon ahead of you, Lady Sorceress. I’ve sent several maids to your chambers to help ready you for this evening - I’m sure you remember how exact the runes were in terms of preparation.” Seungmin wasn’t even bothering to hide his grin as he dismissed you with a wave of his hand, striding out of the room. 

That patronizing bastard. You briefly contemplated throwing a fireball at his laughing back - but being executed for treason wasn’t exactly the way you intended to go out. 

With a deep, soul-weary sigh, you turned on your heel to leave, resigning yourself to your fate. 

Of course, if you knew exactly how the rest of your afternoon was going to be spent, you might just have thrown that fireball at Seungmin and gotten it over with. 

After that useless showdown, Changbin frogmarched you back to your rooms, handing you off to an actually intimidating keeper - Chaeryeong, your personal maid. But, to your even greater chagrin, she wasn’t alone. As promised, an army of maids descended on you, all charged with different vicious tasks - stripping your skin bare and smooth with hot sugar paste; kneading various herbal, floral unguents into your skin before dunking you into cold and hot baths; brushing your hair out until it fairly gleamed in the fading sunlight. By the time you were passed off to Chaeryeong for her final inspection, you almost didn’t recognize yourself in the mirror. 

Chaeryeong clicked her tongue approvingly as she walked around you, tightening the laces on your virginal white chemise. “You finally look presentable, milady.”

You bristled. “Are you saying I usually don’t?”

“Last week I had to pull a twig out of your hair before sending you down to supper. There isn’t a single dress of yours that doesn’t have mudstains, milady, and you think a splash of cold water every morning or two is enough to care for your skin.” Chaeryeong looked scandalized.

You rolled your eyes. “Well, I’m glad one of us is satisfied with this situation.”

“You’re not?” 

“Why in the name of the Goddess would I be?”

“Sleeping with a man who’s young, tall, handsome, powerful, wealthy,” Chaeryeong giggled as she counted off each word on her fingers, “isn’t the worst thing in the world, milady.” She flicked you a mischievous glance as she smoothly slid to stand behind you. “Especially when the man in question has a major soft spot for you.”

You scoffed. “Kim Seungmin doesn’t have a soft spot for me, Chae. He can't even be in the same room as me without snarking at me - and I can't remember the last time he actually said anything nice to me.”

Chaeryeong’s fingers stilled in your hair as she stared you down in the mirror. “You really believe that, don’t you?” You arched an eyebrow at her in response. She let out a deep sigh. “For such a brilliant witch… you really can be dense.” She shook her head before reaching over to grab flowers to weave into your hair. “I hope you realize - the one thing standing between him and war is you. Most men - especially a King - would have just tossed you onto that table and had their way with you. And maybe they would have begged your forgiveness and understanding afterwards - maybe, if they were worried about you cursing them into oblivion. No one else would have spent a whole week waiting to try and convince you into doing this willingly.”

You opened your mouth to snap something back in your defense... and realized you had nothing to say. 

“See,” Chaeryeong murmured softly. “Sometimes it feels like you’re… willfully blind to His Majesty’s kindness towards you. He’s always treated you with respect - and made sure you’re treated with respect. I wouldn’t take that for granted, my lady - or ignore what’s behind that mask he puts up all the time.” 

As she put the final touches on your hair, you couldn’t help but reflect on Chaeryeong’s words. You had extraordinary freedom and liberties as the High Sorceress…but no, that wasn’t exactly right. You were given extraordinary freedom and liberties as the High Sorceress - by your King. If it wasn’t for his unwavering support for you - against the Council, against any and all reactionary forces - you wouldn't hold any of the power you did. Sure, he riled you up, jerked you around a bit - and you still hated just how easily he could outwit you. But you were being childish to fixate on that - to lose sight of the forest for the trees. 

“And here’s the final touch.” Chaeryeong sidled up to you with a long scrap of silk in her hands - your blindfold. “You’re not allowed to see His Majesty until the ritual starts.” Her quick fingers made short work of fastening it around your head - and being the jerk that she was, she put it on properly tight, making sure you couldn’t see a thing. “Maybe that’ll teach you to let yourself lean on him for once,” she mused, before pulling you up out of your chair with none too gentle hands. 

Chaeryeong, as always, was right. You were completely unmoored by the loss of your sight, limiting your magical abilities too. You were forced to rely completely, like a baby, on Chaeryeong to guide you through the halls to the oldest wing of the castle - and you only realized that you were in front of Seungmin when the two of you came to a sudden halt, a reverent “Your Majesty” coming from her lips. 

This was it. 

Chaeryeong subtly pulled you down into a curtsy, pinching you in the back to make sure you stayed low as she stepped away from your side. From the sound of her sharp footsteps receding down the hall and the lack of any other noise around you, you presumed she’d left - and you were now alone with your King. 

“You may rise.” Seungmin’s amused drawl sounded from somewhere high above your head. Disoriented by your imposed blindness, you stumbled a little as you stood up - but you were caught by warm hands encircling your arms, steadying you on your feet. “How low the high have fallen, hmm?” Such a tease, you thought. But the gentle tone of his voice, the circles his thumbs were rubbing into your arms… he was helping ground you, to put you more at ease - which only made you feel more guilty. 

“My lord,” you started softly - earning a harsh inhale in surprise from Seungmin. “I… I owe you an apology. My behavior earlier today - for this entire week - has been immature and not fitting for a ranking member of your court. Forgive me for my negligence.” You made to dip into a curtsy again - but Seungmin’s grip on your arms tightened, keeping you from lowering yourself. 

