#WHY IS HE POSING LIKE THAT I CANNOT BREATHE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wildestdreamsblog · 9 days

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Latibule Season 2: V

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (Mafia/Detective AU)

Summary: In which he lost his latibule.

Warnings: Secret Identity, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: BTS is 7.

Masterlist, Latibule 2.IV

“You’re finally awake,” a familiar, gentle voice on your right remarked.

You slowly turned to the direction of the voice, your eyes were slow to adjust from the sudden brightness of the white and sterile room. You could make out a man with a tall form, and even with the little vision you were left, you were sure you have seen this man before.

You blinked owlishly, clearing out the sleep from your eyes and little by little, your vision cleared out as best as it could. When it finally did, your breath hitched from the recognition of who this man was.

The man who claimed to have lost his cat years ago– Suga’s hyung.

He smiled at you when a stark recognition crossed your face.

“I never thought we’d see each other again,” he chuckled from his seat, on his lap was your chart. “Let alone in this circumstance."

You quickly sat up. Only now did you feel a restriction form your left hand. Your other hand was quick to reach out, feeling the dextrose drip attached to your skin. You turned to him with caution in your movement, memories of what transpired before this rushing into you.

He found you and he was going to end you.

“W-where am I?” trying to steady your trembling voice and muster some courage.

Seokjin tilted his head to the side. If he noticed your trembling, he did not mention. Apparently, he was content with observing you with almost scientific curiosity. “You’re in my hospital,” he replied.

He followed your eyes as you tried your very best to see what this room was, your eyes drifting across the whole room as though you were looking for something.

“Are you looking for Yoongi?” he asked when enough silence passed with you looking like you were ready to bolt in any given moment. You were sure that

Your refusal to answer was an answer in itself. Your silence spoke volumes.

Seokjin’s relaxed demeanor was just adding up to your nervousness. Why was he not doing anything, you wondered? You were sure that he was a part of whatever shady business Suga was part of. It was impossible that he was not aware of that. After all, they did seem close and they were brothers. The correlation alone was enough to make you be wary of him despite the friendly act of his.

“He’s outside the room,” Seokjin shared with lightness in his words. He chose not to divulge that his younger brother was literally just outside the room, standing guard as though someone was going to take you from him. Worse, that you would disappear right under his nose had he left his pose. “Wanna know why? Apparently, he, and I quote, ‘cannot bear to see the frightened look his angel gave him’.”

“Do you want to see him?”

“I want to leave.”

He stood up calmly and proceeded to check and adjust your dextrose. “Don’t move this hand too much. You’re going to bleed,” he advised, murmuring under his breath how Yoongi was going to hurt him if you were hurt under his care. He also noted how none of his brothers treated him with the respect the eldest should be given. Also, he grumbled about how he kept on feeding them despite their disrespect.

It wasn’t lost on you how he didn’t answer nor acknowledge what you said.

He fished a penlight from his white coat, “I’m just going to check your eyes, Y/N,” he said as he turned the penlight on and instructed you to open your eyes. “Minimal reaction to light,” he murmured to himself before writing down on your chart. “When did this happen?”

“Should I answer?”

“That’s alright. I’ll just check with Doctor Choi-“

“How did you know my doctor?” you asked in aghast. Did their hold know no bound? If not, how then would he know something of confidential matter?

“Hmm?” he moved away from you slowly, his eyes comically wide and his hands raised as though in retreat. It would have been funny had you not been sure that he was one of the bad men you despised so much. “Y/N, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You squinted your eyes at his retreating form. The room that you were in seemed to be ridiculously large and despite the number of steps he was taking, he was still far from the door.

“I swear I don’t know. But also, while we are in the topic of things I certainly do not know and have absolutely no way of knowing, I also have no knowledge of the scar on your stomach that suspiciously do not look like a cesarean scar.”

---

Seokjin jumped from shock when Yoongi stepped in front of him as soon as he exited the room. “I’m going to die early because of my own brothers,” he grumbled in irritation, clutching your chart to his chest. “I can’t go without seeing my sunshine one more time.”

“How is she?”

“Hey, hyung! Have you eaten, hyung? Thank you for staying up all night to take care of the love of my life. I owe you one, hyung. You’re just the best, hyung. You’re so handsome, hyung– really?! Is that so hard to say those things?!” Seokjin finished, his heavy breath a telltale sign of his agitation.

“Let’s just go ahead and pretend I said those things. Anyway, how is she?” Yoongi asked, his face couldn’t hide the exhaustion from staying up all night and refusing to leave despite his assurance that you would be fine under Seokjin’s care. His face was even paler than normal.

He didn’t even leave his post to eat that he had to call the only available brother (and not even his second nor third choice, but his last resort), Kim Taehyung, to disguise himself and come to the hospital with food. Taehyung then had to force the other brother to eat at least two spoonsful of rice.

Taehyung was rarely denied by Yoongi, so maybe Seokjin chose the right brother for this task. Never mind the fact that he was later on kicked out by Yoongi because he kept on looking closely and taking notes of the way he was acting because he said that it would be useful for his next movie character.

“Hopeless. All of you are hopeless-“

“You are, too. How’s your sunshine, by the way?” Yoongi shot back and despite his lack of sleep, his words were sharp as ever.

“I don’t know where she is, okay!? Why are you hurting me like this?!” he asked dramatically, childishly glaring at him. “I hate you! If you want to know how your Angel is, you better ask her yourself!”

Seokjin walked away, his steps quick and his white coat was trailing behind him which further added to his dramatics. A paid actor, if you would.

“I…I can’t, hyung,” Yoongi admitted behind him. The quietness of the hospital wing was enough for him to hear his younger brother’s vulnerability. Further, it was just enough to stop him from walking away.

“Yoongi, you little shit, what do you really want to happen?”

Yoongi sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping in a rare display of weakness. The image of the strong, composed leader seemed to dissolve in the face of his fear. The man who was usually a pillar of strength was now showing vulnerability. It was true what they said—even the strongest man falls to his knees for the woman he loves.

“Hyung,” he started, his voice low and his dark eyes down casted to the floor. “I just want her to be well. I want her to get back the life she had before I destroyed it. I want her to have a chance at normalcy. She deserves it. She deserves peace-”

“She will be well.”

“How can you even be sure, hyung?” his voice, despite hinting a bit of hope still held despair. “You didn’t see her like I did. She was so…far from who she was.”

Seokjin smirked, “Because I said so. Now that that is out of the way, what do you really want? What’s really in that disgusting thingy you so fondly called a heart?”

Yoongi looked at him, his eyes held a certain darkness Seokjin was all too familiar with. He stood up straight, a strand of his hair fell to his face as he scoffed, “Her.”

He chuckled before leveling him with a serious stare. “Then go and get her.”

---

Your breath hitched when the door opened and your steps haltered.

Coincidentally, you knew who it was before he could even make it two steps inside the room. Even with your eyes failing you, you could never not know who he was. The sound of the door clicking shut behind him was unmistakable.

This was the moment of truth, you realized. This was your nightmares all and simultaneously coming to life.

You took a hesitant step back as his shoes made a sound. Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat louder and more frantic than the last.

“You shouldn’t be walking around just yet, Angel,” he admonished quietly, and by doing so, effectively broke the silence between the two of you. You had never forgotten how his voice sounded like despite attempting your very best to erase his existence from your memories. You had never forgotten how deep his voice sounded like, nor how to tell what he was feeling by the timbre of his voice alone.

Despite all that, you couldn’t help but feel something when you heard his voice,

The anxiety was almost suffocating that your breaths came out short and quick. “W-why am I here?”

“You lost consciousness, Angel.”

You stepped back when you heard his voice nearer. Unlike back home, you didn’t know the layout of the room like the back of your hand. You were utterly and truly helpless in his presence. You only had yourself this time. “I want to leave.”

“You need to get treated, Angel-”

“I want to leave!” you screamed at him, your hands now shaking uncontrollably from having to face the person who destroyed your world.

“Angel, calm down,” he implored, worry apparent in his voice but you didn’t care. It didn’t matter what he felt. You wanted him gone. You wanted to get away from this situation. You wanted to go home where everything was familiar. You wanted to hold your son again. You wished he never found you again. You wished that you could just wake up from this nightmare and back to your life.

Suddenly, the back of your leg collided with something solid, and you lost your footing. The room tilted as you fell, the moment drawn out, weightless—until strong arms caught you before you hit the ground. His reflexes, honed from years of instinct, were faster than gravity.

You were in his arms again.

For a breathless moment, you were in his arms again. Your body stiffened immediately, every muscle tensing in protest. Panic flared hot in your chest, overwhelming every sense. The touch you had once welcomed now filled you with terror. You shoved at him, desperate to get away.

“Don’t touch me!” Your voice was sharp, trembling with fear, and you struggled to free yourself, needing to break the contact. He loosened his grip, and you stumbled back to the floor, but his eyes never left yours.

“You’re scared of me…” he said in horrifying realization. Never in his wildest dreams did he ever want you of all people to be terrified of him when he had been nothing but gentle to you. Not when you looked at him before like he held all the answers and hang all the stars in the sky- too opposite of how now your eyes never left his in terror that he would do something terrible to you. Now, your wide, terrified gaze was locked on him as though he were something dangerous, something monstrous that might strike at any moment. The realization seemed to tear him apart, slowly, painfully.

“I-I’d never hurt you,” he stammered, his voice shaky with desperation as if each word might be the last thread keeping him tethered to something he no longer understood. “You have to know that Angel–”

“Don’t call me that,” you cut him off, your voice harsh as you pulled yourself further away, dragging yourself from his reach, from his proximity. And inching toward any corner. The endearment that had once meant so much now felt like an insult, a reminder of everything he had taken from you. His very presence was a wound you were desperate to escape, a scar you could never heal while he was near.

He recoiled at your words, the pain in his eyes deepening as if the rejection physically hurt him. "Please... I’d never—"

"Stop." Your voice shook as you raised a hand, as though the very sound of his voice was too much. "You don’t get to talk like that. You don’t get to act like you weren’t planning to use me and kill me the first chance you got."

A deafening, soul-crushing silence settled over the room, so thick and oppressive it felt like you could choke on it. The accusation hung in the air, heavy, suffocating, leaving no room for either of you to breathe. His face went blank, as if every emotion had been stripped away in an instant, leaving behind only a hollow shell. His eyes searched yours, trying to find something, some trace of the person you used to be, the person who used to believe in him.

If you didn’t know any better, you would think that he already left. His presence felt ghostly, his body frozen as if he couldn’t bear the weight of your words.

“Is that why you are so scared of me? Is that why you let me believe that you were dead?” he asked lowly, disbelief apparent in his tone. Was all the agony he endured because of a misunderstanding, a mistake on his part?

Your heart skipped a beat. What?

He believed that you were dead?

"What are you talking about?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper, confusion mixing with the fear that still pulsed through your veins.

Suga took a shaky breath. If you could see him, you’d see the tears pooling in his eyes, glistening as they threatened to fall. His gaze never wavered, locked onto yours, a painful mixture of sadness and confusion reflected in the depths of his eyes. “T-that night, Angel, you disappeared. We couldn’t find you anywhere. You just…vanished without a trace-” he paused, swallowing hard as if the memory was too painful to relive. “Everyone said that you died. Everyone told me that it would be impossible for you to survive that fire, not after the wounds you got. I never believed them. You must understand. I searched for you—years, Angel. Years of believing I lost you forever."

Your stomach twisted as his words settled in. The intensity of his gaze, the genuine anguish in his voice—it was as if he truly believed what he was saying. He had spent all this time believing you were gone, that you had died. But how? Why?

None of this made sense.

You shook your head, trying to clear the fog of disbelief clouding your mind. Your heart pounded in your chest, and your pulse roared in your ears as you tried to hold onto your version of the truth—the one you had built to survive. "I didn’t let you believe anything," you whispered, your voice shaking. “You’re lying. You’re making a fool out of me again. You didn’t look for me because you wanted me gone! H-he told me that if you find me…that you’d kill me. That you’re scared of being exposed for who you are-“

"Who’s he, Angel?" His voice was soft, but there was a hard edge beneath it—an urgency, a desperation to understand what had led to this moment, what had driven you so far away.

You froze, realization crashing over you like ice water. No. You shouldn't have mentioned him. If Suga thought you had died, then maybe—just maybe—he believed that Hoseok had disappeared with you in the fire. If that was true, he had no reason to go looking for him. No reason to discover what you were protecting.

But time was running out.

Not just for you, but for Hoseok.

Kim Seokjin knew what you were hiding, and the longer you stayed here, the closer Suga would get to the truth. If he ever found out about your son…

Your breath hitched, panic clawing at your throat. You couldn't let that happen. You couldn't let him find Hoseok. "It doesn’t matter," you said quickly, your voice cracking as you tried to mask your fear, but you knew it was too late. His eyes narrowed, sensing the shift in you.

"It does matter," Suga said, his voice growing harder, his patience wearing thin. "Tell me who’s been feeding you these lies, Angel. Who made you believe I wanted to hurt you?"

You swallowed, feeling the weight of his words press against your chest. His eyes were locked onto yours, searching for any sign of weakness, any crack where you might let the truth slip. But you couldn't. If you did, everything would fall apart. You would endanger your son.

"You’re not going to tell me? Fine," he said after a moment of tense silence, his voice dropping to a dangerous calm. "We have the rest of our lives to figure this out. But make this clear: you will not make me live without you again. I’m not letting you leave me."

“You can’t make me stay here!”

Suga’s lips curled into a slight, unsettling smile. "Oh, Angel," he murmured, taking a slow step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "I can."

Your pulse quickened as you backed away, but there was nowhere left to go. The walls, the room, his presence—everything felt too close, too suffocating.

"You said you loved me once," he continued, his voice soft but chilling. "I told you then... you can never take that back."

Your heart pounded violently in your chest, the words hanging over you like a sentence. You had once loved him, but that love was gone, buried under fear, pain, and the desperate need to protect your son. Yet to him, that love still tethered you to him—unbreakable, inescapable.

"Things have changed," you whispered, fighting to keep your voice steady.

Suga shook his head slowly, stepping closer until the space between you was almost nonexistent. "No," he said quietly, almost tenderly, "the only thing that's changed is that now, I know what it feels like to live without you. And I'm not going through that again."

He reached out, his hand ghosting near your arm, but you flinched away, causing a flicker of something darker to flash across his eyes.

"You don’t get to leave, Angel. Not this time."

#bts fic #yandere bts #bts yandere #min yoongi fic #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x y/n #min yoongi x reader #yandere min yoongi #suga x reader #bts fanfic #mafia bts fic

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thedreamlessnights · 11 months

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Fixation

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader - NSFW

Synopsis: When a mistranslated ancient spell goes wrong, you're forced to suffer the consequences. Astarion takes a keen interest in your... predicament.

Warnings and tags: 18+ (and I cannot stress this enough), aphrodisiac spell, Spawn!Tav, established relationship, possessiveness. Brief referrals to the Rite of Profane Ascension and Cazador. Fingering, oral sex (receiving), blood drinking, multiple orgasms, slightly rough sex. Brief overstimulation, praise, mild degradation, uses of the terms 'pet' and 'consort.'

Word Count: 4.7k

A/N: And here's the second of my parallel aphrodisiac fics for Non-Ascended vs. Ascended Astarion! It was honestly very interesting to write the differences between them. The Non-Ascended one is much softer than this - please mind the tags!

The book must be hundreds of years old, but it feels warm in your hands. You’ve perused it inside and out, practically memorizing the faded runes. Fixation. It’s a weakness of yours.

Still, how often is it that you find an ancient book of spells? Who knows if you might discover some long-lost secret buried within the pages. And, yes: you’re bored.

Your messy translations are not ideal for this sort of thing, which is exactly why you’ve chosen a basic spell to start with. It’s mid-afternoon, quiet and still, the soft glow of candlelight illuminating the room.

The long-forgotten words flow from your mouth like honey - as if they’ve been waiting for centuries just to be said. Light and sweet, they settle into the room and linger for just a moment. Some spells can be felt in the very air, manifesting as an electric haze that tickles the lungs, but not this one. When the sound of your voice fades away, the only sign that the spell has worked is a gentle heat that settles in your skin.

For a long moment, you kneel, studying the small scrape on your finger and waiting for something to happen. If you’d translated correctly, this should have been a basic healing spell with enough capacity to mend small cuts and burns. An increasingly pleasant heat builds in your veins, but the scrape remains untouched.

It should have worked by now. But if it wasn’t a healing spell, then…

Your eyes turn back to the pages, flickering between the references you’d found and the runes. Something connects. A line you hadn’t seen. A word you hadn’t added. The runes on the page - they’re not for healing, like you’d thought. But if they don’t mean health, then…

You stare at it a moment longer.

Lust.

“Oh. Oh, gods.”

You rise to your feet like you’ve been slapped. The heat is bearable for now but growing incessantly, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. No counterspell. No healing potion. Anything you try could just as well make it worse. Which poses the question: what the hells are you going to do?

You suck in a deep breath.

First things first: you need to get out of this room. The air is feeling like it might strangle you.

The chill of the hall greets you sweetly as you pace up and down the walkway, weighing your options. A spell this simple shouldn’t last long. It’ll most likely linger for only a few hours, then dissipate. It doesn’t seem dangerous. It’s not painful. Not yet, at least.

You could lock yourself in the cellar for the night, but that isn’t exactly appealing. The bedroom wouldn’t work, either. It’s Astarion’s room too, after all.

Astarion. Just the thought of him sends sparks flaring through you. It ladles heat into a very pleasant spot in your abdomen, and something flutters deep in your gut. Gods, what you wouldn’t give for him to be touching you.

But he cannot find out about this. By the hells, he can’t ever find out, because if he does, you will never live this down. Which leaves two options: you can either go to dinner and attempt to act like you’re fine, or you can try to hide away in one of the rooms and wait it out.

Neither one is ideal. Being physically near him, he’ll be able to read you like a book - which makes dinner a very dangerous concept. But if you neglect to show up at all? He’ll be even more suspect. He’ll certainly seek you out and find out the truth in the end.

So. Dinner it is.

You’ll just have to keep yourself composed, somehow. If only doing was as easy as thinking. But do you really have a choice?

No, you think.

You don’t.

As soon as he’s through the door, Astarion’s eyes are on you. They always seem to be, these days. Ever since the Ascension. His dark consort, his right hand. His, for whatever he wants. He never seems to see you like he used to, but the sting of that faded long ago. Another thing lost to the ritual.

“Hello, my treasure,” he greets.

You offer him a smile as he takes your hand, pressing a kiss to the skin. You can only hope he doesn’t notice the fear in your eyes or the way you’re trembling.

The gods must be on your side, because he’s distracted. The moment he releases you, he’s talking with a servant about something or other. You can barely keep up with the politics of the city on a normal day, much less on one with flaming lust in your stomach.

So you follow him to the table like a puppet, moving to your usual seat opposite his. It seems much closer together than usual. Everything does. He could be across the room, and you’d still feel like he was at your side, his breath at your neck. You’re almost grateful that the near-only things you can consume are blood and wine, because your trembling fingers are not fit to handle a knife.

After you’ve taken your seat, you have to put all of your attention into holding your glass. You’d try to act natural, but you can’t even remember what that feels like anymore. Does your skin look cold enough? Is your smile convincing? Is the picture you’re painting compelling, or will your imperfections give you away?

For a moment, Astarion’s attentions are focused on his papers. Then, with a sigh, he sets them aside and looks at you. He seems bored, more than anything. Not suspicious yet. “And how was your day, pet?” he asks.

Your grip tightens around your glass. “Good,” you manage to say. “I found a new book in the library.”

He raises a brow. “Did you?”

You nod, attempting to bury yourself in a sip of wine, but it doesn’t work. The more he looks at you, the more the feeling grows. Your hands are slick. Your mind feels clouded over.

“A - ah, book of poetry.” Your voice shakes as you speak, and the betrayal of it is like a dagger in your chest.

He sets down his knife and fork.

Already? you think, lightheaded and humiliated. Gods - you’d known he’d likely catch on sooner or later, but, really? Not even two minutes in? It’s pathetic.

But you aren’t going to give in yet. Astarion may have the winning card in his hand, but you’re determined to play this game for all it’s worth. So you set down the wine, fold your hands in your lap as if you aren’t struggling with keeping still, and give him your prettiest smile.

The glint in his eye grows. “Really?” he purrs, tilting his head. “I didn’t know you liked poetry.”

And as soon as he’s spoken, his voice is in your mind - words you’d thought you’d forgotten, pressing to the front of your thoughts.

It’s a poem. A gift from Cazador.

The first time you’d seen his scars.

“I…” Your voice chokes, and you swallow hard. “I don’t read it often. But I enjoy it, sometimes.”

He hums in response. His eyes are fixed on yours like a predator - watching your every move. Every blink. Every swallow. Every tremble. He’s waiting for you to break.

You don’t. Not yet.

“And you?” you ask. “How was your day?”

“Oh, you know how it is,” he muses, his hand gesturing indifferently. “The usual.”

But you don’t know how it is. He hasn’t told you a word about his work, and you’ve never invited yourself into it. He leans back in his seat, and his expression molds into something complacent as you struggle to find the right thing to say.

You decide that wine on your tongue will be much better than words. It’s rich and dark, mildly bitter, and heady. It lingers for a long moment after you’ve drunk, sloshing around your glass as you swirl it.

The end is coming. Your body is fighting you tooth and nail. Your hands are shaking, your mouth is dry, and your head is foggy. Setting the wine down shouldn’t be a difficult thing, but it feels like trying to thread a rose stem through the eye of a needle - painful and futile.

Your wrist twitches. A tiny, incomprehensible mistake. The goblet nicks the edge of the table, your grip loosens, and the next thing you know, there’s wine everywhere. Bleeding over the top of the table. Dripping into your lap. Splashed over your chest. The taste of it is still in your mouth, bitter on your tongue.

“You’ve gotten clumsy, pet,” Astarion says. He places his hands on the table, pushes to his feet, and approaches with a languid stride, amused and possessive in his gaze. You meet his eyes, determined not to break.

He grabs a clean napkin and half-heartedly dabs the wine off of you, stopping to swipe a droplet off your chest with his finger. Then he lifts it into his mouth, never looking away. “You’re trembling,” he says.

“Am I?” Your voice is breathless. “That’s strange.”

His eyes narrow. “Are you feeling alright, dearest?”

“Me?” you ask, your hands clenching into fists. “Of course I am.”

He stares at you. You stare at him. He raises a brow. You paste on your sweetest smile, just for him.

“You know,” he sighs, circling behind you, “I do hate it when you lie to me.”

The feeling in your gut is ravenous now. You’re nothing short of feverish, buried in a haze of sheer need. You need him more than you have ever needed before. You will not let yourself have him.

You play this game with him because, no matter what he says, you know he wants you to. You slot yourself in as his pawn, settling into your place, competing with him even though the game is rigged from the start; all because he wants it. He wants you to lose, and to beg for him to touch you. And, gods help you, despite this cruel, vicious thing he’s become, you still want him.

He reaches out to a loose strand of your hair, tucking it away behind your ear. “I want the truth,” he says, leaning in close. You’re shivering with desire. Every part of you wants him near. You fight the impulse to make a sound, and he steps away.

“I really am feeling fine,” you insist.

His eyes pass over you. You can feel the way they trail along your features, both analytical and skeptical. His head tilts and he smirks, and you know you’ve lost. Just like he wanted you to.

His hand comes up to cup your cheek. “Little love,” he murmurs, stroking his thumb along your jaw. His touch is warm, skimming against your skin. “You’ve gotten yourself into quite the predicament, haven't you?” The corner of his lips flick into a smile, but his eyes stay cold as ice. “I know lust when I see it.”

Then, he lets you go.

You want to beg him to come back.

“What a shame,” he muses. “I have so much work to do tonight. You’ll wait for me, won’t you, my sweet?”

You will. You don’t have any choice.

A small sound involuntarily chokes from your throat, and his eyes narrow. “Now, now,” he chides. “Be patient.”

He returns to the doorway, studying your appearance with a smug sort of satisfaction. “Oh, and darling?” he says. “Don’t you dare touch yourself.”

He pulls the door shut after him, and you stare blankly ahead.

Gods. He’s going to drag this out. You know he will - he loves to see you squirm. But to tell you that you can’t touch yourself? It’s particularly cruel.

But this is where he wants you. You’d lost the game, and this is how you’re paying for it.