There was a heartbeat of silence before Seungmin responded, his voice more tender than you’d ever heard it. “I don’t know what prompted this… change, but - you don’t need to apologize. I knew we both knew this is what must be done, and I knew we were going to eventually do it - but that doesn’t make it any easier for you. You didn’t want this with me, and I know that.”

Why did that last statement sound a false note in your heart? You ignored it in favor of speaking out. “But I’ve spent the past week shirking my duty. You had to force me back in line.”

“And that is my responsibility as King, my sorceress. No harm done.” You could tell that he was leaning down closer to you, his voice loud and clear in your ear. “And remember - neither this kingdom nor I will ever forget this sacrifice.”

There was an oddly charged moment of silence after that statement - which was abruptly broken by the sensation of the ground suddenly falling away from under you. You gasped as surprisingly sturdy arms lifted you up until you were cradled against a lean, hard chest. “Seungmo!” You squeaked, the childhood nickname slipping past your lips. “S-since when were you strong enough to do this?”

There was a pause - you were positive that Seungmin had rolled his eyes at you. “Just because I don’t have bulging biceps like that bodyguard of yours doesn’t mean that I’m a weakling, witch.” 

“Well, it won’t be good to kick things off with you tripping over your feet carrying me in,” you muttered sulkily. 

You couldn’t hold back a shiver as Seungmin tsked, his warm breath ghosting across the sensitive shell of your ear. “Such disrespect for your king? Bold, given that you’re at my mercy for the next hour.” 

“Next hour? That ego of yours is still clearly giant.”

Seungmin let out a husky laugh. “It’s not the size of my ego you should be worried about right now, sweet.” You thumped a useless fist against his chest - even as your core involuntarily clenched and slickened.

There was a ear-ringingly loud blast of trumpets, followed by the creak of the gates to the ancient hall being pushed open. The murmurs and chatter of the crowd awaiting your arrival fell silent, an almost eerie hush settling in as Seungmin strode into the hall. Even with the enormous fire spluttering away in the ancient hearth, the room was always chilly; gooseflesh pimpled your arms, and you almost automatically burrowed closer into Seungmin’s neck for warmth - at least, that’s what you told yourself. The sharp raps of Seungmin’s footsteps against the flagstones came to a halt, and you were securely sat onto a hard surface - the High Table. Your sacrificial altar, you mused to yourself cynically. 

You jumped a little as you felt gentle fingers clasp your hands, giving you a firm squeeze. Those warm fingertips then ghosted across your cheeks, twining through your hair as they searched for the knot of your blindfold. Your heart was bounding in your chest, blood roaring in your ears as Seungmin leaned into you, that familiar, titilatingly musky scent of his flooding your senses as he worked to unravel the tight knot, until the blindfold finally came free. 

You blinked your eyes open to mellow, golden light - and the sight of Seungmin standing over you, watching you carefully with a small, soft smile. The great hall was awash with candlelight, long tapering candles and sticks of smoking perfume burning all around you, throwing the faces of the crowd of onlookers beyond you into shadow - but bathing Seungmin in glorious, warm light. He looked impeccably regal as he stood above you in his smart black leather doublet and swan white shirtsleeves, his royal purple ermine-edged cloak clasped around his throat. His hair was up, brushed off his forehead, and the gold of his royal circlet shone out bright against the ink black of his hair - but the brightest of all were his eyes, warm and deep brown, steady and clear as he - your King, you truly felt down to your bones for the first time - held your gaze. 

Taking a deep breath, you let yourself fall back, the ancient stone of the table icy against your spine. While you couldn’t see any of the spectators surrounding you and Seungmin - the vaulted ceiling of the great hall the only thing in your line of sight - it felt like you could sense their gaze prickling across your skin, weighing you down. But before you could let your mind wander too far, Seungmin was there, leaning over you with those broad, square shoulders, blocking your sight of anything but him. You felt your cheeks flame as his hand came up to cup your face, and  your heart skipped a beat as he pressed a petal soft kiss to your forehead, breathily whispering into your skin. “It will be good, my sweet. Trust me.”

Maybe Chaeryeong was onto something… You searched his eyes, finding so much affection and reassurance beaming back at you that you blinked your own shut - before giving him a brief nod. 

He let his lips drag over to your temple, then down to your cheek, leaving open mouthed kisses in his wake as his lips trailed lower and lower, down your jawline, down your neck - and lower. Your mind reeled, your hands fisting the flimsy material of your gown. This was supposed to be brief and impersonal - you’d even readied a lubrication charm in preparation for the inevitable. But you should have known that Seungmin wouldn’t just do an adequate job like that. You were fighting for your life to stay silent as he added his teeth into the mix, working the thin, sensitive skin of your throat until you felt the sickly sweet pain of a bruise forming. His hand slid down from your cheek so he could softly thumb at the mark - his mark - marring your skin, and when he pressed down just right on the bruise, you whimpered - and watched as his eyes darkened to black. 

From there, he was insatiable. Your hands flew up to his shoulders at the swipe of his tongue against your hardening nipple; they desperately slid to clutch at his hair when he took it whole into his mouth, the wet heat tantalizing even through the cotton of your chemise. He palmed your neglected breast hard, the soft flesh spilling through his fingers. A whine finally tore itself free from your throat, and Seungmin snapped his head up to look at you, lips twisting into a triumphant smirk. “I thought you weren’t going to enjoy this, Lady Sorceress.” His fingers came up to tweak your nipple - hard - as he mouthed carelessly at your other breast, his eyes watching you hungrily as you writhed under his touch. The pleasure carried you away on a hazy cloud of lust, into the dreamland of dangerous possibilities. What would it feel like to have this dumb chemise out of the way, so his fingers and lips could traipse your naked skin? What would it feel like to have the heat of his bare skin pressed up against yours - the weight and friction of his hard chest crushing into your sensitive breasts?

Your attention was yanked back into the land of the living at sudden, discordant noise: gasps and murmurs, you quickly realized, rippling through your audience - for your King was dropping to a knee at your feet, hands sliding with promise up your legs under your chemise. You shot up onto your elbows, staring down at him in horror. “Your Majesty,” you hissed. “This is wanton.”

Seungmin arched an eyebrow. “I’d rather be wanton than have you in pain at my hands.” You felt a traitorous flutter in your chest. “And most importantly - when you have the kingdom’s most powerful woman laid out in front of you... you worship her.” 

Those large, long-fingered hands of his found purchase in the soft skin of your inner thighs, forcing them spread and keeping them spread with that hidden strength of his. He let out a small groan at the sight of your swollen folds, dragging a single, deliberate fingertip down the length of your slit. At the very first touch of his soft lips to your sensitive bundle of nerves, you choked out a moan - and startled as the candles around you all simultaneously popped. From between your legs, Seungmin laughed darkly. “Looks like I won’t need to ask you whether I’ve done a good job,” he said, the sensation of his breath and lips against your core making you squirm with stimulation. His hands slid up to your hips, anchoring you in place as he lapped languidly at your cunt, tongue flicking in and out of your aching entrance, nose rubbing up against your swollen little pearl. 

There was no chance in hell you could stay quiet any more. As a moaning keen spilled forth from your lips, your eyes flicked up to the shadowy figures in the crowd watching you. You’d thought they would be judgmental - critical, gossipy, as people always were in situations like this. Instead… there wasn’t a face you could make out that wasn’t flushed, expression glazed over. Seungmin slid his arms under your legs, yanking you down the table until the base of your spine rested on the very edge of the table, your core putty under his mouth as he supported your weight - and you watched as some woman in the crowd whimpered, biting her lip in response. 

Your head lolled back onto the table, and you started shuddering in Seungmin’s hands. 

“I guess I was wrong about needing an hour.” With a final kiss to your folds, Seungmin rose to his feet, leisurely wiping his mouth on the back of one hand, the other drifting down to the laces of his trousers. “I didn’t anticipate just how thoroughly you would enjoy my attentions, my witch.” Tease. His eyes danced with mirth as you whined in annoyance. You felt the blunt tip of him dragging through your folds, its weight catching deliciously against the tight ring of your entrance. “I’ll start slow,” he murmured, a hand coming up to brace himself above your head. And from the first breach of his length into your walls, you knew you were in trouble. 

“Big,” you gasped out. Seungmin let his free hand run loose over the flesh of your thighs and hips, kneading and caressing and soothing. “Relax for me, sweet - it’ll be easier if you let me in.” His voice was breathy and soft, eyes so warm - daresay loving - as he leaned in over you, covering your body with his. You gave him a small nod, breathing deeply and doing your best to let your body sink into the stone under you. As he carefully, firmly worked the rest of his length into your tight cunt, you couldn’t help but whimper, eyes squeezing shut at the deep, deep stretch of him, your spine arching off the table as your body contorted to accommodate him. “Beautiful,” he murmured, pupils dilated with lust. “Made to take me.” 

And as the sting and discomfort started to morph into the burning, insatiable stretch of pleasure, you were inclined to agree with him. 

“Let me know when I can move, sweet,” he asked, the flat of his hand rubbing soothing circles into your lower belly. “Please,” you rasped out - and the delightedly vicious grin that curled his lips in response only sent another surge of fire through you. Your limbs ached to twine around him, pulling him down into you, imprisoning him between your legs - but you were determined to maintain some public decorum. Seungmin made the decision for you though, salaciously bold as ever as he leaned forward into you, splaying your legs out wide, knees almost to your chest. He tested the waters with a rapid snap of his hips in and out - and the two of you stared at each other with wide eyes at just how deep it all felt in this position. Seungmin’s hips started rocking back and forth, almost as if on their own volition - almost as if they were enchanted - and your hands desperately scrabbled for purchase on the unyielding stone as he started pounding into you. 

Your hips canted up into his, trying to answer his thrusts with your own. And you were clearly doing something right, judging by his drawn out groans. “Mine,” he moaned. As he bore down on you, every thrust ground delicious friction into your bundle of nerves - and Seungmin’s hips were driving into yours at such a punishing pace that you were overwhelmed by stimulation. You were sure the two of you were making an absolute mess, the squelching sounds of him pumping into you only growing louder with every thrust. Just with his lips and nose and tongue, the friction and sensation and pleasure had all already brought you close to the cliff of your peak. You knew it wasn’t going to be much longer now before he dragged you over - but there was something positively strange happening to you. Your pleasure was merely riding the edge of some deeper, powerfully visceral sensation that had you gasping, shivering with every plunging stroke. But Seungmin, your ever-wise, your ever-aware Seungmin, had cottoned onto what was happening to you - and wrapping you tightly up into his arms, he only picked up the pace of his hips. “Let go, sweet,” he eked out. “I’ve got you safe, here - let go, my queen.” And before your mind could even process what he’d just given away, you felt yourself clenching up, eyes squeezing shut and nerves singing in pleasure as you hit your release - the pain of your fingers digging into the broad expanse of his back, the spasms of your tight cunt triggering Seungmin’s release simultaneously, spurts of his hot, thick seed flooding into your core, serving as a balm for your aching walls as he collapsed into your waiting arms. 