The time ticks by. The feeling in your gut grows. You have to squeeze the armrests of your chair to keep them from straying. Heat flushes through every part of your body.

It’s a strange thing, being warm. It’s been months since you’ve had warm blood in your veins. You’d almost forgotten how it felt. It only makes this sensation so much more overwhelming.

It’s like the sun kissing your skin. It’s like fire, searing through your chest. It’s both pain and pleasure, mingling in your senses. More pleasure, perhaps, if you were allowed to touch yourself. You don’t dare to, not even once. Not even a little. No matter how much you want to.

When the door finally opens again, you let out a rush of air. Relief. Sheer relief. But Astarion doesn’t move toward you. He goes to the papers he’d left on the table, rummaging through them. He finds the one he wants, pauses, then glances at you.

“My, my. Look at you,” he remarks. “Gods below. You’re a mess, darling.”

It’s only then that you realize he’s not coming back yet. He’s not here to touch you.

“Astarion-”

The look he gives you silences your words. Your mouth snaps closed, and you try to resist the urge to sob.

“Patience,” he says. His tone is a warning, low and dark. “Or you’ll get nothing at all.”

The door shuts once more, and this time, a noise breaks free from your throat.

You should have just told him. You’d have lost the game all the same, but he might have taken pity on you. But you’d lied to him. You’d kept it hidden. You hadn’t begged.

His message is as clear as day. This is what you get. This is your punishment.

You’d just had to try out that spell book, hadn’t you? You couldn’t have left it alone? Now look at you. Shaking, clinging onto the chair so tightly that your fingers are beginning to go numb. You feel rabid. Whatever self-control is leashing you is beginning to slip.

Just hold on, you tell yourself. Just until he comes back.

So you wait. Your body feels like it’s on fire, but you wait.

You’ve just begun to consider touching yourself, consequences be damned, when you finally hear the blissfully familiar sound of Astarion’s voice.

“I’m here now, my dear,” he announces. “You can stop terrorizing the poor chair.”

He’s standing in front of you, looking down at you with a mix of desire and possessiveness. You have to stare at him for a good ten seconds before you realize that he’s actually there, not just a vision. That your torment will soon be over.

His words finally connect with your mind and register somewhere within the mess of need. Your hands loosen from their grip, and a soft noise escapes from your lips. From pain or want, you don’t know.

“Kneel,” he says.

Your legs tremble when they stand, as if they might finally give out. You sink to your knees, barely feeling the hard stone beneath you.

Astarion takes two fingers and places them under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “My pet, do you want me?”

“Yes.” Your voice is hoarse, barely more than a whisper.

“Tell me.”

You swallow hard. “I - I want you.”

“Louder.”

“I want you.”

His head tilts. “Good.”

He drops his fingers. You want to scream at the loss of his touch.

“Get up,” he instructs.

You can barely move, but you do it. Your knees shake. You want to grab onto him for support, but you know you shouldn’t. Not yet.

Instead, his hand wraps around your waist. “Just look at you,” he murmurs, echoing his statement from earlier. His other hand comes up to your mouth, his thumb brushing against your lips.

Then his hand on your waist trails up your back, up your neck, fisting into your hair. “And all for me.”

He pulls you close and kisses you hard. Bruising. His hand cups your cheek, his grip tightens in your hair. His lips are warm and soft and demanding, coaxing your mouth open as he walks you into the table. The back of your legs meet the edge and you pull away to sit, panting as he sets himself over you, straddling your hips.

His eyes are dark and hazy, trailing over you in a way that makes you shiver.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, trailing a finger along your cheek. His lips move to your jaw, trailing feather light kisses along the bone, and you tilt your head to give him full access to your neck. He hums an approval into your skin.

You barely feel it when his teeth sink in and draw blood. There’s only a faint flash of pain, a muddled sensation beneath your want. You feel his hand rest on your hip. His gentle, wet tongue, darting out to clean the wound.

If he doesn’t touch you soon, you’re sure you’ll combust.

“Astarion,” you breathe, gripping onto the back of his shirt. You know he heard you, but he keeps kissing down your throat, stopping at your collar bones to brush his lips over them. A sharp nip. An apologetic kiss to soothe the sting.

“Astarion, please,” you repeat.

“Hm?” He doesn’t bother to pull away. He simply undoes the lacing of your clothing without looking and tosses the outfit across the room.

“Touch me,” you beg.

At that, he finally stops kissing you and looks up at you, something dark and hungry simmering in his gaze. “Dearest, I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he drawls, “but I am touching you.”

You’re in no mood to deal with this - not with the scorching flame inside that will not let up even for an instant. “You know what I mean,” you snap. “Please, gods. Touch me.”

But the more desperate you are, the more he pulls back from you. He gives you a look - half amused, half bored. “But I don’t know what you mean,” he says. “I can’t read your mind anymore, my sweet. Don’t you remember?”

Anger and frustration cloud your vision in a veil of red. A sharp noise chokes through your chest, and you tighten your grip on his shoulders, digging your nails into the skin. “Fuck me, Astarion. Please.”

The corners of his mouth flick into a self-satisfied smile. “You’re lucky I like you, little love,” he murmurs, easing your legs apart with his thigh, and you sigh in relief, relaxing into his touch as he returns to kissing your neck. “But you wouldn’t deny me a taste, surely?” he asks. “I want everyone in the city to hear you screaming my name.”

And then he drops to his knees.

You’re left shivering with need, so desperate that your vision seems to be clouding over. The top layer of your clothing has been removed, but you’re still in your smallclothes, and he of course takes his sweet time with you. The feel of his tongue through the fabric of your smalls, so desperately close to where you need him to be - but not there, not yet there - is all but maddening. You fix your hand into his hair and try to relax, but you’re so tightly-wound that you feel like a rope about to snap.

How the hells are you supposed to relax when the sweet friction of his mouth is pressing against your clit - when he’s on his knees for you, his grip on your thighs bruising and almost, almost perfect? You could come like this, riled up to the point of climax, but that would be too easy. He’d never let it be that easy.

Instead, he brings you to the verge of orgasm, bites at the tender flesh of your thigh, then pulls away.

“Gods,” you mutter, caught between feeling like the tiniest action will send you into waves of pleasure and simultaneously feeling like you’re going to black out. “Astarion-”

“Shh,” he says, still on his knees. “Relax, pet.”

Out of the two of you, he’s in the more vulnerable position, but you’d never know it from the way he’s practically holding you down on the top of the table - from the way his eyes are devouring you, practically daring you to protest.

You know him. The more you rebel, the less he’ll give you. So you don’t. You force yourself silent and suck in a breath or two, trying to remember the way oxygen tastes, trying to keep the dam inside you from bursting open.

A small sob breaks free, but aside from that, you’re a statue. A lustful, slightly relaxed statue. It’s all you can give, and it must be enough, because he finally pulls your smalls off of you.

They’re so wet from his tongue and from your arousal that they stick to you, and you can see the way his gaze darkens. The way he swallows, taking in a deep breath and setting them aside. He could keep you here all night, but he’d be torturing himself, too.

He starts slowly again, and with every graze of his warm fingers, with every brush of his skin against yours, your body bucks into his touch. It doesn’t matter where or how brief; it’s just the silky trailing of his fingertips over your abdomen, your body is still chasing the minimal pleasure his presence gives you. If it’s his thumb against your clit, your body still shudders the way you know he wants you to.

When his tongue finally, finally meets your clit, you let out a sharp gasp and have to physically stop yourself from following that feeling, from grinding against his mouth the way you so desperately want to. Your nails dig into the tablecloth, but you let him keep his own pace. His own agonizing, teasing pace.

One finger, slipping inside of you, finding the electrifying spot inside of you that has you moaning his name, your hand tightening in his hair and your hips bucking of their own accord. Then one becomes two. A slow, even rhythm of thrusting that slowly grows harder, faster, deeper.

He brings you right back to the edge, and this time, he lets you come.

Your body tenses. Your grip tightens even more. He groans against you, and the vibrations of it course out through your skin. The rope of tension pulls and pulls and pulls until it finally snaps, leaving you shuddering and mindlessly crying out, his name leaving your mouth like a mantra.

Just like he’d said it would.

Your consciousness seems to float away from your body - a blinding, sharp pleasure that comes to you in a pulsing, ambrosial wave. When you come down, you’re still burning. The fire wanes a little, but won’t be sated. Not that easily. In many ways, it’s just like Astarion. Running you through, filling you with need, and not letting you go until it’s done with you.

When you come down, you find yourself with wet thighs and covered in sweat, your breath pulling unnaturally from your lungs until you’ve recovered. You’re still shaking, and Astarion is still between your legs - licking at sensitive skin.

You whimper, and he finally pulls away, his pupils blown wide and an impatience to his expression. Possessiveness. Need. He rises to his feet and winds a hand in your hair, pulling your head back with a grip that borders on painful.

He doesn’t say a thing, but his gaze speaks volumes - the glittering, dark ruby of his eyes, the almost removed way he observes you, eyes trailing over your face. Studying how he’s ruined you, no doubt.

He releases his hold on you, and though you can see his erection through his trousers, his movements are slow - methodical, almost. When he speaks, his voice is low and dark.

“Come here, my sweet, little consort.”

And you do. With your still-shaking legs, you slide off the table and take a step closer, unsure how near he wants you.

“Turn around,” he instructs.

And you do.

You only register his hand on the nape of your neck when your cheek connects with something hard. The table. He’s bent you over it and is standing behind you, and the impact barely smarts in comparison to the heat that floods between your legs.

“You like it like this, don’t you?” Astarion muses, dragging a finger along your spine. “You want everyone to know who you belong to. You want me to fuck you into this table and let everyone hear how much you need me.”

And you can’t even argue with him. You can’t argue, because you know he’s right - and he knows it, too.

You swallow hard, back arching toward his hand. “Yes.”

He’s silent for a moment, tracing his hand along your back. Then he presses his thumb to your clit and you mindlessly grind into him, barely resisting the urge to beg him to just fuck you already.

Then you hear fabric shifting, and your whole body tenses in anticipation of him.

He’s not gentle, and he’s not tender. He sheathes himself into you in a single, harsh thrust that has you crying out, your hands scrabbling for something to grasp for support but finding nothing.

“Gods,” he growls, his grip settling on your hips and pressing into the skin as he sets a rough, punishing pace. His voice is breathless when he speaks. “You look so pretty for me, pet. Bent over like this. Say my name for me, won’t you?”

You can barely choke out the sound between his thrusts, but it comes out of you nonetheless. “A… A-star-ion-”

“Good,” he says, and then his pace turns brutal, every thrust sending your cheek scraping against the table. There’s pain, but you barely feel it - not against the burning pleasure of him inside you, filling you up, and not against the fire in your skin that’s building to a boiling point again.

Over and over.

His breathing is getting faster. His grip on you is ever tightening, sure to leave a number of tender bruises for the morning. He’ll kiss them, then, draw his fingers over them in admiration, but for now: he groans and grips at your hair again, and you sit there and take every inch he’s giving to you until you can barely stand it - the sweet, delectable friction of him inside you, the vulgar, wet noises that echo around the room. Evidence of how much you want him. How close you are.

“Tell - tell me you’re mine,” he says through gritted teeth.

“I’m yours.”

He thrusts even harder, and it vaguely occurs to you that you might not be able to walk tomorrow. You can feel the tell-tale signs of him getting closer - the tensing of his thighs, the panting as he approaches climax, the moans he’s letting out. He pauses mid-thrust and trembles for a moment before he slams back into you once, twice - three times.

That’s all it takes to send you over the edge with him, clenching around him, barely conscious of the table under you, barely conscious of the fact that both of you are in the dining room and almost certainly the servants are able to hear what he’s doing to you.

You can feel him seeping out of you, trickling down your thighs, and you go slack against the table, gasping and trying to remember how to breathe.

He finally releases your hair and pulls out of you, paying no mind to the way you wince.

You definitely won’t be able to walk tomorrow.

“What a good little pet you are,” he remarks, smoothing your hair away from your neck and placing a kiss to the nape. When he speaks again, his voice has gone to that pouty, condescending tone that he sometimes uses. “You wouldn’t dream of doing that to me again, would you, my treasure? Lying to me? Hiding your own pleasure from me? And at my table, nonetheless.”

You attempt an answer, but it comes out as nothing but a helpless whimper.

“What was that?” he asks.

“No,” you breathe.

“Good.”

He straightens, running a finger between your legs - no doubt studying the mess he’s made of you.

“Get up,” he says. “We need to get you cleaned up.”

You unstick yourself from the table, legs trembling, and as his gaze travels over you once more, you have a deep, sudden feeling in your gut. It’s too easy. Too easy for you. Even after all the torment you’d faced earlier, stranded and desperate in your chair, it’s not enough. He’s not done with you yet.

And if you know him at all…

It’ll be surprising if he’s finished with you before morning.

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #astarion x you #astarion x tav #baldurs gate 3 x reader #mywriting

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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 3 months

Text

Lens Flare

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Description: Over the past three months, your career has grown by leaps and bounds. Yet at the same time, you can't help feeling dissatisfied. A lot of your feelings stem from what you did the last time you saw him. Jake Seresin. Lieutenant Jake Seresin. It had been fun, in the hangar, under the dead of night - passionate and hot. So too had been the video you filmed and the pictures you'd snapped. But hindsight, well, maybe there is a reason why they say "Hindsight is Twenty-Twenty". Because Jake hasn't called, despite how badly you want him to. A new assignment in North Island might have the potential to change everything for Jake and our Shutterbug, including how they approach everything they hold dear.

Warnings: Once again, this is just some porn with plot. The feral plot bunnies ran away with me, I fear.

Word Count: 8502

A/N: Hiya everyone! I'm baaack! Enjoy this sequel to my fic Photo Finish. It's just as smutty and gorgeous as the last one!

This fic is brought to you all by the constant support of @horseshoegirl, @sarahsmi13s and @desert-fern. You're all my heroes and I love you to bits for keeping me from ditching this story before it even started! I couldn't have written it without you!

AO3: Cross-posted Here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted Here!

An old photography teacher of yours once told you never to submit photos with lens flares to any publication, magazine or contest. He considered lens flares the biggest mistake for a rookie photographer. He’d declared, quite adamantly in front of your entire class, using your pictures as examples, how lens flares made photos look cheap and low quality. Given his dislike of the trick of light, he’s also taught you a plethora of tricks to prevent them. Over the many, many years since you left his class, you’ve started to relax and deviate from the rigid rules of photography he once taught you. For a large portion of your career, you've been photographing subjects which cannot be posed in a studio, which helps. Every snick and whir of your camera feels like you are letting go of rules and embracing your art.

You’ve always heard wildlife photography has a tendency to relax photographers' attitudes. It’s a truth you’re very thankful you had the chance to experience. After all, there are no rules when it’s just you, your camera and what feels like the entire world a hair's-breadth away from your camera lens. It’s hard to be frustrated with the sun glancing across your camera lens when it highlights fox kits gamboling in dewy spring grass. Or elk on a frost-bitten winter morning with clouds of their breath dissipating into the clear air. Those pictures were once-in-a-lifetime shots, perfect in their imperfection and richer with the sparkling halos of light.

Being back in New York after years of traveling has made you appreciate the photographs you took even more. Now you feel like you can fully appreciate the wilderness in them. New York is wild in an entirely different way. It’s louder, greyer, more populous, yet just as vibrant. In New York, you’ve been able to capture human nature, snapping minuscule interactions between people who are always in a hurry and always moving. But you also have to work to make enough money to fund your passions. Not having to travel helped bring some stability to your passions. But of all of the things you thought you'd be photographing, fashion models and clothes were never an option. In a way, photographing fashion and fashion models is capturing another kind of wild animal in your lens sights. Models and designers are wholly proprietary and protective over what they consider theirs, whether their clothing or their aesthetic appearance. You’ve had to shoot and reshoot, as well as touch up your photos more than you've ever had to before. Of course, in this case, your primary objective is to make the models and the clothes they are wearing look otherworldly and incredible.

At first, the thrill of doing something new was alluring and exciting. But after a year, trapped in New York City, doing the same thing and working with the same people day in and day out, you can’t help but miss wildlife photography. It's like a persistent ache below your breast bone, something calling you back to the life you lived before. You're missing traveling in arid deserts and verdant forests even more now. And then the US Navy came calling. Now, while you miss the wilderness, you think you might just miss something else, more.

It’s late, half-past three in the early hours of the morning, and you’re sitting out on the balcony attached to your overpriced shoebox of an apartment. You’ve found yourself sitting out here more and more as the summer heat turns into the cool of fall. Your balcony is so small there’s only room for a single chair, and your feet are propped up on the wrought iron railing. New York’s the city which never sleeps and the crackle and groan of the city resonates around you. Your oldest camera, a Canon you bought in college with the pennies and dollars you’d saved from tips earned from waitressing, sits on your lap. All night, you’ve been trying and failing to chase away how unsettled you’ve been feeling by peering through the viewfinder and trying to see things from a different perspective.

But it hasn’t worked. You've been feeling discomfited of late, unsettled and restless. Maybe your listlessness has something to do with your next assignment. You can’t lie, not even to yourself no matter how hard you try. It has everything to do with your next assignment. You should be excited. You should be asleep, because at least if you were asleep, the time would pass sooner. For once, you will not be photographing a new designer collection. In the morning, you're flying to San Diego to take pictures at North Island Naval Base for a follow-up piece sanctioned by the US Navy. Your team is joining you, which should be a comfort, albeit slight and slim. There will be more planes to photograph and possibly shots you can take from within the cockpit or from up in the air.

It took three months to publish the article on the US Navy’s newest hotshot aviation squadron. There had been countless revisions and rounds of approval with the US Navy's Office of Public Relations to greenlight the endeavor. It's been exactly the same amount of time since you met the Dagger Squadron, too - only three months after you edited the photographs, focusing maybe a little too much on one face in particular. Three months after you took the biggest risk of your life, professionally and personally. Three months after you made a sex tape with a client. It doesn’t help that he was a memorable client, too - and how you haven’t been able to forget him.

It's only been two weeks since the magazine hit newsstands with your picture of the Daggers in all their finery near one of the jets on the front cover. Everywhere you go, it seems you see their faces - his face. Your phone has been ringing off the hook ever since. Everyone wants you to take professional portraits of their clients. But your phone has never had the voice you so desperately want to hear on the other end of the line. It's a nationally distributed magazine, after all, and like everything nowadays, published both physically and digitally. The magazine had also mailed special copies to each member of the squadron which was your subject. So he has to have seen it. So why hasn't he called? It's the one question on your mind. It may be the only question on your mind, but it's far from the only thought in your mind.

Chances are, he doesn’t want to talk to you at all. After all, why would he want to?

You couldn't silence the thoughts if you tried - and you have tried, repeatedly. Getting drunk made you maudlin, going out had you seeing his face in every stranger’s and getting laid had made you wish you were with him rather than anyone else. Over and over again you’ve found yourself thinking about those last few moments with him, agonizing over every detail, from the kisses and touches to the last time you saw him. Maybe you hadn’t been entirely clear in your note to him. You can recall the note as if you wrote it yesterday, the note you'd affixed to the flash drive you handed him.

Sure, you told him to call you when he was in New York next. But really, you wanted him to call you, period. Or text you. Something, anything to show you’re lingering in his memory in the same way he lingers in yours. You thought your dalliance had been memorable enough. You hoped you were memorable enough. After all, it's not every day you let a man fuck you up against his jet and record it, forget a man you’ve known only for a few days. Maybe it’s a little silly how attached you’ve gotten to him, given the short time frame, after what should have been completely meaningless sex.

But it’s not meaningless anymore, at least not to you, after how many times you've seen the video since you last saw him. Your camera hadn’t hidden a single thing when you made your little home movie all those nights ago. You’ve seen how his hands had been gentle, his eyes soft. Your entire countenance had been beckoning, beguiling in the throes of passion, needy in a way you’ve never let yourself be before with anyone else. He’s also spoiled you for any other man on the planet - or at least in New York. You haven’t hit the same heights since him, and a part of you is sure you never will again. And now you have to enter the lion’s den, venture right into enemy territory with your head held high and only a camera to shield your too-hungry gaze.

A thump on the railing drags you out of your reverie. Your neighbor’s escape-artist black cat makes himself at home on the railing, paws flexing as his tail lashes through the humid night air. Like you’re in a dream, you lift up the camera and peer through the viewfinder. Tonight, everything seems to be coming back to lens flares. The neon lights fracture in your camera lens, softening the visage of the cat on the railing, green eyes luminescent. With reflexes born of years of wildlife photography, partially stunted after nearly a year of fashion photography, you depress the shutter with a soft snick and a near-silent whir. What you’re left with is a long exposed image - neon lights blurring in the background as one shines behind the cat’s head. Even his fur is blurred, only green eyes in focus, piercing into your soul. It’s perfect, as expected, and you hope it’s an omen for the days to come while you’re in San Diego.

Green eyes, different from those of your neighbor’s cat, haunt you, even more, the following day as you pile out of one of the minivans the studio rented for you and your team, as well as all of your equipment, on the tarmac at North Island. The humid, sticky air stinks of jet fuel and salt water. The wind brushes past you, snatching at your hair and ripping your sun hat right off your head. It's hot as it brushes by, providing no relief to the insistent heat.

Your team just laughs as you chase, bedraggled and exhausted, after your hat. The wind pushes you towards the hangars at the end of the tarmac, colossal doors thrown open while rows of jets stand gleaming. For the first time, you think you understand why Jake is so in love with being up in the air in his jet, how close to the elements he must be with adrenaline coursing through his system. You raise the camera resting against your chest, leaving your hat to fly where it wants, because you have to capture this.

When your camera focuses, you start snapping with abandon, capturing the sun-drenched metal and heat waves rising off of the pavement. You’re not sure what pictures the editors will select to go with the article the journalist is going to write. Regardless, you’re stealing the time to take some filler shots now, when it’s bright out still, and blindingly golden outside. Your team is far behind you, still clustered by the cars, as you trail between the shining metal hawks, cockpits closed and emblazoned with names and callsigns. Your heart stutters in your chest when you see his jet, the text dark and fresh, announcing he’s been promoted. So, he's still operating out of Naval Air Station North Island.

Faintly, you can hear voices emanating from one of the open hangars, so you creep closer, your old Canon camera clutched to your chest like it can protect you. Twenty-four of the US Navy's best aviators are saturated in gold, settled in creaking plastic chairs. Jake’s at the podium, laser pointer in hand, completely relaxed as he talks about things you couldn’t understand if you tried. The light glints across his face, catching angelically on the burnished strands of his hair. A singular fluffy lock has broken free of his hair gel’s hold, trailing softly across his forehead. It makes your fingers ache to push it back into place. But you can’t, because you won’t interrupt or embarrass him. So you take pictures instead, breathlessly, silently, framing the aviators limned in gold like they’re deities waiting to go to war.

You’re not sure when it happens, but he sees you - bright green eyes colliding with yours, a nearly imperceptible frown creasing his brow before the skin smooths. He doesn’t look happy to see you. In a way, it makes sense. You were just a one-night stand, something sexy to indulge in - not someone he'd want to keep forever. The look lances through you, skewering you in place as the wind and sun stick your blouse to your back. He doesn’t acknowledge you but for one curiously blank look, and you’re mortified as you walk silently back to your crew, who are now grouped around the jets in awe.

As expected, Adam and Lea, your stylists extraordinaire, are already scribbling away. Lea's flicking through the tablet in her hands. If you were a betting woman, you'd bet good money they are already planning outfits to take advantage of the blue, gold and white theme of North Island.

“Hey, Boss!” Amy, your assistant, is nearly bouncing in place with her excitement. You're not sure how she's so energetic despite the heat and the hours of travel. “Our liaison should be joining us soon. They'll give us a tour of the base and then show us where we'll be setting up shop this week.”

She doesn’t notice how frozen your smile feels and how mechanic your nods are. All you can think about is Jake. He must have known, right? What are the chances he didn’t know you were coming to North Island to take more pictures? There must have been some briefing or notice informing the aviators why you're here. After all, you’re here to photograph the Dagger Squadron. Then why was his face so blank when he saw you earlier? Thinking about him is driving you crazy, but you're not sure you can stop. All you want is to know whether he could ever feel as strongly for you as you do for him.

When your liaison walks up ten minutes later, you’re pleasantly surprised to see you have not one liaison, but two. Neither of your Navy appointed liaisons is Jake, something which you should have expected, but you were still hoping for regardless. Lieutenant Commanders Trace and Floyd are smiling from ear-to-ear as they greet your team by name. Lea and Katie seem especially enthused at seeing the soft-spoken bespectacled WSO again. Lieutenant Commander Trace is her same unflappable, cool, collected self. Her presence and dry sense of humor has you in stitches as you and your team follow behind her like a herd of ducklings. There are familiar faces around what seems like every corner of the base. But none of the faces are the face you still want to see so desperately.

Jake Seresin shows up again as you’re oooh-ing and ahh-ing over the big hanger, burnished yellow, orange, red and pink in the light of the sun. You’ve got your camera up to your face, lips pursed in concentration, eyes squinting as you peer myopically through the viewfinder. It's his voice you hear first. Just hearing it, with the same rough timber, makes you remember what he told you, before you fell into his arms and headfirst into this situation with Jake Seresin.

God, baby. You killed me this morning. Wearing that pretty little skirt and those high heels. I wanted to bend you over and fuck you until you were leaking my cum.

It’s not a good sign, is it? How you’re unable to even look at his face without giving yourself away. The evidence of your feelings must be on your face, which feels uncomfortably hot. The heat is completely unrelated to San Diego's sky-high temperature and you shy away from eye-contact when you pivot and face the rest of your team, and the trio of Lieutenant Commanders. The sight of him hits you in your solar plexus, robbing your breath and leaving your palms uncomfortably clammy.

“Hi.”

It’s a quiet greeting, your voice swallowed by the sight of him. It feels like your tongue is two times bigger than it should be in your mouth, unwieldy as you force it to move like you want it to. He doesn’t hear you, or even acknowledge you standing there waiting for him to notice you. Standing there, you finally realize how big a gulf there is between you and Lieutenant Commander Jake Seresin.

It's a sharp contrast. He's standing there in his khaki uniform crisp and new, blond hair dark at his temples from the shower he must have taken. In contrast, your shirt is covered in wrinkles, your hair is frizzy with flyaways escaping your braid and your worn jeans are butter soft but have definitely seen better days. He ignores you for the rest of the afternoon. It hurts, of course it does, when he doesn’t notice you in the same way you notice him. But you have a job to do. You can’t - you won’t - jeopardize your career for a man, not even a man as beautiful as he is.

The now-trio of Lieutenant Commanders shows you the Officer’s ready room, where you'll be setting up for the interviews. Each member of your team is also given a badge on a lanyard allowing you limited access to certain areas of base. Soon enough, you're left to survey the ready room and prepare your team for the days ahead.

“I know it's been a long day already for you all.” Your smile is a little wry as you continue, “It's been a long day for me too. All I want is to unwind and get out of these heels!”

You let the scattered chuckles from your team peter out before continuing.

“Before I can do so, we need to sync up on what we're going to be focusing on over the next few days.”

“First and foremost on our list? Getting pictures of the Daggers while they are being interviewed. The interviewer is an old friend of Admiral Kazansky's and will be spotlighting each of the Daggers. As a part of the interview, we will be expected to get photos of each member of the squadron in their flight suits, their khaki uniforms and their dress uniforms.”

You raise your hands up to stall any questions. “I'm aware this isn't exactly the type of photo shoot we're used to. Katie, you’ll be on hand to help with their make-up during the interview. We're keeping it light and subtle. For the interview photos, we want the aviator's uniforms and medals to shine.”

“Seb and Kris - the two of you will be measuring the light levels in this room during various times of day and setting up artificial studio lights as necessary. I'll also need you both to check on the lighting situation in the big hangar we were in with the desks and the United States flag on the wall.”

“Adam and Lea, it may not sound like it yet, but I will need you both on your A-games. By special request of Admiral Mitchell, we've been asked to stage a beach bonfire. He wants this interview to echo the beginnings of this squadron. They became a team on the beach and now they are a family. I'm thinking we need cozy textiles and bright winter-toned colors. I'll leave the color palette to you both. All I ask is we have a cohesive palette for the squadron as a whole. As always, measurements for the aviators are included in this dossier. One of the minivans is yours. Our office in San Diego knows to expect you both.”

It doesn’t surprise you at all when Adam and Lea make a beeline for the doors as soon as you’re done with them. You’ve worked with them both long enough to know how they operate. They’ll be downtown and looking through the clothing on display before you can blink.

“Ames, while I run point with the admirals, you'll be sourcing the beachfront we can use for the bonfire. I'm not sure who you'll need permission from, but there might be a bar owner who can give us permission.”

Before long, it feels like you're the only island of calm in the entirety of base. Seb and Kris wander in and out of the room, measuring the light and carting in and out lighting equipment. Even the teleconference you have with the Admirals, both of whom are in Hawaii, due to fly back in a couple of days, goes smoothly.

Over the next few days, you find yourself building on the rapport you created with 6 of the aviators in the Dagger squad in the following days. You also meet the other half of the Dagger Squad. But at the same time you are building a relationship with the other Daggers, it feels like you're losing the relationship you once had with Jake.

The only time you see him during the four days of interviews and pictures is when he is being interviewed. Even then, he spends more time chatting with Amy and Katie than you. Even when you address him directly, he's silent, content to play puppet to your puppet master and then disappearing to an area off base you don't have access to. It hurts, and you’re starting to get weird looks from the other Daggers. They’re all too polite, or too cognizant of their positions in the Navy to ask you any prying questions. At least, until the bonfire.

It hadn’t been difficult to organize at all, in the end. All Amy needed to do was speak to the proprietress of The Hard Deck, a little bar a few miles off base. Penny had been more than happy to hand over the usage of the beach outside her bar for the night. The combination of good food, even better alcohol, and of course, no interviews relaxed the Daggers enough for you to get the candid shots the magazine was looking for. Halos of light spark across your screen with each snap you take - lens flares sparking to life, again and again.

“Why aren’t you hanging out with Jake?”

The question makes you jump and nearly chuck your lens cap into the bonfire. You fumble awkwardly as you try to collect your composure.

“Lieutenant Commander Trace. What can I do for you?”

Your voice is a little shaky as you wheel around and face her.

“You don’t have to do anything for me!” She’s smiling at your discomfort, something wicked curling her lips. “And anyways, didn’t I tell you to call me Natasha three months ago?”

You’re smiling despite yourself at her antics.

“It’s good to see you again, Natasha.”

“Forget about me. Why aren’t you talking to Jake?”

You should have known she wouldn’t be able to let it go.

“Three months ago, you could barely keep your eyes off of him and the same was true of him. He went out of his way to chat you up every chance he got. And now? Something happened between the two of you after we all left the hangar, and now neither of you is talking. You were fine when you showed us the pictures the next day. But now?”

You shrug, lifting your camera up to snap another couple of pictures of the squadron having fun.

“Oh my god. I can’t with the two of you. Either you walk over there and talk to him, or I’m going to get him to talk to you!”

You grab her arm before she can march away.

“I can’t, Natasha.”

You try grabbing for her, but before you can, she’s already gone. His eyes cut over to yours the more she speaks, and you’re not sure you like the way he’s glancing over at you. Your heart is in your throat as he skirts around the bonfire and sidles up to you.

“What are you doing here? Natasha has this crazy idea you’re heads over heels for me, but the way you’ve been acting says differently. So what are you doing here?”

His voice is so quiet you can barely hear it over the crackling bonfire. His face doesn’t change its expression once the entire time he’s speaking to you, barring one tiny, blink-and-you-miss-it smirk. Once again, you have to thank Adam and Lea for their work because the Lieutenant Commander looks good enough to eat in his sweater and butter-soft jeans. But you know he's not happy to see you. The disappearing act he's been pulling ever since he saw you outside the hangar four days ago is proof.

“You know what I’m doing here, Jake.”

“You're taking photos for another article. I know, I know.”

His smirk deepens, eyes twinkling maddeningly as he prowls closer to you.

“But between you and me, it’s just the official excuse, isn't it?” He tugs at a strand of your hair, reeling you closer to him. “But unofficially, I bet you want more of me. Maybe you want to make yourself another home movie? See my handprint on your ass cheeks again?”

His words have heat rising to your face, never mind how your skin already feels too toasty from how you've been huddling near the bonfire all night to keep yourself warm. Form-fitting dresses are not beachwear, especially not in late November. But you’re dressing to impress, wearing sharp blazers and business frocks. Add to the dress the camera and purse you’ve got over your shoulder, and you’re definitely not equipped for the beach.

“How do you know what I want?”

Your voice is thready and light, and your head spins the closer he gets to you. It's weird. You've been aching to have him this close to you all week, but now, when he is actually close to you again, you feel like it's too much, like he's too much. Every night in your hotel room, you've been coaching yourself to ignore him. You’ve had to in order to compartmentalize and be professional while on base. Yet, after only a few minutes in his presence, all your defenses are shredded like tissue paper.

“Because you're looking at me like this.”

Wafts of fragrant wood smoke drift by you and him as you stand mere inches away from each other. You can’t refute his statement. Not even a little bit, not even at all. You've never been able to mask your emotions, wearing your heart on your sleeve and your feelings in the pursed set of your mouth and the raise of your eyebrows. But you’re still not sure what you can say. If he’d propositioned you with the same vulnerable look in his eyes the first day you were in North Island, when he first saw you again, you would have folded like a cheap lawn chair. Then, you probably would have been more than content to pass on your expensive hotel room and make his lonely base apartment a little warmer. But he didn’t, and you’re not sure you can take the risk anymore.

Jake’s shoulders hunch, sinking into the impossibly soft cashmere of the sweater at your lack of response.

“I…” His smirk flattens, something like his Hangman mask taking its place. His shoulders never drop past his ears the longer you stand there with him at arm’s reach and pretend like you’re having a blast at this beach photoshoot turned bonfire party.

“I’ve read this all wrong, haven’t I?”

His sigh is gusty and almost too loud. “I was waiting for you to say something, because I’ve been dying to see you again. But then you ran away when you were taking pictures of the Top Gun class. Afterward, I - I didn’t know how to say I missed you, which is weird, I know. We only knew each other for a singular night.”

If your jaw isn’t on the floor already, you know it will be soon. Already, you’ve been getting too many questioning glances from your team and the Dagger Squadron. Then there is Natasha’s well-meaning meddling from a few minutes ago. Even the admirals have glanced over every once in a while at you and the normally cocky Lieutenant Commander standing in near silence. It’s not a conscious thought which has you whirling around in the silky sand and snagging a hand into his sleeve. You’re not sure why you’re doing it. All you know is if you’re having this out now, you need to have it out in private where it will not be injurious to your career or his.

Thankfully, Jake doesn't fight you as you pull him towards a corner of the parking lot. Your face feels flushed, and your chest heaves with panic at the thought someone could know what you and Jake did.

“I…”

You cover his mouth with your hand, pretending the feeling of his skin on your hands doesn't burn, like you’re not completely aware of the masculine heat emanating from his skin. For several long moments, you stand in the shadows between two pick-up trucks in the parking lot. Each of your muscles is tense, waiting for someone to realize you've disappeared with Jake Seresin, of all people. You don’t want to think about the possibilities they were assuming. The prickling, uneasy sensation doesn't pass with the moments but does fade a little.

“What was that about, huh?”

You just glare in response.

“I thought it was better to have this conversation where we were less likely to be overheard, is all.”

Your voice is prim, and your nose is tipped upward. It's obvious Jake doesn't feel the same way you do about this conversation, if he’s asking you questions like this.

“C'mon, sugar. If you wanted to let me down, you could have just said it by the bonfire. I promise I won't harass you.” His brow is furrowed as he thinks through all the implications of your statement. “Then or now.”

“I…” You fling your hands upwards, feeling this sudden urge to rage at the stars above you. How have things gotten so twisted? In your head and between you and Jake?

“I don't want to let you down, Jake.”

You growl, then, because you know what you feel, but the words aren't coming out of your mouth the right way. He's patiently waiting for you to figure it out, lips pressed into a thin line, and green eyes scorching through you.

“I’m not rejecting you, Jake. When I came to North Island Naval Base and saw you standing in front of the lectern, I wanted you to smile when you saw me. I wanted some indication you felt the same way I did. I also wanted to kiss you, but it wouldn’t have helped then.”

You're smiling again, just a slight curve to your lips, a smile Jake is mirroring.

“Then you pretended I didn't exist. You pretended I was just someone you worked with before. Not someone who you were intimate with. Not someone whose life you changed with your stupid smile and your piercing eyes and your big, gentle hands. I…”

To your embarrassment, you're sniffling and fighting back tears. “I didn't know why, or how to deal with it, so I just pushed back all my feelings. I pretended the same thing you did, and tried to ignore how much it hurt.”

“Fuck.” The quiet expletive echoes around you. “I messed this up, didn't I?”

He's pacing now, back and forth in front of you, shoes sliding through the gravel as he marches. He's ruffling his hair, face scrunched up in anguish at your words.

“I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. I've watched our video so many times, I know my favorite parts. Fuck, sweetheart, I even took the picture of your ass with my handprints on it with me when we were deployed a month ago. I was nearly given so many demerits because of how hot that picture is.”

Your heart seems like it’s going to burst out of your chest, beating as hard as it is.

“So why didn’t you call?” The same plaintive, sad tone is in your voice again.

“What could I have said?” He’s finally stopped pacing back and forth at least. He flings his hands out from his hips “Sweetheart, I want you, I need you. I wish I could fly to New York right now to taste you again?”

You have to snicker at the sarcastic, sardonic note in his voice.

“It’s a little melodramatic, but I would have taken it.”

Just as quickly as you snicker, the laugh peters away into a gentle sigh. “All you had to do was tell me you missed me, Jake. All I wanted was for you to tell me you wanted to see me again.”

“Would it have mattered if I did?”

He’s stepped closer again, close enough you can feel the heat of his skin against yours. One of his big hands cradles your jaw as he looms over you.

“I asked you a question, pretty girl.” There’s a smirk on his face as he ghosts his lips over yours.

“Why would my answer matter then?” You’re not sure where the sass is coming from, but it’s making Jake smirk even more. “Knowing the decision you made?”

Thankfully, you don’t have to think of a response with a brain wholly occupied by the man drawing you into his arms. You melt into the kiss like it's something visceral you've been missing. His hair still feels the same against the pads of your fingers, golden silk, as you wrap your arms around his neck. He still tastes like you remember, too, cinnamon and smoky spice intermingling on your tongue as he licks into your mouth. Your heart sings when he gently positions your camera so it isn’t crushed between the two of you.

You whimper when he pulls away, chasing after his mouth like you're addicted to it. He still kisses like he flies, you note dimly, thoughts far away. The car at your back is cool, the metal searing into your skin as the sun has long since set. But the cold temperature of the car has nothing on the man crowding you up against it. His eyes are lidded, gaze hot as he takes in the sight of you. The dual temperatures are enough to make you shudder.

“Look at you, darling.” His hands are just as hot as his gaze as he trails his hands down your sides. “A single kiss, and you’re aching for me.”

You can’t deny the effects this man has on you. In truth, the time for denial would have been some time before you made the movie at the hangar. You’re so far down this path there isn’t a way to turn back.

“You want me just as much.”

Your voice is quieter than the rush of the waves, yet loud enough you can see the impact as they hit his ears. He’s still just as fit as he was three months ago, all hard, hot muscle as he presses up against you, cedar and plum wafting through the air off his skin. You can feel the jut of him against your hip as he muscles you even further against the car, spreading you out like a meal he wants to eat. He transfixes you with a glare when he pulls away, even as he smirks at your breathy moan. You watch, eyes lidded, as he opens the truck door and sets your things on the broad seat. You’re panting with need when he comes back to you, body shivering as he leans into you again. His hands find their home against the curve of your waist, fingers still nimble as they focus on tracing your curves in a way which might be driving you just a little mad. You almost wish you were wearing a blouse and skirt again like last time, because at least then you could feel his hands spread across your ribcage, searing their heat into your bones.

You’re lost in him, utterly captivated by the way his tongue tangles with yours, the way he makes you moan. Unlike the rough, claiming kisses of your first sexual encounter with Jake Seresin, these kisses are tender and sweet. They’re searching and tasting, like he’s trying to learn what makes you tick and what makes you moan. In truth, it feels like he’s trying to take you apart only to put you together again. This time, you’re not sure you’ll ever be the same, forever changed by the man in your arms.

“Fuck…” The word is an exhale pressed to your pulse-point, sticky, sweet, and blindingly hot. “Baby, let me take you somewhere other than this dusty, dirty parking lot. I think I really need to see you spread out on my bed this time.”

“Yes, please.” The words leave you in a strung out moan as you tug him closer, fisting your hands in his hair and sweater as you see fit. You’re past caring so long as he’s pressed so perfectly against you.

When he finally steps back from you, you’re gratified to see he looks just as rumpled and debauched as you feel. For a few moments, you stand there, drinking him in, hands aching to draw him close again, to touch him again. He takes your hand, entwining his fingers and yours. His hand dwarfs yours, skin slightly rough as his hand cradles yours. You let him lead you to the truck and help you in, because a part of you isn’t sure you’re going to be able to let him go even when you have to.

It’s silent, but for the sounds of the road as he starts his pickup, one hand never leaving its spot on your thigh. Your hands find the camera again, snapping with abandon the vista blurring past the windows and the man driving you. The streetlights halo through the lens view, speckling the pictures with circles of golden-butter light. It seems like time slips past in a slow trickle. You’re still looking through the camera when the engine cuts off, the sounds of the night trickling slowly back into your ears.

Jake’s eyes sear through you when you carefully gather your camera and bag up, legs shaky from that look alone as you step onto the pavement. His hand finds yours again, as you follow his broad back up a flight of stairs and through an unassuming white paneled front door. You’re surrounded by the cedar and plum of his cologne as you step in, the scent lightly drifting through the air. Jake crowds you against the door as soon as it closes, hands divesting you of your things even as his mouth slants over yours again. The heat sparking between you ignites again, a flame bursting to life in your chest, fed by the soft moans leaving his lips as you kiss him with wild abandon.

For much of the way to his bed, your eyes are closed. You trust Jake to lead you the right way, not to hurt you as you stumble and shudder your way through the apartment in his arms. His lips don’t leave yours once, moans ripping out of your mouth as he leaves you breathless. He’s far from quiet too, softly grunting when you tug on the hair at the nape of his neck, gasping open mouthed into yours as you rub at his bulge. Arousal bubbles in your veins, crashing over and through you. You squeal when he pushes you onto his bed, the mattress so firm it's almost hard as you bounce against it. Your hands shake as you fight with your clothes. Adrenalin makes you clumsy as you nudge your shoes off and fight futilely with the zipper at your back. Eventually you give up, choosing to lean back on your palms. When you look up, Jake’s staring down at you, eyes trailing from the curve of your mostly exposed legs up to your chest and back down again. He’s got his lower lips between his teeth, brow furrowed as he shrugs the sweater off.

Once again, you remind yourself to thank Lea for her work, because if you thought the shirt looked good buttoned up, it looks even better as it slips off his arms. He’s still wearing his dog tags, the silver chain glinting in the moonlight through the windows as he prowls over you.

“You’re still prettier than the pictures you take, baby.”

You feel like you are barely breathing as Jake licks into your mouth. The heat of his body grounds you, the points of contact just enough to tell you this is real.

“Breathe, beautiful.” His hands draw you up until you’re kneeling on the bed, your hands on his shoulders as you peer up into his eyes. Your resulting exhale is shaky as you drag in breaths with just enough oxygen to keep your head from spinning.

“Let’s get you out of this pretty dress, huh?”

“Jake.” His name falls out of your mouth like a prayer. His hands are practiced, sure as they drag the zipper down from the nape of your neck to the base of your spine. The fabric of your dress gapes forward until it’s around your waist.

Jake's eyes seem to glow in the moonlight as he takes in the simple black bra you're wearing, hands tender and hot as they drag over your bare skin, mouth wet and sharp as he drags his teeth across your collar bones.

“Mmm, baby.” His moan has you gasping, your body listing into his as he purrs the words into your skin. “I'm going to make you feel so good.”

When he lets go of you, your nipples are firm peaks in the cool air. When he removed your bra, you're not sure. All you know is you want him, desperately, urgently. Your panties feel like too much material as they cling to you, the gusset damp. Your hands are clumsy as you wrench the dress off, shaking as you peel your panties away from your skin, you flush as Jake's chuckles echo in your ears.

Divested of your clothes, you're faced with one of the prettiest sights of your life. Because, Jake’s standing there, with his belt unbuckled, and the jeans unbuttoned. His cock bulges out through the v-shaped opening, and your mouth waters as you look him over.

“God, Jake, please.” Your voice is a whine as you reach for him, fingers resting against his taut abdomen, back arched as you wait on all fours.

“I’ve got you baby.”

His promises drip over your bare skin like hot and gentle summer rain. Your eyes close as he cups your jaw, the rustle of fabric foretelling his bare skin joining yours on the bed. You let him position you where he wants, drugged by the sensations of his big hands. You steal the opportunity to kiss him again, palms splayed over his pecs, and the cool chain of his dog tags brushing against your fingers. Falling into him is too easy. It’s just a series of kisses, a sweet tangle of tongues as you let him cradle you in his arms. Sparks of need, of want traverse your moon-stained skin, hips canting against his thigh in need.

“How long has it been since you’ve cum, sweetheart?”

There’s amusement in his tone as you wrap your arms around his neck, breasts pillowed against his chest as you nudge his nose with your own.

“Just a couple of days ago.”

His chuckle makes you pout.

“And how did you cum?”

He rolls you over, ghosting a kiss over your lips as he peers down at you. “Was it some guy you brought home? Who didn’t know how to make these pretty moans spill out of your mouth? Did he make you think of me the whole time?”

When you moan, it’s because he’s pressing into you, the stretch of him making your toes curl.

“N-no.” You screw your eyes up, trying to string the words together. “It was just me. With a vibrator, watching our video.”

“Fuck, there’s my good girl. Waiting for your Lieutenant Commander to make you scream, right?”

You’re so far beyond words all you can do is tug him down, fisting your hand in his hair until you can kiss him again. He’s just as eager to pull you in, hitching your legs up until they’re propped over his arms, keeping you spread open as he pistons his hips until you see stars.

“Please, please, please.”

You’re babbling, your orgasm crashing over you with each sharp thrust. Your moans intertwine with Jake’s guttural grunts as his hips stutter at their steady pace. It feels like you’ve been set on fire when you cum, pulsing waves of heat washing over your body. Jake’s shivering as he slumps over you, blanketing your body with his. His hair is sweat-damp as you card your fingers through the fluffy strands.

“Missed you, Jay.”

“Missed you too, sweetheart.” The words are languid and soft, syrupy and sweet.

It feels like you could fall in love with Lieutenant Commander Jake Seresin as he gathers you in his arms for what must be the hundredth time tonight to clean you up. Every glimpse of the man you see when he's not putting on his Hangman mask intrigues you more. There's a gentleness to him when he's like this, a secret softness shining past his imposing exterior. You want to know more. You have to know more.

The realization of how little time you have left with Jake eviscerates you. Only two days left. Two days to love this man as much as you can. You can’t tell him how close you are to falling for him. Looking at his apartment, you have a feeling it would just scare him away. His apartment is almost austere, the off-white walls blending into the pale cream carpet on the floor. Everything is bare, with no pictures on the walls and no personality. It’s a trend throughout the entire space, everywhere but the bedroom. There's a cheery quilt at the foot of the bed. It's the only vibrant color in the apartment, the one thing which screams home.

“It's pathetic, isn't it?” You jump at his words, gripping at the footboard of the bed in an effort to keep from falling.

“It's not pathetic, Jay. Just…” You turn, clad in the soft tee he'd pulled over you after the shower. “Just different than I expected.”

“I know what it looks like, sweetheart.” The same sad soft tone is in his voice again. “It looks like I don’t have any roots. Like I’m scared to let people in.”

He slides his arms around your waist, pressing a kiss on your shoulder, his golden hair dripping as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. “Maybe that is the truth.”

Your heart breaks a little at the soft surety in his voice, even as he does his best impression of a koala around you.

“Because like it or not, I’m going to leave one day. I’ll have to leave one day. Another deployment. Another mission. And chances are, I may not be coming home.”

You clutch at him tighter, because right now, you’re not sure you can think about him not being in San Diego the next time you’re here.

“I was okay with my reality.”

When you wrestle your way out of his grip, you’re maybe a little too rough, evidenced by the grimace on his face as you walk away. You’re not sure where you’re going but away has to be enough. You’re not sure you can face him after he’s said something like this. After all, here you are, ready to risk it all in a sultry cross-country romance, ready to give your heart to him, possibly years of your life to him. Then there he is, admitting so callously he might not be coming home one day.