Before you could let the waves of pleasure carry away your mind with it, however - your eyes shot open at the gasps and shouts coming from around you. Gold - that was all you could see - a golden bubble encasing you and your King. Seungmin lifted his head up from where it was pillowed on your chest, a look of pure wonder on his face as the two of you watched the bubble slowly float and collapse inwards, coalescing into a glowing yellow orb hovering above all of your heads. The hazy whorls of incense and candle smoke in the air took on a bright golden hue - before it all whooshed outwards in a rapid gust of wind, rattling the windows of the hall as the orb and its golden mist exploded out into the sky . You recognized the magic for what it was - the largest, purest barrier charm you’d ever witnessed. 

You and Seungmin had pulled it off. A giggle of delight squeezed out of your chest, and you let your gaze snap back down to the man resting on his elbows over you. Seungmin was watching you with a small, mysterious smile, panting slightly as he tried to catch his breath. And as you looked back at him… you felt a wave of emotion wash over you, as powerful as if the ground had literally shifted under your feet. An almost unbearable fondness filled your heart as you beheld him - your King, your protector…your lover. 

You had been right about one thing - there would be no going back from this, at least for you. But now you found yourself wondering… why was that such a bad thing?

Ignoring the shuffling footsteps around you as your audience slowly started to disperse, you let your arms wrap around Seungmin, relishing the feeling of his muscles bunching under your touch as he slid his arms in turn around you, helping you to sit upright. His dark eyes were fixed on the place the two of you were joined as he slowly extricated himself from you, the feeling of his sticky seed trickling out from between your legs strange and foreign. That ever intelligent, searching gaze then slowly scanned your body, looking you over head to toe as he tucked himself away in his trousers, before his eyes fluttered shut. Seungmin let out a slow exhale before blinking his eyes open again - and you were startled to see that professional mask of his slide back into place. 

“Up you go,” he murmured, arm sliding around your back as he helped you off the table, supporting you as your legs quailed under your weight. With a few deft pulls, he unfastened his cloak, wrapping it around your shoulders instead. You were thankful for the warmth it provided - and the coverage, you realized, as you noticed the servants hovering at a respectful distance from the two of you. “Give me a second,” Seungmin said before turning away to address his valet and knight-at-arms. 

One of the maids stepped forward, a fan in her hand to put out the few lingering candles. Before you could even hesitate on what to do, she dipped into a low curtsy, bowing her head - to you. “Your Highness,” she breathed out, an almost reverent look on her face as she glanced back up at you. Awkward with the unfamiliar courtesy, you smiled hesitantly, tilting your head at her in acknowledgement. 

How had you misjudged this situation so badly? Part of your hesitation leading up to all of this had been because you’d thought that you’d be made out to be a slag - no better than the King’s kept woman. Why hadn’t you appreciated the power inherent in this? With the spectacular care with which he’d pleasured you, with the demonstration of your magic in front of the whole court, Seungmin had marked you - just as he’d told you with those hungry eyes - out to be the most powerful woman in the kingdom. 

You snapped out of your thoughts to see Seungmin making his way back to stand in front of you. You frowned to see that mask of his still in place, a strange awkwardness in his manner as he addressed you. “I can help you back to your rooms now. Or,” he turned to gesture behind him, “one of the servants can take you if you prefer.”

You arched a critical eyebrow at him. “Could we go to your chambers instead?”

His eyes widened for a second, before you watched understanding wash over his face. “Ah yes, that was careless of me - there’s too many stairs to get back to your chambers. You can rest in mine as long as you need.”

Wrapping an arm loosely around you, he let you lean on him as the two of you walked out of the hall. His rooms weren’t too far away, the royal chambers taking up a significant portion of the ancient wing of the castle. But an awkward silence reigned over the two of you, Seungmin stoically looking straight ahead as you limped along beside him. 

Something had clearly changed in you - because for once, instead of being the reactive fool you normally were, you saw the situation - and his reaction - for what it actually was. Seungmin was taking his turn to be the awkward overthinker - a role he’d grown out of once he’d become King… except when it came to a few specific things he couldn’t stay purely rational about. The things he cared about the most, the things that mattered most deeply… in this case - you. 

You sighed. You’d probably need to gift Chaeryeong a necklace or something after all of this was over. 

You bided your time until Seungmin finally shut the two of you into his chambers. He’d turned away to lock the doors behind him - and startled when he turned back around to find you standing right in front of him. As you stared up at him, watching his lips twitch in discomfort… you came to a shocking realization. 

“You never kissed me,” you breathed out, even more surprised as you said it. He’d kissed you literally everywhere else - but he hadn’t touched your lips. You gazed up at him with wide eyes. “Why?”

Seungmin shifted uncomfortably. “It felt too…intimate.”

What? “You took my virginity - in public. We unleashed a magical force field together,” you deadpanned, trying to get a laugh out of him - and failing, as Seungmin continued to look at you stoically. “I’d say that’s pretty intimate, my lord.”

He shrugged, hugging his arms around him and hesitating for a second - before bluntly, in Seungmin fashion, getting to the heart of the matter. “The reality is that… freely given sacrifice, prophecy, whatever you want to call it - I took something from you that you didn’t mean for me to have.” It was a testament to Seungmin’s poise that his voice stayed even, his eyes stayed steadily on you as he spoke. “I wanted you to have something - a part of you - you could still give away of your own will.” He sagged heavily into the doorframe, finally breaking eye contact as he trailed off. 

Poor baby. Your heart fluttered. “That is… quite thoughtful of you, my lord,” you choked out, taking a small step forward. Then another. And another, inching towards him. “So - that means it’s alright with you for me to do this, right?” Reaching up, you twined your arms around his neck, pulling yourself up onto your tiptoes to press your body into his. His hands reflexively grabbed your waist, steadying you even as his eyes widened in surprise - before fluttering shut as you pressed your lips to his. 