You’re staring unseeingly at the stars when he slides his arms around you again.

“Are you okay, Shutterbug?”

You lean back into him, because he feels perfect against you still.

“Shutterbug is new.” You’re trying to change the subject, because if he’s insistent about it, you’re going to explode.

“Nuh-uh.” His hands turn you around until you’re looking at him again. “Tell me what’s bothering you, pretty girl.”

“You’re so callous about how you’re ready to never come home again! Why would you say that to me, Jake? I’m ready to risk everything for you. A cross-country relationship, half here, half in New York or really, wherever it’s convenient for us to meet. If you’re not willing to do the same, then what is the point of what we just did?”

You’re choking back a sob as you stand in front of him. Your eyes are screwed closed, hands wringing the hem of the t-shirt clothing you.

“Why does it matter that you missed me, and that I missed you?”

“It matters, because, sweetheart, you didn’t let me finish what I was going to say.”

Your arms wrap around his waist easily as he tugs you closer.

“I was going to say, I was okay never coming home before you. You’ve been running around in my head, the center of every thought, the subject of my every dream for three months. You kept me going when we were deployed, too. All I wanted was to come home safe so I could fly out to New York and see you again.”

“Now, at least I know I’ll be welcome when I come by.”

You’re smiling from ear to ear as you kiss the underside of his jaw.

“Yeah, you will be.”

You're still smiling as you walk into the Officer's Ready Room at North Island the next morning. You've got the same swagger you had in your step the first time you and Jake crashed together. Only this time, you have his phone number on your phone and the promise of a romantic dinner for two tonight. You'd be lying if you said you weren't still worried about the long distance relationship, spending half your life in New York and half here. But more than anything, you're ready for the challenge and excited to. At least you know who you're going home to - and, he knows who he is coming home to, as well.

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gfmima · 2 years

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category : 米哈游原神 work title : letting you try to paint his eyeliner for him

“is this truly necessary?” he huffs, heat rises under his skin at your harmless yet suggestive position. he cannot stand himself, he was overwhelmed from you straddling his waist.

it was pitiful, almost dismal.

he wishes to strangle his own neck for considering your silly curiosity. you’ve been badgering him about it ever since you came across him paint his liner as he prepped for a meeting with the harbingers. he recalls the way you begged for his permission; and needless to say, he couldn’t resist the sight of you on your knees.

you nod at him.

“sitting this way provides me the best angle,” you reply, as if it was clear from the very beginning. “it also gives me better access.” you wink.

scaramouche mutters epithets under his breathe but allows you to carry on nonetheless. he was antsy, clueless; he didn’t know what to do — he lays rigid as a stone, his hands rest flat by his side. you must’ve sensed his unease because you paused then pull away to give him a funny look.

“what?” he snaps, unappreciative of your heavy stare.

“you do know you can touch me?” you blink owlishly at him. he lets out a strangled noise. what were you on about now? he loathes the phrasing, the innocent look in your eyes, and how it left his cheeks stained pink.

you roll your eyes and grab his wrist to place it on your hips. “see? no big deal,” you reassure, and lean in to line his other eye.

his other hand soon follows, his finger traces messy shapes on your skin to past time. he wasn’t an eager fan of physical contact, however, he can get used to it. he, embarrassingly, lets out a whine when it comes to an end and you pull away with a high and mighty smirk.

you reach for your compact mirror then shove it in his face. “so… whaddya think?”

you were buzzing with excitement. he checks his reflection, silently impressed by your work — it was sharper and finer than his usual get-up, yet natural enough to unnoticed from a distance. he’d never tell you, though.

“it’s uneven.”

you gasp, offended. he has to bite his lip to hinder a chuckle from slipping. you snatch the compact mirror from his hand then shove it in his face. scaramouche was in awe. he has to hold back the urge to sit up and steal a kiss from you, and humors your request instead. he waits for a couple seconds to pass for it to appear realistic before going,

“not too shabby for an amateur.”

“eh, gorou?!”

“i’m sorry. i can’t help it, you just look very pretty right now, my love,” he defends himself with a short laugh. he looks up at you, sheer adoration glitters in his eyes. his lips curve into a beaming grin at your frown.

a tiny part of him feels guilty, however, it washes away after he sees the pout on your lips. why must you be so cute? he cannot take you seriously like this.

you grumble under your breath out of frustration. all of your handwork went to waste in less than ten seconds. you glare at him and your pout deepens when it falls on the smudged pigment by his cheek. sighing, you reach for a handkerchief and wipe it clean.

his tail thwacks against the floor in a frenzy. it didn’t take an academic to read the expression of bliss written on his face. nevertheless, it didn’t soothe your mind from another failed attempt.

it has been, what? the second time you attempted to do his eyeliner. you recognized it was going to pose as a challenge but you gravely underestimated its difficulty; particularly through moments like these when he had half a mind to roll over and snuggle into your body, cuddling you so long as he pleased.

gorou hums an unfamiliar tune to himself, pecking your lips once more. you squeak in shock. “i’m glad to see i still have this effect on you. i pray it stays this way for eternity.” he tucks a wild strand of hair behind your ear, his hand slithers down and positions itself on the nape or your neck.

“it’s not fair!” resting on his chest, you nuzzle yourself in his warmth. the liner brush sits neglected in your clutch. his tail flutters at a faster pace from your affection. “you’re playing with me!”

“too bad,” he teases, tilting your chin to gaze up at him. you shake your head at his antics and kiss his neck before finally letting go. he cries at the loss of contact.

studying his ocean eyes, you whisper, “will you let me finish your eyeliner properly now?” his ears twitch at the sound of your voice. “it depends… how fast can you finish it?” he flirts, “i’m starting to grow impatient from waiting, my love. can’t we just do this next time?”

“how forward of you, general, but no.”

“hmph… what do i get in return if i stay still?” his hand now on your waist, thumb drawing tiny circles into your skin. you purse your lips. “um… i’d say, it depends on what i’m feeling after i’m done.”

unconvinced, he tugs on your collar to bring you back down on his chest. you shrug out of his grasp. he yelps your name as the corners of his mouth rise into a lopsided grin over the austere expression on your face.

he sighs, “you win, but i better get to pick my prize.”

#kunikuzushi x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #gorou x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader

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kaciebello · 25 days

Text

Money tree

Masterlist Money mail ☼ Slytherin boys x Hufflepuff!reader (fem) Summary: Sell it or wear it Warnings: no use of y/n Authors note: Mrs. Zabini is a icon word count: 1.5k Song: I like it - Stray Kids

The girl was sitting on Blaises bed. His mother was kind enough to give them some clothes she no longer wears. Blaise was simply gonna throw all of it away. Luckily the girl is better than that. It has been about 3 hours since that encounter and they were still going through it. Starting out what they can and cannot sell. Most of it they could as Mrs Zabini does not wear things twice. Blaise has been taking pictures of some of the jewellery as it was easier than anything else. Shoes were next on his list.

Fain ‘ hello boys’ misses both of them. That's why they are surprised when the door bursts open and a pile of teenage boys spills in.

“There you are! Blaze mate, please don't hog my girlfriend.” Enzo says first thing in the room. Taking huge steps to the girl and spinning her in a hug. Not even a gagging sound from Theodore can stop him. Blaise just looks up from his phone with raised eyebrows.

“What the fuck is all this.” Draco chimes in, gesturing to the not-ending pile of clothes on the bed.

“Our next few thousand,” Blaise answers, very aware that they can all of it for way more than they actually need. The boys just nod. Theodore dived in and rumbled through the pile.

Back to taking pictures neither he nor the girl noticed Theodor and Matthew putting various items on. Giggles from Draco are what caught their attention. They both snap their heads to them. There stood Matheo, in a vintage Chanel short dress while Theodore was trying to put on Versace platform boots. stopping in their tracks when he noticed them staring at him. Blaise just let out a sigh and went back to take a picture of the jewellery. The girl just stood there, mouth hanging open. Enzo closes it for her.

Shaking her head to recover. She has regained her composure.

“Boys, are you serious right now?” she asked, struggling to hold back a smile as she looked at Mattheo, who was attempting to adjust the straps of the dress.

Theodore grinned mischievously as he wobbled around in the Versace boots, nearly toppling over.

“Serious as fashion week, darling,” he quipped, striking a dramatic pose. Draco rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his amusement.

“If you lot are done playing dress-up, maybe we could actually help. That’s a lot of stuff, Blaise. Are you really going to sell all of it?” Blaise smirked, still focused on photographing the jewellery.

“That’s the plan. Mom has expensive taste, and there’s a market for this stuff. Why not make some money off it?”

Enzo, still holding the girl close, nodded approvingly. “Smart move, mate. But don’t overwork her. You’ve got to let her breathe, too.” He gave her a playful squeeze, earning a light shove from her in return.

The girl smiled up at him, appreciating the gesture but still shaking her head.

“You guys are impossible. But if you’re going to stick around, you might as well make yourselves useful. There’s a lot more to go through.”

Draco, still examining the pile, picked up a sleek black dress and held it up to the light.

“This one looks expensive. Maybe I should try it on next,” he teased, earning a round of groans from the others.

The room filled with laughter, the tension of sorting through Mrs Zabini’s wardrobe easing as they all fell into a rhythm of playful banter and teamwork. The girl, now back in control of the situation, couldn’t help but feel a bit more at ease with this odd but endearing group of friends.

As the laughter settled, Blaise finally looked up from his phone, satisfied with the progress he'd made with the jewellery.

"Alright, enough fooling around," he said, though there was a trace of amusement in his tone. "Let’s get serious. The faster we sort this out, the sooner we can get it listed."

Theodore, who had finally managed to wobble out of the platform boots, nodded and tossed the shoes back onto the pile.

“Fine, fine. But just so you know, if I end up modelling any of this stuff, I’m charging extra.” Draco snorted, folding the black dress over his arm.

“You wish. I’m pretty sure no one wants to see you in a dress, Theo.” Matheo, still in the Chanel dress, struck another exaggerated pose.

“Speak for yourself, Draco. I think I could start a trend.”

The girl, rolling her eyes but clearly amused, stepped between them.

“You're acting like all of this is not going to the bouncy house. We need to organize this stuff by type—dresses, shoes, accessories—and then by brand. Blaise, you keep taking pictures, and we’ll make sure everything’s sorted.”

Enzo, ever the doting boyfriend, grabbed a handful of scarves and started folding them neatly. “You heard the lady. Let’s get to it.”

The group fell into a rhythm after that, the initial chaos giving way to a surprisingly efficient operation. Blaise continued photographing the jewellery, expertly capturing the shine and detail of each piece. Draco and Theodore focused on sorting through the clothes, occasionally tossing an item at Matheo, who was still hamming it up in the Chanel dress. The girl and Enzo worked together on the shoes, organizing them by size and style.

As they worked, conversation flowed easily between them, punctuated by the occasional joke or comment. The girl had found some red bottoms sues and turned to Blaise.

“Can I keep these?” She motions to them. The boy stops for a minute before nodding. They have more than enough. One pair of sues is not gonna make a dent.

“It’s not like Mrs. Zabini will miss any of this. She probably doesn’t even remember half of it.” Enzo metined.

They all shared a chuckle at that, but the girl couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. Despite their playful banter, they were all contributing to something bigger than just making a quick buck. There was a sense of purpose in the room, a shared goal that brought them together. The last time she saw them work together so well was when they all decided to learn Morse Core to cheat on an exam.

A couple of hours later, they finally finished sorting everything. The bed was now neatly organized into sections—clothes, shoes, accessories, and jewellery—all ready to be listed for sale. Blaise put down his phone and stretched, satisfied with their progress.

“Not bad for a day’s work,” he said, glancing around at the others.

“Not bad at all,” the girl agreed, her eyes shining with excitement. “This could actually work.” I can almost feel the plastic of the bouncy house.”

“ Girl that's weird.” Chimes Matteo but lets it go regardless.

The boys agree with her in a way, the weight of what they’d accomplished settling in.

Matheo, who had finally changed out of the dress, grinned. “So, when do we start counting our millions?”

Blaise chuckled. “Soon. Very soon.”

With that, the group began to clean up. Theodore lets out a gasp. The group of teens turn to look at him. There he stood, a bag made out of cow leather in his hand. Horrified expression on his face.

“Maybe don't show this one to Betsy.”

Previous Chapter ☼ Next Chapter

Taglist @klimovatereza-blog , @lafrone ,@enfppuff , @rafegfs , @frogtape , @lovelyygirl8 , @catiwinky, @leeleecats , @ghostgardn , @reverse-soe , @ultramarinetovelvet @jazz-berry , @justatadbonkers , @partnerincrime0 , @schaebickel , @deluluassapocalypse , @adreamingpendulum, @imobsessedwitholiviarodrigo , @happydragonfrog , @harvey-malfoy , @helendeath , @caffeine-addict-slug , @mrvlfanman , @pink-heartz , @feistyfox47 , @nickspotatoesalad , @elltheawkward , @myunperfektstorys . @mxryxmfooty , @hoeforvinniehackerrr

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bi-hanslefttittie · 2 months

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You dont have to respond to thus if you're not comfortable with nsfw but your bi han with a phone thing got me thinking.. bi hans response to getting a nude from his gf and maybe he goes to one of his brothers or johnny asking for advice💀idk what do you think he would reply with

Hi 😊👋🏽👋🏽

Omg I think I had a heart attack reading this (not in a bad way). I'm sooo not used to NSFW 😭. Sorry for not answering sooner but I really didn't know what to write for this. But here, I hope it's not too awkwardly written 😭

Slight Nsfw?? under Read More uwuwu.

Nudes. 📸

It was probably a busy afternoon after training, or perhaps a strategy reunion that had him working until late. Either way he found himself tracing lines in a map, trying to figure out exactly how to infiltrate the enemy's territory in an effective way. He felt the hammering on his head, the weight of being Grandmaster heavy on his shoulders when suddenly...

His phone buzzed.

He was slightly thrown off by its interruption, grumbling under his breath and pulling it out of his pocket to put it on mute. Then he saw the notification. << 'Love' sent you a message>>

He looked at the time. It was two AM. Bi-Han thought, that, perhaps he was in trouble for not coming home early, and planned a message in justification of his absence, and opened the app.

...

He placed a hand on his face for a moment, shock washing over him in a way one cannot imagine. He had never thought that...

Bi-Han looked down at the screen again, as if to check that they were in fact, real.

It was.

A neatly prepared photo session. His girlfriend posed on the bed, with excellent lighting, showcasing her body. At first, innocently, posing with his shirt on, then, one in which she lifted the shirt slightly to show her abdomen and tease her breasts. Her biting her lower lip, and finally his girlfriend naked in bed, covering her breasts and lower regions with her hands as if it were the Birth of Venus.

He felt the blood rush through his cheeks, and found himself speechless in his chair, putting his hands together as he reflected on what to do.

In many, many years of holding a position of power, he had never faced a situation that left him so bewildered and stunned. And felt strangely shy.

Bi-Han stood up from his desk and paced around his office while holding his phone. He typed an answer. <<Beautiful...>>, he erased it. It wasn't enough. <<Astonishing>>, then he erased it again.

<<Thanks>>

No. Definitely not.

He ran a hand through his hair, gazing at the map he was previously working on, he still had much more work to do, yet ... His girlfriend was such a beautiful woman, he couldn't help feeling the need to rush to her side. Torn between duty and the woman he adored, he took a deep breath and muttered, leaving all his things in his office and rushing to his bedchambers.

He opened the door quickly, and found her in bed, her phone in hand, ready for another photo session. He ravished on the sight, and the woman turned to face him with a bright smile on her face. She was his medicine.

Bi-Han quickly took her phone and placed it on the nightstand, thinking the best way to reply to such text would be by thanking her personally. He cupped her cheeks kissing gently, then shifted her under his weight. His hands roamed her curves, then under her thighs, grunting slightly when sensing her eagerness. He looked down at her amused face. "Did you like them?" She asked, and he simply nodded in response.

Asking for help. 🤳🏽

Here's the thing. Bi-Han is a very traditional man in the sense of rituals and knowing their place. It's expected of him to maintain certain poise even in domestic affairs, which is why he is not a person very eager to try new things in the bedroom, sticking to what he knows.

But his girlfriend begged him to spice things up after the encounter regarding her nudes. And after all, she had sent him nudes, and she expected him to try and do the same for her every once in a while.

Bi-Han could be a lot of things, stubborn, hot headed, even a bit of an ass. But there was one thing that was for certain. He loved his partner and wished to keep her content and tend to her needs even if it implied going out of his comfort zone.

Which, by the way, Bi-Han hates selfies. So this is way out of his league.

Which is why he needed help.

He was way too embarrassed to tell his best friend about it. Feeling like exposing his sex life to Sektor would be too unbecoming for him, and besides, she would probably be extremely medical about it. And perhaps they had the same amount of information about how to take nudes. So she was out of the question.

He's not asking his brothers for help. 1. That's embarrassing. 2. He wouldn't hear the end of it from Tomas.

So that would only leave the last person he wanted to see at the moment. A person that had all the information he could ask and more, yet, his presence was enough to make him prone to murder, despite his usual coolness.

Bi-Han sighed as he arrived at Madame Bo's Tea House, finding Johnny Cage sipping from a cup of tea and scrolling through Instagram aimlessly.

"well, if it isn't Grandmaster Stick-up-his-ass" Johnny smirked, and Bi-Han narrowed his eyes in annoyance, biting down the urge to snap at him.

To Johnny, the situation was just hilarious. Listening in to every detail, like the typical person that loved to gossip. But Bi-Han lowered his gaze while clenching his fists, the whole ordeal something he just wanted to get over with.

Johnny shook his head with a smile and put his phone down. "Oh, you sweet summer child" he said, placing a hand on Bi-Han's shoulder, who quickly moved it away. "Let me help you"

It started on a lesson on what not to do. About tidiness and aesthetics. Johnny seemed to be oddly specific about angles that were unflattering, and how some pics simply came off as grainy.

"so, imagine this deodorant is your dick" he laughed and used his phone to proof a point. "Okay, this..." He made the typical dick-pic gesture. "Not hot", then he shifted the angle, showing a bit more leg, and more teasing. "Now this..." He looked at Bi-Han. "hot"

Bi-Han at first denied all Johnny's attempts to make him take more interesting pictures, but a thousand I dare you's later, he relented.

"first. The art of flexing"

Bi-Han raised an eyebrow, cringing slightly at Johnny's words.

Johnny taught him his poses, how to show off muscles, the art of mirror selfies, and all that jazz. Then.

"I'm gonna need you to buy yourself a pair of gray sweatpants"

"why?"

"just trust me"

He bought them.

... Yeah he kinda sees why.

The result 💋

It took months of practice and building up courage. But finally, he began sending pics of himself.

At first, it was something more innocent. His arm slightly flexed, the lace on it tightly around it, veins forming only slightly. He thought it might have been enough. Though his girlfriend insisted on sending more pictures, he knew he had to use all he had learned.

After training pictures. Johnny had taught him how to take back pictures, flexing his arms and showcasing his muscles. Arms, legs. After showering, hair down his shoulders and a towel wrapped around his waist.

Remember the sweatpants? Well, apart from starting wearing them around the house, he takes pictures in them while not wearing boxers.

Finally, building enough personality to do it, on his desk, he recorded his hand palming himself and sent it to his girlfriend.

Ngl Bi-Han and Nsfw are things that my mind has kinda in two different hemispheres of my brain, I'm sorry if this came out weird 😭 but thanks 4 ur patience bestie ✨

#mortal kombat #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat 1 #bi han #mk bi han #bi han x reader #mk asks #mk1 johnny cage #bi han mortal kombat #mk1 #sub zero #mk1 sub zero #johnny cage

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faerishv · 6 months

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warning/s: there’s a part where the reader is naked in front of xiao, but nothing sexual. fem reader

you cannot tell me that xiao, in a modern genshin au, wouldn’t be an artist.

he’d probably keep it a secret from every human being in the beginning, thinking it was something stupid. It’s just one of the few talents he has, it’s useless, why would anyone care about it.. but oh boy when you found out about it and actually complimented a few art pieces of his he felt his heart skip a beat, maybe two. The way you were actually interested in what he was doing made him fall over heels for you, and that’s when you started being his muse.

every single drawing he made was about you: at first it was subtle, the subjects had a few features of yours, like your hair or your eyes, or even the way you dress, then later on all the subjects became you. Everything you did gave him inspiration, during his classes he kept doodling your face on his notebook, he was enchanted by you and your persona.

of course when you two got together this didn’t stop. He managed to ask you to pose for him multiple times, not that you minded, you found this whole thing adorable. A couple of years later into the relationship, you found yourself posing for him while being nude too.

it was a quiet moment of intimacy, the silence you both shared was comfortable, it wasn’t the first time for xiao to see you naked and yet you could still notice his cheeks heating up everytime he looked at you and back to his canva. His eyes were filled with adoration towards you, no matter what pose you were in, he’d still find you breath taking no matter what.

i swear im working on all of my requests, slowly, but i am.

#reader insert #x reader #female reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x y/n #genshin impact xiao #genshin xiao #xiao x reader #xiao x you #xiao x y/n #xiao x fem!reader

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avenging-fandoms · 1 year

Note

slow makeouts with pedro after a big event🫣winding down after all that socializing maybe the reader and pedro just had a movie coming out with the two of them and people are loosing their minds about it asking if they’re together

Pedro Pascal Masterlist 1

Pedro Pascal Masterlist 2

You stood on the red carpet for your new movie and posed for the cameras. You moved down the carpet and saw an interviewer, greeting her hello and making small talk.

"So, I don't know how often you look on Twitter, but everyone seems to think that you and Pedro are a thing after watching this movie"

"Really? I guess that means we're just really good actors, right?" You wink and you both laugh. "I just play his girlfriend, Pedro and I get along very well. I think that's why people think we're together"

Thankfully the interviewer didn't ask anymore questions like that and you soon left, hearing a faint whistle. You turn around and smile, Pedro speed walking over to you and squeezing you tightly.

"You look gorgeous, mí amor. I wish we could go home now" He whispered and you laugh, rubbing his back and you two took pictures on the carpet together.

Pedro wasn't one for flaunting his relationship. He liked to keep it to himself so no one's opinions were coming at him or his partner. He got asked many questions about you and he just gushed about you, which added more fire to the flame of dating speculations.

You made it off the carpet, heading inside and beelining for the bar. You order a drink and wave hello to a few people. "You made it off the carpet, heading inside and beelining for the bar. You order a drink and wave hello to a few people. "I just cannot keep my eyes off of you. I find you in every single crowded room" Pedro's hand held your waist and you smile, giving him a proper hug.

"You look so wonderful in pink, honey" You eye him up and down and rub his bicep with your straw between your lips. "Would probably look better on our bedroom floor"

"Cool it, princesa. We're in public" you smile and Pedro returns one, rubbing your back. "Although it's very hard to not just take a bite of you right now" his voice was low, and his eyes were melting you away.

"Figuratively or literally?" You smirk and he laughs, biting your arm. "Ouch, Pey" you pout and rub over the area, Pedro laughing at the faint teeth marks. Pedro's love language was physical touch - and biting.

You two head into the theatre and everyone claps as the cast stood on the stage, a microphone being passed to everyone. "I would just like to start off, if that's okay" Pedro spoke and you look at him, nothing but love in your eyes. "I just wanted to say I am eternally grateful to have worked with such amazing people who became.. so special to me" His eyes met yours.

Suddenly it was just him in the room, and your eyes never left his face. He finished his speech and you clap with everyone else, letting other people get a chance to speak. It got to your turn and you took a deep breath. Even as an actor who had to speak in front of cameras, you still got very nervous on a microphone.

Pedro noticed you holding your stomach and placed a hand on your back, rubbing his thumb over your exposed skin and you smiled. "This cast.. this crew. You all have become my family, people who want love me no matter my faults or blooper reels" the room laughed and Pedro dropped his hand, standing a bit closer to you. "I'm grateful to be here, and I'm so thankful for everyone who helped bring this film to life"

You pass the microphone to the host and everyone claps and stands up, Pedro taking your hand and holding it up, the both of you looking at each other. You take his other hand and you both pretend to scream, making each other double over in laughter.

You were exhausted. Interviewers and even other actors asking about you and Pedro. Dancing with everyone, drinking and screaming in celebration. Now, you wanted to go home and lay in bed.