His mouth was divine heat - soft, pliable against yours. He gasped as you nipped at his lower lip, and you seized the chance to lick into his mouth, deepening the kiss until your head was whirling, ignorant of where you ended and he began. 

When you finally pulled away for air, his lips chased yours for a second before he caught himself. You giggled, beaming up at him. “How low the high have fallen, hmm?”

Seungmin let out a low warm laugh, such fondness in his eyes that you couldn’t help but shy away. “I have much, much lower to fall still, don’t worry,” he murmured as he bent down over you, his hair falling into his eyes as he smiled. In a single, smooth movement, he flipped the two of you around so he had you pinned up against the wall, his body pressed firmly into yours. 

You cleared your throat. “Y-you really like having me against hard surfaces, don’t you?”

He shrugged, focus elsewhere as his fingers busied themselves with the laces of your chemise. “Seems like it’s the only way to keep you good for me, witch mine.” You whined as his hand accidentally grazed your sore, tender nipple, the sound making his eyes snap back to yours. A dark, wicked smile curled his lips before he crashed his mouth back onto yours, long fingers working your breast deliberately, possessively. You responded with enthusiasm, tangling your own fingers into his silky hair, until the spell was broken - for you at least - by loud noises from outside his chambers. 

You pulled away from his lips with a loud smack. “What’s that?”

“Never mind that,” he rasped out, pulling you in tight against him. “Worry about it later.” Your breath hitched as he nosed his way into your neck, pulling at the loosened neck of your chemise to expose your collarbone for him to feast on. 

Steeling yourself, you pushed your hands firmly against his chest. “Seungmo, I want to worry about it now.” He groaned, rolling his eyes, but let you go without a fight, releasing you from his embrace. Turning on your heel, you tugged him along to his balcony. The sounds had seemed to come from the royal gardens, which were sprawled right below Seungmin’s chambers. Pulling your cloak - his cloak - more tightly around you, you stepped out onto the balcony - and froze, as an astounding sight brought the two of you to a standstill. 

Wherever you looked - below you, around you - every single plant and tree was in abundant bloom. Regardless of season, of age - fruit and flowers were everywhere, swinging in the breeze, littering the ground. You turned to Seungmin in shock - only to see him looking back at you with loving, wondrous awe. “That’s all you,” he murmured, brushing a fond hand against your cheek. “My powerful, mesmerizing sorceress.”

You flushed. “No, it’s not.” You stepped closer to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. “It’s us.” You tiptoed up to press a kiss into his cheek - and promptly hid into Seungmin’s neck as whoops and cheers rang up to you from the gardens below. 

Seungmin laughed, tucking you into his side as he led the two of you back inside. “Well, you know what this means,” he said.

You quirked an eyebrow at him. “What?”

Shooting a dazzling smile your way, he caught you up in his arms once again, the heady sensation already warm and familiar to you - before peremptorily throwing you onto his bed. 

“The fate of the flora of this kingdom is in our hands, Lady Sorceress.” He intoned in a faux serious voice - made only the more ridiculous by the sight of him crawling on all fours towards you on the bed. “We have crucial work to do, milady - and we must start posthaste.”

You threw your head back in laughter before wrapping your limbs around him. “Yes, my lord - let’s start immediately.” 

Fin.

~

[If you made it all the way here... please comment, reblog and give me feedback!! My Ko-Fi is also linked in my blog if you're able to support :)]

[sgojoenthusiast]

scary? my god, you’re divine.

✧.* satoru gojo x reader.

summary:

a curse invades your home but you’re saved by none other than satoru gojo - who takes your breath away in the most beautiful way.

cw: descriptions of violence, blood, injury, psychological trauma & distress, hospitals, reader is a non-sorcerer, like one like where the reader wants to die, talks about death, not exactly love at first sight but can be interpreted as such. honestly i’m so in love with gojo so this is just me projecting. fuck 261. this may be more of me indulging in my need to write horror lol

word count: 4.4k

likes, comments & reposts are deeply appreciated! <3 enjoy.

-`♡´-

The walls of your chest were closing in as your breathing gradually increased in its pace. One of your palms flew to your chest whilst the other searched for some sort of a grip on the wall beside you.

Stupidly, you had backed yourself into a corner, and now all you could do was feel the streams of tears cascade down your cheeks and land on your scrambling legs like waterfalls crashing down into the rocks below.

You tried everything you could for some sort of leverage. One hand scraped at the wall and the other at your heart whilst your legs pushed and pushed at the floor as if you could nudge yourself any further into the corner you were in.

Finding some rationality, you attempted to slow your breathing down, deciding that steady and stifled breaths would be better than attracting attention to yourself by making more noise. Though, there was nothing you could do about the sound of your heart beating erratically like it had more sense than you as it tried everything it could to escape.

At first, you had clawed your way through the halls of your home. Lights flickered, floorboards creaked, and you grunted and groaned as you fought your way through inescapable death. Yet, once you had realised every exit took you back to the entrance, and that you were in some sort of an endless maze within your own home, your mind sank into illogicality and you collapsed onto the floor as your legs gave in from fear.

It was the reverberating echo of several burly legs loitering outside the door that snapped some residue sense into your head and forced you to sit up.

There were tears staining your swollen face and it took every ounce of composure to bite your lip to muffle your cries. You wanted to scream. To wail and call for help. Yet you knew that would get you nowhere but trouble.

So for now, you hoped and prayed someone heard the sounds of slamming, glass shattering and your previous shouts and had the brilliant idea of calling the police.

But what would they do? You had seen that thing. It was horrifying. From the moment its wide, crooked smile appeared suddenly before you, a piece of you knew this would be the end. At first, you had thought you had finally gone insane. That some chord in your mind had snapped and now you had resorted to seeing things. However, when your back hit the wall across the room and you let out a shriek of agony, you knew that the monster before you was real, and so was the likelihood of certain death.

Your head suddenly raised at the splintering sound of wood snapping.

The unsettled beating of your heart ceased. The struggling of your limbs too. Each bone in your body abandoned life and shut down - refusing to move.

In front of you, the white frame of the door, decorated with faded and torn paint, had an oozing, inky smoke unfurling at a leisurely pace across the old frame, stopping shortly at the wall. In the space where the door used to conceal your existence, was one giant red eye that scanned across the entirety of the room before settling on its target - you. It blinked twice, before the door was ripped from its hinges and the wall had shrunk in size - replaced by a gigantic hole ripping through.

Soon enough the creature was crawling over to you, its legs widely shuffling across the room, scuttling closer and closer until one had slashed across your stomach, painting your top with a deep red. An agonised shout parted from your lips and your hand flew to the gash, yet you had no time to recover before another deformed limb was lifting you up against the wall by your neck.

Now, both of your hands coordinated an attack on the void-like limb, scratching and fighting at its hold around your throat in an attempt to get it off you. Your efforts were seemingly futile, however, evident by the way your vision was becoming a blur and each thought of freedom and survival was being crushed by the surface of its contorted leg.

You could only think thoughts of death, and how it wasn't coming soon enough.

Just when you thought it had ended, a radiating beam blinded your vision. The grip on your throat had been released, yet with both the ringing in your ears that muffled all other noise and the searing pain that tore through your entire body, you truly believed that you had already died. You fell to the floor once more and curled yourself up for whatever kind of familiar warmth you could acquire.

You shut your eyes tight, embracing the light they said would come to you in these final moments. But when nothing came, and the screaming wound lingered in your side, you delicately opened up one eye, moving your head slightly to look up.

There was no light. No God or unearthly being descending from above to take your hand and guide you to the afterlife. No, instead there was the back of a man. You couldn't see his face, but he was dressed from head to toe in a dark shade of blue like the hues of the night sky, and the more you stared, the more you believed you had been transported to a place you could only reach after death. However, when your eyes drifted upwards, they made out the sight of white strands of hair, and a slender hand reaching to the back of his head to undo the band of black that was wrapped firmly around it.

His hair fell down gracefully, as did one of his hands to his side, blindfold in tow, the opposite hand was raised to meet the height of his head. The sounds of his words were muffled, but you could make out an arrogant laugh and from the way the beast had halted all movements and instead opted for staring wide-eyed at the man standing in front of you, he had said something that injected fear through the monster's veins.

You could have sworn that you only closed your eyes for half a second. Yet, one blink later, and the monster's head had ceased to ever sit on its neck. The black fog that had clouded your senses and suffocated your lungs was dissipating, and there were remnants of its insides splattered on the walls and floor.

The white-haired man caught your fading gaze, and the moment his eyes connected with yours, you felt your heart slow and time stop.

His eyes.

They were angelic. Perhaps you were dead because there was nothing so heavenly like the shades of the sky in his eyes on Earth. There was nothing so remarkable, so flawless. You didn't want to blink, not even as your eyes watered and started to sting. Yet the frailty of your exhausted body refused to let you have this one thing, and so you broke the connection temporarily only to rebuild it back up again.

He began to make his way back over to you, yet you struggled to find the strength to move in order to meet him halfway. You couldn't even find the strength to move your aching body off the floor or your bruised hand of your throbbing wound. Still, with a pained wince you moved to a more comfortable position in between being flat on your back and straight on your arm.

You looked up at him from your tilted position and he kneeled down beside you. "You alright? Can you walk?"

You shook your head as best as you could, he simply stared down at you with a confusing look sparkling in the depth of his eyes - the ones you couldn't look away from.

"That's okay, sweetheart. Help is coming." He smiled at you.

Gojo was puzzled by the look on your face. For some reason, you hadn't stopped staring at him since he turned around. He assumed that perhaps it had something to do with the curse. Was it a response to the trauma you had endured? Had it cursed you? Was it him that you were afraid of? He certainly hoped not. From the moment he saw your face, albeit not in particularly amazing conditions considering you were being strangled and were halfway to death's doorstep, he felt a tingling sensation in his stomach and a pulling in his heart.

There was something about you, there had to have been for you to illicit such a reaction from every part of him within seconds of your meeting. Fuck, he prayed that he hadn't frightened you off.

"I hope I didn't scare you." He said softly, yet laughed humourlessly in a way for him to play it cool and demonstrate how you had nothing to be afraid of. With as much care and delicacy as he could muster, one hand went underneath your head, gently trying to lift you up as his other hand reached for your waist.

You looked at him with furrowed brows, as though the implications of him scaring you were nothing short of laughable. Though, as you read the thoughts behind his eyes, you could tell there was a hint of genuine concern laced within them.

This stranger, who you had never met before, felt concerned for you and had saved your life. Yet, he was anxious that he had scared you? It was a ridiculous insinuation.

"Scared me? No, it's just, that you're beautiful." Your voice was growing weaker, and just in time, you heard the sounds of more footsteps growing closer and closer. Yet your eyes focused on the way his eyes widened before he smiled, just as genuine as his concern.

"Oh yeah?" He provoked. "No need to fall for me this quickly, sweetheart. Plenty of time for that."

Ordinarily, if someone had been so bold as to suggest something like that, you would have scoffed in their face and walked away. Yet the deeper meaning of comfort he was trying to provide you with, the one that showed you that you weren't dying anytime soon, was all you needed to laugh and reply coarsely with, "We'll see about that."