You got into the car first, closing the door and the driver did a circle around the building and you scooted to the far side of the car, the door opening again and in came Pedro. He waved and shut the door quickly, giggling at you hiding in the corner and the driver rolled up the partition.

"Windows are tinted, hermosa. Get over here" You smile and crawl over to Pedro, hand on his thigh with his finger under your chin as you kiss him slowly. "I've been wanting this all night, I've missed you"

"Yeah but don't forget you sneakily putting your hand on my thigh during that whole movie" Your fingers played with the curls on the back of his head.

"Can't help touching you" he shrugged and smiled, kissing you again with his fingers wrapping around the back of your neck and drinking in every bit of you.

Pedro held your hand as you two walked inside your condo, a small number of cardboard boxes still scattered around the place as you and Pedro had just moved in almost 2 months ago. You both were crazy busy for weeks, but your cat, Cheese, didn't seem to mind all the boxes.

"Oh, look at this baby" Pedro laid softly next to the tabby cat and he chirped, pushing his head against Pedro's nose as he scratched behind his ear.

You laid on the other side of Cheese, running a hand down his back and kissing his head. "Don't worry, mommy and daddy aren't busy for another month so we're gonna make it up to you" You pitched your voice up and Pedro stared, taking a picture as you kissed your cat.

You followed the 2 year old to his dish, Pedro's eyes heavy as he sat up. You gave Cheese some food and squatted next to him, petting his back while he purred and chomped away.

You head back into the room where Pedro took off his belt and your hazy eyes watch every move of his fingers.

"Can you unzip me, Pedro?" He hums and you turn around. He pushes your hair over your shoulder, unzipping slowly until he reaches the bottom. His lips drag against your shoulder blades, making you stand up straight and lean into him.

Your dress falls as you both sway softly, his arm over your chest with your eyes closed. He kissed your jaw and you stood up, hanging up your dress and taking off your bra and underwear. You slid on Pedro's Purple Rain t-shirt and a pair of pajama shorts, looking at Pedro who stood in front of the mirror with his shirt unbuttoned and tie loose around his shoulders.

If you weren't so tired, you would jump him right then and there. You head to the bathroom and took out all your clips and bobby pins, putting your hair up. You wash your face of your makeup and grab your toothbrush, Pedro tapping your butt as he walked passed you in his pajamas.

He also grabbed his toothbrush, giving you and himself some toothpaste. You both brush your teeth in silence and you lean against him, closing your eyes. He rubs your back as you spit out your toothpaste, then he does as well. You rinse out your mouths and head into bed.

Pedro turns off the light and you turn on your lamp. Pedro lays on his side with his back towards you and you gasp softly. You bite his shoulder and he yelps, turning over and tapping your forehead. "That hurt!"

"Payback" You giggle and he sighs, rubbing his hand over your cheeks a few times before resting it and rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone. He pulls you in and kisses you softly, pulling away and pushing his nose up against yours.

"How many questions about us did you get?" You whisper and he rolls his eyes. "Every interviewer I met with asked about you and I for almost the whole interview"

"As much as I love to talk about you, I wish they would stop asking. This is why we don't want to go public for a while. Could you imagine if we confirmed it?" He mumbled, kissing you between words. "They would be up our asses even more"

"I like being your secret" you wink and his hand smooths over your hips, pulling you in as he kissed your neck. He hums as his hand falls underneath your shirt, rubbing your back slowly as your leg traps his hip.

Your fingers grip his hair as you kiss him slowly, his bicep flexing against your rib cage. He hums softly as he breathes out when you adjust your hips.

“You are a dream” he whispers and pushes his fingers into your back and dragging down your spine, making you arch your back. Pedro kissed your chest as you tilted your head back.

Your hand falls down his chest, over his ribs while pushing your foot to his. You place your head on his bicep and closed your eyes as he kissed your face softly.

“I love you, sweetheart” he mumbles into your hair and you smile, planting a kiss to his chest.

“I love you, Pedrito”

Pedro huffed as Cheese jumped on his side and you laugh, but not too hard so you scared Cheese.

You all settled into bed, your back against Pedro’s front with his arm underneath the pillow you laid on. Cheese laid against your stomach as your arm draped over him and rested your hand in Pedro’s palm.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal imagines #pedro pascal blurb #pedro pascal blurbs #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #rpf #actor rpf #real person fiction

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 months

Note

Hello Miss Raven!✨💕

I would like to ask you for an imagine/scenario or character interaction with Crewel and Vil (platonic ofc), where they talk about fashion and everything like the queens they are and they just always have the hottest tea! Talking about the school etc.

It's a casual fic idea without any angst or things like that, maybe somewhere along the way they start talking about Yuu who's Vil's friend, that he has a bit of a crush on? It may start at the Vil's alchemy lesson or smth-

Anyways, the main focus is hot tea between the fashion queens🙏👑 Thank you!💖

This interaction takes place after the events of book 6, so there will be spoilers for that.

I kept the “Vil has a crush on Yuu” element out of this particular interaction since I didn’t find it super relevant 💦 I want the focus of this blog event to be Crewel and his relationships with others. Maybe if the interaction had been posed like Vil coming to Crewel for love advice (since Crewel is a trusted adult for him), it could have fit better. Either that, or I’d advise waiting for more generalized writing requests to open ^^

If he doesn’t scare you, no evil thing will.

“Crewel-sensei.”

He turned at the call of his voice. “Schoenheit.”

Vil, dressed in his labwear, approached. A beaker of a bubbling substance carefully was ferried in his gloved hand, which he offered to his instructor. “The Peddler’s Disguise is done. You may evaluate it for its quality.”

Crewel accepted the potion, gently swirling it to test the viscosity and noting the color.

“It was brewed with mummy dust, black of night, an old hag’s cackle, and a scream of fright. I then churned over high heat with a blast of wind and a thunderbolt.”

"You've memorized the recipe. Excellent work." Crewel set the beaker down on a lab bench and marked off Vil's name on a clipboard. "You're making up for lost time at a record pace."

"Of course. There is no excuse for falling behind," Vil insisted, tossing his blonde hair over one shoulder.

Crewel quirked a brow. "Not even being kidnapped? How strong-minded of you. I was surprised when you came to me asking to hit the ground running with makeup classes upon your return.”

He looked Vil up and down. “You remain put-together for someone who has gone through an event most would consider unsettling. Is it your PR training keeping you cool in the public eye?”

Vil folded his arms. "... If you're trying to be subtle with your worries, then you're doing a poor job of it, sensei.”

"And is there a problem with a teacher having concern for his student?”

“No, not at all.” A smirk flickered onto Vil’s lips. “Then shall we drop the pretenses? Though so bear in mind that I am under a strict NDA, so I can only divulge so many details.”

“Let’s,” Crewel agreed. “I presume you cannot share the bulk of your harrowing experience.”

Vil nodded. “But fortunately, I can tell about the worst of it… The atrocious lack of attention to self care!!”

“Our school uniforms were taken away and we were made to wear the same sterile grey uniforms every day. Threads as thin as hospital gowns, collared like misbehaved mongrels… Why, it was the worst injustice I faced in that facility.

“Not only that, but the air in the enclosure was stale and terribly drying.” Vil patted his cheek and shuddered at the memory. “It wreaked havoc on my skin.

“Worse still was that I was denied access to any skincare products and cosmetics! I was told that they were a safety hazard and to ‘rinse off with water and soap and go bare faced for a while, what are you aggro’ing about’!! Can you believe the GALL?! I was just about ready to let the staff have my wrath.”

Vil paused, taking a breath to calm himself. “… I was only saved thanks to a gaggle of nosy potatoes and a certain huntsman.”

“Speaking of, Hunt caused quite the stir at school when he vanished. Pomefiore was already suffering without its dorm leader and expected its vice dorm leader to step up fill that role in your stead… but with Hunt mysteriously gone, Pomefiore was without anyone in charge.”

“As I rightfully scolded him for.” Vil sighed deeply. "I was informed that Trein-sensei served as acting headmaster while the situation was unfolding. How did he address the issue of Pomefiore's missing leadership?"

"You're looking right at him," Crewel replied with a dry laugh. "I was called in to supervise the dormitory on top of my usual teaching duties. It seems the old man... excuse me, I mean my esteemed colleague, decided to put his faith in his favorite ex-troublemaker. Who was I to deny him?

"For the time Hunt and his rescue squad were away, I stayed at Pomefiore and kept watch over its students. What a mess—there are hardly time for my personal upkeep, nor a moment to steal away and seek the comfort of my beloved dogs... My clothes were horribly creased and my hair unkempt when the news first broke of your return.”

"What a harrowing tale of sacrifice. I apologize for the inconvenience my vice dorm leader imposed on you. He'll be getting another earful from me.”

“Hmph, no need. Though it was an inconvenience at the time, I am glad to see that you’ve come back to us safe snd sound. Perhaps it is not so bad for you pups to act selfishly every now and again.”

“Oh? Careful, Crewel-sensei. We may just take that as the green light to behave even more selfishly.”

“Then I will be there to keep you in line."

"Is that so? I'll be holding you accountable to that promise."

"And I'll be holding you accountable for your dorm's students," Crewel promised with the same ease as Vil.

There was a mutual understanding between them, the same spark set in their eyes. Teacher and student, fashionista and fashionista.

Together, they radiated an overwhelming aura.

#twisted wonderland #twst #Divus Crewel #twst interactions #twisted wonderland interactions #Vil Schoenheit #book 6 spoilers #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #It's Raining Crows and Dogs

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books-and-catears · 9 months

Text

9 days of Solomon: Humanity

TW: Angst, death and slight self harm mention, Hurt/Comfort

"The Human Exchange students who have stolen many Devildom hearts" - the title of the magazine on Solomon's table. He stared lovingly, at the front page where you both posed for a picture, smiling at each other, your arms linked.

Your humanity - that was the one thing that he had sole knowledge of. He walked over to the window, watching you bid goodbye to the brothers who had come to visit Coccytus Hall.

He watches your tense shoulders relax, letting out a sigh of relief, the moment they were out of sight. The smile plastered on your face faltered as you walked into the house.

No more pretense. Now that it was only you and him again. He waited for you in the living room, opening his arms for you. You crashed into him without hesitation, breathing deeply.

"That must have been tiring?" He whispered, stroking your hair.

"Very much." You mumbled.

"Lets have an early dinner and head to bed."

"Solomon...can I sleep with you tonight again?"

"You know my answer will always be yes, MC."

It was going to be one of those nights again. You trembling and sobbing quietly, squeezing his hand with both of yours - after you thought he had fallen asleep.

He remembered the first time you did this, the sinking feeling in his chest, the searing rage in tightened fists, the devastation of seeing his bright and adorable apprentice in such pain.

You were definitely drunk from the human world cocktails you had downed in the bar. Else you would have never opened up.

"Solomon, I wish I could give you my pacts. I don't want them...I don't want anything to do with them... you're so lucky you got to live with the angels...Why couldn't Diavolo send me to Purgatory hall with you...I would have been so happy...I'm so tired of pretending it doesn't hurt..."

You were not happy at HOL with the brothers. That was the first truth bomb of many.

"I cannot stop having nightmares... I'm just a little human stuck among thousand year old celestials and demons...why am I here...I'm just a normal human... I'm *hic*...I'm so small...so insignificant...I just wanted a normal life...why am I here...why...can't I go back to normal..."

Solomon swallowed the growing lump in his throat. The way you smiled so brightly through everything, he forgot what an immense burden this would be for a normal human, how overwhelming all of this must have been for you.

"Noone here actually wants me... they're being nice to me for her...for Lilith...she's been gone for so long...and yet she is so loved...she's so lucky to be so loved...I wish..I really wish I could have that too..."

I do, MC. I love you. I love you for just you. He wanted to hold you tight and keep telling this to you. But he couldn't say it, not until you had let everything out.

"You know when I was dying...all I wanted to say a few goodbyes...I wanted to hug some people I loved...wanted to make some apologies...wanted to say a few thank yous... especially to you...But he didn't let me...he didn't let me...he made it so long and painful...why couldn't he have atleast made it quick...I wouldn't have fought to live if he just told me..."

Guilt pounded at his aching heart. He should have been there. He should have saved you.

"I'm so tired of the lies...Solomon, promise me if you run out of kindness for me one day...if you no longer want me around...please just tell me...I won't mind at all...I will do away with myself peacefully...I will cut off the pacts off my skin and give them to you if you'd like... please don't hurt me like he did...please, I just need one person to hold... without feeling afraid...please be on my side..."

Tears gathered at the corners of Solomon's eyes. When was the last time something has brought him to tears like this? He squeezed the hand you had placed in his.

You cried into his chest again tonight, silently this time. He already knew everything after all. But this time he held you tight, cooing reassurance in your ear, pressing urgent kisses on your head.

"You mean the world to me, MC. I will never hurt you. I don't need anything else...I just want you to be okay. I only want to protect you."

Your sobs were gentle now, softer, as you nuzzled deeper into his loving embrace. "Thank you...Thank you, Solomon."

"I love you, MC." The last thing he whispers just as you fall asleep, barely catching it.

You already knew more about him than anyone else. Noone quite fussed over his health and well-being as much as you. His immortality never made him less human to you. And for that he was eternally grateful.

Though the most of the humanity he vowed to protect didn't accept him - if it included you, he would happily die trying to protect it.

#obey me #obey me solomon #obey me angst #9daysofsolomon #obey me solomon x reader #this is hyper self indulgent #legit just needed to comfort myself more than anything else

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og-danny-dorito · 9 months

Text

[ VOYEUR : GOJO X M!READER HEADCANONS & BLURB ]

[ A/N ] : came to me in a moment of clarity while i was scrolling through content for him on tiktok. this is my design (gay men kissing)

[ CW ] : MDNI 18+, AMAB!reader, he/him pronouns for reader, established relationship, pet names, degradation, all parties are consenting

its a SERIOUS ego boost unsurprisingly LMAO

no im being so ffr rn i cannot possibly explain to you how much he's into the whole being watched while undressing/getting off thing

gojo isn't stupid; he knows you like watching him from the way your eyes linger on him while he's getting ready for work in the morning to how he always finds your gaze straying to him when you're in public

and honestly? it's comforting to him, a way to add fuel flame of his nearly insatiable need to be wanted, to be desired

but he didn't know you'd like watching him like this

well, he had a hunch you would at least. he figured it out when he first caught you watching him while he was jacking off in the shower after a long day of work, having decided to let off some steam while he waited for you to get home

he could hear you come in, but didn't bother to stop considering he thought you'd get flustered like you normally do and just go about your business as you waited for him to get out

only he heard you stop at the door to listen to him, trying not to do something as simple as breathe so as not to disturb him. he can feel you watching steam surround the cloudy room as he cums, grunting out your name under his breath

it was almost fascinating to him how much you seemed to enjoy it, unable to hide a grin at the sound of you suddenly darting off once he turned off the water, making a move to get out so you wouldn't get "caught"

so he keeps doing it. taking off his clothes to change at an agonizingly slow pace, bending over and posing himself in compromising positions as if he's trying to rile you up on purpose (he is)

there's no way he couldn't have known, really; his six eyes makes it almost impossible to sneak up on him anyway and he's almost surprised that you didn't put those dots together earlier, but he doesn't mind keeping up this little game between you two at all

he likes having the power in his hands to tease you, some power quiet and unspoken in a way that holds much more weight for him than anything he could be doing deliberately

but he pretends like he doesn't for the sake of the game. he waits until you're home, putting on a show for his not-so-secret admirer

like bro's arching his back, moaning your name- he's going the whole mile dude. he's trying to get you as worked up as possible

and when the time finally comes and he can feel you getting close he stops suddenly, going "who's there?" like he doesn't know damn well it's you

as soon as he finds you he grins like he's won some sort of competition you didn't know you were participating in, calling you a perv and saying "If you wanted to watch me get off so badly, why didn't you ask?"

his favorite thing is to catch you and then make you sit down on the opposite side of the room while he continues getting himself off, scolding you and degrading you when you move to touch yourself- or him for that matter

his version of a punishment for your "bad behavior" is just to tease you to see how long you'll last before you're begging to suck him off or have him fuck you or just touch you, really, finally relenting after he too gets impatient

he'll smile and "begrudgingly" agree too it, meanly calling you a "desperate slut" the whole time and making an effort to push you to beg for release

he's almost always going to make you thank him for it once he's done, too, making you cum hands free or finishing in your mouth and getting a sick grin on his face when you whine "thank you" with sensitivity and desperation lacing your tone

in short, he absolutely LOVES it and will 100% encourage it LMAO

"What, watching me isn't enough this time?" His voice comes out mean and teasing, eyes filled with some sort of affectionate mirth that almost feels out of place with the position he's in. It's dark in the room, dimly lit save for your bedside lamp and the streetlights shining through blinds in the window. His vibrant white hair is tousled and unkempt as it usually is, but the slight sheen of sweat that coats his skin and makes some of the snowy white strands stick to his skin makes him almost look heavenly. You think for a moment that despite the insatiable need for release in your gut and the tight fist you have in a near tearing grip on the chair's arm, it might be heaven to be here. Gojo is propped up on the bed with his left arm held at a 90 degree angle so he can look across the room at you, his other one draped across his hip so the grip on his shaft is just loose enough that he can stroke up and down without having to move much else but his hand, the flushing pink tip leaking a lot more precum than you saw when he didn't know you were watching. Well, 'didn't know' is wrong, you've noticed, taking into account the fact that his smile is all to wide for him to not have been plotting this all along. He makes a show of stroking himself almost as he did before, rolling the palm of his hand over the tip during the upstroke and letting out a near pornographic moan at the feeling. You know he's just teasing from the way he jolts a little bit afterwards and giggles at your tense shifting, not daring to take your eyes away from him. Not now, not at that he knows he has your full attention. You'd rather just obey than tear your eyes away from him, and even though you shift to relieve some of the white-hot pressure in your groin it isn't enough to satiate the overwhelming need to just touch him. "No.", you strain out, and he smiles wider, his hand picking up it's pace a bit. "Then why don't you just ask for what you want this time instead of being a little perv about it, hm? Go on, ask." You bite down a retort at the comment but still narrow your eyes a bit, the flush on your cheeks darkening a bit once you realize he won't relent in this teasing until you've nearly humiliated yourself for him. It's almost enough to make you want to tell him to shut the fuck up, but it isn't enough to stop you from visibly gulping down your pride as you shift again, this time nearly ripping the couch with how tightly you're gripping it. "Please let me touch you, Gojo. Please.", you rasp out, adding on the extra plea to try and garner some sort of sympathy from him. And apparently it works enough for him to laugh again, spreading his legs a little wider as he releases his dick from it's hold and motions for you to come over. He cocks his head to the side as he sits up fully now, watching you with need as you nearly lunge at him like a hungry animal, letting you roam your hands over his body as he breathily chants "Good boy." into your neck.

[ THANKS FOR READING! REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED :] ]

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wh0refornikolailantsov · 1 year

Note

hiii! maybe one bed trope with Nikolai??? please!!

Don't mind if I do...

One Bed - Nikolai Lantsov

Content Warnings: Suggestive Content. Not Beta/Proof Read.

Nikolai Taglist: @hauntedenthusiasttragedy , @writingmysanity

You stare at Nikolai, arms crossed, an unimpressed look on your face and Nikolai tries not to smirk. "You didn't feel like mentioning this aspect of it all?" you ask, gesturing to the room. He shrugs.

"I said we would be having to pose as a husband and wife for this," he reminds you. "Mrs Sturmhond."

"So you did know this was going to happen," you state looking at the one bed in the room you've been given to share.

"I knew it was a possibility," he says, unable to keep the laughter from his voice.

"You are a scoundrel," you tease him, giving him a gentle shove.

"Come on," he gives you a smirk, and you want to do anything to keep him looking at you, "it could be worse."

"Could it now, pray tell," you joke.

"I could have sent Tolya to pretend with you," he offers, "he snores."

"Yes but at least Tolya is immune to my charm," you say.

"Oh is that what worries you love?" he asks. You give him the most convincing laugh you can.

"Not at all Captain," you say, "because you're sleeping on the floor."

"I am your Captain," he reminds you. "Besides if you cannot resist me just tell me as much and I will respect you conceding."

"You wish," you say, not meeting his eye. The look drops from that of a jokester to a more smug look, the longer you won't meet his eye.

"Oh, that really is the reason isn't it darling?" he asks.

"Stop talking," you tell him. "Or I will make you sleep on the floor."

You lay staring at the ceiling, trying desperately to think about anything else, literally any other thing than Nikolai beside you. You can feel the weight of his breathing, the heat of his skin radiating between you. You feel like you're going crazy.

"Love," he says, his voice heavy with sleep. "If you are getting this restless I can-,"

"It's fine," you say. "I just cannot get comfortable."

"Okay," he mumbles, rolling over and snaking an arm around your torso, pulling you closer to him, embracing you in the warmth and sleep. Your breath hitches and you feel yourself freezing up and he pulls his arm away instantly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to-,"

"No," you reassure him, "it's fine. It's nice... I just wasn't expecting it."

"May I?" he whispers against your ear, you give a small nod and he returns to holding you. You can feel his heart beating against your back, the gentle exhales of breath against your skin.

"Nikolai?" you whisper into the darkness.

"Yes?"

"You fidgeting," you tell him, feeling the gentle taps of his fingers against the skin above your hip, a soft repeated pattern, soothing in its own right, but right now, with him, you feel like it is setting your skin on fire.

"Am I?" he asks.

"If you keep doing that, I can't promise I'll behave," you say honestly. His hand doesn't still, but you feel him chuckle. You realise he thinks you're joking. "Kolya," you say, voice coming out more sultry than you meant it to, but it wakes him from his sleepy state with a jolt. You turn your head to meet his eyes, a look of seriousness in them.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asks, a grin threatening to break his poise.

"No," you admit, rolling over to face him, "but I wouldn't advice you continue."

"Why is that?" he asks, nudging closer.

"Because we are in someone else's bed," you remind him. He chuckles.

"Fair point."

The sunlight flits in and the bright orange strips of light catch the dust floating, bringing you back to your consciousness. Nikolai's arms are still wrapped tightly around you, and his hair is all dishevelled with small wisps betraying the natural direction of his hair. You cannot help but smile at how soft he looks, and you gently correct some of the stray tendrils. A quiet laugh breaks through Nikolai's tired smile. "You okay there love?" he asks, not opening his eyes.

"Why do you call me that?" you ask, and his hand finds yours, lacing his fingers between yours.

"Because I like the way you blush when I do," he admits. You know his smugness is half of his charm but right now you want to shove him.

"We need to get up, they will be expecting us," you remind him. He shrugs slightly.

"I mean they think we are newly weds, they'd probably expect us to be a little late," he teases, running his thumb gently under your chin.

"Get up," you tell him, slipping out of bed. He watches you, sitting up.

"Why would I want to get up when I could stay right here, with you giving me that look?" he asks, crossing his arms over the bedsheet.

"Because if you get up, and we get those over with, I might just let you finish what you started," you say. And you're sure you've never seen Nikolai move so quickly.

"What are you waiting for love?" he asks buttoning up his shirt. "I am sure they're expecting us."

#shadow and bone #grishaverse #nikolai lantsov fanfic #nikolai x reader #nikolai lanstov x reader #nikolai lantsov #nikolai x you #sturmhond x reader #sturmhond x you #sturmhond

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drewsbuzzcut · 9 months

Text

Pictures With Santa

mat barzal x model!fem!reader

a visceral in doses fic

warnings: minor angst and mentions pregnancy (during their breakup before they had Sloane) also this is lightly edited

Christmas 2025

“Do you think he’s going to cry?” Mat questions, nervously rocking an almost 5 month old Nolan. You’re both in a crowded mall, waiting in line to take pictures with Santa. Nolan may be a baby, but you and Mat still want to experience all the firsts.

“He’s asleep, Barzy,” you attempt to soothe him, running a hand over his hoodie clad back.

“Yeah, but you know he’ll wake up the second he realizes we aren’t holding him,” Mat stresses and he truly sounds worried.

“My baby, it’s going to be just fine. If it makes you feel better, you can hold him and we’ll just have to be in the picture,” you cup his cheeks, pressing your body against his to calm him down.

For a moment he seems to settle, his head leaning down to rest against your own, but as you’re about to give him a kiss he gets worked up again.

“What if the camera shutter scares him and he starts crying?”

“Then his first Santa photo will be a funny one,” you tease, earning a scowl from your boyfriend.

“If it’s really bugging you so much, we can leave,” you suggest, knowing that he won’t agree which is why you said it in the first place.