The last thing you heard as you dozed off peacefully was the sound of his laugh and the feeling of his touch passing you onto someone else's.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

There was an overwhelming light above you, one that was strong enough to pierce through your eyes despite the fact they were shut tightly. The light surrounding you felt like a thousand blinding suns beaming down at you from above as though you were encased in a circle of light that was urging you awake. You groaned softly, shuffling your head to the side in an attempt to bury it in the pillow and escape from the natural, ringing alarms of the light.

A pillow? Had you been dreaming? All it took was for you to try shifting onto your side to alert you that, no, you hadn't been dreaming. You winced painfully as the realisation slapped you across the face. Everything was real. The fight, the struggle, the... the monster. A trail of goosebumps washed over your body and you screwed your eyes shut like doing so would erase the memories of what had happened.

However, once you realised that he was also real, your eyes softened and in all the darkness of what you had experienced that day, the idea that the man who had saved your life was really out there, and that monster wasn't. That realisation alone was enough to wash a sense of tranquillity and closure over you.

"I wouldn't try to move if I was you." A female voice rang out - one you didn't recognise. You had already assumed that you were in a hospital, so the unfamiliarity didn't scare or panic you. Simply, your eyes slowly opened to the sight of a brunette woman in a doctor's coat, and your suspicions had been confirmed. You wondered if she knew anything of what happened.

It dawned on you that perhaps, your situation wasn't original. The man that had saved you seemed to be experienced and knew what he was doing. However, surely you would've heard if there was a mass of monsters plaguing the Earth that you lived on.

"What happened?" You questioned tentatively, voice weak and dry. Although you could practically recall the events with no missing details, you wanted to know more about the thing that had attacked you and you hoped that the doctor would have some sort of a clue if she was the one treating you. She handed you a cup of water which you accepted eagerly, reaching your hands out and thanking her quickly before you immediately went to relinquish yourself of the dry throat that had been scratching and tormenting you since you had woken up.

You saw a pass clipped to her coat as a form of identification. The name on the pass flashed across your eyes as 'Shoko', to which you took a note of before quickly returning your gaze back to hers.

"You were attacked by a curse - and no I won't. explain what that is. You can ask Gojo." She was wandering around the room slowly, head down as she wrote down a few things. Occasionally, she would you a question in regards to your health. Her voice lowered to a tone barely above a whisper. "Sure he'd love to answer considering he's been not-so-subtly asking about you non-stop."

"What was that, sorry?" You asked sincerely, placing the cup down on the bedside table. Looking up at her, you could tell she had a tired look adorning her features, however, there was a slight smirk playing on her lips as well.

You thought more about her words. Gojo. Who was that? A curse? What does that even mean? Not long ago, you were oblivious to all of this, unaware that such creatures were roaming around.

Shoko waved a dismissive hand in your direction. "Nothing. Anyway, I'm only here to make sure that the curse left no lingering side effects that would need treatment. Luckily for you, you're in the clear. So when you're all healed up, you're a free woman."

'Free wasn't necessarily how you would describe it. You recall parts of your house being smashed up by the monster - or, curse, as Shoko had labelled it.

You had so many questions. Some in regards to the curse, others more personal and unanswerable that pertained to your future. You had no idea what you'd do once you left, and that scared you.

Shoko began to place her things into her bag, taking out a cigarette in the process and placing it between her lips as she held the lighter to her side ready for when she left.

"How long have I been here?"

She looked up at you from where she was focused packing her things. "A little under a week. You're very lucky Gojo had saved you when he did. Or else, you probably wouldn't be here."

So that's who Gojo was. You perked up a little at the mention of the man who had saved you. Even if it was just once, you wanted to see him. To thank him, at the very least. "You, uh...You mentioned something about me asking him about the curse. Does that mean he'll stop by?"

You looked down, fiddling with the sheet covering your injured body, wanting to avoid her questioning gaze that most certainly had a knowing glint in it.

She merely let out a small laugh and shook her head in something similar to disbelief. "Probably. Although, he doesn't usually find himself checking up on the people he saved." Picking up her bag, she reached for the door handle. "I've gotta head out. Feel better soon, okay?"

You thanked her once again, giving her a small wave as she headed out the door.

Truthfully, you didn't know whether or not to be discouraged by her words. On one hand, she had told you that he'd probably stop by. On the other, she mentioned that he doesn't usually. Deciding not to dwell on it too much, you closed your eyes once more as another nurse walked in to take the place of Shoko, beginning to do more check-ups.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

About a week had passed by when you were finally discharged from the hospital. During that time, your close friends and family had all come to check on you. Your best friend and co-worker had offered you her spare room whilst your house was having repairs done to it. It was a nice arrangement, considering the two of you owned a bakery together so that on the days you were feeling better you had someone who could take you down. You didn't actually start working again until about a month after you had been discharged and your injuries were mostly healed up.

There was only one thing missing. Gojo had never stopped by like the doctor had told you he might, which left you with a feeling of disappointment. You tried not to let it bother you too much, but it was difficult knowing you had never been able to thank him. Another man had stopped by, however. You assumed he had some sort of a connection to Gojo and Shoko, given that he had only stopped by to ask you to sign a form that would prevent you from being able to tell anyone about what had happened. He came very shortly after Shoko, meaning you had to lie to your friends and family by telling them it was another person who had broken into your home. You signed it anyway after he assured you it was for their safety and for the safety of others.

Now, a little over a month later, you were doing a lot better. You struggled to even close your eyes at night, sometimes, and often couldn't walk through the streets on your own. But other than that, your injuries had healed, you were far less paranoid than you were a month ago and your home was close to being ready.