“No way. He’s my little strong man. We’ll get through this,” he states, leaning down to nose at Nolan’s soft cheek.

“We?” You ask, combing your fingers through his hair.

“Yes.” You kiss his little pout. You swear he and Nolan are twins, they pout the same way.

“We’re up, baby,” you say, pushing him ahead.

“Hi, merry Christmas,” Santa greeted you and your boys.

“Hi! Merry Christmas. Is it okay if we just sit next to you, so my boyfriend can hold our son? He’s still napping,” you ask and explain your reasoning.

“It’s no problem.”

You and Mat sit at each side of Santa, sitting on the arms of his large chair. Nolan nestled tightly in Mat’s arms as he tries to adjust him so the camera can get a good view of him. You both smile and wait until the first shutter of the camera. However, after the camera clicks, Nolan immediately wakes up. He’s not crying or cranky, so Mat decides to have him pose for a picture with just himself and Santa.

It’s the cutest picture you’ve ever seen. Nolan is staring up at Santa with wide eyes and his little gummy smile. They both matched as Nolan was dressed in a Santa suit onesie. He wasn’t scared and you were so glad. You bought so many copies, for around the house and to give to your family members.

Christmas 2028

“Sorry I’m late,” Mat says out of breath as he finally meets you in line.

You’re waiting to have the boys take pictures with Santa and Mat was running late with Nolan. You’re officially adding this to the list of things you wish you could avoid. By no means did you want to pretend to be some happy family while you and Mat are split up. You try to focus on the Christmas music playing from the speakers, and the bustling crowd as they’re all full of joy.

“It’s fine,” you mutter, rocking Angel in your arms. He’s a bit frazzled by all the noise in the crowded mall.

“You look pretty,” he compliments you and for once his words aren’t hesitant.

“Mathew, please,” you warn, turning away from him. You’re not necessarily mad at him anymore, but you just want to keep the distance between the two of you. Things are already so messy, you don’t want to complicate things further. Not to mention, if he gets any closer to you, you know he’ll figure out that you’re pregnant and you cannot have that happening right now.

“What? I can’t compliment my wife. It’s not like I’m lying, you look beautiful. You always do, but you’re glowing and I just wanted to tell you,” he explains, wrapping an arm around your stomach to pull your back to his chest.

You quickly pull away, eyes glaring at him.

“Let me remind you that we’re not actually together right now. Please don’t compliment me or touch me. I’m only here because of the boys,” you spit out, turning your head so he doesn’t see the tears lining your eyes.

He stays quiet in either embarrassment or sadness, you don’t bother looking into it.

When it’s finally your turn for pictures, you breathe a sigh of relief.

“So how are we going to pose?” Mat asks, this time hesitantly.

“We’re not posing. Just the boys are going to be in the pictures this year,” you say, trying not to look at Mat’s crestfallen face. It’s tradition for your family to take pictures with Santa all together.

“Why? We’ve never not taken pictures without us in them,” he says in a low tone, but you can tell he’s pissed.

“I’m not going into detail right now. Just get Nolan ready while I get Angel ready,” you say, making sure Angel’s outfit is straightened out.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Seriously, I’m trying really hard here and you’re just ruining everything,” Mat whispers in your ear, trying not to alarm anyone who is nearby.

You turn to him, this time the tears are visible in your eyes. You just stare at him in surprise. You weren’t expecting that from him. You quickly inhale a deep breath, handing Angel over to Santa as Mat does the same with Nolan.

“Okay, boys, smile!” The cameraman says. Nolan is smiling wide, but Angel bursts into tears just as the camera clicks.

“I’ll hold him while you take the picture,” Mat interjects as you’re about to step in to grab your crying baby.

You watch as Mat sits next to Santa, Angel- who’s calm now is sitting on his daddy’s lap with a little gummy smile as he’s getting tickled. Your boys look so handsome, dressed in their Christmas best with their little bow ties. You can’t help but let your eyes roam over Mat. He’s dressed in an all black button up, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his wedding band on display from where his hand rests on Angel’s stomach. His smile is as beautiful as it always is, and if you didn’t know him so well, you wouldn’t have realized that his eyes don’t match the feigned happiness.

The camera clicks again and you discreetly wipe away a tear. Mat is right, you’re ruining everything.

Mat seems to catch your silent breakdown and calls for you to join them. He knows you’re going through it and that his words didn’t particularly help the situation.

You quickly get to them, pick up Nolan and set him on your lap as you all pose together for the final picture. You try not to let the fact that your wedding ring is nowhere to be seen ruin your pictures.

After paying for all your copies, Mat carries both boys back to your car. It’s a silent walk but you expected as much.

You keep to yourself as Mat gets the boys settled in their car seats, talking with Nolan and listening to Angel’s little babbles. He kisses them many times before finally closing the car door and turning to you.

You bid a quick goodbye with an awkward wave, but he stops you from getting into the car. He slightly shoves the door back closed, giving you no choice but to face him.

“What am I doing wrong?” His voice is strained and you’re not sure how long you can stare at him without throwing yourself in his arms. You’re craving his affection.

“What are you talking about?” You stall.

“You know what I’m talking about. If this is still about the fight we had, we can work through it. I truly didn’t mean to offend you and I wish you’d let me help us fix things. I can’t go on like this. You flipped out when I touched you back there and you’ve never done that before and it killed me. Please just let me touch you. Please let me fix us,” he pleads, pulling you into his arms.

For a split second, you start to cave, but then you remember that you’re pregnant. He still doesn’t know and you really don’t want him to figure it out on his own. You know that if he’s close to you for longer than he has been the past couple of months, he’d realize the changes in your body. He just knows you that well. You need to get away from him. There’s a time and place for you to have that talk, and right here, right now isn’t it.

“I’m sorry, Mathew. I need to get home. Please get home safe,” you pull away, pushing a hand into his chest and quickly getting into your car and pulling out of the parking lot.

Mat takes a few moments in the driver’s seat of his car, trying to collect his thoughts. He’s pissed with you for pushing him away and refusing to fix things, and he’s pissed with himself for saying things without thinking about what he’s saying or how he’s saying it. He just wants to hold you. He misses your warmth and the feel of your skin on his. Don’t even get him started with how beautiful you looked. You’re always beautiful to him, of course, but today your skin was glowing and your boobs were peeking out from your top and he just misses you so bad. You actually looked like you usually do when you’re pregnant, and it makes Mat reminisce on simpler times.

Christmas 2029

“Look at my pretty princess,” your husband coos, lifting Sloane in his arms. She scrunches her legs up and you hear Mat gush over her cuteness.

“The pretty princess needs to eat,” you interrupt their moment, bringing Sloane into your arms, pulling down the shoulder of your top and letting her attach to your nipple.

“Look at my sexy wife. I love you,” Mat whispers in your ear, kissing the side of your neck.

“I love you, so much,” you lean up, puckering your lips for a kiss. He quickly obliges.

“Kith!” Angel comes toddling in, arms up so someone can pick him up.

“Yes, kisses for you, too, bub,” Mat gives him a kiss then leans him towards you so you can give him a kiss.

“Ready to see Santa?”

“Anta? No!” AJ giggles, hiding his face in Mat’s neck.

“Oh boy,” you sigh, hoping he doesn’t throw a tantrum.

“I’m going to get them buckled in. You two meet me at the car,” he gives you one last kiss and dashes out the room.

“I don’t remember this being so difficult,” Mat says in line for pictures. You got there thirty minutes ago, but it was packed to the brim. Adding a third kid to the mix makes things that much more complicated. Yes, it’d be easier to hire someone to take these pictures in your home, but you want to keep up the tradition.

“Good thing Sloane is still asleep. If she gets woken up from her nap, she will go ballistic,” you respond.

“Mommy, I don’t want to see Santa,” Nolan says, pouting at you and Mat.

He is still iffy about Santa being that he had a “dream” of you kissing the man in red.

“Honey, I promise it was just a dream. You don’t have to worry,” you assure him.

“Yeah, Nolie bear. Mommy only gives me kisses,” Mat adds.

“And me and Lo and AJ,” Nolan corrects him.

“Yes, baby. Only you guys,” you say and he continues to pout. You try to ignore it, because you don’t want him to start acting bratty about it.

When your photo session rolls around, Nolan is first to get settled. He’s right next to Santa. You and Mat place Sloane and Angel on Santa’s lap. You fix each of your babies’ outfits, making sure their hair isn’t going crazy and that their spirits are bright by tickling their tummies. You make your way to Mat, fixing a strand of his hair and adjusting the collar of his button up. You give him a chaste kiss and quickly sit down and pose next to your husband and on the opposite side of where Nolan is sitting.

The first photo would’ve been perfect, but Nolan is caught glaring at the poor man.

The next one is nice, though, because Nolan finally looks at the camera. However, it’s when you and Mat walk away for the kids to take a photo without you both that things get crazy.

Sloane realizes she isn’t in your or her daddy’s arms, so she starts wailing. Her wails eventually set off Angel, so you now have a picture of two crying babies squirming on Santa’s lap while Nolan is giving him the side eye.

“You kissed my mommy!” Nolan jumps down from where he was seated, arms crossed over his chest.

You gasp in surprise, a hand over your mouth to stop your laugh. Santa looks up at you and Mat, clearly not knowing how to respond.

“No anta! No anta! Mama,” Angel calls out for you, but you and your husband are already picking them up in your arms.

“I am so sorry. They’re a bit wild today,” Mat says to the man as he tries to calm Sloane down by rocking her in his arms.

“Not my first rodeo, so it’s totally fine,” the man says.

Your family moves to the line to pay and pick up your photos, still trying to soothe your children.

“Are you okay, my love?” You look down at Nolan while he grasps your hand tightly.

“I’m sorry. I got angry for a little,” Nolan whispers, eyes downcast.

“I love you, little man,” Mat jumps in when you fail to find the right words. You didn’t feel the need to berate him, but you also just didn’t know what to say.

“I love you, daddy. I love you, mommy.”

“I love you, Nolie bear,” you lean down and press a kiss to his puckered lips.

“Lo and AJ didn’t like Santa either,” Nolan points out.

You and Mat let out a laugh, low enough to not disturb the new found peace of your two little ones.

“No they didn’t, baby,” you giggle.

“These are going to be the best Santa pictures yet,” Mat whispers in your ear, pulling your body into his chest.

“Oh yeah. Angry babies and Santa Claus are a perfect combination. We oughta make them into Christmas cards and send them to everyone,” you joke, smiling wide at the sound of your husband’s laughter. You feel an overwhelming sense of happiness basking in his warmth and his overall presence. A year ago things were rocky, and you weren’t sure how life was going to turn out. You’re just glad that everything is exactly the way it’s supposed to be. You and Mat together with your three babies, just as in love as you two were during your first pictures with Santa.

a/n: Enjoy!!!!

#mat barzal #mat barzal fanfiction #mat barzal fic #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal fluff #mat barzal angst #mat barzal blurb #mat barzal smut #nhl imagine #nhl fic #new york islanders #visceral in doses

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mint-yooxgi · 1 year

Text

{5} - Paradise Gardens - Yandere!Demonic Entities!Ateez X Reader

Yandere AU & Demon AU - Book Two to Hotel California

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Fluff, Slight Humour, Smut (let's go for a ride)

Pairing: Ateez X Reader (Focus on Jongho)

Words: 13,630

Warnings: Smut: scenting, slight hair pulling (male rec.), fingering (fem. rec.), biting, blood play and bloodletting, edging, thigh riding, marking (male rec.), minor breast play, squirting, dirty talk (lots of it), possessive talk (both ways), switch tendencies, very, very minor primal play to start, implied cockwarming at the end. Some references to Beauty and the Beast at the beginning. I think that's it, but let me know if I missed anything! This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: I really hope you all enjoy this chapter!! I honestly had a lot of fun writing it, cause it starts off really cute and then escalates quite quickly. Finally, Baby Bear gets his time to shine!! I literally cannot wait for the upcoming chapters, cause this is sort of the catalyst to them hehehe anyways, as always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~

Also, gentle reminder that I don’t do tag lists.

Mini Masterlist - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four

“So, you’ve always wanted to hug a bear?”

It’s about mid-afternoon the following day when Jongho poses the question, somewhat casually. He continuously spares glances at you from over his book, but you’ve noticed that he hasn’t turned the page in quite some time. He’s really not as subtle as he thinks.

“Where’s this coming from all of a sudden?” You chuckle, eyes darting up to meet his own as your finger caresses the side of your own novel.

The two of you are currently sitting in the library. You rest on one end of the couch, legs stretched out before you as your feet rest on his thighs. Jongho has long since angled himself towards you, one hand gently resting over your ankles as you keep them crossed over him for the moment.

“Just a mild curiosity, is all.” He hums, attempting to shift his focus back onto the page in front of him.

“Nothing to do with the little comment I made towards you after the fact?” You quirk a brow teasingly.

Red begins to creep up his neck as he suddenly finds the novel before him extremely fascinating. “Just curious, is all.”

You simply hum in response, turning to the next page.

“You know,” he continues. “You’ve never really asked us to shift for you before.”

“I’m aware.” Your voice is light, a teasing lilt still found in your tone.

“If you want something, you need only tell us.” He says, staring intently at his book. “You know we’d- I’d be more than happy to oblige.”

“Jongho,” his name is but an affectionate chuckle from your lips, “If you’d like for me to ask you to shift into a bear so I can cuddle you, all you need to do is tell me.”

“I just don’t understand,” he closes his book softly, resting it on the arm of the couch beside him. “If this is something you’ve always wanted to do, why wouldn’t you have told us sooner?”

You remain quiet, pursing your lips slightly. Then, you’re taking a somewhat deep breath in.

“I just never want it to seem that that’s all I want from you.” You say, voice low as your thumb traces over the cover of your novel. “As much as I love your powers, I never want any of you to think that that’s all I care about. You’re more than that, and I never want to be selfish.”

“Darling, you do realize that that’s not selfish at all, right?” He shifts forward, hand sliding up your leg to rest over your shin now. “Especially not when we offer. Not when we want you to ask. I know for a fact that seeing that wondrous expression light up your eyes makes us all happy beyond content. The fact that we are the ones causing such joy to appear on your features means the world to us. We just want to take care of you, and if we can impress you while doing so, we’ll do it in a heartbeat.”

You lift your eyes to meet his gaze.

“We only want to make you happy,” he continues, nothing but sincerity shining on his features. “To make all of your dreams come true. All you have to do is ask.”

“Alright.” Retracting your legs from his lap, you sit forward on the couch. “I’ll do my best to be more honest and open about my desires going forward, then.”

“Please do, Darling.” He smiles, reaching over to place a hand onto your thigh. “I know I’m not the only one always dying to know what you’re thinking about. Especially when it concerns us.”

The corner of your lips quirk upwards. “The feeling is very much mutual, Baby Bear.”

Jongho’s eyebrows raise amusedly, his lips parting as red returns to his neck. “Baby Bear?”

“Yeah,” you grin, eyes crinkling at the sides as you shift closer to him. “To be honest, I’ve always wanted to call you that. Ursaring is another.”

“Oh?” A certain smugness dances within his gaze as he meets your own. “Why Baby Bear, though?”

“You remind me of one.” You reply simply, resting your head gently on his shoulder.

“A bear cub?” His brow furrows slightly, loving the way your fingers intertwine with his own in the next second.

“Just a bear in general.” You say, brushing your thumb along the skin on the back of his hand. “Big, strong, fiercely protective, and loyal. Not to mention intelligent.”

A pleased rumble escapes him at your words.

“If I’m being honest, I’ve always pictured it being you whenever I fantasized about hugging a bear.” You admit, and you feel him pull you closer into his side. “Which is another reason for the nickname. That, and you’re My Baby. My Baby Bear.”

A low, content growl reaches your ears.

Jongho swears his heart is about to leap out of his chest, only emphasized by the pleasant hum you give him in response. The way you’re currently looking at him, eyes hooded as a loving smile pulls at your lips means the world to him.

“You can call me whatever you damn well please if it means you looking at me like this at all times.” His voice rumbles out, nothing but a low drawl as he leans into your neck. Gently, his nose brushes against your skin, nuzzling you softly. “I absolutely adore it when you do.”

“Oh?” This time, it’s your turn to quirk a brow. “And just how do I look at you when I’m like this?”

Jongho takes a moment to answer, pulling away to stare deeply into your eyes.

“Like I’m one of the most attractive males you’ve ever seen in your life.” He breathes, another pleased growl reverberating from inside of his chest. “As if you want to devour me whole. Like I’m yours.”

“You are, Baby Bear.” You smile, bringing a hand up to cup the side of his face tenderly. “Not only are you one of the eight most attractive men I have ever seen in my life, but I count myself lucky every day that I get to call you mine.”

Jongho’s heart positively flutters within his chest, his breath hitching as your words wash over him. Always, he has dreamed about hearing those words fall from your lips, and now that they have, he is flooded with an immeasurable sense of happiness. Nothing but love is in his gaze as he looks at you, leaning into your touch shamelessly as he brings a hand up to place over your own.

“Not a day passes by where I am not grateful to have you in my life, My Darling.” He breathes, voice low as his eyes fall shut. “You have truly consumed me in the best of ways. My soul has come alight again, and it is all because of you.”

“Jongho,” your expression softens, heart swelling inside your chest at his admission.

“I may not be the best at expressing myself through spoken words like some of my brothers, but for you, I will never hesitate to try.” His eyes blink open, and the sincerity you can see shining there takes your breath away. “Which is why when I learn that there are things that I can do for you, that you want, I will jump at every opportunity to do them. I only want to make you happy, Darling. Please, won’t you let me?”

“I don’t need fancy words, Jongho.” You tell him earnestly. “I value your presence. You don’t need to say anything. I find comfort in just being with you.”

Again, his breath hitches. A moment later, and he’s leaning forward to rest his forehead against your own.

“Then, will you let me do this for you?” He holds you close, voice but a mere whisper.

“Only if you let me ask, first.” You tease lightly, a grin pulling at the corner of your lips.

“Please do.” He breathes out.

Leaning the slightest bit away from him, you stare deeply into his eyes.

“Jongho,” you begin, a gentle smile now gracing your features, “Will you let me hug you as a bear?”

His eyes shine with an unfiltered glee as he squeezes your hand still resting over his cheek. “I would love nothing more.”

Parting from you, Jongho stands from the couch. He can feel your eyes on him as he steps off to the side, ensuring that there’s enough space for what he’s about to do. Slowly, his smile begins to morph into a smug grin, brushing tenderly against your mind with his own.

A blink, and a great, brown grizzly bear is standing right before your very eyes. You can hardly keep the wonder off of your face as you spring up from the couch, rushing over to him as your lips part.

“That’s incredible!” Your hands find purchase on his side, feeling the intricate softness of his fur beneath your touch.

A pleased chuckle escapes him, and you watch as he turns his head to nuzzle his snout against you. The movement practically sends you toppling into his shoulder, your arms falling against his side to support you as he snorts out another laugh.

“Don’t laugh! You did that on purpose!” You playfully scold him, hearing him huff out another amused puff of air in response.

Again, you feel him brush up against your mind. So, you let him in.

The moment your void opens to allow him access to your thoughts, an overwhelming sense of awe, wonder, and love floods him. All are emotions you direct at him. Whether subconsciously or knowingly, he’s not sure. What he does know, is that he cannot prevent the pleased hum that escapes him, reverberating against you as you continue to lean into his side.

The way you begin to nuzzle into his fur has his eyes crinkling in joy.

“You’re so soft, Jongho,” you hum, eyes fluttering shut in bliss. “Thank you for letting me do this.”

Anytime, Darling. He coos affectionately, shifting slightly in his spot. I love being able to make you happy.

His arm closest to you gently tugs you forward as he sits up on his hind legs. Ever so carefully, Jongho draws you into him, allowing your body to melt into his embrace. His touch is soft, and you can feel the weight of his front paws holding you in place as you lean into him. The fact that you bury your face into his chest has him shaking lightly in laughter, humming contently in the next moment.

Embrace me anytime you desire, My Darling. His voice echoes throughout your mind. I can never get enough of your touch.

The way his snout buries itself into the side of your neck says it all. Even the way he inhales deeply, whole body shuddering as he scents you in his arms is apparent.

My Jongho, you hum contently, relaxing fully into this moment with him as he surrounds you: mind, body, and soul. I love you. A moment’s pause. I am in love with you.

The growl that escapes his throat is low, bordering on a pleased whine as you feel him shudder within your grasp. A second later, and he’s rolled onto his back, pulling you up with him so that you’re now resting on his chest.

With all that I am, I am unquestionably, irrevocably, and earnestly in love with you forevermore, My Darling. His one paw settles gently on the skin of your back. Nothing will ever change that fact.

Your heart positively flutters in your chest. A fact of which you know he hears, for you can feel the pleased rumble shake his chest beneath you. You smile.

“You’re comfy.” You hum, settling deeper on top of him as you hug him tighter. “I might just prefer this position over Snorlax.”

I will gladly stay like this for as long as you desire, My Queen. Jongho says, eyes closing in bliss as he revels in this euphoric feeling with you.

You nuzzle your cheek against him affectionately. My King.

Another pleased growl echoes around the library, and you find yourself chuckling at the irony of it all.

You’ve really made this into a fairytale for me, huh? Your tone is lighthearted as you close your eyes.

How so, Darling? He inquires, his chest rising and falling steadily with every breath he takes.

Think about it, Baby Bear. You reply, an amused twitch of your lips upwards. We’re in the library, a place that means a lot to the both of us. I’m literally laying on top of a bear I love right now who is making my dreams come true. All I’m missing is some talking chinaware and a yellow dress.

Are you suggesting our love is a tale as old as time? Jongho chuckles, affection dancing in his gaze.

It will be.

The simple statement from you has tears of joy springing to his eyes.

Not a day passes by where I don’t count myself lucky you ever fell for a beast like me. His voice is somewhat strained, and you feel him swallow thickly.

You are no beast to me, Jongho. You say, nothing but honesty dripping from your words. That being said, I would gladly love a beast any day over someone unworthy of my affection. Besides, maybe I prefer beasts.

Your admission leaves him slightly stunned, his grip tightening a minuscule amount over your back.

Do you, now? His response is nothing short of amused, and you swear he quirks a brow at you.

Maybe I was referring to you being beauty. You are rather handsome, Jongho. You admit, a slight warmth rising to your cheeks as you avert your gaze. His grip tightens ever so softly. Though, I thought it would be obvious by now, given the amount of jokes and hints I’ve given about it.

What would be obvious? He tilts his head slightly in inquiry.

Darling, I’m not shy about being a monster fucker. You chuckle, noticing the way his whole body freezes momentarily beneath your own.

Don’t let Wooyoung hear you say that. Jongho huffs out an amused breath. He’ll never let you live that one down.

If the self-proclaimed master of seduction doesn’t know that by now, then that’s on him. You snort.

Then, if what I’m incurring is correct, he begins. You’d be okay with us using our powers in the bedroom? In that context?

You smile. I’d be more than okay with it, Baby Bear. Only if you are, of course. Consent goes both ways.

Again, maybe wait to let Wooyoung know. He chuckles, a puff of air escaping his nose. He’d jump at any and every opportunity to keep you locked in his room with him for days.

You say that like it’s a bad thing. A chuckle escapes you.

With him? Jongho snorts out a laugh. Always.

Anyways, back to my original point: it’s as I’ve said before, you lift your head, meeting his gaze. You are everything I could have ever asked for.

Another pleased growl escapes him, and you notice how he wiggles his feet below you happily in response. Even his ears twitch, along with his nose.

I wouldn’t trade you for the world, Darling. He grins, loving how you shift the slightest bit upwards so you can position yourself to properly meet his gaze.

I wouldn’t trade you for anything, either. Gently, you lean down to kiss the tip of his snout. Now, want to go make your brothers jealous?

Fuck, I love you. A pleased growl escapes him as he feels you slide off of him. What are you thinking, Darling?

Let me go for a ride? The wink you send him is most certainly not innocent, especially not with the sultry way your lips pull upwards in the corners.

With pleasure. The snarl that escapes him is nothing short of feral as he graciously kneels for you to climb on top of his back.

A minute later, and you’re settled comfortable atop of Jongho, your legs resting on either side of him. Your hands grip lightly at his fur as he paces around the library so you can get used to the feeling of him moving before he takes off through the house.

Let me know when you’re ready, Darling. He says, shaking out his head as he attempts to control his breathing for the moment.

This is everything he could have asked for, and so much more. The fact that you were the one to even suggest it makes him happy beyond belief. Nothing is better than the feeling of rubbing such an intimate moment in his brother’s faces like this. Besides, it’s all just a bit of fun, and he knows that in the long run, his brothers will appreciate how joyous this occasion makes you. Hearing your laughter is a blessing none of them knew they could ever be granted. Knowing that they are the cause of it means everything to them.

Ready! You giggle, and fuck if it isn’t just music to Jongho’s ears.

Straightening to his full height, Jongho proudly steps towards the large double doors of the library with you sitting tall upon his back.

“Onward, my valiant steed!” You call, wiggling excitedly in your spot atop his back.

A loud roar escapes Jongho in response, practically shaking the entire house as he bounds forward. The doors of the library burst open, and you cannot contain the rambunctious laughter that escapes you, along with excited squeals, as Jongho races down the hallway.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you vaguely make out Seonghwa popping his head out of his tailor shop as you run by.

“Hi, Mars!”

One second you’re in front of him.

“Bye, Mars!”

The next, you are not.

Your laughter continues to echo throughout the house, drawing the attention of all the males in the vicinity. The way you so effortlessly ride atop Jongho’s back has smiles pulling at most of their faces.

Yunho watches on, amusement dancing in his eyes as you excitedly shout ‘nyoom’ from across the foyer. The word escapes you repeatedly along with exclamations of enjoyment, such as high pitched laughter mixed with short snippets of you saying ‘wee!’.

There’s a look of disbelief painting Yeosang’s face, but the sound of your laughter draws him in. Before he knows it, his own shoulders are shaking along with you, especially when Kuroo begins chasing after Jongho excitedly. Small chirps of affection escape that little black ball of fur, quipping about how he’s going to catch Jongho for attempting to kidnap the Queen.

Wooyoung wears the biggest pout on his features as he crosses his arms over his chest. “No fair.”

Vaguely, you hear him muttering complaints to San and Mingi the whole time. Two males of whom that don’t appear as if they’re fairing any better for the moment.

Hongjoong, on the other hand, looks quite exasperated.

“Not inside the house!” His eyes are wide, hands stretched out in front of him in worry as Jongho slows down to a walk.

“Aw, come on, Joongie,” you pout dramatically. “It’s just a bit of fun.”

The loud, defeated sigh you hear him heave has your features lighting up instantly. A second later, and Jongho is back to running through the house, your boisterous laughter filling the rooms.

I’m glad you’re having fun, Darling. Jongho hums happily, bounding out into the courtyard and leaping over the length of the pool like it’s nothing.

Woah, your voice is full of awe as he circles back around inside of the house. This is incredible! You’re incredible!

Your praise means more to me than you’ll ever know. His whole body rumbles with his hum of contentment, ears twitching eagerly.

Slowly, Jongho lessens his pace, strutting towards his room with a certain gait of satisfaction. His chest heaves, a large grin pulling at his features as he enters his bedroom for the time being. The way you practically collapse on top of him, clinging to him so eagerly as a giddy laugh escapes your lips has him humming affectionately.

He shakes out his head.

Thank you, Jongho. A content sigh escapes you as you practically melt into his back, squeezing him tightly. This has been everything I could have ever asked for.

I’m glad. He hums, nothing but tender love and affection dripping from his gaze as he feels you slide off of him. Anytime you wish to experience something, do not hesitate to let us know. I am always ready and willing to provide for you whatever you may need.

I’ll keep that in mind. You come to stand before him, gripping his snout gently in your hands as you place another kiss onto his nose. There is one more thing I’d like to do before you shift back.

His eyes gleam. Anything, My Darling.

A devious grin is all he receives as he watches your hands reach upwards on his head. Not even a second later, he feels you tenderly rubbing his ears with your thumbs, massaging them gently.

Jongho practically purrs in response, the content hum escaping him involuntarily as his eyes flutter shut. The fact that he can hear you giggle in earnest once more sets his heart racing in his chest. His entire body heats as you continue to pet him so affectionately, your touch sending little jolts of electricity throughout.

One minute, your fingers are playing with his ears. The next, you’re shifting your hands to tenderly caress his face, giving him some affectionate chin rubs while you’re at it.

The whole time, Jongho continues to let out pleased hums, bordering on low growls. His breathing deepens, eyes remaining closed as he pushes himself eagerly into your embrace, nearly knocking you over in the process.

Darling, please, his voice is somewhat strained, and you swear he shivers beneath your very grasp. Don’t stop.

You giggle softly. I didn’t realize you’d enjoy this so much.

I could never tire of your touch. He admits, eyes blinking open to stare into your own earnestly. Everything only serves to become heightened when I’m like this. Sensation, touch, his eyes flash, scent.

I thought all of that was already heightened? Your breath hitches slightly in your throat, his heated stare freezing you to your spot as your hands still over him.

Now, even more so. His voice is a mere rumble, echoing alongside the low growl he lets out.

You cannot deny the way your heart skips a beat, especially as he begins to slowly back you towards the bed. His steps are precise, stalking towards you as his sheer size consumes your senses. Truly, he radiates the aura of the predator he is right now, but you aren’t scared. No. Instead, your veins flood with something else. Something far more pleasant, of which he immediately picks up on.

You smell delectable, Darling. His eyes darken, and his tongue darts out to wet his maw.

The glimpse you get of his teeth sets your heart stuttering excitedly inside of your chest.

You swear his brow quirks. I didn’t know you’d be in to this sort of thing.

You blink, somewhat caught off guard.

From the looks of things, neither did you. His whole chest shakes as he chuckles.

I think- Feeling your legs hit the edge of his mattress, you swallow the sudden dryness in your throat. I think it’s because it’s you that this is affecting me so.

A low, pleased growl reaches your ears. Is that so?

You can only nod in response, his dark eyes flashing as he stops himself right in front of you. His snout just about grazes your chest, your every breath closing that subtle gap between the both of you as he stares you down.

My Darling, he practically hums. There is something I would like to request of you now.

Anything. The exhale you give is breathless, and you swear he quirks a brow at you in response.

Nudging you gently with his snout, he pushes you back onto the bed. Each step you watch him take closer is meticulous until his chin rests right above your stomach. The way he can see your chest rising and falling with each inhale you take causes excitement to flood his very soul. He can just sense how this is affecting you, and he nearly has to stop himself from snarling pleasantly at the revelation.

Spread your legs for me. Slowly, meticulously, he pulls his head back. His maw parts the slightest bit, tongue practically lolling to the side as his gaze stares, transfixed, at the apex of your thighs. I wish to scent you.

The way your breath hitches, heart momentarily skipping a beat in your chest does not go unnoticed by him. You can feel that familiar rush of warmth heating your skin, sending a jolt of electricity all the way to your core. From the way he swallows thickly, you can tell that he knows it, too.

Jongho is a patient man, but never has he been testing like this before. Of course, your comfort and personal boundaries are his number one priority. Which is exactly why he is resisting every urge right now to push his way between your legs, bury his snout between your thighs, and breath in your scent like he longs to do. The sweet aroma of your building arousal calls to him like a siren’s song, and the longer he has you in his room, on his bed, the harder he finds it to continue to control himself.

One word. One movement of discomfort from you, and he’ll back off.

Always, he awaits your approval.

The silence that settles over the both of you stretches on, and even with your mind open to him, Jongho does his best not to intrude. From the way you’re looking at him, eyes wide and blinking owlishly, he fears he might have just gone too far.

Again, you swallow thickly, hearing your heart pounding in your ears. Then, slowly, you begin to part your legs.

The whole time, you maintain eye contact with him, and you watch as his breathing deepens. That all too familiar darkness swirls within, guttural growls escaping him with every exhale. A sound of which that has your whole body shuddering in anticipation.

My Darling, the call of your name is the deepest you’ve ever heard from him, even within your mind. The second you want me to stop, the moment you want space, he’s hardly keeping himself together, but he does. For you. You let me know right away.

I will. The corner of your lips twitches upwards. Now, scent me, My King.

You’ve barely finished thinking the words when his head is shoving between your thighs, snout pressed right up against your clothed sex. You can feel his pleased growls reverberating against your skin, his warm breath fanning over your cunt even through the layers of fabric you wear.

The tearing of cloth is synonymous with the deep growl he lets out, pushing himself deeper into your cunt as he inhales your scent eagerly. You can practically feel the heaviness of his tongue resting against your inner thigh as you spare a glance down at him.

Never before have you seen Jongho’s eyes as dark as they are now. He looks about ready to devour you whole, and you know that he would. All you would have to do is let him.

The shredded material of his duvet catches your gaze, but the way he nudges his nose against you draws your attention back to his own. Despite the darkness shining within, there seems to be a hint of desperation coming through, especially when his whole body begins to shake.

Please, My Queen, his voice is strained, and you can feel him shifting between your thighs. It’s not enough. The barrier- he pants shamelessly, growls bordering on feral snarls as his claws shred through the bottom half of his duvet continuously. I need more.

Your stomach clenches pleasantly at his admission, and from the way he growls, you can tell that he’s noticed, too.

What is it, Baby Bear? Despite your heaving chest, you manage to lift your head to observe his every move carefully. The way you see his eyes flash once more has a smirk pulling at your features. What is it that you need?

Don’t tease me, Darling. There’s a warning hint to his tone, pulling his head back the slightest bit in order to shake his fur out. I’m already seconds away from losing control.

This time, you feel yourself clench around nothing. The way his eyes immediately lock onto the apex of your thighs lets you know just how in tuned to you he is.

What if I want you to lose control? Your hands fist the sheets at your sides, clinging on for dear life as you hear him finally release that snarl he’s been holding back this whole time.

Those are dangerous words, Darling. His breathing is ragged, and you can just tell that his claws have sunk into his sheets, grounding him as he attempts to leash his building lust for you in this moment. I would never forgive myself if I hurt you, or I overstepped any of your boundaries in favour of my own.

Your heart warms, and you find yourself sitting up in bed in order to grasp his head in your hands. Tenderly, you meet his gaze.

You have my consent to touch me, Jongho. You meet his gaze, staring deeply into his eyes. I want you to love me like you’ve always desired.

You swear he’s stopped breathing; his lips part as his whole body freezes. A moment later, and the deepest of snarls escapes him, a feral glint shining within his gaze as he looks at you.

Then, tell me, My Queen, he visibly begins trembling before your very gaze, shifting back into his human form as he kneels before you on the ground. “What is it that you desire?”

You cup his face tenderly in your hands, thumbs stroking lightly against his cheeks. “You.”

In the blink of an eye, he has you pinned to the bed, his form hovering over you. His hands rest on either side of your head, body pressing right up against your own. You can feel the pleased snarl that rumbles in his chest, his eyes searching yours briefly, as if to make sure that this is what you truly want.

Always, your comfort comes first.

“Jongho,” the sigh of his name is but a breathless whisper on your lips as your eyes hood over. “Kiss me.”

The way his left hand comes up to tenderly cup your face as he brings his lips to your own has you melting into his touch. His kiss is firm, pouring all that he is into each movement against you as he holds you to him. The way your legs part to allow himself to slot his hips against your own has him humming pleasantly against you.

Breaking from the kiss, he trails his lips down to nip at your jaw before sensually laving his tongue against your neck.

“You don’t know,” he pants, trailing his lips over your pulse, “how long,” he places, wet, open mouthed kisses along your skin, “I’ve dreamt of this.”

A breathless gasp escapes you as he bites down on the side of your neck, arching into him in response.

You pull him closer.

“I promise I’ll make you feel so good, Darling.” His voice is low, right by your ear. “I’ll take such good care of you tonight. The only thing you’ll be able to think about is the pleasure I’m giving you.”

“I want to please you, too.” You manage to speak, threading your fingers through his hair and pulling his head back so you can stare tenderly into his eyes.

“You will soon come to realize, My Queen, that pleasing you will always please me.” He replies, nothing but the deepest sincerity shining within his gaze. “This is true for all of us.”

Your lips part, heart stuttering inside of your chest as his words wash over you.

“Then, you will have to realize that the feeling is shared.” You bring a hand up to cup his cheek, loving how he immediately leans into your touch. “I thought I told you that if it’s not mutual, I don’t want it.”

A soft, affectionate chuckle falls from his lips. “You drive a hard bargain, My Darling.”

“Someone I cherish dearly told me I should be more open about my own desires,” you smile, nothing but love dripping from your eyes. “I am simply granting his wish.”

A pleased growl escapes him as his lips find purchase on your own once more. Greedily, he swallows all of your sounds, his one hand still cupping your face tenderly as his other sneaks beneath the material of your shirt. Only, you can feel him frown slightly as he feels a different type of fabric grace his fingertips instead of your bare skin.

Pulling away from you, Jongho meets your gaze. At the way you playfully quirk a brow, he’s quick to tear off your shirt.

A low groan escapes him, pleased pants falling from his parted lips as he takes in the sight before him.

There you lay beneath him, on his bed, looking like you were made just for him. Intricate lace covers your body, disappearing beneath the waistband of your leggings and sending his mind reeling. It’s in his favourite colour, too. Maroon.

Jongho’s chest rises and falls dramatically, his hands gripping your waist as he looks about ready to devour you whole.

“Did you-“ he can hardly form a coherent thought, the only prominent one being to absolutely ravish you this very instant, “did you wear this for me?”

Slowly, his fingertips trail downwards, hooking beneath the waistband of your leggings.

“Something told me that it would get appreciated if I wore it today.” You hum, a fond, knowing look in your gaze. “Go ahead, Jongho. I’m all yours.”

He growls shamelessly, “Mine.”

The sound of tearing fabric reaches your ears once more as he throws the remaining scraps of your leggings somewhere in his room. The way his eyes instantly flash black as soon as he takes in your form wearing that maroon singlet you bought all those months ago has excitement flooding your veins.

Jongho’s head spins. His hands are shaking and he can feel his cock throb beneath his slacks as he takes in the glorious sight of you spread out before him. The fact that you’re in his room, on his bed, wearing something for him has a warmth unlike anything he’s ever felt before in his life flooding his veins.

“My Darling,” his eyes trail everywhere over your figure, committing this sight to memory for decades to come. “You are so unbelievable beautiful in every way.”

A bashful smile pulls at your lips, averting your gaze to the side due to the very heat you feel emanating from his stare. The way he licks his lips only adds to the sensation, anticipation clawing eagerly at your chest.

“Jongho,” your hands slide beneath the shirt he wears and up his chest. Not even a second later, he’s torn the material off of his body, skin on full display as you drink in the sight of his bare torso. Your breathing deepens, gaze darkening as you shamelessly roam your eyes over his figure. “Fuck-“

Wrapping your one leg around his waist, you manage to surprise him. In the blink of an eye, you’ve flipped your positions, hands settling onto the skin of his upper chest. Your breathing deepens, eyes swirling with a primal sort of lust he’s never experienced form you. All he knows, though, is that he wants more.

“You really have no idea what you do to me.” Your voice is but a low whisper as you lean into him, trailing your lips against his skin. Slowly, you grind your hips into his, moans escaping the both of you as you feel his hard cock brushing against your core. “So fucking handsome, My King.”

A pleased snarl escapes him, his hands settling onto your thighs as his fingers sink appreciatively into your flesh.

The feeling of your teeth grazing his skin is unlike anything he could have ever imagined. The sheer eagerness he can feel in every press of your lips against him, nipping and sucking at his neck all the while, has his grip tightening on you. Shamelessly, moans escape him, tossing his head back as he feels you laving your tongue against the mole at the base of his throat. The second you start suckling at his skin in the exact same spot, nails teasingly scraping down his chest, he feels himself twitch beneath you.

“Fuck- My Queen,” his eyes flutter shut, heart full and nearly bursting at the fact that simply seeing his naked torso has made you this feral for him already.

It seems as if he’s not the only one with such prominent desires for the other.

The fact that your thoughts continue to wash over him, flooding his senses with your unfiltered awe, love, and now desire has his heart beating erratically in his chest. Nothing but pure want courses through his veins, eyes swirling with that all too familiar darkness as he continues to watch you bite your marks into the skin of his neck and upper chest. The way your tongue darts out to soothe the heated skin right after has him humming in content once more.

“My Jongho,” you hum against his chest, kissing directly over his heart as it positively flutters from your words. “My handsome Jongho.”

“All yours, My Queen,” his voice is but a pleased growl, a choked moan escaping him as he feels you grind yourself down onto his hard cock once more. “Let Your King fulfill your every desire.”

As soon as those words have left his lips, he’s sitting upright on the bed. A hand comes to rest on your back while the other steadies you while gripping your thigh. He pulls you closer, loving the way you cup his face tenderly only to kiss him in the next second.

Eagerly, he swallows all of your sounds, feeling your one hand come to rest on his shoulder while the other tangles in his hair. Desperately, you pull each other closer, tongues intertwined as he kisses you like you are the only thing that matters.

To him, you are.

Again, you grind yourself into him.

Moans escape the both of you, parting only briefly to rest your forehead against his own. You can feel his thighs tensing beneath you, and a small whimper escapes you from the feeling.

With dark eyes, you shift your position.

Settling your hands on his shoulders, you stare deep into his eyes. The corner of your lips twitch upwards as you see his gaze flash just as you settle your core right over his one thigh, straddling him as his hands grip your waist.

Teasingly, you grind yourself against him.

Moans escape both of your lips, Jongho’s gaze darting down to look at where your bodies meet. His breathing deepens, each exhale but a low growl on his lips.

“Go on, My Queen.” His voice rumbles out, eyes shining encouragingly. “Make yourself feel good on me.”

The way your fingers subtly press that much firmer into his shoulders as you begin to grind your hips down onto his thigh has a shiver caressing his spine. Already, your scent surrounds him, his skin igniting with the flames of his passion everywhere you touch. He can already feel his cock straining against his pants, just aching for you. All of you.

Tonight, though, Jongho plans to take his time.

“Fuck, Darling-“ his breath catches in his throat as he continues to help guide your movements over him, “I can already feel you soaking the material of my jeans. Is riding my thigh turning you on that much?”

“Yes.” Nothing more than a moan escapes you as your eyes flutter shut in bliss.

“Is that what you’re thinking about every time I catch you drooling over the sight of them? How badly you want to grind that tight little cunt of yours over me until you’re dripping onto my skin?” He hums, hands tightening ever so slightly around your waist as he flexes his thigh beneath you.

Shamelessly, you moan, pressing yourself down a little firmer as you continue to shift your hips against him.

“I could ride you all day, Baby Bear.” Your voice is a low drawl, the corner of your lips quirking as you stare deeply into his eyes with hooded ones of your own.

The snarl that tears from his throat is nothing short of feral, gaze flashing black. “Don’t tempt me, Darling.”

“You’re making me feel so good, Jongho.” A desperate whine escapes you, hands shifting to grasp at the back of his neck. “I fucking love your thighs. I love everything about you.”

Greedily, he pulls you back in for another kiss, pouring all of the emotions he feels into the movement of his tongue against your own. He swallows all of your sounds, helping to guide your hips against his thigh. Again, he flexes the muscles, hearing the way your breath hitches, whines becoming more and more frequent. Even your movements become that much more desperate, clinging onto him as you continue to drip onto his thigh.

Only, before you can feel that sweet, sweet release building any further, his hands on your waist still your every movement.

A whine of disappointment escapes you, pulling away to look at him with a slight pout tugging at your features.

“My Queen,” Jongho breathes, staring deeply into your eyes. “Of all the things we do tonight, I have but one final request.”

You blink, waiting for him to continue as you attempt to catch your breath.

“The first time I make you come, I want it to be with me.” His voice is low, and were he not already clinging onto you for dear life, he knows that his hands would be trembling from the sheer amount of want coursing through his veins right now. All he can see is you. All he can hear, touch, taste, smell. You are invading his every sense, and he wouldn’t want it any other way. “I want to feel your warmth squeezing me so delicately as you fucking drench me in you while screaming my name.”

Your lips part as your breath catches in your throat.

“Is that alright with you, My Queen?” He wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against him as he buries his head into the side of your neck. “If you’d rather not wait, I can-“

“I would love nothing more, My King.” Despite the airiness to your tone, your words come through loud and clear.

His lips finding purchase on yours is all the answer you get as he holds you close. You can feel his pleased growl reverberate against you, his tongue darting out to trace your bottom lip before taking the tender flesh between his teeth.

The feeling of your fingers pressing into the skin of his back, drawing him in closer has another shiver caressing his spine. The way your hands feel, roaming all over every free inch of his body that he presents to you has a pride building in his chest. There is no doubt in Jongho’s mind that you absolutely adore everything that you see. A fact of which is mirrored in him. You are perfect in every way, and he will spend as long as it takes proving that to you tonight.

You pull away from him once more, only for your body to sink onto the floor between his legs.

His hands begin to shake, eyes hooding over as his lips part. A breathless moan escapes him as he feels your fingers trailing up the inside of his thighs. Yet, nothing could prepare him for the feeling of you cupping him over his jeans, palm rubbing against him tenderly.

Not even a moment later, your fingers begin fumbling with the clasp of his belt, tugging the material down his legs eagerly once you’ve undone everything. The way your hungry eyes take in the bare skin of his thighs has him twitching eagerly. A dark wet patch stains the fabric of his underwear where his tip continues to leak precome, and he cannot prevent the way his stomach clenches as he sees you licking your lips.

“My beautiful Jongho,” slowly, your hands spread his legs wider apart, fingers digging into the muscular flesh. “Do you have any idea how fucking sexy these thighs of yours are?”

His lips part in answer, but all that escapes him is a moan. His cock throbs eagerly, aching for you in every way imaginable.

The minute he feels your lips pressing against the skin of his inner thigh, his muscles tense. His legs tremble, breathing deepening as you bite down quite sharply, laving your tongue soothingly over the mark shortly after. The way your eyes dart up to meet his own has his heart thundering inside of his chest.

You’re looking at him akin to how he knows he’s always gazed upon you. There is love in your eyes, that is for sure, but there’s also a certain feralness found there as well. A desperation inside that swirls with want, lust, but also, faintly, possession.

“I can’t count the amount of times I’ve fantasized about them,” you admit, and a low groan escapes him as you bite down on his opposite thigh. “So fucking thick. Perfect for riding. Perfect for marking.” Your eyes darken, glancing up to meet his own. “Perfect for me.”

Jongho’s entire body heats, getting lost in your lustful gaze. His breathing is ragged, chest heaving as he moans shamelessly for you. So badly do his eyes want to fall shut, revelling in this moment here with you, but he forces them to stay open. Like hell is he going to miss a single second of the beautiful sight that is you on your knees before him, worshipping his body just as he will be sure to always worship your own.

“All yours, My Queen,” Jongho repeats his words from earlier, but they still have the desired effect.

You moan against the skin of his thigh, eyes fluttering shut as your fingers sink into his flesh. Your hold is desperate, marks blooming all over him, painting him in various hues of red. Painting him in you.

He wouldn’t trade that for anything.

The closer you get to his aching cock, the harder Jongho finds it to hold himself back. With every mark you make on his skin, your bites become firmer, the eagerness shining through with every movement.

“Do it, My Queen,” he pleads, voice desperate and airy. “Sink your fucking teeth into my flesh. Mark me as yours.”

It’s as if you had been waiting for his every command.

Pulling away only briefly to glance up into his eyes, you see him nod in confirmation. A moment later, you’re licking your lips eagerly, a sort of daze taking over your features as you zero in on an area of his right thigh that you have yet to mark. Leaning in, you place a gentle kiss onto his flesh before latching your mouth onto his skin.

You bite down. Hard.

A loud moan escapes him, his one hand moving to desperately cling onto the back of your head while the other shreds into the duvet beside him. He can feel his thighs shaking, that familiar tightening of his abdomen becoming all the more prominent as you keep your mouth latched onto him.

The moment he feels you pull away, tongue laving over the fresh set of teeth marks that drip faintly red with his blood, he shudders. The second he feels you wrapping your lips around the wound, suckling gently at his flesh as you moan against him shamelessly, he nearly comes right then and there.

The sensation is blinding, and he desperately holds onto whatever last bits of sanity that he has as he pulls you away gently.

You blink, seemingly coming out of your trance to see the bright red of his blood slowly dripping down the skin of his inner thigh.

His hands on your shoulders ground you, and you look up at him with wide eyes.

“Jongho, I’m so-“

“Don’t you dare fucking apologize,” his words are but a growl on his lips as he pulls you back up and into his lap. “That was one of the hottest things I’ve ever experienced in my life.”

You cannot deny the way you seem to clench around nothing at the guttural tone he uses. The fact that you can feel his emotions flooding your every sense through that open mind link still only serves to make it all the more intense.

He wanted you to mark him. He wanted you to claim him in such a primal way. You, and only you.

After all, everything that he is, belongs to you.

You lick your lips, the faint taste of cinnamon clinging to your tongue.

“Then, why-“

“You are far too good at what you do, Darling.” Jongho grins, burying his face into the side of your neck as he pulls you flush into him. “You make it quite difficult for me to keep my own desires in check.”

“What is it that you desire right now, My King?” You hum, threading your fingers softly through his hair.

“You,” he breathes, placing a tender kiss against your pulse. “Always.”

You squeeze him tighter, heart swelling with nothing but love in your chest.

“I want to consume you, so that all you can feel is me.” He keeps his voice low, his chest rumbling with each word that he speaks. “I want to build you up slowly, allowing you to feel the deepest throws of pleasure that you can before pulling you back from the edge. I want to feel you dripping onto my hand as you squeeze my fingers so delicately, teasing me for what is still yet to come. I want you to absolutely cover me in you, in every possible way, and then I want you to consume me just as I’ve done with you.”

“Jongho,” his name is but a breathless whimper falling from your lips.

“There are many things I desire to do to you, to do with you, My Darling,” he pulls away to rest his forehead against your own, noses brushing tenderly. “I wish to start with pleasing you.”

You nod, leaning forward to kiss him deeply.

“I would love nothing more.” The words are but a whisper against his lips, and you can feel the way he smiles against you.

A blink, and he’s helped you back onto your feet. Another, and he’s switched your positions, angling you so that you’re both facing the mirror at the end of his bed. An object of which you hadn’t noticed until now.

He pulls you down onto his lap.

Slowly, Jongho trails his lips over your shoulder, biting at one of the straps still holding that delicate lace singlet to your body. Teasingly, he pulls at it with his teeth, a pleased rumble reverberating against your back as he lets it snap back against your skin.

“As much as I love seeing you in this just for me,” he growls out, nipping at the shell of your ear all the while. “I think I’d prefer it off.”

His hands, which had been gently holding your waist, move. You hardly even see him tear the fabric from your body, for one second, the lace still graces your skin, but in the next, it’s been torn to shreds and tossed somewhere in his room.

The tips of his fingers ignite a fire upon your skin as he drags them up your sides. Tenderly, he moves to cup your breasts in his hands, squeezing the flesh appreciatively as his lips find purchase against the skin of your neck. His thumbs begin to brush over your nipples, feeling them harden beneath his touch and causing him to smirk.

Ever so carefully, Jongho begins to spread your legs with his own.

“There’s a sight I could never grow tired of,” he sighs blissfully, eyes darting upwards to meet your gaze in the mirror.

The way your breath hitches in your throat does not go unnoticed by him. A chuckle escapes him, hands softly continuing to knead the tender flesh of your breasts as you catch your visage in the mirror.

He has you resting in the exact same position you had been in all those long weeks ago. Your legs are hooked around his own, his head buried into the side of your neck as he begins to roll your nipples between his thumb and index fingers.

A low moan escapes you, tilting your head back to rest on his shoulder.

“Fuck, so pretty My Queen,” Jongho hums, nipping at the side of your neck as he peers out to meet your gaze in the reflection of the mirror. “So fucking pretty spread out like this, and all for me to see.”

His hands never stop his ministrations, cupping your flesh tenderly as he nuzzles his face into the side of your neck.

“Ever since that day, all I could think about was showing you how absolutely stunning you are when we bring you pleasure.” His voice is but a low drawl against your skin as he purposely places wet, open mouthed kisses along your racing pulse. “I’m honoured that I get to be the first one to do so.”

Softly, he begins to trail one of his hands down your body. His fingers dance along the skin of your inner thigh, the movement drawing your attention to his own resting just beneath yours. You can see the faint outlines of all of the marks you’ve given him in the mirror, but none are as prominent as one. One which sits proudly near the apex of his thighs, bright red and all yours.

You can feel his chest heaving against your back with every breath he takes, eyes locked on that same exact mark that yours are so focussed on. Each exhale is but a pleased rumble, grip tightening around your body as he presses you flush against him.

One of your hands comes up to tangle in his hair, the other placing itself gently over his own still cupping your breast. Your eyes flutter shut, absolutely revelling in this moment with him as he holds you close.

“My Jongho,” you breathe, feeling your body relax further into his touch.

The way you feel him twitch against the skin of your ass has a soft smile tugging at your features.

“I’m yours, My Queen.” He gladly voices his approval. “And you’re mine.”

“Yours.” You confirm, grip tightening over him slightly. A fact of which that makes his lips tug upwards, for you feel it against your skin. “All yours.”

A pleased growl escapes him, his one hand inching closer and closer to where you need him most.

You can feel yourself clenching around nothing, anticipation clawing at your chest as you blink your gaze open to meet his own in the mirror. Your eyes lock in on the way his fingers continuously dance across your skin, teasingly cupping you over your cunt.

The second his skin makes contact with your core, his eyes flutter shut in bliss. A low moan escapes him, pulling you even closer still.

“Do you see, Darling?” He bites down lightly on your neck, eyes peering into your own through the reflection of the glass. “See how wet I make you?”

As if to emphasize his point, Jongho drags the tips of his fingers lightly over your entrance, using his index and middle fingers to spread you open.

A moan escapes you at his touch, eyes focussed in on your dripping cunt as you watch yourself clench around nothing.

“Fuck, listen to you,” he groans, dragging his fingers through your folds once before circling your clit a few times. “You’re soaked, and I haven’t even done anything to you yet.”

“All for you,” your voice is breathless: airy and desperate as you continue to lean your head back against his shoulder for support.

He shudders, nipping at the shell of your ear in the next second as you feel him twitch beneath you once more. “Are you trying to make me come untouched again?”

Despite the uneven rise and fall of your chest, a devious smirk paints your lips in response. At the way his fingers begin to dip teasingly into your entrance, your lips part. A breathless moan of his name escapes you, shifting your hips in desperation to meet his every movement against your core.

His faint touches aren’t enough, and you crave more.

He smirks, “I thought I told you that the first time we both come tonight will be together, with my thick cock buried deep within your tight little cunt. Isn’t that right, My Queen?”

Your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head as you feel him bury two of his fingers within your dripping cunt. Slowly. The way your walls squeeze involuntarily around him as the wet squelch reaches your ears from the intrusion has moans falling from both of your lips.

“Yes, My King.” The hand you have tangled in his hair tightens, pulling him in closer.

A smirk pulls at his lips at your answer, loving the way he can already feel your wetness dripping onto his hand with every drag of his fingers against your warm walls. The fact that he can hear every movement that he makes within you is simply icing on the cake.

“Good girl.” His eyes flash, words nothing more than a low growl on his lips as he tightens his grip around you.

The way you clench around his digits has his cock twitching beneath you once more.

“You like it when I say that, don’t you, Darling?” He hums, a smug upturn to the corner of his lips.

“Almost as much as I love when you call me yours.” As if to emphasize your point, you clench around his fingers.

A low moan escapes him, his head falling forward to rest on your shoulder.

“How you always know to say just what I long to hear never fails to amaze me.” He admits, voice muffled against your skin as he nips at your flesh.

A choked whine of his name slips passed your lips as you feel him increase the pressure of his fingers slightly within you. The way the digits feel massaging your inner walls so tenderly has your lips parting, breathing deepening as you feel the fingers on his opposite hand begin toying with your nipple once more.

“Fuck, My King,” your eyes flutter shut. “Just like that.”

His teeth latch onto your skin, the growl reverberating against your throat as his eyes flash black. Jongho’s lips are quick to soothe over the mark, placing open mouthed kisses along the side of your neck as he gently suckles at the skin. Only, the faintest hint of something absolutely intoxicating begins to invade his every sense, his tongue darting out to catch more of the sweet taste.

That’s when he realizes.

Pulling his head away from you, his eyes widen in mild surprise. Turning towards the mirror, he’s quick to meet your gaze, a worried, yet somewhat remorseful look greeting you.

“My Queen, I’m so-“

“Don’t you dare apologize,” your tone is sharp, cutting him off easily as your eyes narrow slightly. “I offered myself to you, tonight, Jongho. That means everything.”

Jongho can barely control his breathing as he watches you tilt your head to the side, extending your neck out to him without another thought. Glancing down, he can see the faintest trail of your blood sliding down your skin from where his teeth had been only moments before.

The feral snarl that escapes him is unlike anything you’ve ever heard form him before.

He tightens his grip.

“I’m all yours.” The admission is but a pleasant sigh on your lips, hooded gaze meeting his as you clench around his fingers still buried deep inside of you.

Jagged pants escape him, and you can feel his entire body trembling beneath your own. You can see the way his eyes are locked onto that single drop of blood which slowly creeps down your skin, his chest heaving with every breath.

The feeling of his tongue gracing your skin is synonymous with the feeling of his thumb pressing against your clit. You moan, feeling the way he traces the trail all the way back up to your throat, beginning to circle his thumb in tandem with his movements. Softly, his lips encase the bite mark he’s just given you. Deep, guttural groans escape him as he circles his tongue around the wound in time with his thumb over your clit.

Your entire being pulses, heart pounding inside of your chest as you lean against him for support. You can barely keep your eyes open, watching him through a hooded gaze in the mirror as he becomes completely enraptured by you.

You clench around him again.

Softly, he bites down over the mark, teeth sinking the slightest bit deeper into your flesh this time in order to fully create his claim over your skin. The snarl he releases when he feels your blood flooding his every sense, unfiltered and with a newfound purpose, has his eyes flashing black immediately.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you see his hand that had been massaging your breast so tenderly begins to raise.

Bringing his wrist to your lips, Jongho peers out into the reflection of the mirror, meeting your gaze with a desperate one of his own. You can feel his hard cock practically throbbing beneath you, skin heating as this moment fully washes over the both of you.

Briefly and reluctantly, his lips part from your throat.

“Please, My Queen,” he nearly whimpers as his fingers still within your cunt, “Drink with me.”

Your one hand comes up to support his arm, laving your mouth over his wrist sensually.

You meet his gaze in the mirror, the corner of your lips tugging upwards. “With pleasure.”

The feeling of your teeth sinking into the skin of his wrist has another guttural groan escaping him. Jongho swears that his heart will leap right out of his chest this very moment, offering itself upon a silver platter for you and only you. After all, it has always been yours. He has always belonged to you.

Softly, you suckle at his skin, the taste of cinnamon with a hint of iron flooding your senses as you drink him in.

His blood is addicting, your whole body coming alight with the flames of desire the longer you drink. You can feel the liquid burning through your system, igniting within your veins as the warmth spreads all throughout your body. You cannot prevent the way your core clenches rhythmically around his fingers as nothing but euphoria begins to flood your entire system.

The feeling of him removing his hand from your cunt draws another moan from you, but little do you realize just how dark your eyes have become.

“My Queen,” his hands find purchase on your waist as he pulls himself the slightest bit away from you. With hooded eyes, he watches your tongue trace over your lips, painted red with his blood. “Fuck- you’re so beautiful.”

“So good to me, Jongho.” You hum, attempting to catch your breath for the moment. “My handsome King.”

His grip tightens around you waist, pulling you upwards on his bed with him. A moment later, and you’ve turned, straddling his thighs as you stare down at him with hooded eyes.

A choked moan escapes him as he feels your hand return to palming him over his briefs. His cock twitches beneath your touch, chest heaving as he attempts to maintain a grip on his remaining sanity this evening.

“I can’t wait any longer,” his voice is low, nothing more than a desperate rasp as his hips involuntarily twitch upwards against your hand. “I need to feel you, My Queen. All of you.”

A nod is all he receives from you, an eager gleam shining within your eyes as you hook your fingers in the waistline of his briefs. You meet his gaze, waiting for that final bit of approval before you so much as begin dragging the material down his legs. Once you see him nod, quite enthusiastically, you remove that final piece of offending clothing.

A shameless groan escapes you as you see his cock resting against the skin of his lower stomach. The tip is red and angry, precome continuously leaking from the head as you wrap your hand around his base.

You lick your lips.

“Fuck-“ nothing more than a pleased hiss escapes you as you can feel your heart beating in excitement inside of your chest. “Such a pretty cock, My King.”

Jongho moans, and you notice the faintest bit of red beginning to bloom over his chest, creeping up his neck shortly afterwards.

Slowly, you begin to pump him in you hand, loving the way you can feel him twitch beneath your fingers.

“So fucking big, and all for me.” You shift above him, gazing down upon him with that same look of shameless lust that you’ve been looking at him with all evening. “I can’t wait to feel you inside me, stretching this tight little cunt and claiming me as yours.”

Jongho’s lips part, eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head as you teasingly drag his tip through your wet folds. Every breath that escapes him now is a mere snarl, fingers sinking into the flesh of your thighs appreciatively as he attempts to ground himself. This is everything that he could have ever wanted, and so much more.

A devious smirk pulls at the corner of your lips as you repeat your words from earlier in the day. “Let me go for a ride?”

“Please-“ a whimper falls from his lips, chest heaving as his eyes lock on the way you continue to teasingly rub your wet cunt over the length of his cock. “My Queen, please. I’m yours. I’m all yours. Claim me, Darling. Make me yours.”

His words nearly cause you to lose your balance above him, legs shaking as you steady yourself with you free hand pressing against his chest. Shamelessly, your thoughts continue to wash over him, the pure love and desire he can feel emanating from you causes his own head to spin. Never would you have been prepared for how those words make you feel, and you believe you’re starting to understand just why they all go so feral when you say that to them.

You meet his gaze, staring deeply into his eyes as you align his tip with your entrance. Ever so slowly, you begin to lower yourself down on his cock, lips parting breathlessly as you feel him stretching out your walls.

You can feel the way his hands shake against your skin, pitch black eyes locked on the space where your bodies meet. Jongho cannot bear to tear his gaze away from the glorious sight that is you sinking onto him for one second. He needs to see it all; feel you becoming one with him in such an intimate way. The way you feel dripping onto his skin, squeezing him so delicately with every inch you take has low, feral growls escaping him with every breath.

The moment he’s fully seated inside of you, moans escape both of your lips. You clench around him, feeling him throb within your tight walls as your eyes fall shut.

“Darling,” he can barely form a coherent thought, voice breathless as he practically chants the words out affectionately. “My Darling.”

“I just-“ you pant, head falling forward as you hold yourself above him. “I just need a moment.”

Your tongue comes out to wet your lips, core continuously clenching around him as the euphoric sensation of feeling him resting inside of you washes over your entire being. The buildup from earlier has made you so sensitive, and you’re worried that if you begin to move over him too soon, you won’t be able to continue to make his wishes come true. A thought which is only emphasized by how badly you want this, too.

“Take your-“ his breath hitches, eyes squeezing shut as he feels his stomach clench in pleasure. He attempts to catch his breath, “time.”

You swallow thickly, resting both of your hands over his chest and feeling the way his heart positively thunders beneath your touch. A fact which you know that yours is echoing right now, racing excitedly alongside his own.

“Feels so good, My King,” you breathe, eyes fluttering shut as you give a tentative grind of your hips against him. You both moan. “Making me feel so full.”

“Yeah?” He hums, grinding his hips upwards slightly and loving how your whole body shudders in response. “You love having this thick cock buried in your tight pussy, don’t you, My Queen?”

“Yes,” you toss your head back, slowly beginning to find a rhythm as you grind yourself against him. “Fills me so well, My King.”

A deep guttural groan escapes him, cock twitching against your walls.

“Fuck-“ he hisses, hands tightening their grip over your thighs as he helps to guide your movements over him. “So tight. So warm.”

A choked moan escapes you, involuntarily clenching around him once more. A moment later, and you feel your stomach twist pleasantly, eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head as you lean over him.

His lips are on yours, swallowing every beautiful whimper you give him. One of his hands shift to squeeze at your ass appreciatively, helping you move over him. The other wraps around your torso, fingers pressing delicately against your spine as he holds you to him.

With every shift of your hips, he meets your every thrust, heartbeat racing right alongside your own. His head spins, and he can feel that familiar tightness building in his lower abdomen already. Every sensation is heightened, nothing but love shining in his gaze as you pull away from him to rest your forehead against his own.

“I fucking love you, My Queen,” he growls out, eyes swirling with that all to familiar blackness. “So fucking perfect, and all mine.”

You sit back to your full height, chest heaving with each breath as you still over him. The way you’re gazing down at him, nothing but that same look of tender love and affection dripping from your dark, hooded gaze has him completely mesmerized by you.

Slowly, you begin to trail your hands down his sides and to his arms, grabbing his hands into your own. With a loving smile pulling at your lips, you intertwine your fingers together, grinding your hips against his meticulously.

“I love you, My King.” The smile that pulls onto your lips is nothing short of sweet, eyes shining as you move above him.

The drag of your hips against him is slow, calculated in a way that makes Jongho’s head spin. You seem to be creating a pattern of some sort, and he cannot help but follow along with each movement that you make in his mind.

That’s when it hits him. His heart skips a beat before absolutely fluttering inside of his chest, mouth parting in a breathless moan. His eyes are staring, transfixed by the sight of his cock buried deep within your cunt as you move against him, claiming him in every way you know how.

The last threads of Jongho’s sanity snap as he feels you beginning to spell your name over him as you continue to ride his cock. His breathing deepens, every shift of your body over his own causing his eyes to darken even further. Growls escape him with each pant, chest rumbling as his fingers sink into the skin of your flesh. Barely, he contains himself.

Jongho will wait. He can wait. He’ll wait until you’ve finished claiming him in this way. For once you’re done, he will claim you.

A faint tingling sensation brushes against your upper thigh, the ghost of a touch dancing along your skin. It sends a pleasant shiver up your spine, but it’s not enough to break your concentration. Looking down reveals a thin, leathery tail with a spade-like tip wrapping itself around your leg. A sight that has you clenching around him once more.

An involuntary moan escapes you, hips faltering slightly as you feel him tighten his hold around your thigh with his tail. The way the tip teasingly caresses the sensitive skin of your inner thigh has you shuddering in response.

You turn your gaze back to him just as you finish the final letter, and you see him lick his lips.

His eyes flash, instantly pulling you down to his chest and wrapping his arms around your torso. Carefully, he plants his feet onto the mattress of the bed, rolling his hips up into yours.

The way you moan has nothing but euphoria flooding his veins.

He nips at your ear, arms squeezing around your waist. “My turn.”

The second those words leave his lips, he begins a brutal pace, thrusting up into you as he holds you to him. You body jerks with every movement, the wet sound of skin on skin filling your ears and making your head spin.

“My fucking beautiful Queen,” he growls, and the way you clench around him at his guttural tone has him smirking. “Writing your name all over this cock, as if it doesn’t already belong to you.”

You choke out a whimper, his name falling like a mantra from your lips as you cling onto him for dear life.

“Your fucking mine, Darling.” His grip tightens once more, snarls escaping him with every breath. “And now I’m going to claim you just as you’ve claimed me.”

Your eyes squeeze shut. The feeling of his cock brushing so tenderly against your walls, filling you so fully with every sharp thrust has you seeing stars. You can barely hold yourself together, the sensations overwhelming you and causing that familiar tightness to build quickly within your abdomen.

A broken moan of his name falls from your lips, your teeth latching onto his shoulder to ground yourself as more whimpers escape you.

“That’s it, My Queen.” His voice is pure animalistic as he snarls, his teeth sharpening into fangs as his fingers dig into your tender flesh. “Let yourself go. Succumb to the pleasure only Your King can provide for you.”

You squeeze him so sinfully, your essence dripping onto the skin of his thighs with every thrust he makes. You do whatever you can to hold yourself back for as long as possible, but there’s an intense feeling building within you. The sensation is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, and with every thrust, you can feel the tip of his cock brushing up against that tender spot within you.

“Jongho, I-“ your breath catches in your throat as you gasp, eyes practically rolling into the back of your head.

“What’s the matter, My Queen?” There’s a teasing lilt to the low drawl of his words. “Going to come already?”

A loud moan is all that greets him, whines and whimpers falling repeatedly from your lips. It’s as if those are the only sounds that you can make, and given the way your cunt is squeezing him so tightly, he knows you’re close.

His cock twitches.

“Fucking come for me, My Queen.” He growls, nipping at the skin of your flesh as he does whatever he can to increase your pleasure for the moment. “Come with Your King. Fucking drench me in you.”

The very moment those words escape him, you’re tossing your head back. A scream of his name tears from your throat as your orgasm washes over you. Your whole body shakes, eyes rolling as your vision goes white. You can feel your release gushing onto him, dripping out of your tight little hole and absolutely soaking him in you.

Jongho stills inside you, a feral snarl falling from his lips are he cries out your name in bliss. He can feel his whole body tingling as he collapses completely onto the bed, your figure covering his own as he feels your release dripping onto the skin of his thighs.

His chest heaves, senses completely surrounded by everything you as he attempts to calm himself down. Lazily, he grinds his hips up into you, hearing how you whimper for him once more.

Your breaths mingle, chests heaving as you hold onto each other for dear life. Neither of you wishes to move, absolutely revelling in the euphoric bliss that floods your veins. Still, his tail remains wrapped around your thigh.

Softly, Jongho begins placing tender kisses along the skin of your shoulder and up your neck. His one hand comes up to support the back of your head, pressing his lips to yours in a slow, sensual kiss.

“You did so well for me, My Queen.” He hums against you, feeling your warmth pulse around him from his words. He leans his forehead against your own, a smug grin tugging at his features in the next second. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

Your lips part wordlessly, blinking at him as your vision finally clears. You shift your hips.

“Neither did I.”

Your admission pulls a pleased rumble from his chest, loving how he can still feel your release coating the skin of his thighs and dripping onto the mattress below.

“Are you-“ He swallows, eyes searching your features intently. “Are you okay?”

“Never better.” You smile, and he unknowingly breathes a sigh of relief.

“I was worried I was too much to start.” He admits lowly, averting his gaze briefly.

You place a tender kiss to his lips, cupping his face reassuringly in your hand. “It wasn’t too much, Jongho. It was perfect.” You manage to get him to look at you. “You are perfect.”

A content rumble greets your ears. Softly, his one hand begins to caress your spine, his tail unwinding from around your thigh. His lips press tenderly against every free inch of your skin that he can find, littering kisses against your face as he holds you close.

Another pleased rumble shakes his chest. “My beautiful Queen.”

You nuzzle your cheek against him, burying your face into the side of his neck. “My handsome King.”

“I love you, Darling.” He hums, nothing but the deepest form of sincerity and love shining within his gaze as he looks towards you.

“I love you, Baby Bear.” Your eyes flutter shut. “So good to me.”

“Always, for you.” Jongho places another tender kiss onto the top of your head.

A brief pause before he’s speaking once more.

“Can I get you anything, Darling?” There’s a hint of concern in his voice as he addresses you. “Water? A bath? Maybe a snack?”

You shake your head lightly, a soft hum escaping you. “Just hold me, Jongho. I want to feel you against me for a little while longer.”

A soft coo greets your ears in response, him shifting slightly beneath you so that you’re both more comfortable.

“Alright, Darling.” He chuckles, hand continuing to stroke over your spine lovingly. “Let me know when you’re ready, and I’ll make sure to take proper care of you.”

“You already have.” Your voice is a mere whisper on your lips, hearing his heart echoing alongside your own, and beating together as one.

His entire body warms. A pleasant warmth which fills his heart and spreads outwards to the tips of his fingers as he places another kiss onto the top of your head. The way your chest rises and falls in time with his own only serves to heighten the feeling.

“I’m never one to skip out on making sure you receive proper aftercare. None of us are.” He voices lowly, hearing you hum in response. “I want you to know that.”

Softly, you nod against him. A moment later, and your breathing evens out. From the way that you curl in deeper into his chest, Jongho knows that you’ve just fallen asleep.

Truly, this is everything he could have ever wanted, and so much more. Here your rest, completely naked in his arms, after allowing him the honour of making love to you for the first time. You came together, just as he’s always fantasized about. Just as he’s always dreamed.

Never before has he felt such euphoria flood his veins. Hell, never before has he come that hard in his life, and all because of you.

You, who lays atop of him, resting soundly as he cradles you lovingly to his chest. You, who he would give anything and everything for. In a heartbeat.

Jongho wouldn’t trade this feeling for the world. From the way that your thoughts continue to echo shamelessly throughout his own mind, he knows that neither would you.

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