You were sat at the counter of the bakery you shared with your best friend, scrolling mindlessly through your phone. It was quiet, today, only a few people wandering in and ordering something to go - with it being a Monday and all.

Unexpectedly, you heard the bell ring as the door opened. Immediately, you stood up and tucked your phone into your pocket, rushing to greet the customer. However, upon looking up to see the person who walked in, you stopped suddenly in your tracks. You blinked, yet he was still there.

You thought about him so often, your mind wandering whenever you were left alone with your thoughts for too long. You thought about the way his hair crashed across his features like waves when he took off his blindfold. You thought about how he turned to look at you with those eyes locked on yours. Those eyes - so entrancing. It was as though he had bewitched you and put you under a spell the moment he looked at you because you were so enamoured by him that you didn't dare to blink. You thought about how it was apparent that he never seemed to think about you - and that made you want to reach over the counter and slap him a little. Although, especially after he saved your life, what did he owe you? Absolutely nothing. So instead, you simply watched him walk over to you with a small smile on his face.

His coat was covered in snow from the outside rampage of white whisps and cold air. Though it wasn't incredibly obvious that there wasn't any, he shook his head slightly and a few remaining flakes of snow fell from the frozen tips of his hair. Although it was winter now, he sported a pair of sunglasses - to which you assumed it was for a reason related to why he was wearing that blindfold.

For the past month, you couldn't help but wonder whether or not his angelic presence was the result of your delirious and pain-stricken state. However, upon observing him now, you determined that he really was captivating in every way. And something was telling you that he was looking at you with the same impression, although you pushed the thought away, dismissing it as foolish hope.

You had no idea what to say to him. You had been waiting for this moment for so long, yet you never thought about what you might say. Thankfully, he decided to speak up first as he peaked over the edge of his glasses at you.

"I've been looking for you." He started, his voice seemingly breathless like he'd run a mile just to get here to you - like he was tired of looking, but his work had finally paid off. "I'm sorry I didn't come sooner - when you've got a job like mine it's-"

"Thank you." You interrupted. The mention of his job had smacked some sense into you as you were reminded of what he had done for you. He looked slightly taken aback. It wasn't something he heard often, but when he did it was as though he was reminded why he did this in the first place - let alone hearing it from you. The girl he hadn't been able to shake out of his head since the moment he saw her, the one he yearned to see just one more time because she looked at him like she understood him and that was all he could ever ask for. "Can I get you something?"

Gojo smiled at that, taking you up on your offer as you grabbed him his order (on the house, of course) and finally sat down with the one you had wanted nothing more than to just sit and talk with - and you did. The two of you talked for hours, occasionally interrupted by a customer or two. You thanked him profusely to the point where he threatened to leave jokingly if you thanked him again. He explained everything to you and answered all of your silent questions for you that you had to keep close to your chest for the past month. Yet, most importantly, you talked about each other. And the more you talked, the more your heart raced and heat rushed over your entire body.

The all-powerful Satoru Gojo never expected to find himself so infatuated by somebody, yet when he saved you that day, there was an inexplicable fire that was lit from within him. He'd never seen anybody so beautiful, and he had never been recognised by anything other than he strength during moments like that. When you had complimented him, he knew from within that it wasn't solely his physical characteristics you appreciated, but also the person he was inside. He felt as though you saw inside of him just from that short interaction.

As you spoke, Gojo found himself digging around with both hands trying to find that smile you kept flashing him and when you did, he didn't so much as blink because it was so bewitching. And likewise, whenever he laughed at something you said, you couldn't prevent the satisfied smile that rested on your cheeks from the prideful feeling overtaking your mind.

Your hand wrapped around your mug, savouring the delightful warmth that radiated from it in contrast to the biting cold that howled away outside the building. The two of you were sat in a corner opposite each other, and as more time passed, the more your cheeks began to ache from your constant smile and laughter and the more you dreaded to get up when a customer walked through.

"I swear! I'm a busy man okay. I was out of town when you woke up." He sulked, his head resting on his hand with a pleading look in his eyes. You laughed at his effort of reason.

"And the month following, you were..." You prompted with a humourous tone laced into your words.

Before he could answer, his hand slipped forward slightly, grazing yours and sending shockwaves throughout your entire arm and body. Avoiding his stare, you turned away, unable to conceal your smile and the way he had your breathing speed up every second he spoke to you and touched your hand like he was. At this, he pouted, leaning to the side in an attempt to catch your eyes yet you turned even more with a laugh.

Sighing, he answered your previous question. "Shoko says I was nervous. I would argue that I was simply building tension for the plot."

You snorted at his absurdity, moving your hand back to take a sip of your drink. He sagged a bit in disappointment at your actions, yet when you placed your drink back and had your hand brushing against his just the same as before, he livened up a bit and grinned at you once more. You delighted in the way he looked at you over his glasses and smiled. It had been a while since you felt a connection like the one between the two of you, yet you had never experienced it so quickly. It was all-consuming and had you on the edge of your seat in anticipation as to what he woud say and do next.

Soon enough, the day had reached its end - and if it weren't for the sun barely peaking out over the window to the bakery, you wouldn't have believed that you had practically spent the day with Gojo with it feeling like just an hour since he first walked in. Though the amount of hours you had shared with him said differently, you felt like you hadn't seen enough of him.

After he put his coat back on, he turned to face you with a smile playing on his lips. "So... I'll pick you up at seven tomorrow night?"

You swore that if he hadn't invited you out to dinner when he had, you would've dragged him out later that night handcuffed.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

a/n: if it wasn't entirely obvious i got a bit lazy towards the end (major character flaw of mine). i am an absolute SLUT for the non-sorcerer x sorcerer trope tho.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟsgojoenthusiast