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imjustreadinglmao · 3 months

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BLUE

Paring: Azriel x Reader, Lucien x platonic!Reader

Summary: After Azriel and Elain‘s courtship is revealed, their mates, Lucien and Y/N, are left to deal with the consequences. While fighting against Koschei and for Prythian‘s freedom, Y/N has to navigate her emotions and learn how to live with the heartbreak of a one sided mating bond. But what happens when long kept secrets are revealed and everything turns out differently than they thought?

PART I

word count: 3k

A/N: this is part 1 of BLUE. I changed the beginning a bit to fit the storyline. Please be nice this is my first fic :)

Warnings: light angst, unrequited love, mention of childhood trauma/ mention of ãbuse (not described)

part 2

I stir my black tea as Rhysand files through the report I handed him just seconds ago.

The steam from the tea rises, curling in delicate tendrils, carrying with it a sense of fleeting warmth that I desperately cling to.

Rhysand’s office is both grand and simple.

Bookshelves line the walls, filled with volumes on history, strategy, and magic. A fireplace to the right. Above it, a large portrait of Velaris shows the city bathed in a soft, ethereal glow. Feyre gifted it to him last starfall.

Heavy velvet drapes in shades of midnight blue frame the windows, ready to be drawn shut for privacy.

In the distance I can make out the mountains with their snow-capped peaks and the Sidra winding through the valley below.

“I have to say, I’m impressed you were able to convince Devlon so fast.”

I look up at Rhys and chuckle, the sound hollow to my own ears. “It does help if you threaten to cut his balls off and stake them to the wall for everyone to see.”

Rhys lifts a brow and barks out a laugh. “I see.”

I rarely go on missions anymore, choosing to work as an advisor for Rhysand.

Missions used to be exciting, but nowadays I prefer the comfort my room provides. The sense of security it brings is a balm to my soul, now more than ever.

I take this as a sign to stand up and lift my bag from the floor. I sling it over my shoulder and make my way to the door.

“Don’t forget tonight’s family dinner,” Rhysand calls after me. I don’t look back, just give him a thumbs-up and close his office door behind me.

As I make my way downstairs and through the foyer, I spot Lucien strapping on his sword. Presumably getting ready for training, he has always been an early riser.

“How did the mission go?” Lucien doesn’t need to look up to see that it’s me approaching.

I let out a sigh and rub my temples. “Good.” I stop beside him and flop onto the recamier right next to the front door. “Well, as good as paying the camps a visit can get.”

Lucien cracks a smile at that, his amber eyes twinkle with amusement. He knows exactly how difficult it is to convince Devlon of something he isn’t particularly fond of.

“Are you coming to the family dinner tonight?” I ask, my voice betraying a hint of reluctance.

Lucien sheaths his blade and nods. “Feyre will have my head if I don’t show up. I already missed the last one.”

I cringe at the mention of the last family dinner. The memory alone sends a sharp pang through my chest.

———————

I walk into the dining room, ready to face yet another family dinner. I spot Mor right away, radiant in her blood-red gown. The sight of her is always one of familiarity and comfort.

“Hey, got another one of those?” I point to the wine glass in her hand. She arches a brow and hands me one filled to the brim.

“Are we so exhausting that you need liquid encouragement to get through the night?” she muses. I just roll my eyes, trying to hide my amusement.

Right as she opens her mouth to say something, the back of my head begins to tickle. He is here.

I turn around to see Azriel walk through the door, and he is not alone. Elain is beside him, their hands intertwined.

Even though I was expecting it to happen soon, the sight still hits me like a physical blow. It was always just a matter of time till Azriel and Elain decided to go against Rhys‘s order and make their love official.

I‘m glad, Lucien isn’t here to witness this. I can’t imagine how it would be for him.

Since only my side of the bond snapped into place, seeing how in love they are, is somehow… manageable. For Lucien it would be almost deadly.

I look back at Mor, her expression as shocked as mine. “I didn’t know,” she whispers, her face now bearing a look of worry and pity.

To say the dinner is awkward would be an understatement. Nobody really knows what to say after Elain and Azriel walked in holding hands.

I just shove the potatoes on my plate around, too nauseous to eat anything. The lump in my throat makes swallowing impossible.

Cassian clears his throat and points to Azriel and Elain. “So how long has this been going on?” Nesta jabs her elbow into his ribs, which earns her an “oww”, and throws me an apologetic look.

Besides Mor, only Lucien and Nesta know about the bond between me and Azriel. Their concern a constant reminder of the bond I try so hard to ignore.

“Well…” Azriel coughs, noticeably uncomfortable with being put on the spot. “It all happened very quickly. We spent a lot of our nights up and talking and realized we didn’t want to hold back anymore.”

He gazes down at her, smiling. I recognize that look. The realization twists the knife in my heart.

That’s how I look at him.

—————————

“Are you even listening?” Lucien waves a hand in front of my face to snap me out of my haze. His voice pulls me back to the present, but the ache remains.

I rub my eyes. “Uh… sorry. What exactly were you saying?”

He crosses his arms and looks down at me. “I was asking if you wanted to go training with me. But it seems what you really need is some sleep.”

I roll my eyes and stand up. “You know me so well, Lu.” I pat his shoulder and walk out the door. “See you at dinner tonight.”

Velaris is most beautiful at night, but nothing can beat the quiet and peace of the early mornings.

I walk down the high street, greeting some of my favorite vendors with a smile, until I reach the familiar townhouse.

After I officially became part of Rhysand’s inner circle, he offered me to stay at his townhouse.

It had many perks: no rent, right in the heart of Velaris, and an endless wine supply thanks to Rhysand’s "secret" wine cellar.

There is really only one downside.

“I didn’t think you would be back so soon.” Azriel sits at the dinner table eating breakfast. He has his fighting leathers on, probably on his way to the House of Wind for Valkyrie training.

Cassian and Azriel still train the Valkyries every morning. Sometimes I join, but only when Nesta drags me up there.

“Well, sorry to disappoint.” I laugh awkwardly. “I’m going to head upstairs to rest. Say hello to Nesta for me.” The words taste bitter, a poor attempt to mask the hurt.

I turn around before he has the chance to say something else, the lump in my throat threatening to choke me.

Yes, that is the downside. The constant reminder of what I had lost and could never have.

Him.

——————

The dining room buzzes with conversation as everyone settles in for dinner.

Azriel and Elain sit together, a vision of contentment that sends a pang through my heart.

Across the table, Lucien’s jaw is tight, his gaze fixed on his plate.

“Thank you all for coming,” Rhysand begins, standing at the head of the table. “I have an important announcement to make.”

He glances at Lucien and me, a hint of apology in his eyes. “We’ve decided to support Eris in overthrowing Beron.

Lucien and you,” he points at me, “will lead the mission to the Autumn Court.”

A murmur runs through the room. Lucien looks up, his eyes meet mine.

There is a mixture of determination and vulnerability in his gaze that makes my heart ache.

The Autumn Court doesn’t hold great memories for either of us.

But before I can fully process Rhysand’s words, Azriel stands abruptly, his expression dark and tense.

“Why them?” Azriel’s voice is sharp, a stark contrast to his usual calm demeanor. “Why not send someone else?”

Rhysand frowns slightly, clearly not expecting this reaction.

“Both of them have a unique advantage given their history with Eris and the Autumn Court. It’s a strategic decision.”

Azriel’s eyes flicker to me, a storm of emotions swirling within them. “I don’t like it. It’s too dangerous.”

I feel a surge of frustration. Azriel’s protectiveness, though touching, is misplaced and completely out of character.

“What’s your problem, Azriel?” I snap, unable to hold back.

“I’m more than capable of leading this mission. Or do you think I’m not good enough to do my job?”

His eyes narrow, the tension between us thickening. “That’s not what I meant,” he retorts, his voice lower but no less intense.

“I just don’t think it’s wise to send specifically you two into such a volatile situation. You can’t just throw yourself into danger like that.”

My heart pounds in my chest. “That’s rich coming from you. You’re always in danger, always risking everything. How is that different from this mission?”

“It’s different because—” Azriel stops himself, glancing at Elain, who is watching us with wide eyes. He seems to struggle for a moment before finishing, “It doesn’t matter, just let someone else do the mission. You’re an important asset to this court.”

Before I could respond with something I’d surely regret, Elain’s voice cuts through the tension.

“Azriel, stop.” Her voice is calm but firm, a hint of desperation in her eyes. “This isn’t helping.”

Azriel turned to Elain, his expression softens slightly, but the tension remains. He takes a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. “I’m sorry. I just… I worry.”

Lucien’s gaze hardens, “We’ve faced worse,” he says, a challenge in his tone. “We are capable enough to lead this mission, we don’t need your approval, Shadowsinger.”

Azriel’s jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek. “It’s not about capability. It’s about safety. I don’t want to see anyone get hurt.”

“Anyone?” I echo, my voice rises. “Or just Elain’s mate?”

The words hang in the air, charged with emotion. Azriel flinches slightly.

“This has nothing to do with Lucien being Elain‘s mate,” he says, though the slight tremor in his voice betrays him.

“But it does, doesn’t it?” My words laced with venom. “If Lucien were to get hurt, it would cause Elain distress, that’s how a mating bond works. And we can’t have that, can we?”

Elain looks down, her face unreadable, while Lucien’s gaze flickers between Azriel and me.

“We all know the risks,” Lucien says more calmly this time, “And we’re prepared to face them.”

Rhysand interjects, his voice low but authoritative. “Enough. We’re all on the same side here. This is a mission we need to undertake for the greater good. Personal feelings need to be set aside.”

I take a deep breath and try to steady the storm of emotions within me. Rhysand is right, the last thing we need is Azriel and me fighting.

Rhysand sits down, his tone final. “This mission is vital. We need to trust each other and stay focused. We’ll discuss this further tomorrow. For now, let’s try to enjoy the evening.”

The atmosphere is strained as we resume our meal. I can feel Azriel’s gaze on me.

Lucien reaches over, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. It was a small gesture, but it meant everything in that moment.

I don’t say a word throughout the whole dinner. Choosing to stay quiet instead of lashing out.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that this mission would change everything.

---

The garden of the River House is a haven of tranquility. Blooming flowers and lush greenery everywhere Elain truly is a talented gardener.

I find Lucien leaning against a stone pillar, his gaze lost in the Sidra's gentle flow.

I approach him quietly, the cool evening air brushing against my skin. “Mind if I join you?” I ask softly.

Lucien looks up, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Of course not. I was just enjoying the peace before the storm.”

I halt beside him, the tension from the dinner still coils tightly in my chest. “Quite the announcement, wasn’t it?”

He nods, his expression thoughtful. “I knew something like this was coming, but hearing it confirmed… it’s different.

Eris must be desperate if he reached out to Rhysand.”

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “Yes, it’s a lot. I wish Rhys would have told us separately. This topic is already very emotional I really didn’t need Azriel’s… concern too.”

Lucien’s eyes darken at the mention of Azriel. “He’s protective, that’s clear. But he doesn’t have the right to undermine your abilities.”

“It’s not just that,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “His words, his actions… they confuse me. One moment he’s distant, the next he’s overly concerned. I don’t understand him.”

Lucien’s gaze softens, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. “He cares about you. He might not be aware of it but you’re his mate, bond snapping into place or not, it’s his priority to keep you safe. That can’t be changed, even if he’s in love with someone else.”

I look away, the garden blurring before my eyes. “It hurts, Lucien. Seeing him with Elain, pretending to be something they’re not. I don’t know how to deal with it.”

Lucien reaches out, his hand covering mine. “You’re not alone in this. We’ve all got our battles to fight, and sometimes the hardest ones are with our own hearts.”

A moment of silence stretches between us, the night air filled with the scent of blooming flowers.

“And what about you?” I ask, turning to look at him. “How are you handling all of this? Eris, the Autumn Court… it can’t be easy for you.”

Lucien’s expression grows somber. “It’s not. But I’ve come to terms with my past and everything my father did to me. I knew this was going to happen. Eris has the chance to change things, to make the Autumn Court a better place. I can’t turn my back on that.”

He smiles at that. “And maybe, when all of this is over, we’ll find some semblance of peace.”

As we stand there, the garden enveloping us in its quiet embrace, I feel a sense of calm settle over me. Whatever challenges lay ahead, I know we have each other’s backs.

—————————

The war room in the House of Wind is filled with dread as we gather around the large oak table.

Rhysand stands at the head, his usual easy demeanor replaced by a grave seriousness.

To his right, Amren sits with her usual enigmatic expression, while Cassian leans against the wall, arms crossed and a stern look on his face.

Azriel is on my left, his gaze unreadable, and Lucien sits across from me, his eyes focused and determined.

Rhysand unfurls a detailed map of the Autumn Court, its forests and strongholds marked with meticulous detail.

“Eris has provided us with information about Beron’s movements and the layout of his court. Our objective is to infiltrate the main stronghold, gather intelligence, and support Eris in his efforts to dethrone Beron.”

Lucien nods, his jaw set. Rhys continues. “We’ll enter through the southern border. Eris has arranged for a distraction that will draw most of Beron’s guards away from the main stronghold. This will give us the opportunity to slip in and meet with Eris.”

Amren leans forward, her sharp eyes assessing the map. “And what about Koschei? He’s been a wild card in all of this. His alliance with Beron could complicate things.”

Rhysand nods in agreement. “Koschei is a concern. According to Eris, Koschei has been providing Beron with dark magic. We need to be prepared for any magical traps or barriers.”

Azriel’s voice cuts through the discussion. “I’ll handle the reconnaissance. I’ll fly ahead and ensure the path is clear before they move in.”

I glance at him, he hasn’t looked at me or said a single thing to me since yesterday. If I didn’t know better I would say he was sulking.

Rhysand continues, “Once inside, our main goal is to secure the throne room and neutralize Beron’s guards. Eris will confront Beron directly. You,” he gestures to Lucien and me, “need to be ready to support him.”

Lucien nods again, his eyes meeting mine across the table. “We’ll be ready.”

Rhysand’s gaze softens slightly as he looked at us. “This mission is dangerous, but it’s necessary. Any questions?”

I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the responsibility settle on my shoulders. “What if things go wrong? Do we have an extraction plan?”

Amren smirks. “We have a plan. Azriel and I will be your backup. If things go south, we’ll get you out, girl.”

Azriel nods, his eyes meeting mine. “You won’t be alone out there. We’ll be watching.”

There is a moment of silence as everyone absorbs the gravity of this mission.

Finally, Rhysand speaks again, his voice resolute. “We leave at dawn. Get some rest and prepare yourselves.”

As we all stand to leave, Azriel catches my arm. “Can I talk to you for a moment?” he asks, his voice low.

I nod, following him to a quieter corner of the room. “What is it, Azriel?”

He hesitates, searching for the right words. “I know you’re capable. But this mission… it’s dangerous, and I can’t shake the feeling that something might go wrong. Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

His concern should touch me, but I can’t help and feel angry. “I know the risks, Azriel. And I’ll be careful. But you need to trust me to do my part.”

He sighs, running a scarred hand through his hair. “It’s not that I don’t trust you or your abilities. I just… I can’t lose you.”

Before I can respond, Lucien approaches.“Ready?” Lucien asks, his eyes flicker between Azriel and me. I nod, giving Azriel one last look.

“Ready.”

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girlrotterr · 3 months

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Milk Of The Siren.

captain!abby x siren!reader Summary: Captain Anderson is among the most skilled, effortlessly navigating countless ships. Yet, even the finest sailors aren't immune to the lure of sirens' hunger. a/n: new series for you angels!!! super excited for this one!! (⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠) ⇢ part two𓈒ㅤׂ 𓇼

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ˳༄꠶ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

A human laid before you, unconscious.

Her milky skin glimmered under the soft moonlight, her body reflecting the silvery glow. She was drenched, her clothes soaked through with seawater. Sand was plastered around her face, sticking to her skin like a constellation of freckles.

what a disturbance..

It was already past midnight, the only illumination coming from the moon and stars above. Their light dancing on the surface of the water, and the gentle glow of jellyfish drifted the sea. You had sought this place for solitude, yearning for some time alone. The cave lagoon was your sanctuary, a place where silence was a constant companion and disturbance was a foreign concept.

But now, that tranquility was shattered. The human's presence was an intrusion into your sacred space. This lagoon, with its crystal-clear waters and echoing silence, had always promised peace.

You emerged from the water, your movements graceful and deliberate. Your sleek, iridescent tail shimmered, casting ethereal patterns on the cave walls as it parted the waves. Each movement sent ripples across the surface, water cascading down your body. Your hair, the color of the midnight sea, clung to your back, your eyes. deep and mesmerizing, locked onto the human with irritation.

The soft sound of waves lapped against the shore, the only noise in the otherwise still night. You hovered over her, studying her face. She looked peaceful, almost serene, despite the obvious turmoil that had brought her here. Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, and you could see the faint pulse at her neck, a sign of life amidst the stillness.

Hovering down, you brushed a strand of wet hair from her face, feeling the softness of her skin. She was fragile, a stark contrast to the strength you felt coursing through your own body. This human had no place here, in your sanctuary, disturbing the delicate balance of your world. But there was something about her, something that stirred a feeling you couldn't quite name.

You took a deep breath, inhaling the salty sea air, and let it out slowly.

───────

"Captain Anderson," Isaac said, shaking Abby's hand in a formal greeting.

Abby returned the handshake firmly, "Isaac," she replied with a nod, taking a seat opposite him. "What brings you to seek me?"

Isaac smiled, a hint of admiration in his eyes as he leaned forward. "You've earned quite the reputation, Captain. Your skill and courage on the seas are well known,." He paused, leaning back in his chair. "I have a proposition for you. We have a cargo that needs to be sailed out to Europe, and I can think of no one better suited for the job than you."

Abby's expression remained composed, though inwardly, she felt a flicker of intrigue. Sailing across the Atlantic was no small effort, even for someone as experienced as herself. "Europe, you say?" she mused, tapping her fingers thoughtfully against the arm of her chair. "That's quite a journey..."

Isaac nodded. "Indeed, it is. But I have every confidence in your abilities. The cargo is valuable, and I trust only the best to ensure its safe passage."

Abby inclined her head, acknowledging the compliment. She had earned her title through years of hard work and determination, rising through the ranks from a young deckhand to a respected captain known for her sharp instinct. Her ship, The Siren's Call, was renowned not only for its speed but also for the loyalty of its crew.

"As always, Isaac, I'm honored by your trust," Abby replied finally, her tone reflective of the weight of the responsibility he was offering. "When do we sail?"

Isaac smiled, relieved by her acceptance. "The Siren's Call leaves at dawn. I'll have the crew and provisions ready."

───────

Abby stepped aboard The Siren's Call at the break of dawn, greeted by the familiar salty breeze. The crew bustled about, preparing the ship for departure.

As Abby made her way to her quarters to stow her belongings, she felt a hand clap down on her shoulder. Turning, she found herself face-to-face with Ellie Williams, a fellow hunter and friend from her days ashore in jackson. Ellie's auburn hair was tied back, her piercing green eyes sparkled with mischief.

"Well, well, if it isn't Captain Anderson herself," Ellie teased, flashing a mischievous grin. "Off on another grand adventure, are we?"

Abby chuckled, giving Ellie a playful shove. "Always."

Ellie nodded knowingly. "Oh, I know all too well. Heard you're sailing for Europe this time. Quiteee the journey"

Abby nodded, "It'll be a challenge, no doubt. But Isaac trusts me to get the job done."

Ellie raised an eyebrow. "Isaac, huh? That old son of a bitch is at it again!" She leaned closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Any chance you'll find a European lady out there?"

Abby rolled her eyes with a smile. "Not likely.”

Ellie laughed, her laughter echoing through the corridor. "Well, you let me know if you change your mind. I've got some contacts who could arrange a meeting."

“I'll keep that in mind.” Abby shook her head, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a ship to prepare."

Ellie grinned, stepping back to let Abby pass. "Don't forget to send me a postcard!"

With a wave, Abby continued on her way, her mind already shifting back to the tasks at hand. She settled into her role aboard the Siren's Call, overseeing final preparations and ensuring everything was in order, she couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement.

The sea was waiting.

───────

As the Siren's Call cut through the Atlantic waves, Abby kept a vigilant watch, her eyes scanning the horizon for any signs of danger. The journey had been smooth thus far, the ship sailing true under her expert command. But just as the sun began its descent toward the horizon, a haunting melody began to drift through the air.

At first, Abby dismissed it as a trick of the wind, but soon, the melody grew stronger, more intoxicating. It was a song unlike any she had heard before — ethereal and enchanting, weaving through the air like a delicate thread. A chill ran down her spine as she realized what it was:

The song of sirens.

Glancing around, Abby saw her crew entranced by the music, their eyes glazed over, their movements sluggish as they were drawn toward the source of the melody. Panic surged within her as she fought against the mesmerizing tune, her hands tightening on the wheel to keep the ship on course.

"Keep steady! Fight it!" Abby shouted, her voice cutting through the enchantment like a knife. But the sirens' song was relentless, its allure growing stronger with each passing moment. The Siren's Call began to veer off course, its sails catching the wind erratically.

The ship was now beyond her control, rushing dangerously through the waves. The laughter of the sirens echoed hauntingly in the air, mocking their victory.

“Captain, we're losing control! The ship won't respond!"

"Damn it!" Abby gritted her teeth, her mind racing for a solution.

She knew the tales of the sirens, their irresistible songs luring sailors to their doom upon jagged rocks. Abby steadied herself against the wheel, trying desperately to steer away.

But it was to no avail.

The ship's structure collided with rocks, splintering wood and tearing sails. The world began to whirl as Abby was thrown overboard, the icy waters enveloping her in a shock of cold. Debris and bodies floated around her, the cries of her crewmates drowned out by the relentless roar of the sea. With a desperate stroke, she struggled toward the surface, fighting against the pull of the sinking ship.

Moments later, Abby's head broke through the surface, gasping for air as she scanned the scene…

The Siren's Call was rapidly disappearing beneath the waves, its masts jutting awkwardly into the sky before vanishing into the depths. The sirens' laughter echoed in the distance, a cruel reminder of their deadly allure.

“no...” Abby weakly whispered as darkness crept on the edges of her vision.

───────

“Ngh..” Abby jolted slightly awake, her eyes fluttering open as she groaned softly.

You instinctively backed away, giving her space to gather herself. She looked around, disoriented and clearly in pain, her body stiff and bruised. Confusion clouded her expression, and her gaze struggled to focus on you through eyes still adjusting to the dim light.

You remained cautious, observing her cautiously as she blinked.

"What has brought you here?" you asked, your voice tinged with a hint of anger. The disruption she had caused to your sanctuary was annoying enough.

Abby didn't respond immediately, her eyes still trying to focus on you. She seemed caught between fear and fascination, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she struggled to find her voice. The bruises on her skin stood out starkly in the moonlight.

"There is no place for you here, human," you snapped, your tone firm.

The rules of your world were clear — humans were outsiders, their presence a disruption to the delicate balance of your existence beneath the waves.

"You're... one of them," she whispered weakly, pointing a trembling finger in your direction. Her voice trembled, her gaze fixed on you.

Yes, you were one of the creatures of the deep, Your kind had legends woven around them—stories of enchantment and danger that humans whispered. For centuries, your kind had existed in harmony with the sea, guardians of its secrets and mysteries.

But Abby's presence had disrupted that harmony.

A debate stirred within you, a conflict between duty and desire. On one hand, your instincts urged you to follow the rules of your existence—to remain hidden, to protect your kind from the intrusions of humans. But on the other hand, there was a temptation—an urge that whispered of a different kind of need.

Abby's voice broke through your thoughts, her plea tinged with desperation. I don’t mean to intrude.."

Her words hesitated, exhaustion and pain in every breath. You could sense her vulnerability, her body moving with fatigue as she struggled to maintain her composure. The moonlight bathed her in a soft glow, casting a shadow that danced across her features.

In that moment, you saw her not just as an intruder, but as a fragile soul in unfamiliar waters, seeking refuge from the storms. A flicker of empathy stirred within you, a longing to ease her suffering and offer her safeness Yet, there were potential consequences—disrupting the balance that kept both your worlds apart.

With a conflicted sigh, you made your decision. "I will return," you said.

Abby's eyes widened slightly, a mixture of hope and fear flickering across her face. You could see the relief in her eyes, but you knew your reasons for helping her were far from kindness. If she recovered, she would leave your lagoon, restoring the peace and solitude you so cherished.

You slipped back into the water with effortless grace, your body merging seamlessly with the liquid embrace of the lagoon. The cool water flowed around you as you swam deeper, your mind racing with thoughts of what resources you could gather to help. Food, water, perhaps some herbs to tend to her wounds—all necessary for her recovery.

The underwater world welcomed you, its familiar sights and sounds a comforting balm to your conflicted heart. Radiant creatures lit your way, their soft glow illuminating the path through the darkened depths. You swam swiftly, your movements a blur of silver and blue as you navigated the corridors of your aquatic home.

First, you headed to a nearby kelp forest, where you knew you could find nutrient-rich seaweed. With practiced skill, you harvested a generous bundle, tying it together with a strand of your own hair. Next, you sought out a freshwater spring that bubbled up through the ocean floor, filling a small, hollowed-out shell with the precious liquid.

Eventually, you made your way to a hidden grove where medicinal sea herbs grew in abundance. You carefully selected a variety of leaves and stems, each one known for its healing properties. The weight of your decision still hung heavy on your heart, but the act of gathering these resources gave you a sense of purpose, a way to channel your inner confusion into something useful.

With your resources secured, you turned and began the journey back to the cave. The moonlight still shimmered on the water's surface as you emerged, carrying the gathered resources in your arms. Abby was where you had left her, her eyes closed, her breathing slow and steady. She looked even more fragile than before, a difference to the strength you could sense within her.

You approached quietly, setting the bundle of seaweed and herbs beside her.

"I have returned," you said, your voice a whisper. Abby's eyes fluttered open, and she looked at you with a mixture of gratitude and lingering fear.

Gently, you handed her the shell filled with fresh water. "Drink," you said, guiding her hands to the makeshift vessel. Abby complied, sipping the cool water with obvious relief. You could see the color returning to her cheeks, a sign that she was beginning to regain some of her strength.

You showed her the seaweed. "Eat." you instructed, tearing off a small piece and offering it to her. "It will help you recover." Abby hesitated for a moment, then took the seaweed and began to chew, her expression softening as the nourishment began to take effect.

You turned your attention to her injuries. You crushed the medicinal herbs between your fingers, releasing their healing juices, and gently applied them to her cuts and bruises. Abby winced at first, then relaxed as the soothing properties of the herbs took hold.

You backed away, observing her. Abby's eyes met yours, and for the first time, there was a spark of trust in their depths.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the gentle lapping of the waves.

You stared at her for a moment, torn between your desire for solitude and a new connection that could bloom. Her presence was a disturbance, yes, but also a reminder of the world beyond the sea, a world you had long ago distanced yourself from.

You nodded, “The sea will watch over you."

Abby finally began to take in her surroundings. The beauty of the cave lagoon struck her with a sense of awe. Moonlight filtered through the entrance, casting a silver glow over the water. The walls of the cave were adorned with vibrant corals and sea plants, creating an otherworldly atmosphere that felt both magical and serene.

Her gaze shifted to you, the mythical being who had both frightened and saved her. You were a creature of ethereal beauty, your scales glistening in the dim light, your movements graceful and fluid. There was an undeniable allure to you, a magnetism that drew her in despite the fear that lingered in her heart.

But with that awe came a profound conflict. The sirens, your kind, were responsible for the tragedy that had striked her crew. Abby’s thoughts turned dark as she remembered the screams, the chaos, and the horror. Her shipmates, her friends, had been lured to their deaths by the enchanting songs of the sirens, and now here she was, under the care of one of those very beings.

How could she feel anything but hatred for the creatures responsible for so much pain? And yet, as she watched you move with such grace, as she felt the gentleness in your touch, she couldn’t deny the complexity of her feelings.

You noticed her conflicted expression, the way her eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite place.

“You helped me...” Abby spoke, her voice tinged with suspicion and curiosity. “Your kind... they killed my crew. Why didn’t you just leave me to die?”

You hesitated, “I seek solitude,” you replied, “Your presence here disrupts that. If you heal, you will leave, and I will have my peace again.”

Abby’s eyes narrowed slightly, but there was a hint of understanding in her gaze. “It’s for your own sake.” she murmured, more to herself than to you. “Well, if that's the case, thenn you will have to help me leave."

"I have helped you enough," you replied, your voice tinged with reluctance.

Abby's expression hardened "I can't simply swim to land," she insisted, her voice growing firmer. "I need to construct a boat—a small one, quick to build yet sturdy enough to carry me and the supplies I'll need until I reach safety."

You grumbled to yourself, the request catching you off guard. Helping Abby construct a boat meant prolonging her stay—something you had hoped to avoid.

Reluctantly, you nodded. "Very well," you conceded, your voice resigned. "I will gather what you need."

A faint smile tugged at Abby's lips, teasing and amused. "Good," she replied, her voice teasingly soft. "I suppose I should rest now. It'll make you grumble less."

Perhaps you should’ve eaten her.

#abby anderson #abby x reader #abby fanfiction #abby anderson x you #abby anderson au #abby smut #abby tlou #abby x fem!reader #abby x y/n

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cobaltperun · 4 months

Text

Genius - All I Want

Cairo Sweet x female (G!P) Reader

Summary: It was such a cliché, a reunion she didn’t expect to ever happen, let alone six years after she last saw you. It was supposed to mean nothing, a bit of nostalgia, maybe a brief catching up while waiting for class, it was supposed to be a small wave of nostalgia, not a tsunami that disrupted her entire life. You were her opposite, and as hard as she tried she couldn’t resist your pull.

Story masterlist / Next part

Word count: 3k

-All I want is a place to call my own, to mend the hearts of everyone who feels alone-

There was nothing quite as comforting as the freedom of an open road and the clear night sky above you. It was peaceful, though lonely sometimes.

“Well, you’re still as creepy as you were when I was a child,” you said as you watched the dense forest covering the hill ahead of you. Lovell Hill certainly didn’t get any more inviting since you last visited the forsaken small village you were born in. And it certainly didn’t look any more inviting in the middle of the night, close to midnight.

At least you didn’t have to go on foot.

That would be kinda scary, even now that you were technically an adult. At least as far as age went, yeah, you were an adult. You hardly had the life experience needed to call yourself that, though you did spend the last two years away from your parents and the safety they provided. You turned sixteen and took off on your Yamaha Star Venture, staying at one place only long enough to finish one semester at school and then moving on.

Why did you suddenly decide to come back? To this small village in Tennessee? You weren’t sure, maybe it was nostalgia, maybe you wanted to come back and see how much you changed, to measure yourself to the place that shaped your childhood, now with a different outlook on life. Like a frog from a well that learned of the ocean and yearned for the calm of its well, at least for a short while, at least until you closed the chapter of your life called high school.

The road ahead of you narrowed as you entered the dense forest, the sky above you vanished, and the only source of light came from your motorcycle. How long has it been since you ran through this forest as a child, playing hide and seek without a care in the world, without any pressure, creeped out by the random sounds and shadows, but happy to be with your friend. That was so long ago, you weren’t even going to school back then.

As you drove on you saw the lights ahead of you, and you knew exactly what they were. A lone light coming from one room of a huge mansion, the only one on the hill that was still occupied back when you still lived here. From the looks of it that didn’t change. You didn’t look at the mansion though, you just drove past it. The only person you’d be interested in seeing from that mansion probably no longer lived there. She was too good to be stuck in this small village. You remained unaware that someone in that mansion caught a glimpse of you riding by, confused and intrigued by the random person passing by.

~X~

The random biker passing through the Lovell Hill reignited her muse as her fingers glided across her keyboard. Where were they going? Where did they come from? What made them take the road few traveled? Cairo didn’t know, but she liked to imagine the strange traveler. Perhaps they were familiar with the area, confident in their ability to take a shortcut across the hill. Or perhaps they took a wrong turn and she’d soon hear the roar of the engine coming back.

Maybe it would wake her up when she finally tries to fall asleep.

Lonely girl, in a lonely place, longing for some kind of connection, for more than she already had, even if it was just a moment, she’d forget sooner rather than later. She still typed away, contemplating the biker’s decision to pass through the haunting dense forest, all the while feeling the tiny legs crawling up her bare calf. The cigarette she lit just before she picked up on the sound of the motorcycle slowly burned away, forgotten just like she was.

~X~

You parked your motorcycle in the garage, next to your parents’ car and took a deep breath. You were back home, because, truly, nowhere else ever felt as much like home as rural Tennessee. It’s been six years since you moved out with your parents, but they kept the house, kept it clean and took care of the car so everything was set for them when they visited to escape their jobs every few months or so.

It wasn’t a huge mansion, especially compared to the one you just passed, but it was a fairly big, two-story house, with several bedrooms and plenty of space in the living room, as well as a very nice, well-furnished kitchen. The pictures were still hanging on the walls as you stepped inside and took your boots off. Some were from your birthdays, some from your first day at school, some were you and Cairo, or her parents and your parents. They were all attorneys, so of course you and Cairo ended up spending a lot of time together as kids. Well, you did until you started going to school. You placed the backpack you packed your entire life in on the floor of the living room, and a bit too exhausted to go and set up a bed in your childhood room, you just crashed on the sofa and used your motorbike jacket as makeshift cover.

The house still had an admirable book collection, mostly for show though. You read as a child, there wasn’t much else to do here, but most of the books were just bought for show, never to be opened. But, they were there and they gave the house a certain aesthetic, you guessed.

As you looked at the books you noticed an old copy of ‘Around the World in Eighty Days’ by Jules Verne sticking out like a sore thumb with the damaged and stained spine separating it from the well-kept pristine condition of most of the books around it. How many times did you and Cairo read that as children? You smiled at that, promising silently to get the spine fixed up a bit. Just enough for it not to fall apart the next time someone took it, but not to the point of downright replacing it. You wanted to preserve the memories, but that was a task for another day. For now, you just closed your eyes and drifted off,

~X~

Two days later you found yourself in the vice principal’s office, just filling out the last few papers to finalize your transfer.

“You can attend classes right away, miss L/N,” vice principal Manor told you as you signed the final document.

“Right, and the locker?” you asked, ready to put away your helmet and not carry it around at all times.

The woman just slid a key toward you with a copy of your schedule. “Here you go.”

You nodded, smiling gratefully and getting up with your copies of the documents and the things your were given in hand.

“Oh, and welcome back,” vice principal told you.

She knew your parents, as they were very active in the community while they still lived here. It was the connections they still had that allowed you to make such an abrupt decision and transfer on such a short notice.

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” you still found it a bit awkward when people much older than you acted friendly toward you because of your parents. You understood, but you also felt they only saw your parents’ child, and not you yourself.

“Say ‘hi’ to your parents for me,” vice principal Manor justified your feelings on the matter.

You just chuckled lightly at that. “Of course. Have a good day,” you said politely while stepping out of her office.

You and your parents had a good relationship, you loved them, they loved you. You often talked to them over the phone, and you texted at least one of them almost daily. You didn’t see much of them though, you wanted independence and they were more than willing to give you a chance to experience life on your own, all the while making sure you knew you could turn to them if you ever needed. And you were more than happy with that.

You checked the tag on the locker key and looked around, searching for it in the hall, it wasn’t a huge school, so it wasn’t too hard to find. The almost empty hallway was a bit haunting, though, you did get here early thinking paperwork would take longer to sort out. Finally, you did find your locker, not too far from another girl that came early.

Perhaps it was the abrupt way you stopped when you noticed the number on your tag, or maybe it was your jacket and boots, but the girl looked at you.

“We don’t get new students that often,” she commented, her raspy voice catching your attention immediately.

“I better not disappoint then,” you opened the locker and placed your helmet inside. You’d have to go and pick up your books and other things you might need later. Why did you sign up for a literature class again? Oh yeah, you wanted to reignite your passion for reading after all these years.

You could feel her eyes looking you over. “Need help finding your first class?”

“Thanks,” you grinned, meeting her eyes and taking in the way she was dressed. “I like to figure new places out myself, but I appreciate the offer,” you really did, both actually. If you got lost, well, you could find your way out, again, it wasn’t that big of a school. You found your locker just fine, surely you could find a classroom.

“Well, see you around, stranger,” she winked and walked away. “I’m Winnie, by the way!” she exclaimed once she put some distance between you two.

“Y/N!” you answered and went in the opposite direction. It would be a bit awkward if you went the same way when you just rejected her offer to help you find the classroom you were supposed to go to for your first class.

~X~

The next time you saw Winnie it was less than ten minutes later, and this time she was accompanied by a shorter, black-haired girl, you didn’t pay much attention to the though, too focused on finding the classroom you needed to go to.

“Still don’t need help?” she asked as you crossed paths.

“Still no, I’ll be sure to cry for help if needed,” you joked earning a small laugh from he girls, and somehow the laughter you heard sounded familiar. A bit shy and reserved, but soft, but by the time you fully registered the familiarity of the sound the girl with Winnie was too far for you to call her.

It couldn’t be… Right?

Why would it be her? For once maybe you were wrong. Maybe being back in this place made you hear what wasn’t there.

Even if it was, well, you had half a year to come across her again.

Finally, you found the classroom you were looking for and were immediately hit by words you did not expect to hear, especially not in school, in a classroom, read loudly by a middle-aged larger male to at least slightly older man.

“Marcelle wants me to fuck her. She leaps off the couch and pushes herself between the girl and me,” the taller one, dressed in a more comfortable gray tracksuit, perhaps a PE teacher, read.

You weren’t sure how to react as the older man tried to make his colleague stop reading… well, not exactly the material you were expecting. You just entered the classroom, hoping that would be enough to get their attention. It wasn’t and you wanted to erase the ‘split fig’ line from your memory, alas, you were cursed! For you memorized what you heard like a damn recorder. Split fig would remain in your memory likely until something even more jarring replaced it.

You nearly walked out, not wanting to witness any more of this when they began going through student’s things, and that was a line you didn’t like being crossed. The student left that there trusting it wouldn’t be touched, it was private, and they had no business looking through someone’s stuff.

“Well, this is an interesting first impression,” you said without a care in the world making the two men freeze and turn to look at you. “Guess I found the literature class. Good morning, by the way,” you checked the doors again and sure enough, this was the classroom. Not that you needed to check again. Between the books on the shelves, framed pictures of famous writers, general feel of the room as well as everything written on the blackboard there was no doubt in your mind you were in the right place.

The man you guessed was the literature teacher at least had the decency to look ashamed. “Uh, good morning, are you here for the class?”

You nodded, taking a chair along and setting it next to the one where the pile of books was. “Sure, I was going to leave my stuff here, but,” you glanced at the teacher who was now next to you and then at the book in his hand that belonged back on the pile. “Maybe that’s not the smartest decision.”

You weren’t even subtle about it as you leaned back on your chair and pulled out your phone. “Don’t mind me, just passing the time until class starts,” you said, fiddling with your phone in the process.

“This isn’t how we usually are,” the teacher grabbed the book out of his colleague’s hand and placed it back where it belonged. “The school year just started, and Boris might be a bit too excited.”

You raised an eyebrow at that. “I noticed,” you said, briefly shifting your attention to the book the teacher, now named Boris, was reading out loud.

The man next to you quickly raised his hands. “Not that kind of excited, just so we’re clear!”

You just gave him a thumbs up and turned back to your phone. Things might be a bit awkward from now on, but you could live with that.

~X~

Almost an hour of awkward silence broken briefly only by the teacher, Miller, giving you a list of all the books the class was meant to cover later, the students began coming in. The school kinda came to life about ten minutes ago, as more and more students rushed through the halls to their first classes. You hoped your motorcycle was still fine, the first few days at a new, well old but kinda new in this case, place were always a bit worrisome in that regard. You’d cross that bridge when you get there, if it needed to be crossed in the first place. And then, sure enough, one of the students, a girl dressed in black sweater and white shorts sat down next to you.

“I haven’t seen you around, you must be new,” she said as she settled down and opened her notebook.

Again, her voice sounded vaguely familiar, as if you used to listen to it so often as a child but then it changed as she grew up and now only some familiarity remained. Just a small hint here and there to remind you that maybe you did, in fact, know her. Which wouldn’t be surprising, they were all your age, and it was a small village, and if you remembered correctly there were three classes in your generation. Or was it four? Either way, chances were you knew at least some of your current classmates. “Yeah, hi, I’m-“ you turned to look at the girl so you could introduce yourself and your breath hitched.

She raised an eyebrow, puzzled by your reaction. She didn’t change one bit, well, sure, she wasn’t a kid anymore, but you knew exactly who the girl standing in front of you was. Her dark long hair, flowing and framing her freckle-covered face, the soft, curious eyes studying you and an easy, friendly smile, and the adorable dimples on her cheeks. There was no way you could ever forget her, and the pile of books only confirmed your suspicions. As stupid as it was, you were genuinely surprised. You saw the lights on your way back home, though you just assumed it was her parents, not her. Why was she still in this small village? Why wasn’t she out there, making the most of the potential she had? You expected to see familiar faces, but you thought you wouldn’t get to see her again, and your heart raced as fast as your motorcycle through an open road.

“Are you okay?” she asked softly, and you felt two more pairs of eyes on you now that you remained silent for too long. The teacher, as well as the girl she was with were looking at you as well, but it hardly mattered.

“I, yeah, I’m fine, Cairo,” you finally pushed the words through your dry throat. You swallowed, getting over your surprise and smiling at her as her eyes widened. “It’s been a while.” She took a better look at you, and you saw recognition in her eyes as she took your appearance in. You couldn’t blame her for taking a bit of time to recognize you, you changed a bit since she last saw you. “Y/N,” she finally said your name, though with a hint of uncertainty in her tone, and you nodded, the somewhat shy smile on your face turning into a more confident, cheeky grin. She remembered you, and while you didn’t expect to see her you couldn’t hide how happy you were. You just hoped the way the two of you left things off all those years ago wouldn’t be an obstacle to catch up at least over a coffee or tea or something.

A/N: Well, here's the start of the next story. Enjoy! Also... Taglist? Yes? No?

#cairo sweet x reader #cairo sweet #cairo sweet x female reader #cairo sweet x you #miller's girl #jenna ortega x reader #x reader

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usedpidemo · 6 months

Text

Stargazing (Twice Mina)

With the way things are going, Mina’s begging for trouble. And not the usual slap of the wrist kind that celebrities get away with—the kind that’s scandalous, career damning.

She’s so close to falling apart.

And as you watch her come undone—the very image that defines her gradually disappears—you can’t help but think: she deserves this.

—————

If there’s any clear-cut takeaway, it’s this: Mina is designed to be gorgeous, and she plays the part to near perfection.

That’s the whole point. Here’s a sea of media outlets and paparazzi, accompanied by flashing cameras and screaming fans on one side. On the other, stars and figures from different fields, all dressed to the nines and emanate a distinguishable aura. The ‘I’m better than you’ kind. No amount of modest smiles and perfectly curated PR-fluff can disguise the noxious air of celebrity on the red carpet.

Then you look at Mina, wearing the hell out of that backless dress, designed by none other than yours truly (you). You couldn’t have asked for a better muse. She carries herself and your brand around with a confident smile—with pride—seemingly indifferent to the raucous screams telling her to look this way, that way. Wherever her profile turns, cameras illuminate the crowd in near-perfect unison.

It’s a slow motion fashion moment.

As if she couldn't look any prettier, she brushes her hair with a quick, delicate swipe of her hand with queenly grace. The cameras live for moments like these. It’s what goes viral online; it’s what gets social media buzzing. She’s a K-pop idol, the media will say and it’s true, but she doesn’t look out of place with the so-called elite. If anything, she blends in seamlessly, rich, quiet, and enigmatic personality and all.

Cameras continue to follow her as she walks through the carpet. She greets a few other celebrities in the vicinity; mostly Hollywood actresses and artists before she disappears behind the steps of the building. Throughout the entire ordeal, you were never on her mind, not even during interviews, nor when she was in clear view, even though you made her what she is now. All she can think about is herself and her character. That’s how fame works.

You don’t even get a text. Your only reference is a note that reads 23:00.

—————

The next time you see Mina is hours later, at the promised time. One slender leg enters the backseat of the vehicle. She remains mostly untouched, leaving the gala looking the same as when she entered. She’s considerate enough to wave and give a flying kiss to the crowd, who unsurprisingly, go crazy for her. It’s a convincing act. You would, too, if you weren’t always by her side for ninety percent of the day.

She breathes out this deeply relieved sigh once the door slams shut. She’s tired—of being someone else, and just exhausted in general; she’s been in front of a mirror since five in the morning and it’s almost midnight by the time the event ends. You can tell she’d rather be in her hotel suite than anywhere else.

So you drive. No words. Just hit the road and get out of there.

Even late into the night, Paris is still bustling and lively. You don’t make it past three streets before being met by traffic ahead. It’s an agonizing crawl. The satnav says you’ll arrive at your hotel by 2:00 in the morning. Mina probably won’t make it by midnight, at this point because she’s on the verge of falling unconscious, resting her head on the door. Her heels are set on the opposite end, with her lower half resting along the edges of the backseat into a couch position.

Even when she’s asleep, she’s still gorgeous.

“Miss?” you gently call to her, snapping her from her tired daze. She gives you a mild stare through the rear-view mirror, unable to speak.

“We’re gonna be held up by traffic. You want something to eat?” you ask, knowing she likely won’t take anything more than a handful of fries or half a burger.

“Sure. Whatever.” Mina sounds cold, a little annoyed somewhat. The past day has been unkind to her health; she arrived at the airport yesterday after a different schedule and barely had less than five hours of rest before dedicating the entire day for a gala she had contractual obligations to attend. She couldn’t say no even if she wanted; she’s got her whole schedule curated and planned out for months.

You have more time to get her dresses planned out and prepared out than she has to breathe.

And time is unkind to both of you right now. Traffic trogs along at a snail’s pace. The arrival time on the satnav moves further and further away. Sunrise will meet you above a red light at this rate. How anyone gets around in this city considering the number of events that are happening all at once is beyond you. You only drive through Paris a handful of times a year, all for the same reason, and you abhor the idea—let alone the experience—every single time.

It’s difficult enough to wait, especially in this late of hours, when money and careers are on the line. Even more challenging is keeping a cool head and withholding yourself from using your instincts against the trusted systems of the algorithm. Mina will call you many things. She’ll call you insane. You don’t mind; it’ll be on the lower end of insults and comments you’ve heard from the so-called ‘elite.’

At the end of the day, you’re just simply following orders.

You swerve off the main road, into narrow alleys and streets that aren’t registered on any official map. Anywhere that can give you a sense of progress and hold momentum. You drive. You make liberal use of your klaxon against anything and anyone. You go around in circles, sometimes looking at the satnav if it’s kind enough to give you a shorter, quicker path. In your haste, you completely overlook the star, the celebrity you’re meant to protect and coddle like fine art, and cracks begin to form.

“Shit!” Mina fastens the seatbelt, in distress and wide awake from your uncharacteristically aggressive driving. She lifts her head. Pierces your gaze through the rearview mirror with a mixture of panic, concern, and frustration. All that hours spent in the makeup room to look perfect, down to the smallest of details, coming undone within a few minutes.

She seemed rather proud of her appearance, too.

Of course, her demands bounce off your ears—or ring through like white noise. You only know your task. Get her safe.

Even though it’s your very idea, you forget about the thought of eating, too. You’ve passed by a couple of McDonalds along the way, but are blinded by tunnel vision to recognize a single one. It’s not a big loss; she’s as tired of eating fast food as much as you are. It isn’t good for her image right now, either.

Eventually, you do make it back to her hotel. A little over midnight, but still not as early as you wanted to be. You look at the status of your passenger princess. She’s about as coddled as a five year old playing with her doll. A mess.

When you open up the door for her to step out, it’s a dramatic moment that gathers everyone’s attention and fixes every eye. It’s loud.

It also so happens to be empty in the area.

The way she slaps you in the cheek echoes throughout the valet like the sharp crack of a whip, or the pop of a firework. Fucking hell, she hits hard. For a dainty woman like Mina, she’s surprisingly strong. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she snaps, cold and bitter.

You find no mistake in what you did. In fact, you believe you’re doing her a service. Tomorrow, she’ll be at the airport and out of the country faster than when she came in. She doesn’t have to think about you for the foreseeable future. You only see a moody, ill-tempered celebrity frustrated that circumstances haven’t gone her way. Chalk it up to fatigue, but you can’t be arsed to explain yourself or react accordingly at this point.

She’s also pretty when she’s angry, you can’t help but think. Not the pouty, cute, wholesome kind—the ‘I’m gonna rip your throat’ out kind of ire. Sometimes you forget your job and admire just how gorgeous Mina is. You’re no different than the paparazzi or the average fan.

It makes her heated. You’re mentally smirking.

It would be a waste to fight over something as petty as reckless driving this late. No one got hurt; not a single traffic light or speed limit was violated. But her heart jumped a little bit when she expected the least. In her eyes, it’s a reasonable enough incident to show some attitude and assert her status over you.

But not tonight.

Instead, you take her by the wrist and lead her to the alley beside the hotel, away from potential cameras and prying eyes. She yelps, but you slip a hand around her mouth so she remains quiet. Mina is too tired to show some resistance.

“Listen here, Miss Myoui,” you tell her, pointing your finger directly at her. “I did everything right to make sure you have a fine, comfortable experience in Paris. Did your dress, drove you around, everything. What I did was save you a few hours of sleeping in the car. I never asked for anything from you, so don’t come acting like an ungrateful brat.”

“Fuck you.” Mina raises her palm, readying another thunderous, face cracking slap as a threat. “I could have done all that instead if I wanted to.”

“Need I remind you who made the dress that you’re wearing?”

She freezes, unable to find some form of retaliation or rebuttal.

“Thought so.”

“Well what am I supposed to do, then? Get on my knees and worship you as my lord and savior?” she asks.

Suddenly, something clicks inside your head. An idea.

“That—” you pause, mentally noting the entire sequence in a flash, “Actually, that’s not a bad idea.”

“I’m not doing it.” Mina rolls her eyes, turning her gaze away and crossing her arms. Somehow, she’s managed to recognize your intent so quickly. What isn’t surprising is her natural cleverness and intelligence. “Not tonight. Not after what you did.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“That’s what you believe, asshole.” She shakes her head. “Just—let me go.”

“Would be such a shame if a rumor spread around then that you were spotted in the bathrooms with one of the billionaires,” you say, blunt in your threat. “Wouldn’t you hate that? I hear there was a tabloid photo of you spotted with one of the presidential candidates too—”

“You lie.” Mina’s eyes glare at you. You don’t flinch.

She’s not wrong. You’re only telling a half-truth. It’s true that there were billionaires who attended. It would be a strange event if there weren’t any present, in Paris of all places. The report of a presidential candidate showing up is legitimate as well, but that’s as much as you know as the general public. What goes on inside, you have no knowledge of.

“And what happened there was nothing at all,” she adds. “So quit trying to blackmail me and just let me fucking rest.”

“Then explain this to me.” You point at the dress she’s wearing—your dress—and find different sized patches where they shouldn’t belong. They’re not by design; they’re clearly the result of some kind of external tampering or meddling. Around where her legs should be. Near her tummy. The gala is an indoor event, yet it looks as if she had been soaked in some capacity.

Something’s quite off.

“So?” Mina defends herself, unwilling to concede. “Got spilled by drinks, and you don’t really care if it gets ruined.”

While it’s true you usually don’t mind your dresses getting ruined, it comes at a price. “I’m not mad. And yes, I don’t care if you do fuck all with that dress. Hell, that candidate is very lucky he got to clap that—”

“Shut up!”

By instinct, Mina slaps you again.

You chuckle. The sore redness of your cheek isn’t going to silence you.

As she tries to walk away, you grab her by the wrist again. Pull her close to your chest. She trembles, but can’t do anything to stop or shake you loose.

“So you admit? You got fucked by that candidate?”

“No!” Mina remains adamant in her tone. She twists your grip to free herself. “Just—fucking stop already!”

“Only if you blow me. Just a quickie.”

“What? Why?”

“As remittance for the ruined dress, of course. Remember? Ruined dress, ruined cunt.” You can’t help but grin as you remind her of the terms of your agreement. It’s not written in the contract, but a mutual trust shared between you and your muses.

Mina sighs. A deal is a deal, even if it’s not signed on the dotted line. And she has the experience to show for it. Ultimately, she reluctantly agrees, sounding defeated in her response. “Fine. But after this, we’re fucking done.”

“I’m in a bit of a good mood today, so I don’t want your pussy,” you tell the disgruntled Mina, unbuckling your belt then unzipping your pants. “Not gonna lie, the thought of some future president fucking that cunt of yours makes me sick. Get on your knees.”

God, it feels wrong, but you’re enjoying every little moment of this, down to the finer details. The look of dissatisfaction on Mina’s face. The fact you can get her flustered with your teasing. The fact she’s obediently on her knees as you whip out your hard cock directly in front of her. She can tell you as many lies as she wants, but they have no firm ground to stand on. She’s not some stuck-up star unlike many others in that gala, but even she needs to be humbled once in a while.

“His dick is better than yours, anyway. I won’t miss this pathetic piece of shit,” she tells you, gripping to the hem of your dress, dodging every attempt to slip your shaft between her lips.

All the more reason to plunge it deep in her throat.

“Is it? This piece of shit you love to ride on?” You grab your cock and pursue her evasive mouth. You have a hand planted on her scalp, holding her still, as she begrudgingly accepts your length between her lips slowly, in a losing effort to fight back. She gulps her throat, watching as her cheeks hollow, as drool begins to coat your sensitive shaft, until eventually, her seal is vacuum-tight and tension builds up in your groin. “This cock you want to use—fuck—”

Words fail you as you become reacquainted with the warmth of Mina’s mouth. She bobs her head back and forth, slipping a hand around the base of your shaft to stroke. Your cock is poking the back of her throat, your senses relaxing at the pleasure coursing through your body. You feel yourself slipping away—at the cold, at the heat of her sweltering lips, at the layer of saliva that fills every inch of your length. It’s all too much.

This is Mina’s least favorite position. She’d rather have you beneath her most of the time, relentlessly bouncing on your cock till you’re completely drained; it’s how most encounters with her go to the point you simply give up and expect yourself on the mattress as soon as you enter her room. None of that matters now, not when she needs your very shaft to fill her thirsty, dry mouth, as a palette cleanse from the boring gala and because she needs you as much as she utterly hates you.

She doesn’t like the thought of you above her. Her eyes can’t be bothered to look up. It’s a strange dynamic; she’s the celebrity, she’s supposed to have control, not you. Your hand tugs on her black hair, begging her for more, and it reinforces the idea. You love this. Mina, the quiet, cold personality that everyone wants to be like, is zealously sucking you off and you’re helpless to how incredible she is. The suction of her throat. The drag of her tongue on your head, then on the sides. The passionate hum of satisfaction. You recognize the smug grin etched on the corner her lips while she doesn’t bother to look back, knowing full well she can take you any way she wants and you’ll fucking love it. She’s so aggressive, yet perfectly paced.

And she moves like she can read your mind—cum and saliva dripping from the corners, her tongue running laps around your balls, her mouth devouring you entirely with each entrance. Small, whiny sounds that resemble a choke—they’re nothing compared to the echoey moans you can’t help but make. You’re gasping for air as if she’s punctured a hole in your lungs—and to an extent, she has. Your body instinctively has to remind itself they’re leaning on air, because she’s making your spine contort in ways they shouldn't be twisting.

Mina is quite used to this. The notion of having to suck a cock. Not just yours, but fans, higher-ups in suits, all kinds. She’ll tell you yours is the best one, and you’ll believe her. You can tell by personal experience. You shouldn’t let control slip, especially now, when such power is rarely vested on you, but you can’t help yourself. There’s some urgency in handling her, but it might be a little too late. Especially when—

“Mina,” you pant, and you sound so desperate. “So close, Mina. I’m so close. I’m gonna—”

She continues to create friction, and eventually fire. Her hands wring around your balls and your base, tightening the coil of pressure in your stomach and in your veins. Spiraling further and further out of control, you can feel your legs crumble in a last ditch attempt to hold on. With your remaining resolve, you cling to whatever semblance of clarity you can find.

And she plunges her lips further into your length. Her tongue descends lower, to the underside of your balls. None of that disdain and hate from moments ago can be found, only zeal and passion. It’s not graceful in the slightest; it goes against everything her image represents, yet she’s so damn good at it, you can’t stomach the thought of her doing something this filthy, this obscene. The very idea breaks reality. Yet here she is, on her knees, a mouth filled by cock, encouraging you to cum without uttering a single word.

So you oblige her.

You don’t give her the decency of asking. You just pour it all over her with reckless abandon. Yanking her by the scalp, swiftly pulling yourself away in the heat of climax, blasting thick warm seed all over her pristine features, using her visage as a canvas for all your repressed thoughts. Mina welcomes every drop, sticks her tongue out with an inviting stare, unfazed by all that hot load you’re shooting directly at her. Her professionalism is practically hardwired, second nature to allow herself to be used this freely. It’s more than personal satisfaction; it also pays the bills.

It’s a win-win.

“Happy?” she asks, propping herself back on her feet, using the top of the dress to clean herself. Not a waste when it’s sole purpose is to be one and done.

The mess around your groin—residue sticking on your pants—answers her question. You can only nod in agreement as you clumsily and slowly gather your bearings. She shakes her head, amused at your predicament, but proud of her work.

Mina acts nonchalant, walks back to the hotel while you still work through your trousers, as if nothing ever happened. As if you weren’t moaning in public about how airtight her lips are around your cock. You hurriedly follow her, only to be met with a surprise waiting just past the entrance doors.

“I hope Paris has been kind to you so far, Miss Minari, because we certainly won’t be.”

Three comically mischievous men of similar stature and appearance, in nearly identical outfits (a simple shirt, coat, jeans and beret combination, how inspired) with the most cartoonishly evil looks on their faces. They could be anyone on the street. You can immediately tell they’ve been waiting for some time.

“Who are you?” you ask, stepping in front of your client. Mina looks nervous, quietly analyzing the three suspicious characters.

“Doesn’t matter who we are, even if we tell you,” replies the middle man, matter-of-factly. “We have no intention of hurting you.”

“If that’s the case, then please step aside. Miss Mina won’t be taking any requests and she’s very tired, sorry.”

“I don’t think so, buddy.”

“What?”

“We heard everything. You lucky bastard,” says the man on the left. “I don’t think Mina seems to be tired at all. In fact, I believe she wants more of it!”

All eyes turn to the person of interest, who seems to be in denial. Mina, this cold, calculated star, appears to have a harsh, sudden reaction. Offended by the comment, she angrily retorts, “No? What the hell are you saying?”

“Yeah, you heard the guy.” The third man steps forward, the other two close behind slowly approaching her. “It’s all over you. Don’t try to deny it. You enjoyed getting blasted all over that pretty face of yours!”

The three men nod in unison. You don’t have a firearm or any weapon on hand, but you’re willing to fight all three guys, even if you meet a terrible end. That’s the likeliest outcome. Lady luck seems to have disappeared on your side, but it’s part of the job, after all.

“Relax, girl. Again, we don’t wish to hurt you or your bodyguard.” The first man, the guy assuming leadership reiterates. It’s as civil and diplomatic as it sounds, but the looming threat remains prevalent. And it doesn’t do them any favors when they creep up towards both of you like wolves. “We just want what he has.”

“And what is it?” Mina frowns, hiding herself behind you, peeking over the shoulder, trembling.

“Oh, you know what we want, Miss Minari. Give it to us and then we’ll leave you alone.”

Where’s the security in this hotel, you wonder? The ground floor is dead empty of guests, which is to be expected, there’s hardly anyone at the front desk, and there are zero guards at the valet that normally wait for the next car to pull up. It’s midnight, what did you expect?

“Can’t I give you guys some money instead?” she pleads, desperate. She’s no longer hiding herself, but standing side by side with you. Shaking. Nervous. “Name your price and I’ll pay it.”

“I don’t think that will work, miss.” The three men remain adamant. They have you trapped against the corner of the entrance door. Neither of you can hardly move, let alone run. “We’re in Paris. We can easily rob anyone for our keep.”

Judging by the rather expensive watches and sneakers they all sport, they seem to have a point.

“But please, we just want one. One round with the finest Japanese idol in the business. That’s it,” the first man adds, his cohorts nodding in agreement.

Mina turns to you, calling your attention. “Hey.” You’re on high alert, waiting for the moment for hell to break loose. She merely stares. Nothing comes out of her mouth, just an expressive, seemingly strange gaze that doesn’t register anything in your head, nor does it open up any sort of interpretation. And for a while, you don’t understand what’s happening or what’s her intent. The three guys seemingly wait, shrugging whenever you eye any one of them. There’s no rush; time seems to stop at that particular moment. You know their demand; you have ears. You just don’t know if Mina is actually serious about caving to the pressure.

—————

(And fucking hell, you’re so—so—screwed.)

You don’t know if Mina will recover after this. Specifically, her career.

Clothes scatter everywhere in the room, with no regard for cleanliness or the host’s decency. Mina is set in the middle of the mattress as its centerpiece. The star of the show. Her dress is bundled around her waist, baring her chest and legs, while every man is completely in the nude. She’s spread on her fours, with the two subordinates lined up parallel in front of her, the third right behind her. You plan to join after, when everyone’s seemingly tired, when you can have her all to yourself.

At least, that’s what you think will happen. You know she’s going to get used all night long. Mina’s bracing for impact, hoping she can walk out in one piece after this.

You’re holding your phone, ready to record every little thing that happens. It’s not by their request, but your own personal desire. You love seeing it—the notion of Mina getting her comeuppance. The two men in front of her waste no time, stroking themselves hard and slapping their cocks right into Mina’s face, spilling flecks of precum on her. You notice the giddiness in their expressions as they incline the idol’s chin up, nothing but unbridled lust on their faces. The only thing missing is hurling her around and ragdolling her.

“Such a pretty face deserves all this cum,” says the second guy. He’s on the pudgier side, evidently not meant to be in the same atmosphere, let alone the same bed as Mina. “I’ll have you know you were my bias, and you have the most numbers on my counter.”

Utterly shameless.

Meanwhile, the first guy, his colorful body filled with numerous tattoos, slaps Mina’s cheek hard. It ripples throughout her lithe figure, rattles the bed a little. She keens. He takes a moment to look at the hand that committed the sinful act. He’s shaking, in disbelief. He did that. It’s a moment in time, a monumental occasion. Anyone else in his position would be shouting in the streets, celebrating too.

You would.

The third guy, this aged man who’s evidently in his mid-to-late forties and probably shouldn’t be consuming K-pop, continues to stroke himself to Mina’s face. Too bad her mouth can only fit one cock at a time. Her hand grabs his shaft and he grips her hair instead as she pumps him at a delicate pace. Their collective moans fill the room as each person assumes a position around Mina’s sensitive holes, filling them hastily. No technique, no patience whatsoever.

It’s pornographic for all the wrong reasons. How it all came to be. The setup. The characters. The very scene itself. Down to the shitty camera recording. Not befitting of an idol such as Mina. It’s got its own charm, but for the most part, it's as disgusting as you imagined. You can’t believe she’d agree to this. At the same time, you can’t look away. It’s a car crash that you know is gonna happen, yet all you can do is watch helplessly—and stroke yourself hard to.

All three men have different rhythms in which they fuck Mina. Tattoos slowly pounding at her dripping cunt, accompanying each deep thrust with a loud smack of her ass. His one hand grabbing at the hem of whatever’s left of her dress, itching to rip it off. Mina’s moan is suppressed by Pudge’s cock protruding through her throat. A fistful of hair in his grip, the other on her flushed, reddened cheek. Expecting her to take his relentless rhythm, only for her gag with each pump into her airtight lips. As if he doesn’t know how giving head works. The oldest man loosens up, lets his body hang as Mina strokes his cock with her ironclad fingers, letting flecks of cum spread over her neck and her shoulders, content with letting her handle him how she wants.

In a way, it’s admirable seeing Mina like this. Three cocks and all, her commitment to fanservice and satisfaction is any fan’s dream for their idol. You’ve seen it firsthand before, how she attends to each fan one by one, but to handle multiple without a single complaint is quite the accomplishment. She’s gonna take it, and she’s going to love it.

And in fact, she does. You’ve never seen her this dedicated and into pleasuring anyone. How she uses her other hand to seize Pudge’s cock, spitting and licking the head, setting him ablaze. Even as the man with the tattoos begins to wreck into her sopping cunt, foregoing leisure for speed—as her whines echo throughout the room—she maintains her composure the best she can. Even begging him to go harder, which he obliges. The bed’s quaking, seemingly closer to collapse, as the man screams to the ceiling, “Fucking tight—so close—cumming—aah—”

All three men are clinging to Mina in some capacity. On her waist, using her hair, or her shoulders—as they all appear close to their climaxes. Their collective groans of pleasure make this evident noise that warrants numerous calls of disturbance or concern. Imagine the commotion when the staff called in to investigate eventually finds out. The notion spurs Mina as she leans further into it—looks right into the camera as she licks up Pudge’s underside. As if demanding you to take the best shot of her while doing it.

It’s scandalous—the way Mina uses her expressions to make herself look good even under duress. How she winks, sticks her tongue, twists her face into lewder and lewder reactions while the three men who seemingly have power over her, now fold under her control. If only you could step in and be a part of the show, but you can’t.

And she looks even better with cum all over her.

The three guys moan in unison for dramatic effect. As if it was part of the intended shot. One after the other, each man reaches their own orgasm and blasts their hot load onto some part of Mina’s body. None of them seem to find their way into what they initially wanted, which is her holes. Mostly—tattoos man is partly into a deep thrust when he meets his abrupt end, only filling part of her cunt with his seed before deciding to pull out and throbs onto her back, her legs instead. Pudge gets most of her face, which she happily accepts. But even with her mouth wide open, he can hardly land his cum onto her sweet lips. As for the old man, he was never a factor to begin with. He had spilled his cum on the side, on the shoulder, on some hair, on her fingers. He was done before the others even finished.

What an unexpected sight.

You stand from the couch you’ve been sitting on, close in on the aftermath of their orgasms, watching as they stand lifeless around the centerpiece that is Mina, running her fingers over all the cum spilled on her body. This is child’s play to her, yet the most surprising thing is: she wasn’t expecting any of the three guys to finish this soon, let alone all three of them. She has this unsatisfied look in her eyes observing her conduits, the supposed ‘threats,’ as if they didn’t live up to her expectation.

“Did I look good?” she asks you, tilting up, resting her head on her palm.

You show her the phone, speed past the raw footage. She watches like she’s the director—which she kind of is.

“Mm—not good enough,” she adds, grabbing the phone and grabbing a tripod from the bedside drawer. “Set it up over there and do it again. They’re not leaving this until they get it right. And you’re gonna show them the way.”

Looking at their tired, exasperated faces, they’d rather be anywhere but here.

As for Mina, she’s the most energetic you’ve seen her in a while, eager for more—and you’re gonna have to make some phone calls explaining why she isn’t at the airport by morning.

—————

(A/N: woo missed another deadline/date but happy birthday Mina! By request/commission, so thank you for waiting and I hope it was to your liking. I do agree we need more subby Mina but in the end she owns all of us let's be real XD Thank you for reading!)

#smut #kpop smut #twice #mina

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melancholyhigh · 1 year

Text

LATE NIGHT CALLS.

ft. leon x coworker!reader

synopsis. leon misses you so he gives you a call.

content. smut. 1.3k words. phone sex, leon's pov, needy leon, masturbation, dirty talk, praise kink, mommy kink.

note. hello?? thank you guys for 700 followers!! i haven't even figure out what i wanted to do for 500 as yet. i appreciate all of you guys so much <33

masterlist. i love feedback & reblogs :3

Leon huffs as he lies in his bed. He can’t help but think about you.

He wonders what you’re up to. It was midnight the last time he checked, and you’re probably working on a case. He doesn’t like when you’re up late, coming to work the next day with exhausted eyes and greeting him with a tired smile. Maybe he should check up on you like you always did for him.

He didn’t want to disturb you, though. But he needed you so badly.

Glaring at his phone on the bedside table, he thinks about how he’d explain himself for calling you in the dead of night.

I really fucking need you. Leon thinks to say, but that might be too straightforward.

He regrets not talking to you after getting back from his mission. It wasn’t his fault. It was the one thing he looked forward to doing. Leon knew you’d greet him with the biggest grin on your face even though your brows were etched with worry when you asked him if he was alright.

Good job, agent. You would praise. You’re amazing. You know that?

It’s the exact words you uttered that one night. The entire mission was blurry, except for the sweet phrases you let slip as you comforted him.

The both of you were stationed at a rundown motel for the night, awaiting further instructions. He vaguely remembers that there was one bed, and you persisted for him to take it.

“You always have a stick up your ass, Kennedy?” you mused. “You need rest. You’re giving yourself a hard time.”

Leon had rolled his eyes before giving in, resting on the rock-hard mattress before succumbing to slumber. It has been mainly calm — as peaceful as a crusty motel can be until he recalls you waking him up, concern lacing your voice.

He felt the tears in his eyes slipping down his face, and then it hit that he had a nightmare. Leon inwardly cringes at the memory, grateful he doesn’t recall the dream. It felt so childish, a nightmare. But at that point, you didn’t care.

He was so weak and vulnerable, and you tended to him. You sat with him, talked to him, and told him everything would be alright. The recollection has heat blooming within his chest.

From then on, the relationship between that you and him changed. You’re closer, and he’s honestly disappointed that it took so long for him to acknowledge you.

–-

Leon sighs. Why did most nights end up with him thinking of you? It had been worse since he was away for a few weeks. He feels neglected even though you owe nothing to him.

He lets his mind wander, thinking about your touch featherlight along his body. He allows his hand to trail to his tummy, abs flexing, as he mimics how you would touch him or how he wishes you would handle him.

Leon gasps softly, palming his hardening cock through the confines of his boxers. His eyes squeeze shut, and his other hand squeezes his pec.

Fuck it. Grabbing the phone off the bedside table, Leon dials your number, placing his phone to his ear. After a few rings, you answer.

“Hey, Leon, everything okay?” your ask, your voice soft, and you’re clearly exhausted. He feels wrong for calling, but his need outweighs his morals.

“‘M good. I just wanted to talk to you,” Leon says, trying to keep his voice from faltering. He hears a laugh from the other side and the rustling of your blanket, he assumes.

“It’s late. You should be getting your beauty sleep, pretty boy.”

Leon scoffs, hypocrite. Though the way you mutter the pet name has him breathless.

“I miss you,” he grumbles, eyes squeezing shut again.

“Oh, really?” The tone is teasing, and he imagines that’s what you’d say when he’s pleading for your touch.

“Yeah– can you tell me how your day was? Talk to me, please?”

“Uh, okay, Leon. Are you sure you’re alright, though?”

“I’m fine! J- just keep talking, please.”

You were thoughtful, asking him if he was alright, but he’s selfish. Getting off to your voice because he was so fucking horny for you.

“Well, my day was pretty bad. My week, actually. It felt like something was missing, ya know?” You sigh.

“Uh-huh,” Leon responds, not even sure what you said.

His body is so fucking warm. It feels like he’s burning. Not just from arousal but the guilt that lies with him as he shamelessly pulls his boxers down, his dick swollen as it slaps his stomach.

The guilt washes away when you tell him you missed him too. Blood runs straight to his cock as he moans loudly. He hasn’t even touched himself as yet.

Your thoughts are cut short, and there’s a beat of silence as you gather yourself.

It’s over. Leon thinks.

“Leon? Are you touching yourself?” you questioned. You sound confused, not mad, and he wonders if there’s not enough blood pumping to his head. He doesn’t know how to respond.

“Is that why you called me at one in the morning? Pretty baby just wanted to cum.” You mock, and fuck does it go straight to his cock.

“I needed you so badly,” Leon exasperates. He got onto his tummy, burying his head into his pillow and rutting his hips into the mattress. His precum dripped onto the sheets of his bed.

“Mhm, did you come as yet, pretty boy?” your whisper.

“N- no, mommy.” It slips out, and he can’t help it. Gosh, can he embarrass himself even further?

“Oh? Did you want mommy to help you, Leon? It’s okay, baby,” you sigh before instructing, “Want you to stroke your pretty dick f’me, honey.”

He shifts onto his back again, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he grasps the shaft and gradually tugs it. Soft groans escape him as precums oozes out the tip, leaking onto his tummy.

“I wish it was your hand, mommy,” Leon whimpers. He’s so far gone. He had wished for moments like these where he’d be yours, though he hoped for different circumstances.

“Me too, baby. I’d take my time with you,” you mumbled breathlessly. He wonders if you’re touching yourself. Rubbing your puffy clit as you listen to him whine in your favour, your cunt stuffed with your fingers.

He increases his pace, pumping his aching cock faster. He’s so loud, and he’d be embarrassed if you weren’t encouraging him to be louder.

“You sound so sexy, Leon. I can’t wait to have you.” How were you going to have your way with him? Maybe you’ll stroke his cock like he’s doing, pinching his nipples, sucking on them til they're abused and red. He hopes you’ll ride him, bouncing on his cock for pleasure, not letting him come once.

Sloppily fucking his fist now, his head tilts back into the pillow, his hair sprawled out, and his phone is next to his ear as he listens for your quiet moans.

He can’t wait to get his hands on you, sucking on your tits or clit, as you ride his face until utter bliss.

“Come for me, Leon. Come as if you’re inside of me.”

“Holy shit.” Leon groans, the knot inside his tummy snapping as he spurts his cum out, trickling onto him as he rides his orgasm out.

You’re still on call as Leon breathes heavily, trying to collect himself. You break the silence.

“Wish I could’ve seen you coming,” you huff out. “Bet you look even prettier.”

“Did you touch yourself?” Leon asks in disbelief, cleaning himself off with the box of tissues near his bedside table.

“How could I not? You had me dripping. I have to change my sheets now.” you joke, and Leon blushes, grateful you can’t see him. He couldn’t believe he had such an effect on you.

“Can I take you out sometime?” Leon asks nervously. He hopes this doesn’t change the relationship you shared for the worse just because he was a horny mess.

You giggle, and he swears it’s the most gorgeous sound ever.

“Sure thing, baby. Where do you plan to take mommy, hm?”

You weren’t going to let him live that down won’t you? Not that he minds, of course.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #re4 remake #resident evil 4 #leon kennedy x you #leon s. kennedy #leon kennedy smut #resident evil 4 remake #resident evil #leon kennedy resident evil #resident evil smut #reader insert #smut #re4 smut #re4 #✩‧₊˚ fics

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vivalabunbun · 1 year

Text

Let's Look Over The Garden Wall

Summary: One wants an easy meal and one wants to play house.

Word Count: 9.9k

Tags: Alhaitham x Fem!Reader, Smut(r18+), MDNI, Modern AU, Vampire AU, Contract Marriage, NSFW, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Unrequited love?, Vampire! Alhaitham, Dom! Alhaitham, Human! Reader, biting, pet name? (calls you good girl) TW: Blood & Blood drinking, TW: Death, Terminally ill! Reader, slight orgasm denial, slight corruption kink, wedding night, temperature play? He falls hard, slow fic, tragedy

Authors note: This whole fic was a challenge since I wanted to write it kinda from Alhaitham’s pov. I’m not really knowledgeable about vampires, so in this fic they’re just a type of monster and not undead, and vampire blood can turn humans into monsters. Enjoy!

Side note: Here is the other side, Finale

The secretary had just arrived at the office not too long ago, shift starting at six pm and going until midnight. The typical hours for a creature of the night.

Like a sweet breeze that blew stray leaves through his office’s open window, a stranger came gallivanting through the boundaries of his door, contract in hand. Faruzan, the office receptionist trailing after you with your proper introduction.

“Secretary Alhaitham, this young lady here would like to make a blood contract with you.”

He certainly wasn’t expecting this when he walked through the sliding doors of the building. The biggest company in Sumeru, the firm that specialized in such dubious pacts.

In an age where humans now outnumber vampires, with new technologies and weapons that can now threaten the once untouchable creatures, immortal beings now have to play by mortal rules. One such rule, vampires can no longer drink human blood.

Animal substitutes were of course inferior in both taste and satisfaction, any vampire would know this. However, there’s a loophole to this law. Vampires can’t drink human blood legally unless it’s consensual by both parties, established through contracts. Business exchanges for money, power, or glory.

Of course, this practice is heavily regulated. Hunters who uphold the balance ready to rip the hearts out of those who dare make an unfair deal. Alhaitham is the simple secretary who files these contracts, not one of the agents tasked with such things.

Still, he’s intrigued. Even in this office there are many who have yet to see the face of this elusive vampire, how did this human identify him? He was looking for an excuse to stray away from dull lines of files, might as well entertain your musings.

The ashen-haired immortal pulls out a seat for you, nodding to Faruzan sending her out of his office, giving you privacy. Alhaitham ambles to the other side of the polished wood, settling down on his plush office chair.

“The process for filling a contract is straightforward, even though this consultation wasn’t planned, if negotiations go well you’ll then undergo a psychological evaluation.”

You nodded your head lightheartedly, posture relaxed in the chair.

“So,” he begins.

“What are your demands?”

“Marry me.”

Dead silence. He certainly wasn’t expecting a proposal this Monday night. Were you wasting his time with a joke?

You must’ve read his unfazed mask. Quickly pulling a pen and notepad from your pocket.

“I’m being serious, I want you to be my husband.” Hands swiftly jotting sentences down on paper.

In your graceless handwriting, you listed all your qualifications. Age, name, blood type, and financial status. You also detailed some self-prescribed personality traits.

Alhaitham skips over that section.

Marriage contracts weren’t unheard of, nor were marriages between humans and vampires. He believes such practices weren’t deemed illegal solely because of human morbid curiosity and desires.

No immortal, with their centuries of knowledge and wisdom, would waste such energy on a mortal, without a price of course. It would be a fool’s errand to not have fair compensation.

“For a fraction of your time, I’ll give you all of mine.” You point the pen toward him.

How romantic.

“I’d say you’re getting the better end of the deal, Mr. Alhaitham.” There’s a curl to your lips, resting your elbows upon his polished desk.

With a slight sigh, Alhaitham pulls out a form, pen swiftly recording the necessary information. There’s going to be a long process of straightening out the clauses, but this should suffice for approval.

“Why me?” He inquires, straightening out the proposal on his desk.

“You’re handsome, have money, and I like your voice.”

The rustling of papers and pens stopped. Dead unamused silence.

“Pfft! Too brash? Sorry, sorry, I was only joking,” giggling as you waved it off.

“Well, to be fair the real reason isn’t much better, to be honest.” You leaned in closer, creeping towards the unseen boundaries of his personal space.

“I often see you passing through the streets, guess I got enamored from there.” Your smile was shameless but your cheeks were tinted pink.

A hopeless romantic, that answer suffices him for now. He could’ve easily shown you the door, but life has been stagnant for a few decades. History repeats itself if you live long enough to see it, new occurrences are rare. As the sky deepens from indigo to midnight, two bodies sit across from each other, discussing sentences written on paper.

“I’ll contact you in three business days with the verdict, have a good night.”

“I shall await the news.” You beamed at him, warm and icy hands meeting for a handshake.

Just as you entered, you left with that same giddiness. Now left with his thoughts, Alhaitham reviewed the documents, he had three days to ponder whether or not to submit them to the legal team, and through the judgment of a certain scarlet-eyed General Hunter.

As per Sumeru regulations, all offices run by vampires must have uncovered glass windows. An attempt conquered by humans to enfeeble creatures of the night. Alhaitham’s beryl gaze traveled up the length of the building stationed across the street.

What an ironic placement for a hospital to be facing the biggest firm staffed by immortality. Or perhaps it was strategic, after all the most desperate humans are the ones who lay upon their deathbeds for one last hurrah.

The perfect scheme to keep the blood contracts flowing in.

Teal eyes observe the room right across through the glass, it seems freshly vacant. New untouched sheets, new unflatten pillow, and fresh towels.

Alhaitham can now confirm the validity of your statement, a half-truth.

When deciding on a contract, one must weigh the pros and cons, to see if they balance or if one side gives away to another. Your demands? You wanted to experience married life, all aspects of it. Your offer? Your everything.

All your assets together can’t hold a candle to the amount Alhaitham has accumulated for centuries, but it’s a decent amount. Perhaps due to a medical settlement.

Alhaitham has lived long enough to rein in primal desires, he can suffice off animal substitutes just fine. However, it doesn’t mean he wouldn’t want a taste of the real thing again. You offer him a steady supply, and to give him every last drop after seven years.

Yes, all of this for a mere seven-year contract. A deal heavily tipped in the favor of the vampire, not even a mere fraction of the time immortality offers. However, what piqued his interest the most weren’t the benefits listed.

A garden wall the tall vampire can’t peer over. Insight only attainable by those who near the end of their finite paths. What’s it like to have agency? What’s it like to have such finite time?

He’ll have seven years to observe. He submits the forms on the third day, delivering your verdict over the phone. Alhaitham agrees to entertain your little daydream.

On part that it was Alhaitham who personally filed the forms, the approval process went swimmingly, skipping the paper line. Tighnari oversaw the psychological evaluation, test after test confirming the sanity of your mind, speeding up the process of getting that stamp.

–

“What flowers do you like? I’m planning the decorations.” Your legs swinging under his kitchen table.

The contract was approved, hands held and certificates signed at the town hall, your belongings moved into his house. It’s excessive to want a celebration after all of that.

“Whichever flowers you want.”

Alhaitham will hold his tongue, after all, he’s signed to play the role of a husband.

–

The venue was spacious, high ceilings with marble floors and pillars, all of which were lavishly cluttered with Padisarahs, Sumeru Roses, and Kalpalata Lotuses. Alhaitham stood at the altar just off to the side of the wedding officiant. Tuxedo crisp and hands folded together, he scans over the rows of guests invited.

Since there weren’t any in-laws, Alhaitham assumed you wouldn’t have much of a social network. No one’s correct all the time, he ignores the piercing glares of a few eyes. The all-too-loud tones of a grand piano resound through the room. The previously shut doors open to reveal your figure. Embellished dress and veil perfectly framed by the carved entranceway as you ambled your way up the aisle.

The twilight hues of the sky dye the white gown in everchanging vibrancy as you passed by the standing crowd, up the steps to the altar, and finally in front of him. The overwhelmingly floral scent of the bouquet itches his nose.

Alhaitham pays no mind to the soliloquy of the officiant, he simply follows the rehearsed procedures. Sliding the gold band onto your finger and allowing you to do the same to him, lifting the veil to reveal your starry-eyed gaze he places a practiced kiss against your warm lips.

Is this excessive ritual over yet? No.

Alhaitham stands in the corner of the reception hall, hand nursing a glass of wine. The rich spices of the buffet offered to the guest irritated his palate. Supernatural creatures with their enhanced senses, a double-edged sword. Human food serves no purpose to vampires, it’s over-seasoned and pungent. At least your species has created drinks such as coffee and wine, delicacies even immortal creatures can enjoy.

In the center of the artificially lit hall, you eagerly greeted all your guests as they beamed at you. Giggling and hugging each person as an entourage of three friends helped with that embellished gown of yours. Two pairs of eyes from said entourage occasionally glared at him, their bodies forming a barrier to separate groom from bride. Candace and Dehya were the names you introduced to him.

Your starry-eyed self blissfully unaware of the silent cold war as the scarlet-haired dancer calls the attention of the two hunters back for the bouquet toss. Alhaitham was nothing more than just a decoration, you just wanted an excuse to prance around in a pretty white dress and throw a fancy party. He’s your husband, he’ll tolerate this daydream.

–

“Did you enjoy the reception?”

Only after the send-off and closing ceremony of the celebration, when the bride and groom were behind the thick oak doors of their suite, that you seemed to remember the decoration named ‘Alhaitham’.

“Yes, it was lovely.” The wine provided by the venue was of the highest quality, it entertained him enough.

“I hope you’re not upset at me being busy with guests.” Your arms found their way around his waist.

Quite comfortable encroaching on his space huh.

“I’m not.” Better they talk to you and not him.

As his cold hands pat the exposed skin of your back, his teal eyes didn’t miss the trail of goosebumps that prickled your skin. Shall he move on to the next scene? The lacing of your dress seems quite complicated, he assumes that it must have taken a few pairs of hands to tie it. Should he be a good husband?

“Do you need help with this?” His baritone voice was right against your ear, noticing the flush on the tips.

“Yes.” For once your voice was just barely above a whisper, a blushing bride.

The lacing weaved in and out of eyelets running down along the length of your back, how troublesome. Always one for efficiency, Alhaitham simply takes a handful of the taught lace and pulls, they snapped like simple threads. Such things offer no resistance to a creature of the night. The gasp that escaped your lips feed into something deep within.

With the bonds loosened, the embellished dress of yours lost the fight against gravity, fabric pooling at your feet. Revealing to teal eyes the lacy white stockings, garter belt, and panties, all the hallmarks of a wedding night. It’s impossible to deny the hunger crawling up his throat, no force of nature could resist such a sight.

“Aren’t you forgetting something? It’s rude to not offer the groom some help, no?” His hunger enjoyed that scarlet flush on your face.

Indecisive fingers going for the easiest button, opening the tuxedo jacket allowing him to shimmy it off his broad shoulders. Teal eyes continued to survey your flushed face, the smirk on his waiting for your hands to continue. Obeying his silent command like a good bride, you loosened the bow tie next, finally freeing him from that stiff collar.

Slowly your eyes peered up, asking if the torment was over yet, the slight rise in his ash brow directing you to resume. From your lips came the beginnings of a whine to which he sternly shushed. If you couldn’t even undress him how would you be able to do the other vulgar activities?

Finally relenting, your fingers continued with their clumsy attempt at unbuttoning his dress shirt, once a small window of his chest appeared your face pressed against the cool skin, staying there until all the buttons were undone. Oh? So even you can feel shame?

“Shall we continue on the bed, my bride?”

Your face was still hidden in his chest as you nodded, where did that shameless nature of yours go? With your gaze adverted he didn’t even bother hiding the curl of his lips. Sweeping you off the ground, he could hear the flutter in your chest increasing as the distance between the bed closes.

Upon silk sheets, Alhaitham settles down with you in between his legs and back against his chest. One key difference between humans and vampires? Body heat, one creature’s cells produces warmth, while the other simply remains the temperature of the environment. Your flushed skin seared itself into his, icy and hot mending together to create an equilibrium.

Of course, a good husband would warm his wife up. Alhaitham runs his cool palms along the length of your plush thighs and leg, absorbing the warmth as his own, soothing the shivers and goosebumps on your skin. Every now and then boldly creeping up the sides of your waist to twist at your perked nipples, enjoying every jolt and whine.

“Oh? Since when was this transparent?”

A firm hand grasps your chin, directing your vision towards white lace panties, the fingers on his other hand tracing over the shape of your cunt through the soaked fabric. Another lovely whine left your lips, face burning even more as you weakly protested in his hold, too powerless to do anything.

Skilled digits honed in on the nub that made your body jolt away, rubbing the faintest of circles over the delicate fabric, your legs trapped by his robust arms standing no chance to preserve your shattered dignity. As such, you had to follow his desires tonight.

“Or are you excited just by a few fleeting touches? What a lewd bride you are.”

It seems that you were telling the whole truth when you exclaimed how much you liked his voice, his finger could feel the slick that began to seep through the lace. Brushing the fabric to the side, Alhaitham allowed his middle finger to collect the slick along your slit allowing the rest of his digits to warm up against your cunt’s soft mounds. His throat felt parched as the sweet scent teased his nose, but now was not the time, maybe later in the night.

“Will you be honest?” The heel of this palm freely pressed against your clit as his middle finger continued to run up and down your wet lips, every now and then almost slipping.

Your body couldn’t hide its eagerness, hole clenching at nothing every time his finger passed by. However, he needed confirmation from you. Communication is important in a contract no?

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“I’ll be honest.” You pressed your back flat against his chest, trying to hide your face but his firm hold wouldn’t allow it.

“Good girl, then tell me what you desire.” His crisp breath provides your searing skin some relief.

Your plush lips pressed into a thin line as your eyes shut, cheeks heating up even more. It wouldn’t be good if you passed out from heat exhaustion so quickly. He grinds his palm into that sensitive nub, tormenting the answer out of you, nectar now dripping onto the sheets below.

“I want to c-cum,” You breathed out.

How direct, close but it wasn’t what he was looking for.

“You have to be more clear with your instructions, how do you want to cum?”

“Y-your fingers.”

“Good girl.” Finally, his finger breached your soaked entrance.

Pulsating walls welcomed him with unyielding squeezes, dragging his soaked digit further. Your sweet moans and whines resounded through the spacious suite, the volume of your voice directing him toward that spongey spot deep within. You were wet enough for another finger, so Alhaitham adds another, two digits stretching and exploring your soaked cavern.

“Mmmh! T-there!” Your toes were curling.

“Mmm.” The hum vibrated in his chest as his fingers went hard at work, thrusting into your quivering walls.

Each time his palm would slap against your clit your honest hole would clench down so endearingly. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, the muscles in your leg tensing up more and more. It’s obvious that you were close, but before he fulfilled your demands, he decided to be proactive and prepare for the next step.

Releasing your chin from his grasp, allowing your head to lull back against his shoulder. Alhaitham reaches between your bodies, hands never pausing their pace, swift fingers undoing the confines of his trousers. Allowing for his member to lay right against your back, the jolt of your body at the foreign object pressing against you made his hunger worse.

“Did you get more turned on? You’re clenching down tighter, did you want it that badly?”

Even if your eyes refused to meet his, the way your hips grind against his length, warming it up, told him all he needed to know. Your gummy walls constrict more around his fingers, it’s time to wrap up this scene, the next one is even more exciting. So his palm now digs into your clit, circling the now swollen bud in combination with his finger pressing against that nice spot deep inside.

“C-cummin-”

How cute, he didn’t even need to ask you to announce it. Letting your body ripple with the force of the orgasm, trembling limbs within his solid hold. If he was merciful, he would’ve continued to slide his fingers in and out, or maybe continue to caress your little nub, guiding you back to reality. However, hunger doesn’t allow for mercy.

Removing his soaked digits away from your pulsating cunt, teal eyes observing the transparent strings that clung to them with amusement. A small appetizer wouldn’t spoil the main meal, skilled tongue cleaning his fingers of your slick. Your head still limp against his shoulder, eyes rolled back in the throws of pleasure. To bring you back down to earth, it's best to use a new type of force.

Effortlessly, your hips were lifted up dripping cunt lined up with his impatient length below. In one fluid motion, your walls encase everything, drenched cunt giving no resistance as his tip kisses the spongy spot. Alhaitham lets a hiss escape him, it was as if he thrusted into the sun, your walls quickly bringing his member up to its temperature.

From your lips another moan was ripped out, oh it seems that you’ve plummeted back to reality. Your cunt trembled yet gripped onto his cock like a vice, coaxing him to go in deeper, encouraging his hunger to abuse your gummy walls even more. Barely riding out one wave of pleasure before another drowned you.

The hunters at your wedding could stick to your side the whole celebration, they could glare at him all they wanted, and they could try their damndest to keep the vampire at a distance. However, it was all efforts wasted in vain. For it was you, the blushing bride, who walked straight into his arms in the end, so open and receptive.

As he slides out just the slightest bit, your cunt protested by desperately clamping down, begging for his thick girth to stay in. In response he tightened his grip on your hips, lifting your body back up before bouncing you back down. What a glutton for pleasure you were, even as your little mouth whimpered and babbled, your walls thanked each slap of his hips with squeezes.

Sadistic hunger wanted more, to thrust deeper, to bully that poor spot inside of you over and over again with his thick tip as your walls stretch to accommodate the girth. His thighs collected the mixture of sweat and slickness from your body at each thrust. Your fingers dug into his hands, fingers white as you tried to grasp at anything to ground yourself.

“F-fast, too m-much.” There was drool escaping the corner of your parted lips, eyes barely back from seeing the inside of your head.

“Oh? Do you want me to stop?”

Alhaitham grinds to a stop, member still pressing deep inside you as he pulled you closer so his breath could ghost over your nape. In an instant, your mouth and cunt protested, you should be more clear with your instructions.

“N-noo.” Crying over the ruined tension.

“No? You wanted this.” His finger finds its way back to that swollen nub, flicking it a few times to watch the jumps of your body.

“If I let you cum, then I’ll do it my way, is that clear, my bride?” Tormenting your clit with firm circles.

“Yes! Please! P-pleasee.”

So weak against his voice, the sweet calls of a beast to lure you into the depths of depravity. Such is the fate of a shameless bride. Thus, his hips sprang back into action with renewed vigor. One hand keeps your hips still and the other remains on your clit to force that knot to reappear deep inside you.

Nothing but nonsense and moans babbled from your loose face, nectar dripping down to his heavy balls as they slapped against you with each pistoning of his hips. Your frantic hands entangled themselves into ash-mint locks as he felt gummy walls closing in tighter and tighter, your toes curling at the end of spread legs. Sinful slaps increased in frequency throughout the room as did the pace of the finger on your clit.

Your tense body held the warning of another storm, another fall off the edge into the depths. Alhaitham brushes his nose up your nape, the floral scent didn’t distract him from the goal laying just behind the skin. Your nerves were exhausted from the shooting pleasure, now was the perfect time to finally get his share. It’s only fair.

Prepping the area with a slow lick as his hips continued their brutal pace, incisors brushed against the delicate skin before piercing through. His hand shot up from your hip to your neck, a loose grip holding you still as your body tensed then violently shivered. The frenzy clamping of your cunt on his length was proof of your fall. Loose jaw uttering out broken moans as tears dripped down your chin.

The fresh scarlet flooded over his tongue and down his throat as Alhaitham continued with his slow suckling. Ah, you were very much like a flower, so delicate, so fragrant, and so bittersweet. It’s been almost a century since he last tasted the real thing, his body celebrated by filling your walls with thick release. An equivalent exchange of some sort.

A human body is quite frail, losing over two pints of blood borders on fatal territory. It’s not good to deplete a resource so quickly. Alhaitham releases your neck, running his tongue over the wound to seal it up. Teal eyes checked your complexion to ensure his measurements were accurate. Cheeks still with a healthy red flush as your chest heaved with pants, eyes glistening with tears. Such a shameless sight. He allows your head to roll onto his shoulder.

The rhythm of your heart settles back to its resting state as Alhaitham analyzes the taste he just experienced.

“I love you,” you breathed into his shoulder.

Alhaitham stiffens, the herbal aftertaste of your blood was bitter, the tang dried out his mouth causing a drawn-out pause. This is no good, he can’t miss the cue to say the line a bride longs to hear from her groom.

“I love you too.”

The choir of crickets from the world outside filled the void along with your pants.

“Pfft! Maybe let’s not say that, it’s too weird.” You shamelessly laughed, lifting your face from his skin.

What a relief, at least you seem to still have sense. Such words felt forcefully wedged into a script that wasn’t written for it. Might as well remove the line altogether. Moving on from the scene, Alhaitham lets you enjoy the warmth reflected off his body by yours.

It’s in the clauses to allow you to enjoy all aspects of marriage, so enjoy this honeymoon segment.

“Haitham, can you carry this for me please?”

“Haitham, I can’t reach, can you get it please?”

“Haitham, let’s have panipuri tonight!... Can you cook it please?”

It would’ve been better if he remained nothing more than just a decoration. It would’ve been easier if he was just a view for you to see behind glass. Perhaps Alhaitham’s acute eyes misread the contract, did you want a husband or just a maid?

Instead of sitting down in his own house to enjoy a book, he finds himself saddled with domestic responsibilities.

Must you call on him for everything?

Laundry and groceries aren’t that heavy. If you can’t reach the top shelves with the duster, then just get a chair. No ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ could prevent the downward tug of his lips every time you call him that doltish name. Your justification of a ‘nickname’ between lovers was moronic.

“Huh… Haitham how come you only use salt?”

Why do you make a creature who doesn’t consume such foods cook them? You’re more than capable of cooking for yourself every day. Although, Alhaitham would prefer it if you stopped using such overly fragrant herbs and spices.

Of course, when two breaths occupy the same space, there are bound to be pieces that don’t fit together, just as two breaths never sync. Alhaitham already factored those into his decision, but this was more proof of why a theory is always second to application. How troublesome the reality of marriage is, no wonder divorce rates are so high.

A good actor knows how to stay in character, so he’ll keep these thoughts to himself. Just as he lists your quirks silently.

One, you’re capricious. One moment silently enjoying a drama on the TV you asked him to purchase, body hogging the entire expanse of a couch. The next, you’ll be humming as plates and cups clatter in the sink, or the heavy thumps of your steps as you bound through the house with a mop. Alhaitham prefers it when you’re stationary, at least it doesn’t disturb his reading.

–

Two, you drink tea, an unfathomable amount of it. A warm cup always nestled between your fingers, bitter water mixed with honey. The herbal tang finds its way into your blood, making it taste like medicine. Thus, Alhaitham treats it as such, medicine just to alleviate suppressed bloodlust taken in moderation.

–

Three, you wanted to celebrate everything. Each square of a calender marked with scribbles. Why celebrate a celebration that’s already past? What is so special about a birthday? The past two years you purchased the same bundle of pungent flowers that made up that bouquet on that day to gift to him.

“Don’t you want a taste? I saved a slice just for you. Oh, would you eat it if I sprinkled some of my blood on it?”

Alhaitham swiftly accepts the plate from you, lifting the fork of overly sweet birthday cake into his mouth. Useless carbs take up space in his body, but such a thing causes no harm. Better to taste like pure sugar and not medicine.

–

The worst quirk of yours? You rise as soon as the sun greets the sky, adamant to not miss a single second of a day. Every day’s itinerary is filled with spur-of-the-moment decisions, such as going to a farmers market only open on Saturdays between the hours of 9 am and 2 pm. And how you drag him along.

Curses, only a human would drag a creature of the night into the day. What sadistic creatures, delighting in others' misery, you’re no exception.

“I thought you said vampires aren’t like how TV depicts them.” Curious eyes observe his slouched figure.

Vampires aren’t like how those dramas of yours depict them. No formal invitation to cross wooden thresh holds, no garlic braids as an effective shield, and no turning into a pile of ash at the mere rays of a star.

If so, then vampires would’ve been long gone by now. However, just because the sunlight can’t kill a vampire-

“It doesn’t mean it’s not unpleasant.” His stoic voice was too tired to add a bite.

You continued to stare at him with wonderment, as if what he said was the most complex theory known to the universe. Those dramas must’ve rotted that mind of yours, he concludes. You’re beyond saving.

“I see.” Gentle hands lift the excessive sun hat from your head.

Reaching on your tiptoes you place it atop his head, the straw brim providing some reprieve for his irritated skin. Shuffling the hat around until it’s securely nested along his now trussed ash locks. Satisfied, you lower yourself back down.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know. We can go home..”

Tenderly, your hands clasped around his, guiding him into the shade. The whole walk your hands never left his, eyes always searching for the next patch of shadows to lead him into. For the rest of the weekend, you just watched your dramas, the sensation of guilt must’ve muted your voice.

Good. He celebrated this rare break in his library away from you.

Alas, all good things must come to an end. Monday night rolled around again, as he passes the living room, he spots your loafing body napping on his couch as the TV acted as white noise. Tsk. Regardless, it’s time to get to work, he walks toward the front door.

“Wait,” came a soft command, dripping with sleep.

From around the corner, your figure comes stumbling towards Alhaitham, his hand still firmly on the knob. Hands busy trying to rub the fatigue away from your eyes, blinking away the pleasant dream you were just in.

Why did you abandon it? Alhaitham doesn’t know.

Your frame reaches his, transferring some of your warmth to him, arms outstretched towards his neck. Teal eyes don’t miss the way your drowsy legs were wobbling. To prevent any accidents, he supports your body with an arm around the waist.

Just as he feels your body steady, clammy palms encase the sides of his face. Pulling it down as your supple lips pressed against his cool cheek. Did you traverse all the way from the sofa just for a kiss?

“Have a good night at work.” Your shameless smile beamed.

A habit formed from one of your dramas, a wife bidding goodbye to her husband with a sweet kiss to boost his spirits. Curiosity must have gotten the better of you, or maybe you wanted to amuse yourself, two possibilities Alhaitham devises.

–

“So, how’s married life treating you?” Kaveh’s smug tone grated against his eardrums as the blond rested an elbow on the bar table.

Alhaitham couldn’t stop the frown from forming, nor the heavy sigh, so he took a hearty sip of his wine. Emptying the glass in one fluid motion.

“Heh, I see you’ve been enjoying the spoils of marriage very much,” Tighnari snickered.

“Sure, if you wish to see it that way.” Alhaitham’s hand found itself pouring another glass.

It seems that everyone around the ashen-haired vampire was enjoying the spoils of this odd union, everyone but him that is. His miseries fueling the chaff nature of his acquaintances, still he needed a reprieve to drink.

Not that herbal blood of yours, but something actually palatable like the fragrant wine washing the frustrations down his throat. It’s not marriage, it’s having to work overtime.

“Regardless, you signed a contract, you must uphold the clauses.” Cyno’s scarlet eyes leered over the rim of his glass.

Alhaitham sighs, he should’ve drank alone.

–

The tavern wasn’t a far journey away from his house. The deep hues of night slowly shift to the youthful flushes of dawn. He’s been drinking for quite some time, it didn’t matter, alcohol has no effect on a body such as his.

Alhaitham twists the key, the door creaking ajar just to reveal your figure with arms crossed. Disappointment ever so clear in those eyes of yours.

“Where’ve you been?” No chirp in your tone.

After a few hours of reprieve, Alhaitham is welcomed home with an interrogation. Wonderful. Why should he answer this meek creature standing in front of him? He could just walk to bed and get the rest he deserves.

‘You must uphold the clauses.’

Right, Alhaitham has to play the role of a husband, he signed a contract, too late to just burn the papers now.

“I went drinking with coworkers,” he curtly answers.

“Why didn’t you call beforehand?” Your head tilts, disappointed eyes still honed on him.

Why does he have to inform you of his every movement? Who were you to demand so much of his individuality? Alhaitham couldn’t help the frown that reappeared, directed at you, the hurdle that blocked him from entering his own home.

The grandfather clock counted the seconds in the background, two sets of eyes locked in a stare-down. One frowning and one disappointed. How long will this last?

Your shoulders slumped as a sigh left your lungs. Eyes finally finding rest behind two heavy lids.

“My life’s too short for misunderstandings and messy communication,” you huffed.

Your back straightens again as you lean in closer, eyes recentering on his towering form. They no longer held the burden of disappointment, they twinkled with something else.

“I’m your wife, and you’re my husband.” You stated the obvious.

“So when my husband, who usually arrives home at half past midnight on the dot, didn’t arrive home until dawn without a single text or call. I got worried.”

What wasted concern, why worry for an immortal creature?

“You don’t need to report every movement to me, I don’t want that either, but if you plan on staying out please give me a simple text. So I don’t have to spend hours worrying about why my husband isn’t answering my calls.”

Alhaitham scans over the discoloration hanging heavily under your eyes. An unpleasant sensation crawled up his spine. Phone shut off by habit, unaware of how you were losing sleep as he emptied bottle after bottle. He has to remedy the situation now, it’s what a husband should do.

“I understand, I’ll do that from now on,” he answers.

Is he allowed back into the confines of his own house now?

Your hands were now positioned defiantly on your hips, brows quirked up as if expecting something more.

No.

“You’re supposed to apologize, ya know. ‘I’m sorry, I’ll do better next time, my wife’,” you advised.

“I’m sorry, I’ll do better next time, my wife,” he parroted.

The magic words to finally open the path into the house, words that finally returned that grin to your face. Arms outstretched you wrapped them around his neck as your lips warmed up his cool cheek.

“Welcome home, Haitham.”

Ah, he knows what that twinkle in your eyes was, sincerity.

Audiences rarely see the behind-the-scenes of a movie, with directors always handpicking which mistakes are charming enough to be shown as a blooper. Audiences don’t see the multiple scenes filmed then refilmed, they can’t experience the long hours, and they don’t know how many times lines were misread. Three years is enough time for actors to learn their lines.

“Is my drama too loud?”

Alhaitham peers over the top of the journal, focusing on your face peeking through the entrance of his library. Judging by the apron, he guesses it's almost time for dinner, the dialogue playing on the TV was just above a muffle from here.

“It’s fine, remember to turn on the kitchen hood.”

“Okay, which wine did you want to baste the meat in?”

“Top left, how long will it take?”

“Pfft, famished already? 15 minutes, you won’t waste away in that time right, Haitham?”

The ever-so-adventurous palate of yours and the ever-so-drab palate of his. An unstoppable force meeting an immovable object, two existences that bend and twist each other until equilibrium. Equilibrium in the form of a steak basted in red wine, rare for him and medium for you. A dinner that could be enjoyed by both breaths.

–

“Oh?” Your bewildered eyes blink at the bouquet presented to you.

A wrapped box held tenderly in your hands. Alhaitham had taken note of a certain scribble marked on the calendar, it was he who got the fourth bouquet. Placing an order ahead of time to ensure the freshest flowers.

“You said they smelled bad.”

“I’m used to it.” A half-truth.

Your lips couldn’t suppress its toothy grin, balancing the box in one hand as the other accepts the bouquet.

“Since you have every book in existence, I got you something else.” You nudged the wrapped present toward him.

Unraveling the decorative paper his eyes were greeted by the sight of a carved figure of a… what is it? Meeting your eager gaze, the quirk in his eyebrow told enough.

“It’s a hawk, I saw in storage that you used to collect these decorations.”

Ah, you found a petty hobby he had decades ago to torment a certain someone. A figure serves no practical purpose in a home, but the eagerness of your eyes was enough to find the endearing gift a place on a shelf.

–

“How does one make their blood tastier?” You pondered into his embrace.

His tongue traveled up the nape of your neck to collect the escaped drops of scarlet and to close up the wound. Your bare skin pressed against his, rising his temperature to a pleasant warmth.

He could feel every shiver as his length shifted within your overstimulated walls, recovering the overwhelming pleasure experienced just moments earlier.

What an obvious answer, stop drinking that tea of yours. However, Alhaitham prefers when you have the energy to trot through crowded walkways at dusk with him in tow. Bittersweetness is an acquired taste, one that took him some time.

“Since you have enough clarity to ask questions, I’m assuming you’re up for another round.” His husky breath ghosts over your ear.

“Wait~ I’m still sens-Ah!”

–

Over time, something as short as five years, even a trickle of water can crave a home for itself in the rocky foundations of the earth that’s existed since the dawn of time.

The side of the polished dinner table with the clearest view of the TV was your side.

The mug left in the sink with the faint aroma of tea and sweet honey was your mug.

The couch with cushions misshapen and molded by repeated use was your couch.

Such is the lull of domestic reality, each kiss at the door to bid goodbye and each kiss to welcome him back.

Nothing, not even immortality, is resistant to time.

Due to the crowd you’ve built your circle from, hunters were semi-frequent guests at his home. Much to your delight and his dismay. A husband should get along with his wife’s friends.

“Your complexion has gotten paler.” Candace’s heterochromatic eyes narrowed, her hands turning your face from side to side.

“Mmm, I haven’t been going out during the day as much.” Resting the weight of your head within her palms.

“Bullshit, he’s been using you like livestock,” Dehya snapped.

“Mmm? Not really, he says my blood taste like leaves.” Halfheartedly lifting your face out of Candace’s warm hold.

“Don’t cover for that bastard,” the Flame-Mane hunter scowls.

“Need I remind you ‘that bastard’ is still in the room?” Alhaitham breaks his silence.

“Who said you could speak?” Sapphires clash with beryls.

“Who’s home are you currently guests in?”

Even without glancing down, Alhaitham could tell that Dehya’s hand was twitching to reach for the silver dagger hidden up her sleeve. The hand then falters back down, Candace must’ve also noticed, steadfast eyes sending a warning to the other hunter.

“Of all people, why did you have to marry this vampire?” Dehya turns to you exasperated.

“Mmm,” you hummed.

With the finger pressed against your lip and your eyes wandering up towards nothing, Alhaitham couldn’t tell if you were deep in thought or just faking it.

Your pondering filled the room with silence, three pairs of eyes intently trained on your frame. Eyelids closed as you deepened your thought. After a few beats, they fluttered back open.

“Because he’s just too handsome.” There’s that shameless smile again.

The disgusted expression that plastered itself all over the hunter’s face at your response almost pushed a quiet laugh from his lips. However, Alhaitham wanted to avoid a physical confrontation from starting in his house.

If there’s one virtue you have, it’s that you’re a fair person. You perplex your friends and husband to equal degrees.

It’s now time for the hunters to start their night, much like how Alhaitham will soon report to the office. The two women and you were now at the threshold of the door bidding goodbye, their skeptical eyes every now and then glaring behind you at the vampire.

“Oh, one more thing,” your voice perks up.

Arms encapsulated two sturdy frames, pulling them close against yours.

“I love you guys.” Your words make the two robust warriors take a sharp inhale, bodies tensing up momentarily.

“We love you too, very much.” Candace’s voice forced itself to steady.

“Yeah.” Dehya pulled you closer.

After a few beats, you pulled away from your friends. Lighthearted grin lopsided on your face.

“Alright then, stay safe out there,” you chimed, waving at them.

After their figures disappeared from view, Alhaitham shut the oak door. You still peered out the curtains, daydreaming something as the stars reflected in your eyes. He observes for a moment before he collects the cups and dishes that once held tea and sweets to entertain bygone guests.

You were already surrounded by love, genuine love. Why did you sell your soul to experience something you already had? Alhaitham will save that question for another day.

Would you try saying that line to him again? Maybe this time he read his line without hesitation.

–

Alhaitham’s heavy lids shot open. The unwelcome greetings of morning birds signaled the time of day. Keen eyes scanned over the empty space beside him, sheets still trussed in the shape of a smaller figure. The bird songs rang like sirens, heightening his senses.

For once his ageless body left the bed without protest, swift steps pattering through the dim halls until the backyard came into view. Sunlight poured in through the open door, the wooden mounts perfectly framing your slumped figure.

Tired body balancing upon the basket of damp laundry, halfway from the backdoor and clothes line, you stopped to take labored breaths.

Swiftly he was by your side, towering stature blocking you from the harsh rays. Alhaitham lifts your fatigued body from the ground, giving your aching legs relief. Even with the sun hanging high in the sky, your skin didn’t absorb an ounce of warmth.

He takes you to the safety of the dim house, settling you onto the soft cushions of your couch.

“Don’t push yourself.” Alhaitham shifts a few pillows behind your back.

“I wasn’t, the laundry needs to be hung,” you huffed.

“Just call for me.”

You sounded out a whine of protest, but your breathing steadied. Alhaitham moves to stand back to full height, ready to finish the task awaiting out in the sun.

“Wait,” came your soft call.

Plucking your favorite sun hat off, you bestowed it upon unkempt ash locks still dusted with sleep. Fussing with the oversized straw brim until it stayed in place. Once satisfied you beamed, fingers caressing his smooth cheeks before placing a peck from curled lips.

“Thank you, Haitham.”

Adamant hands smoothed over the damp clothes, ensuring that they didn’t dry on the line with wrinkles that stayed stubbornly. The morning rays felt like sand against his exposed skin, but the hat bestowed upon him made it tolerable.

–

“It’s dusk, would you like to stroll through the market tonight?” Beryl eyes inspect the curled figure of his wife among cushions and blankets.

“Mmm, maybe not tonight.” You sink deeper into your couch, drama long forgotten.

“I see.” Alhaitham moves to the armchair just adjacent to you, a frequent perch of his now.

“Come here?”

Just as you finished blinking Alhaitham was by your side again. Slowing lifting your upper body just off the cushion, you pat the now free space, welcoming him to sit. He wouldn’t be a good husband if he were to deny such a request. So he sits.

Once the ashen-haired vampire was fully situated, your head found its place upon his thighs.

“Lap pillow,” there was that giggle of yours.

Alhaitham sighs, but he couldn’t prevent the corner of his lips from curling up, so he hides it with his book. This must be something you learned from those dramas again. He’ll humor it.

His cool fingers run along your scalp as his teal eyes switched between your resting face and the words printed along the aged paper.

Maybe not today, perhaps tomorrow when the rays of a selfish star kiss your cheeks.

–

The drinks were served quietly, the tavern didn’t seem as lively tonight. Perhaps because it’s the busy season, Spring air carries with it the signs of renewing life and tax forms.

“So, how is she, the wife?” Kaveh traverses the stagnant air.

What a redundant question, Alhaitham knows they can smell the fragrance lingering on his body from you, the aroma of flowers only found in a garden beyond a line immortals can cross. The scent of an ending journey.

“I’ll send some more Kalpalata Lotus tea, one cup a day should help with lethargy.” Tighnari prescribes, making a mental note to prepare the delivery once he returns home.

“Thank you, how much would I owe?”

“None, just a gift for your wife.”

Alhaitham hums in gratitude, and the table continued to play cards placidly. Throughout the rounds, his teal eyes stole glances over to a dark screen.

The group dispersed at dawn, but it wasn’t long before Alhaitham acknowledged the presence behind him.

“Alhaitham.”

He only glanced over his shoulder at the tan vampire.

“Remember the punishment that awaits those who dare disturb the cycle of life.” A threatening crackle resounded from the curled fingers by Cyno’s side.

Alhaitham already knows and Cyno knows it all too well. After all, the privilege of a good true death was stolen away from the white-haired man many years ago. Cursing the shorter man to eternity. Thus, Cyno now spends eternity punishing those who dare break the most sacred law.

Alhaitham responds with a nod and with that the two men parted ways as the rosy hues of dawn dyed the sky. You’re probably in bed already, it’ll be his kiss to announce his return.

–

In an age where humans outnumber vampires, with new technologies and weapons that can now threaten once untouchable creatures, immortal beings now have to obey mortal laws. The most sacred of laws, vampires cannot turn humans into immortal beings. It’s illegal, it’s immoral even to curse such fleeting creatures with eternity.

However, vampires are creatures born outside the grace of god from the very start, lurking in the shadows of iconoclasm. What difference would it make?

It’s his night to make dinner, steak with red wine sauce.

What is the difference between blood and wine to the inattentive eye? The scarlet hues could be easily mixed. All it would take is a sprinkle, drops stirred into the fragrant sauce served over the juicy meat, for you to abandon your humanity. For the ticking of a grandfather clock to stop its hands.

Who wouldn’t want more time?

A scene from a night now long past resurfaces at the front of Alhaitham’s mind.

–

“Would you want more time?” Came a question that broke the silence after a moment of passion.

Your damp skin glistens under the moonlight, your chest rising and falling as the lust slowly blinks away from your eyes. Alhaitham’s hand on your back guides you down from cloud nine. You stared at him inquisitively, teal reflecting back to him as he remains silent.

Ashen hair tussled and scratches fading away from cooling skin, he awaits your answer, schemes manifesting.

You let out a hum, signing that you’ll humor his question this time, as your face rests against the pillow comforted by his woodsy scent.

–

If you had more time, he would have more time. More time to pick your brain. More time to search through the archives of your thoughts to decrypt you. More time to grovel at your feet for forgiveness after he rips the humanity away from your arms.

Alhaitham is a prideful thing, but he’s not a dense fool. He knows when an apology is necessary, insight gained from his time shared with you.

Teal eyes glance back behind him towards the living room, where your figure sat quietly, attention distracted by the pair of lovers on screen in the midst of a tense argument. Never once turning behind to glance into the kitchen, not one ounce of suspicion. The scene finishes.

–

“I was born a human.” Your lids opened again, meeting his beryl-like eyes.

Irises pure like the moonlight reflected in them. He hums in acknowledgment, fingers tracing mindless scripts into your tender back.

“I will die as one.”

He hums in confirmation.

–

A riddle he couldn’t quite solve to bypass the sphinx who guards the sanctuary of your mind. Humans are greedy creatures of conquest, always wanting more, always hungry for more. That’s why creatures like him exist and thrive, feeding into the natural greed of humans.

Every human wants more power, more money, more wisdom. Every human wants more and more and more. Every human, so why can’t you want more? It seems that the breeze who gallivanted into his office, proposing to him with a contract, won’t reveal her secret.

As it was outlined on the paper signed by two names, he shall honor your wishes for now until the end, such is the character of a husband.

Alhaitham runs his hand under the kitchen sink, shameless eyes watching as the water turns clear again, and as the skin closes up. A feature only a creature born outside the jurisdiction of god would have.

He finishes the meal with a few sprinkles of freshly cut herbs, serving the untainted sauce over juicy cuts of steak, one cooked medium and one cooked rare. He calls you over to the dinner table.

The average human life span has increased drastically in the past centuries, it’s now about eighty years give or take.

Still a mere fraction of the time held by vampires.

Eighty years, and yet you could only have a fraction of that. You could only offer him a sliver of a fraction.

–

“It’s been a while since you’ve fed, aren’t you hungry?” Your eyes peered over at him.

Alhaitham wipes the washcloth along your back from beside the porcelain tub, steamy water carrying the fragrance of Nilotpala Lotuses. The humidity of the bathroom made the shirt cling to his skin like a wet rag, but the moisture helped with your coughs.

“I’m satisfied.” Another half-truth, teal eyes scan for any signs of discomfort, he can bare it.

“Really? I’m sure my blood doesn’t taste like leaves anymore.” You rested your cheek again on the warm washcloth, eyes twinkling under the fluorescent lights as you looked into his.

The gift by Tighnari sitting untouched in the corner of a cabinet. Perhaps you’ve gotten tired of the bitter herbal taste, or maybe because there wasn’t a point in drinking it anymore.

Alhaitham fought the urge to click his tongue at your brash humor, only you would worry about how you taste during the closing days of a contract. However, his lips couldn’t form a frown when you beamed at him like that.

–

On the path to work, beryl eyes landed upon a bouquet arranged with familiar flowers, the petals dyed by the rich hues of dusk. The florist was busy gathering up the displays to bring them back inside for the night.

“Excuse me, I’d like to purchase this bouquet.”

That night at the office, the staffed vampires crinkled their noses at the overwhelmingly floral scent that plagued the floor. Alhaitham just shut his office door, bouquet resting in a hastily prepared vase, such a thing won’t kill a vampire it’s such a minuscule issue.

“I’m home.” He locks the door after him.

Keen hearing not picking up the pattering of feet along the hardwood floor. Placing the flowers on the entranceway table along with his dress shoes, the ashen-haired immortal trekked through the halls, silence ringing in his ears.

Behind the solid bedroom lay his answer, turning the knob, Alhaitham feels tense muscles loosen as the steady melody of breaths resounded through the room.

You’ve been here since this afternoon, body now imprinted into the plush mattress. Still, your blood still runs and your chest still rises, even if there were faint hints of wheezing it was good enough. Quiet as a shadow, Alhaitham removes his blazer and tie before joining you under the sheets. He’s been craving sleep.

A timeless body doesn’t need sleep, ageless cells don’t require such downtime to recover. However, claiming that vampires don’t enjoy sleep would be a blatant lie. A calm way to pass the endless time offered by eternity, a nice way to escape boredom.

Or maybe it’s because sleep gives immortal creatures a taste of an experience they’ll never have. Peaceful expiry.

Teal eyes observe the ever-present curl of your lips before cool lips are pressed against your plush ones. A habit formed after six years. The flowers were still left at the door, but they’ll survive the night. Alhaitham will show them to you in the morning, and you’ll beam that grin at him in the morning.

–

Fresh flowers rested in a vase gifted by friends on the nightstand, the last flowers of Spring. The delicate blooms give way to the vibrant greens of Summer. Such a cruel season for vampires, with days so long and nights so short. A cruel season that offered your body no additional warmth.

Alhaitham’s hand brushes against the apples of your cheeks, your unconscious body protests in an instant with shivers and curls away from the thief stealing what precious heat you had. As if burned by fire, the vampire retracts his hand.

Right, he can’t be greedy. Teal eyes watch every tremor until his legs finally remembered how to walk. Pacing to the closet Alhaitham pulls the Winter covers out from storage, insulating your body with the thick duvet.

The layers form a barrier protecting you from icy touches as he smooths out the wrinkles.

When humans walk into a garden, their eyes are immediately drawn toward the most beautiful blooms. Watching intently at how the petals of the young blossom unravel, their senses enjoying the heavenly fragrance. It’d only be a matter of seconds before their inevitable greed takes over, and they wish to claim the flower as their own.

In this sense, the gods are no different than the mortals who were crafted in their image. Greedy to pluck the most beautiful blooms from the garden for their mere amusement.

Is that what went on behind the garden wall those born outside the jurisdiction of god couldn’t peer over? Alhaitham wonders if you’d answer this inquiry of his. However, if he wants answers, he’ll have to ask soon.

How should he say the last lines of this script?

Alhaitham ponders. There wasn’t a director to give a cue, no parenthetical to follow. Perhaps he’s entertaining such futile thoughts to distract himself.

With each wheeze of your chest, the itch in his palm grew unbearable. His thumb begged to dig its nail into the smooth skin until scarlet droplets trickled out. However, it never got its chance for soon your ailing fingers occupied the space, interlocking to halt its motion as gold rings clinked together.

“My husband is such a handsome actor.” Breathy voice babbling with a giggle.

Alhaitham’s cool skin hogged your warmth, trying to permanently sear the temperature into itself.

“You don’t have to play this role anymore.” You craned your neck away with a deep exhale, exposing the vulnerable skin to him.

There’s nothing viler to a vampire than stagnant blood. Blood that no longer runs tastes rotten, cold blood is worst than bile. Your blood still ran warm, he could sense it. This time it was his incisors that itched.

Keen eyes don’t miss the way your nape prickled at the breath that ghosted over it as his lips parted. Your lids gently shut, bracing yourself. The incisors brushed against your exposed jugular, but they couldn’t break through the delicate skin. They wouldn’t. They just wouldn’t.

Like the cowards they were, they retreated. Alhaitham closes his lips, deciding to press a tender kiss on the spot instead. His free hand guides your head back into a comfortable position on the plush pillow.

“You don’t have to hold yourself back.” Your eyes were open again.

“I’m not holding myself back,” he spoke the truth, the whole truth.

You were born with blood, it’s only right that you die with it, Alhaitham concludes.

The ending clause of that contract be damned.

“What a silly vampire.” Your bell-like laughter twinkled in his ears.

Yes, he is. Even after all these centuries, Alhaitham realizes he’s still no better than a fool. A shameless fool. An idiotic hypocrite ready to stray away from the principles he thought he held firm. He’ll accept this verdict, he’ll continue this fool’s errand, if and only if you continue to giggle at his antics.

Outside the window came the dirge of Summer crickets, gentle crips accompanying your fleeting wheezes. Alhaitham shifts the thick comforter up your body, smoothing out the wrinkles as the soft warmth lulls you away.

Your still fingers in between the spaces of his, your head curled within the space between his nape.

Under the moon’s pure rays, lay two bodies atop soft sheets, curled towards each other, the fleeting warmth long dissipating. Atop silk sheets, one body envisions the two buried under cold dirt and not clean comforters with hands somehow still locked together. Deep under the garden wall.

Once the cruel sun creeps into the sky, and the night flees into hiding with her stars, Alhaitham will have to make a call.

He’ll have to speak with the receptionist on the other end, with their bright customer service greeting, and get a legal pronouncement of death. Then soon after that, he’ll have to arrange the transportation of your cold husk. He’ll have to lower you into the ground alone.

However, the morning is still hours away, the moon is still here to lend her quiet sympathies. So tonight, just for tonight humor his little daydream.

Fin~

©️vivalabunbun DON’T PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS.

3K notes · View notes

garfunklefield · 5 months

Text

Naughty Naughty!

18+ viewer discretion is advised

fem!sub!reader/dom!Yuki Tskumo/sub!Choso Kamo Warnings: mainly Yuki/reader Choso is just there, face riding, threesome, over-the-clothes grinding, fondling, tongue kissing, making out, nipple play, breast fondling, dom/sub, squirting, mommy kink [Yuki is called mommy], pet names [puppy, pup, baby], Tribbing/scissoring, come shot [chest], overstimulation, dumbification Word count:2339 DESC: You didn't realize your roommates were like that until you caught them having sex and they asked you to join

Ok i need to write more yuki GYATTT DAMN

It was late Saturday night when you came home from work. You lazily kicked off your shoes and noted that your roommate, Yuki’s boyfriend was home. Judging from his pair of shoes lying neatly against the wall. He was always nice to you, politely asking how your day was before retreating to his girlfriend's room in the morning or when he’d leave. They were always good about keeping their relationship private, which you adored. It was 50/50. He’d stay over for a day then she’d go to his apartment. You loved the fact they were so aware and able to act maturely.

But you weren’t stupid. You saw how Yuki would stare at you, or how Choso would bite his lip when you wore those low-cut tops. You were endowed and blessed with breasts. Breasts that you knew they wanted to touch. Choso and Yuki had a healthy sex life, and you knew they loved each other. Yet, you also knew they were looking for a third. If they asked, of course, you’d say yes. It felt weird to propose it yourself, but you wished they would. Both of them… they were hot. Yuki wore those tight-fitted tops that showed off her toned arms and stomach, whereas Choso always lounged around in those sweatpants which didn’t hide a thing. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t peak either.

This night though, you weren’t thinking about sex with the two of them. You were thinking about whether they had ordered dinner yet or not. It was broaching midnight and you knew they’d still be up, from the commotion you heard coming from Yuki’s shut door. The TV, you mused, being oh-so oblivious to what they were doing. You strode down the hall and opened the door. You and Yuki were both girls, you’d seen her naked-ish before, so you two didn’t care about knocking. Even when her boyfriend was over. But you didn’t expect to see that scene splayed in front of you.

Choso was lying back against the bed vertically, legs hanging off of the edge. His shirt was off but his sweatpants weren’t, as it was evident from the way he fondled himself over them, a wet spot appearing in the center of his pants. Yuki was sprawled out on top of him, seated perfectly on his face. Her back was arched as she ground against his nose, running her hands up the sides of her body. It was like a scene from a porno, as she gasped and let her eyes flutter close. Her back was to you, so you watched silently as her ass bounced against his face, with one of her boyfriend's hands squeezing her hip. The other was touching his clothed erection. You didn’t mean to walk in on this scene at all, but it was hard to pry your eyes away from it. You couldn’t deny the fact it made your pussy ache just a bit, dropping traces of wetness into your underwear.

You went to close the door and pretend you hadn’t just walked in on them when Yuki turned her head around and laughed, breathily, “Aw… we have a guest puppy.” As she spoke, she didn’t stop grinding against her boyfriend's face, rubbing her folds onto his open mouth. She bit her lip and then pressed them together, “Well… what are you waiting for?” You had an in. It was the invitation you had been waiting for, dangling in front of your eyes. Of course, you were going to take it. The door closed behind you and off came your shirt.

Yuki grinned and moved herself off of Choso, who protested with a whine, “Don’t worry baby,” she cooed, her voice like silk. She sat back on his face but the opposite way, just so she could face you. You weren’t sure if you should have taken off Choso’s pants and started riding him, or if you were supposed to grind on his erection. Honestly, you just wanted to grind on it. You weren’t sure why, but you just needed to. Penetration is fun, right? But something about the teasing touch of cloth against cloth, rubbing to satiate a burning desire, was hot.

Choso moaned as you sat your perfect pussy onto his erection and rolled your hips. It was just slight friction, but enough to make your warm walls clench around nothing. Yuki reached out and took hold of one of your breasts, squeezing the skin to see how you’d react. She wanted to see what you liked without necessarily asking you, but instead trudging through the open waters. Her soft hands made a home on your nipples, rubbing the perked bud before rolling it around between two fingers. You gasped and rocked your hips once, causing Choso to whine loudly. Oh, you tease, you could hear from that whine. He didn’t say it, but his body language told you that enough. His hand that was on Yuki’s hip was trailing to you, squeezing your side. He liked it.

“Mm.. Yuki,” you breathed out, leaning your head back and letting her work her magic.

She giggled before letting out a soft moan as Choso’s tongue hit her perfect spot. Her hands squeezed and you heard her moans get louder. Oh, he was fucking her just right, you had to watch. Her eyes were crossing and her hands left your breasts to steady herself on her boyfriend's chest. She slammed her hips down onto his face, tongue sticking out and breasts bouncing. Her hips snapped quickly, then rolled slowly, any way to get her high from his face. You bit your lip and started to grind, touching along your side as you watched. She was hot, she was sexy, she was everything. And she knew it too. She knew what her faces were doing to you and she knew what her moans did too. You wanted to feel her warm pussy against yours. You wanted her to rub herself against you, as she did to her boyfriend's face.

“Mm.. f-f..f.. Fuck.. puppy.. S’.. such a..mm ha.. Such a g-good.. Pup..” She breathed through groans and mewls, getting closer and closer to cumming all over his open mouth. Choso wasn’t being quiet either. With each grind of your clothed pussy against his straining erection you could feel him tremble. He was close to cumming and it was making you throb. Two beautiful beings in front of you, completely unraveling for you.

When Yuki came, it was perfect. Her voice reached another octave, her back arched inwards, and her hair covered her face. Sweat beaded against her forehead and caught on blonde hairs, smearing down her face. You could hear her pussy squelch against her boyfriends mouth, with her juices releasing. She was quiet for a moment, then she groaned loudly. Her eyes squeezed shut and her head fell back. She was gorgeous as she came on him, and it made you desperately want to cum.

“F-fuck,” you moaned, rolling your hips tighter. Choso’s hands were on your hips rubbing you back and forth, lifting you up and slamming you down to get his high. Yuki let out loud breaths and laughs, moving strands of hair out of her face to watch you. She slid off of her boyfriend and knelt beside him, taking your face in her hands and pulling you into a sloppy kiss. Salvia trailed from her mouth into yours and you couldn’t stifle the whimper from your lips. Her’s were plush and soft, lightly tasting like mint. Her tongue worked beautifully, snaking into your mouth and pulling you in. You wrapped your hands around her shoulders and tried to keep up. Anything to keep up. But it was hard when she was dominating your mouth.

“M-mommy,” Choso cried, “Mm.. I wanna.. P-puppy.. Mm wants to hah..” he threw his head back against the bed as his hands made your wetness rub against his length harder, “wanna cum.. S-so bad..” He sounded so pathetic, all for your pussy. The pussy that was getting so sensitive. You felt a warmth spread over your clit, down your slit, and into your walls. You knew what was coming and it was hard to avoid as he ground you deeper into him.

“Aww puppy,” Yuki pulled away and pressed a kiss on your jaw, feverishly peppering down to your neck, “make our baby cum and you can…” she murmured, with a seductive air to her voice. It was just enough, that with the stimulation, it made you cum. But it wasn’t just cumming, you felt yourself release in a way you hadn’t before. You threw your head back and moaned, grinding your hips as your pussy squirted out every last drop of your juices onto Choso’s boner. It was sticky and hot, your underwear and pants sticking to your pussy as you rode your high. That was enough to make him cum, you felt him twitch and then release as you did. He arched his back up against the mattress and flicked his hips sensitively, ropes of cum coating his underwear.

“Yuki…” You whined as Choso continued to rub your sensitive spots against each other, “..wanna feel you so bad,” your lips pulled into a pout and she smiled sweetly.

She ran one of her hands over your cheek and then wrapped it down your back, pulling you off of her boyfriend's clothed cock. She laid back against the bed and spread her legs, showing off her pretty pussy. Her fingers dipped into her slicked lips, spreading them apart just for you. You gasped and crawled off, seeing nothing but how beautiful she was. You wanted to feel her clit against you so bad. You wanted to feel her warm wetness seep into yours and create a high you had never experienced before. You sat yourself on her, facing toward her face. Your cunt pressed against her perpendicularly and you smushed them together. Her juices were so warm, mixing with yours, along with the plushness of her pussy. You gasped as they made contact and you moaned when she started to grind into you. You expected to do all the work on top, but it was a group effort with her.

“Yeah, pup.. Touch yourself, baby,” Yuki smiled hazily, looking past you. You turned your head to see Choso sitting up and running his hand up and down his cock, tongue lapping at the air as he stared at you two hungrily. You whimpered and thrust your hips into hers, catching Yuki by surprise. She let out a cry and rested her head back. You turned your attention to her, one hand on her lifted leg to raise it more. She was flexible, you knew she could go lower. You wanted to hit that perfect spot Choso did. You wanted to make her eyes cross and her tongue stick out, with saliva trailing from her bottom lip onto her chin. You wanted her to get so overcome with pleasure she couldn’t help but squirt onto your battered pussy too.

She was getting close, grabbing her smaller breasts and squeezing them together, “You like that?” She moaned, looking at you with half-lidded eyes as she pushed herself up, “Y..you like mm- fu..fuck when I.. mm sh-shit!” Yuki inhaled sharply and her eyes were starting to unfocus. She couldn’t help the expressions she was making from the stimulation your clit gave hers. You rubbed circles on her pussy with yours, plapping back into her wetness with a loud squelching sound. Her mouth hung open and a smile pulled at the corners of her lips, as her eyes turned in. She was so close. You were hitting her pretty spot. The spot that made her lose control and made her stupid.

“Choso,” you grunted out, “Cum .. mm.. Cum on her face..” You looked back at him, as he touched himself with bliss. He bit his lip and nodded, scooting up to kneel beside you two. Spit dripped from her tongue as it hung out, gasping for some kind of air and release as you fucked into her. She didn’t register what you said, but to her, it wouldn’t have been an issue. Yuki had always been one to brag about Choso’s cumshots.

“Mm.. sh-shit mm-fuck.. Sh..shit,” Yuki began to babble, grinding her hips back into yours. You were close, as was she. But she was so sensitive, aching to squirt all inside you. That’s all you wanted. To feel her wetness fill your senses and take hold of you in an explosive orgasm.

It took Choso a few more seconds and you heard him whimper, before cum splattered from his swollen tip onto his girlfriend's perked breasts. It was so hot, as he cried out and came on her pretty skin, She gasped and came at the sensation. It wasn’t just small, you felt a sudden wetness flooded your own pussy, sending you over the edge. You moaned, harmonizing with Yuki as she squirted on your cunt. She gripped onto the sides of the bed, eyes crossed and mouth hung open into an O-shape. You felt pleasure wash over your cunt before it filled your senses. It was warm and it was sexy, making you lean forward to reach spots you hadn’t felt before.

You rubbed your hips side to side, making Yuki groan in pleasure. A few more grinds and you could see she was completely dumbified. Somehow, you had kept your head throughout each mind-shattering orgasm. You slid off of her cunt and sat down beside her. A few panting breaths escaped your mouth as you looked down at her. She was a complete mess, body shaking and hands gripping the sheets. Choso yawned and laid down beside her, resting his head against her shoulder. You didn’t want to intrude, but being on top was tiring, so you found yourself laying down beside her too.

“Goodnight baby,” you heard Yuki smile, looking down at you sweetly.

“Goodnight, Yuki.”

#kamo choso #choso kamo #choso x reader #jjk choso #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso kamo x reader #choso smut #choso x yuki x reader #yuuji x reader #choso x yuki #yuki jjk #yuki tsukumo #yuki tsukumo x reader #x reader #x reader smut #smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #garfunklefield writing

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lemoncrushh · 5 months

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Dressing For Revenge 2

I had a few requests for a continuation of this story, so here it is!

Summary: A week after your night with Harry, he calls and invites you to a work-related event which his ex also attends.

Warnings: Smut, dirty talk, oral (male receiving), all the good stuff. MUST BE 18+ TO READ.

Word Count: 7.6k+

Read part 1 here

The microwave beeped offensively loud as you changed into your favorite pajamas. Slipping into a pair of fuzzy socks, you sauntered into the kitchen and grabbed a large bowl from the cabinet. Movies and popcorn sounded like a great plan for a night in. After the debacle the previous weekend, you’d scheduled this Friday evening for yourself. No parties, no nightclubs, no friends. Just you and a chick flick. And maybe some wine.

Deciding to pour a glass, you grabbed it and the popcorn and made yourself comfortable on the sofa. While laughing at Jennifer Lopez hiding from Matthew McConaughey, you felt your phone buzz. Expecting it to be Kelsie or one of your friends from work texting you, you were surprised to see a different name on the screen.

Hi Y/N. How are you?

Your stomach unexpectedly flipped just seeing your name in print underneath his. You hadn’t heard from Harry since he’d called you that night to make sure you’d gotten home okay. Not that you’d expected to. It had only been a week after all. And of course it was a two-way street. You could have texted him. But you hadn’t. But that didn’t mean you hadn’t thought of him.

Hi, Harry. You texted back. I’m fine. You?

Oh hey. I didn’t expect you to reply right away. Are you at home?

You bit your lip. Was he fishing for an invite? Shaking your head, you typed, Yes.

Mind if I call?

With a half squeal, half groan, you replied, Not at all.

Although you had literally just been texting with him, feeling the vibration in your hand and seeing his name again on the screen as your phone rang sent a new rush through your veins.

“Hi,” you answered nonchalantly.

“Hi, Y/N, how are you?”

You chuckled. “You asked me that already.”

“Right. So I did. Um…didn’t expect you to be home on a Friday night,” said Harry.

“That’s because I have a date.”

“Oh?”

“With myself,” you finished, reaching for your glass and taking another sip of wine.

“Oh,” he let out a breathy laugh. He sounded relieved, which only made your heart beat faster. “And how’s that going so far?”

“Not bad. I figure at this rate I’ll be taking myself to bed by midnight.”

Harry snickered harder at your joke. You smiled, happy that you could make him laugh.

“What are you up to tonight, Harry?” you asked.

“Pretty much the same thing, although I’m not sure I’m quite as compatible.”

“No?”

“Mmm,” he sounded. “Am I allowed to say I’m a little jealous?”

You chuckled, though you didn’t really give an answer.

“Which brings me to the reason I called,” Harry continued. “I have something to ask you. A favor, if you will.”

“Oh?”

“You can say no, and I’ll completely understand if you do. I know I said you could call me if you wanted to get together again…”

“Harry, what is it?” you persisted.

You half expected him to say he was horny and lonely, that he wanted you to come over for a quick fix. But you were surprised when he had a different proposition.

“I have a…a thing tomorrow night. A real estate thing. It’s like a corporate dinner where we meet up with the management companies and investors, announce the top brokers and give awards and such. And I was…wondering if you’d come as my date.”

“Oh…” you mused. “You’re allowed to bring a date?”

“Of course. In fact, it’s almost mandatory.” You heard Harry do the breathy laugh again and wondered if he made that part up, or if it was meant to be a joke.

“I see. And…you’re inviting me?”

“I am. I know we don’t know each other well. And you’ll probably be bored out of your mind, and I wouldn’t blame you one bit. It’s just…”

“Just what?” you asked when his words trailed off.

“I didn’t tell you this before because there was no reason to. But my ex is in real estate as well. That’s how we…you know…met.”

“Ah, so she’ll be there.”

“Correct,” Harry sighed.

“And you want me to make her jealous,” I added in a half question.

“Not jealous, really,” replied Harry. “More like revenge. To show her I’m better off without her. Like we did to your ex last weekend.”

“I see,” you said again.

You heard Harry sigh again, then groan. “I’m sorry, Y/N. It sounded better in my head.”

“I didn’t say no.”

“Well, no, but you’re probably thinking it. I swear, I don’t want this to seem like I’m using you. I genuinely like you, Y/N. And I’m very much attracted to you.”

You started to giggle, setting your glass back down on the coffee table.

“What’s so funny?” Harry asked solemnly.

“I used you, Harry. Last weekend. In fact, you wanted me to. And now you’re saying you’re not wanting to use me? For the exact same reason?”

“I reckon you’re right.”

“Of course I am. Now. Let’s just call a spade a spade. What time is this event tomorrow?”

“So you’re going?”

“Of course, I am. You did me a solid, and now I can do one back. Besides, it might be a little fun.”

“Alright,” said Harry, a smile in his voice. “It starts at eight. I can pick you up around seven thirty, if that’s okay.”

“That’s perfect. How formal is this, like black tie, or business casual?”

“Somewhere in between. A cocktail dress should be fine.”

“Sounds good. I look forward to it, Harry,” you announced honestly.

“Good. Me too. Thanks for doing this, love.”

After hanging up the phone, you rushed to your closet to pick out something to wear for the event. Even though you hadn’t wanted to let on over the phone, you were beyond excited to see Harry again. This time, you got to be his arm candy and not Luke’s. And unlike with Luke, you had a feeling Harry would only have eyes for you.

As long as his heart didn’t still belong to his ex.

You’d just dabbed on some lipgloss when you heard the buzzer. Pressing the intercom button, you instructed Harry to come on up to your apartment. But when the knock sounded and you swung the door open, you nearly had to hold on to the knob to keep your balance.

“Shit,” you muttered at the same time Harry exclaimed “God damn!”

With a nervous laugh, you caught the twinkle in Harry’s eyes as he leaned against the door jam, his gaze raking over your body.

He looked delicious. Similar to the previous weekend, he wore a silk shirt, unbuttoned plenty to catch peeks at his tattoos and pecks. Over it was a black suit with the jacket open, the slacks fitting him well in all the right places.

“Fuck me, kitten, you look stunning,” said Harry, expressing your thoughts before your mouth could.

You blushed, your hands self-consciously running down your waist and hips. You must have chosen the right dress for the evening. It was a short, fitted, black lace dress with a high neck and long sleeves. You felt like it was tasteful, yet sexy. Harry seemed to agree as he stepped over the threshold and reached for your waist, pulling you to him.

“Wow,” he breathed in your ear. “How lucky am I?”

“Hmm, I guess we’ll see,” you teased, inhaling his intoxicating cologne.

Harry chuckled low. “Is that how it’s gonna be, then, kitten?” You felt his hands travel down to your butt. And you didn’t stop him when he lowered his mouth to your neck.

“Yes,” you whispered as he sucked on your delicate flesh.

“Maybe we should just ditch this party all together and stay here instead.”

“Now, Harry,” you tsked, pushing his shoulders away. “I thought this was important.”

His laugh vibrated in his chest as he nodded. “Indeed. Thanks so much again for doing this.”

Pursing your lips, you winked at him. Then grabbing your clutch, you followed him out the door and downstairs to his car. When he opened it for you, you immediately got a whiff of the expensive leather, an aroma you’d found pleasant and comforting the last time. It reminded you of the smell of his bedroom, and you quickly clamped your thighs together when you climbed into the front seat, the memory of that night in his bed arousing you.

The drive to the venue was quick, for which you were grateful since you couldn’t manage to keep your eyes off of Harry’s hands on the wheel and gear shift, and the way his thighs looked in those pants. He made some small talk, but your mind was elsewhere, almost wishing you’d taken him up on the offer to stay at your place.

When he parked the car in front of a fancy hotel, you gasped. “It’s in here?”

You recognized the place. Well, obviously anyone would. But you’d been there before. Luke had taken you there once when you-

“Well, it only seemed natural,” replied Harry as he turned off the engine, “seeing as the company owns this property.”

Jerking your head, you stared at Harry with wide eyes, astonished. “Oh my God! I knew you were rich, but…oh my God!”

With a chuckle and a gleam in his eye, Harry opened his car door and rounded to your side where you still sat with your mouth agape. You eventually smiled, taking Harry’s awaiting hand and letting him lead you to the entrance and through the hotel lobby to the elevators. A cluster of people were gathered nearby and Harry slowed and whispered in your ear.

“Some of my colleagues,” he explained. “Shall I introduce you?”

“Of course,” you grinned. “As long as you’re not ashamed to be seen with me.”

“Are you kidding?” he smirked, giving your butt a pat before quickly guiding you toward the men.

“Gentlemen!” he greeted boisterously.

“Harry, my good man, how are you?” one of the men broke from the pack to offer his hand.

“Can’t complain,” Harry replied, shaking hands. “How about yourself?”

“Same here,” the man nodded, though his eyes seemed to wander to you eagerly. “And who is this gorgeous angel you brought with you?”

You felt Harry’s hand glide down your back. “Greg, I’d like you to meet Y/N, Y/N this is Greg Hawthorne, Chairman of the Board.”

“How do you do, sweetheart,” said Greg.

“Lovely to meet you,” you smiled, taking his hand though you had no idea what a Chairman of the Board was.

Just then, you were saved by the ding that the awaiting elevator announced, and you and Harry followed the rest of the group up to another floor. More groups of people were gathered there, and down the hall. Harry stopped a couple more times to introduce you to more colleagues. You knew for certain you would never be able to remember their names, but you figured that wasn’t the reason for the pleasantries.

When you came to a large, open, double doorway, you were greeted by another man and woman who welcomed you both to the event. Stepping inside the massive room, you took in the view of what appeared to be a ballroom, filled with cloth-covered tables with fancy centerpieces. At the far end was a stage, a podium erected in the center and a large screen next to it. The chandeliers were enough to take your breath away, and when Harry guided you toward one of the tables, you noticed the gold-leafed placards.

“This is nicer than most weddings I’ve been to,” you whispered to Harry, lifting the placard in front of you that held his name.

Your date only grinned, but you quickly felt a hand on your knee underneath the table. He gave it a nice squeeze, and you giggled.

“None of that, Mr. Styles,” you warned. “We’re in public.”

“Oh, so I can’t even touch you?”

“I didn’t say that. Just be careful. I’m very ticklish. People may get the wrong idea.”

“I see,” he smirked with sexy eyes. “I’ll try to be discreet, then.”

The room started to fill up, and Harry was greeted so many times that you just remained standing. You had to admit, it felt good to be the companion of someone so popular. Luke’s popularity was nothing compared to this. And everyone seemed to be very fond of Harry.

However, after a quick chat with one of Harry’s friends, you felt his hand twist the back of your dress. Taking a step back to keep your balance, you looked at him and noticed how much the expression on his face had instantly changed.

“What happened?” you inquired. “Is something wrong?”

“She’s here,” he said, his voice low but clear.

“Oh,” you whispered. “Where?”

Harry loosened his jaw, then cleared his throat, looked down and scratched his nose. “Right there. Blue dress.”

Scanning the entrance, you picked out the woman. While she was attractive, she was not what you had pictured. Not that you had any point of reference, but she just didn’t seem like someone you would have thought Harry would have been in a relationship with.

“Oh, I see,” you commented, unsure of what else to say.

A waiter came around with a tray of champagne, blocking your view of Harry’s ex. You graciously accepted a glass, and Harry suggested you both take a seat.

“Hello, Harry,” you heard behind you just as you’d turned.

Harry exhaled through his nose before addressing her. “Good evening, Toni. You’re looking well.”

Toni flipped her hair from her shoulder and grinned triumphantly. Then her eyes fell on you.

“Antoinette Bloom, how do you do?” she said, offering her hand to you.

“Y/N Y/LN, nice to meet you.” You tried your best to give the most nonchalant, yet genuine greeting, hoping Harry was pleased. The corners of your mouth began to curve upwards when you felt his hand on your back once again.

“I hear you closed on the MacHouser deal, Harry,” Toni turned her attention back to her ex. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” he half-bowed, “it was a team effort.”

“Of course.”

Just then, another tall man appeared, his hand on Toni’s shoulder. “Darling, I found our table over there. I think it’s about to get started.”

“Oh, yes,” she grinned. “Good to see you, Harry.” She merely nodded at you, and didn’t even bother introducing the man who was already guiding her to the right side of the ballroom. You felt Harry let out a long breath.

“That wasn’t so bad,” you assured with a smile.

“Wasn’t so great either,” he frowned.

You slid your hand up his arm, squeezing his bicep. “Could have been worse.”

Finally looking at you, Harry’s frown turned into a grin. Your insides flipped when his dimples appeared and he pulled you close to him.

“She’s got nothing on you, you know.”

“Except history,” you remarked.

Harry chuckled. “C’mon, love. Let’s sit and enjoy this evening. Together.”

“Sounds good,” you agreed as Harry helped push in your chair. “By the way, did you know him?”

“Who?”

“The man she was with. She didn’t introduce him.”

“Oh. Yeah. He’s the uh…”

When Harry paused, your eyes widened in astonishment. “Him? She left you for that guy?”

“Well, no, she didn’t leave me, I kicked her out.”

“Because she was cheating on you. With him!”

Harry covered your hand with his. “Let’s not get into it, babe. Not now.”

With a huff, you sat back in your chair, crossing your arms. What an idiot this woman was! Fucking moron!

Harry chuckled low, making you look over at him. “What?”

“You look like a defiant child sat there like that, kitten.”

With a snort, you sat up straight. “Sorry. I just don’t think she knew how good she had it.”

“And how good is that?” Harry leaned closer, his hand sliding up your thigh under the table.

“Harry…” you mouthed, barely able to get out a breath as his fingers played with the hem of your dress.

“Oh, good evening Harry!” a plump man announced, grabbing the chair on the other side of him. “Looks like Marla and I are at your table.”

“Hi, Tom, how are things?” Harry quickly rose from his chair to shake hands with the man, then with the woman he was with.

“Well, as they say…same shit, different day!” Tom cackled.

Harry laughed, “Yes, indeed.” Then he introduced you to Tom and his wife, Marla, who both already seemed like very nice people.

Two more couples arrived shortly after, rounding out your table. Soon enough, the waiters came around with plates of food. You gawked at the presentation of the scrumptious looking chicken dish in front of you.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered in your ear. “I forgot to tell you I ordered the food weeks ago. I hope chicken is okay.”

“Of course, no problem,” you replied.

“Obviously I knew I wouldn’t be here with Toni, but I reckoned chicken was a safe bet.”

“It’s perfectly fine,” you insisted.

“So, how did you two meet?” Marla asked after Tom had made a toast.

Harry looked over at you and you felt your face flush.

“Um…the traditional way,” replied Harry. “At a nightclub.”

“Oh!” Marla giggled when Harry winked, putting you at ease.

Once again, you felt Harry’s hand on you underneath the table. Instead of squeezing your knee, he slid his palm up dangerously, allowing his fingers to rest just inside your thigh. You gasped out a breath, swiftly grabbing your champagne, hoping no one noticed.

Chatter and small talk filled the room until the lights dimmed slightly and the man from the elevator stepped up to the podium. He announced himself as Greg Hawthorne and welcomed you all to tonight’s gala. Then the television monitor came to life and displayed a quick introduction to the firm. While most of it was over your head, you were once again impressed by the company and what real estate it owned. After another quick spiel, Greg introduced the CEO who joined him at the podium, gave a short speech and sat back down at his table. Then Greg proceeded with the awards ceremony, starting with one for another man you’d met earlier.

Having finished your delicious chicken, you placed your fork down on your plate, and dabbed your lips with a napkin. When everyone clapped, you joined in.

Harry leaned over and whispered in your ear. “Bored yet?”

“No,” you smiled. “I’m having a lovely time.”

“Liar.”

“No, I’m not,” you insisted with a laugh.

You reached for his hand then, pulling it underneath the tablecloth, setting it in your lap. You covered it with your other hand for reassurance. Harry beamed at you, then kissed your temple.

Just then, a name you hadn’t wished to hear was announced. Antoinette Bloom stepped up on stage to receive her award, though you’d missed what she’d earned it for. You felt Harry’s body go still next to you.

“You okay?” you whispered.

“Um, yeah. Yeah,” he sighed. “I’m fine.”

“It’s still hard to see her, isn’t it?”

“No, no…it’s…it’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Harry, it’s okay,” you said, squeezing his hand. “I get it. Remember?”

His green eyes stared at you and you thought you saw them water, but he blinked quickly. Then he pulled his hand from your grasp and reached for his champagne, gulping it down. You looked around your table and saw more sets of eyes, either on Harry or trying to divert their gaze. They all knew. They had probably known them when they were a couple. Suddenly, you felt like a duck out of water, and just as Toni was finishing her speech, you excused yourself to the ladies’ room.

When you made it to the stall, and took several deep breaths, you started talking to yourself. Reminding yourself that you were doing Harry a favor. You were his plus one because he wanted some sort of revenge, or proof for his ex to see he didn’t need her anymore - just as Harry had done for you the weekend before with Luke.

This isn’t about you, you stupid bitch. After tonight you’ll probably never see him again.

After washing up and touching up your lip gloss, you opened the door to see Harry standing in the hallway.

“Hey. What are you doing out here?” you asked.

“Checking on you. You rushed out so quickly.”

“Sorry. Must have been the champagne.”

Harry took two steps closer, enough to reach out and finger a curl on your shoulder. “Liar,” he muttered.

With a sigh, you shook your head. “Harry…”

“Y/N. I’m the one who should apologize. I made a fool of myself, trying to act like I didn’t care she was here. You were right.”

“I was?” you gulped.

“It’s still hard,” he nodded. “I mean…it’s not like I want her back. I don’t really want anything to do with her. Just…seeing her reminds me, you know?”

“Absolutely.”

“I’m sorry, darling. I really am.” Harry shoved his hands in his pockets, and you took that as your cue.

“It’s okay. Shall I get an Uber, or…”

“What?” Harry’s eyes widened. “You’re not leaving, are you?”

“Well…um…,” you stumbled. “Don’t you want me to?”

“Oh, God, honey, no! No! I didn’t mean to imply that at all!”

You fiddled with the clutch in your hands as you stared at him incredulously. “I’m confused.”

Reaching for your waist, Harry pulled you even closer. “Baby, I want you to stay. Please. I enjoy your company. And even though this is probably boring you to tears, you look so fucking sexy, I want...”

“What?” you asked when his words trailed off.

“I…” Harry searched down either end of the hallway, making sure no one was within earshot. Then he guided you backwards against the wall. “I wanna eat you up,” he growled.

“Oh!” you squeaked just before his mouth collided with yours.

His kisses were rough and urgent. His stubble scratched against your delicate skin. And you loved it. Gasping for a breath, you grabbed hold of his jacket lapels.

“Harry…”

“I want you so bad, kitten,” he whined. God, that sounded hot. “Been thinking about you all fucking week. Took everything I had in me not to call sooner.”

“Really?”

Just then, two other women started down the hall toward you. Harry straightened up and you pretended to be looking for something in your bag. When they passed and entered the restroom, you raised your head. Harry was staring at you like a tiger about to pounce its prey. When he blinked slowly, you could hear him swallow hard.

“I got a room,” he finally said.

Your jaw dropped. “A roo-, here?”

“Yeah. I know it’s presumptuous of me. But I was hoping…you might…wanna stay with me tonight.”

As he said those words, he moved closer to you, slowly like a dream. Chills erupted down your body, and you found yourself eagerly allowing him into your embrace. His lips met yours again, this time sweet and wet.

“I-I thought…” you breathed between kisses, “when you froze next to me…when she got her award…that you…”

“Shh,” Harry sounded, silencing you with more kisses. “Baby girl…let me make it clear. I don’t want her. I want you.”

You thought you saw the shadows of the women returning from the bathroom, but neither you nor Harry moved an inch. His gaze pierced through you, you melted, and you may have even let out a moan.

“I want you, too. So bad.”

“Good,” he growled, sliding his hand around your neck. Then kissing you one more time, he stood up straight and said, “Let’s get out of here.”

Taking your hand, you were halfway down the hall when Tom emerged from the ballroom.

“Harry!,” he said. “They need you in here!”

“What for?”

“Your award!”

Harry cursed under his breath, and you chuckled as he tugged on your hand and led you back into the ballroom.

“There he is!” shouted Greg from the podium. “C’mon Harry, everyone who’s awarded has to get up here.”

Harry snorted, then gave you a quick kiss on the cheek before heading up to the stage. With a cheesy grin on your face, you made it back to your table and joined everyone in clapping as Harry accepted his award. You hadn’t even heard what it was for, but it didn’t matter. You were proud of him regardless, and you planned on showing him just how proud you were later in the room he’d said he’d gotten.

You watched your handsome date as he gave his acceptance speech, the glow on his face. When he was finished, he gave a quick nod and thank you, then began to make his way between the tables. You noticed Toni staring at him, but your grin spread when Harry paid her no mind, and instead beamed at you with his dimpled smile.

“Congrats, Harry!” exclaimed Tom when Harry reached your table. “I was worried you’d either gone or didn’t care about receiving an award. But I see I was wrong on both accounts. Well-deserved, my friend.”

“Thanks, Tom.”

Although Harry’s words were addressed to the man on his left, his eyes hadn’t left yours.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

“Now?” you half-chuckled, half-gasped.

“Yes,” he replied, his voice suddenly an octave lower.

“Oh, don’t leave yet, you two!” Marla whisper-shouted. “You’ll miss the best part!”

“Best part?” you inquired, eyeing both Marla and Harry.

Harry smirked. “There’s usually some sort of dessert, and they serve more cocktails.”

“Oh. I think I can pass.”

Not missing the tone in your confession, Harry rose from his chair and held his hand out for you. You eagerly took it, giving hasty goodbyes to your table mates, then you followed him back into the hallway just as Greg was giving his final speech, announcing the imminent dessert.

“I have my own sweet, tasty treat,” remarked Harry, patting your ass.

You were mid-giggle, starting to get handsy yourself when you heard a female voice behind you.

“Congratulations, Harry.”

Oh, goddammit, what did she want?

“Thank you,” Harry turned and nodded sharply.

“I always knew you’d make top broker,” Toni continued. “I know I voiced it many times.”

Her tone was sultry as she stepped closer to Harry. Then she placed her hand on his bicep and gave an adoring smile. Your stomach turned and your mouth felt sour as you watched her try to seduce her ex right in front of you.

“Um, no, actually you didn’t,” said Harry.

“Pardon me?”

“You never said that to me, Antoinette. Not once. In fact, if I remember correctly, you used to provoke and torment me by claiming you’d beat me.”

“Oh, that,” Toni dismissed Harry’s accusation with a wave of her hand. “That was just a little game. You enjoyed it, didn’t you baby? You liked trying to rival me. It only made you better.”

Your eyes wide, you nearly smacked her, but you held back your hands and your tongue.

“No, I didn’t enjoy it. And it didn’t make me better. I’m better now because you’re out of my life, Toni.”

Turning away from her, Harry grabbed your hand again and began walking faster. You tried your best to keep up as he led you to the elevators.

“Aw, little Harry is heartbroken so he needed to find a little trollop to mend his ego,” Toni mocked with a sneer.

At that you turned around swiftly. “You’re a horrible person! No wonder he kicked you out!”

“Y/N, please baby-”

“What the hell do you know?” Toni rolled her eyes.

“I know that this man is amazing and sweet and sexy as hell, and you lost out.”

Toni’s jaw dropped open as Harry pulled you toward the open elevator doors.

“I also know that nobody has used the word trollop since the sixties,” you called out just before the doors closed. “The term is slut now, honey.”

When the elevator stopped, and the doors opened, you followed Harry down the hall, your hand still in his until he stopped at the end of the hallway. Then he pulled a key card out of his jacket pocket and slipped it into the lock.

He had been quiet on the lift, his jaw set. You knew he was angry, and maybe even a little embarrassed. You felt for him, seeing just how vile his ex was. You wanted to make him feel better, but only if he wanted the same.

Stepping into the room, however, you nearly forgot what had just happened when you saw the exquisite view.

“Wow…” you breathed as Harry headed for the bar.

“Nice, yeah?” he wiggled his brows. When he poured two glasses of brandy, however, his expression returned solemn.

“Harry…” you began, walking toward him. “We don’t have to do this.”

“What?”

“If you’re not feeling up to it.”

“Who says I’m not?” he asked, handing you a glass.

“Well, I can tell you’re upset.”

“I’m not. I mean…yeah, she’s…a piece of work,” Harry half-chuckled, shaking his head. Then he looked at you. “But she has nothing to do with us.”

“No?”

“Mm-mm,” he sounded, reaching for your waist with his other hand. “I’m just sorry you had to see that. Cheers?”

You clinked your glass against Harry’s and took a sip, setting your clutch on the bar. He looked over his glass at you and winked. Slowly lowering yours, you grinned.

“So your award was for top broker? What does that mean, you sold the most houses?”

Harry chuckled low. “Houses, hotels, commercial properties...”

“Wow,” you said. “I’m proud of you, Harry.”

“Are you?” he smiled wider.

“Of course, I am. And I wanna show you.”

“Oh. You do.” Taking your glass, Harry set it on the bar next to his. “And how do you wanna do that?”

“Like this…” you said, reaching for his jacket and tugging it off his shoulders.

With a smirk, he shook his arms out of it and tossed it on a nearby chair. Then his eyes sparkled as you ran your hands down his chest and began to unfasten the remaining buttons of his shirt.

Slipping his fingers underneath your jaw, he pulled you into a deep kiss. You moaned against him, letting him know just how badly you wanted to please him. When your own fingers met his waistband, you felt him shudder, a sexy tremble of anticipation as he threw off his shirt. You played with him a bit, letting your fingertips linger along his tattoos after you’d unbuttoned his trousers. Then with a loud sounding of the zipper, you dropped to your knees along with his pants. You heard him gasp out a breath, a tiny one, but audible nonetheless.

You kissed his inner thighs, sweet, tender kisses. Moving up slowly, you reached for his underwear. A low, sexy exhale escaped his throat then, followed by a chuckle.

“Oh, kitten.”

“What?”

“Is this what you want?”

You nodded and licked your lips as his erection sprung from his briefs, meeting you in the face. Harry’s breath hitched in his throat when you took hold of it and wet the tip with your tongue. You looked up at him long enough to see his jaw drop as you enveloped your lips around his hard cock. Then he quickly shut his eyes and inhaled through his nose.

He was big. You knew this already, of course, but having him in your mouth for the first time took a little extra work and finesse. You didn’t think you’d be able to deep throat him, so you did your best with what you had to work with. Lubricating him up with your own saliva, you moaned against his cock while your hand met your lips halfway. Harry’s fingers raked through your hair until they had a good grip. His breaths quickened as he bucked his hips against you, urging you to suck him deeper and harder, your hand to move faster. You obliged to his physical requests until you felt him quiver, then tug harder on your hair.

“Easy, kitten,” he gasped. “Fuck, you’re so good, but I don’t wanna come so fast.”

Clipping your chin with his finger, he gazed down at you.

“Jesus, baby, look at you. So eager and willing to please.”

You nodded, running your hands up his thighs. “Yes, Harry. I wanna please you so bad. Wanna make you feel good.”

Stepping out of his shoes and pants, Harry lifted you from the floor. With his hands cradling your face he pulled you into a deep, wet kiss that nearly sent you back into a pool at his feet. Then slipping his fingers behind your neck, he found the zipper of your dress and tugged it open. Stepping out of it, you let him lead you to the bed, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I wanna make you feel good too, kitten,” Harry promised as he removed your black lacy bra.

“But it’s my turn, Harry,” you argued, climbing onto the bed and sitting on your knees. “You made me feel better last time.”

“Did I? Is that why you left in such a hurry?”

“I told you why I left,” you frowned.

“I know. I’m sorry.” His hands cupped your breasts as he snuck a kiss onto your collarbone.

“Anyway, tonight is about you,” you continued. “And I wanna show you how proud I am of you. How worthy you are.”

“Yeah?” he smirked, sliding his hand down the front of your panties. “Am I worthy of this sweet pussy?”

“Fuck yes,” you hissed.

Harry laughed, “God, you’re so wet already, kitten. I haven’t hardly touched you.”

“That’s the effect you have on me.”

“Good to know. I am lucky.”

He continued to stroke you, his fingertip pressing gently on your already throbbing clit. Still on your knees, they began to give out just from his touch. You grabbed hold of his arms to keep your balance, a tiny cry escaping your lips.

“Oh, sweetheart, you sure this is about me?” Harry raised a brow, teasing you.

“Yes, Harry. I promise. You just…get me worked up.”

“What do you think you do to me, hmm? Sat there next to me in that tiny little dress, your thighs begging to be stroked underneath the table. Your fuckable ass just waiting to be grabbed by my hands. Your fuck-me eyes batting their lashes at me as if I don’t know what that means.”

“I didn’t know they do that,” you mewled as you continued to ride his fingers.

“Oh, yes you do. And you love it. Just like you love how you’re dripping on me right now.”

“But you love it, too,” you said, trying to turn the tables. “You love how hot and wet I am for you.”

“Goddammit, yes I do. C’mere, kitten.”

The air suddenly felt cooler when he removed his hand from your panties. But the warmth was returned quickly as you watched him lay down on the bed and stroke himself.

“Harry,” you pouted. “I’m supposed to do that.”

“Well then hurry up, baby. We may have all night, but I get impatient too.”

You gave him a smirk, knowing he was mocking your impatience from last weekend.

“Just for that, I may just take my time,” you teased, slowly sliding your panties down your hips.

“Please don’t.”

“What would you do if I did?”

“Make myself come,” he replied cheekily, his hand still on his cock.

“Aw, c’mon Harry, play nice.”

He chuckled low, sending another thrill down your spine. Kicking your panties off of your ankle, you let them hit the floor as you crawled cat-like over his naked body.

“Kitten, you are,” he grinned, reaching for your hips. “Looks like I picked the right pet name.”

“Yes,” you agreed. “And now kitty wants a ride.”

Harry growled as you nibbled on his neck. “Condom’s in my jacket, babe,” he whispered. “Forgot to grab it.”

With a tiny pout, you slid off the bed and retrieved his jacket from the chair, and found the condom in the inside picket. Opening it swiftly, you returned to the bed where you eagerly slipped it on his awaiting cock. Lifting your hips, you eased yourself down slowly with a high-pitched groan.

“Gently, kitten,” instructed Harry. “You sure you’re wet enough?”

“Yes,” you sighed. “You just fill me so well.”

“Yeah,” he grinned. “Go slowly though, alright. Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I can handle it, baby. Question is, can you handle me?”

Harry’s chest shook as he laughed, and you slowly began to ride him. When you began to pick up a little speed, however, Harry started to blink, his head tilting back into the pillow.

“Fuck, kitten, you feel so good.”

“I do? You like how my cunt feels dripping on you?”

“Mmm yeah. So fucking warm and wet.”

“You deserve to feel this good, baby. Every night,” you moaned.

“Yeah? You would fuck me like this every night?” he asked, his hips bucking up against you.

“Mmhmm. Anything you want. You’re such a fucking hot and sexy man. You deserve to be fucked any way you want.”

“Ah yes, fuck me, kitten.”

“She didn’t fuck you like this, did she?” you purred as you rode him faster.

Harry shook his head and gulped. “No.”

“You deserve so much better, baby. You deserve a woman who knows your needs. Who worships your cock.”

Though Harry moaned and let out an expletive, he grabbed your waist and tried to hold you still. “Wait…baby…wait, stop,” he gasped.

“What’s wrong?” you blinked.

“I don’t wanna fuck like this.”

“Like what?”

“Revenge sex, angry sex, whatever this is. I’m done with that, aren’t you?”

You stared at him, confused. “But, I thought-”

“I know, babe,” he interrupted with a nod. “But I don’t want this to be about her. Or him. Just us.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t you?”

“I…yeah, I guess so.”

Harry’s green eyes stared at you, and though they were still filled with lust, a softer look in them also appeared that you hadn’t seen before. “Just you and me, yeah? I think it could be great.”

“Okay,” you nodded.

“Good girl,” he grinned. “Now fuck me.”

You slowly resumed your thrusts, your eyes still locked with his. While you tried to continue the little game you’d been playing, the point seemed moot. Something came over you that you couldn’t describe, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say you were feeling emotional, overwhelmed. But you couldn’t, could you? This was just a hookup, a mutual agreement. There were no feelings involved. Finally, you stopped all movement.

“What’s wrong, babe?” asked Harry, a bewildered look on his face. “You tired?”

“No. It just…it feels different now.”

“Different…good?”

You shook your head, unable to find the words. “I don’t know. I just…I feel vulnerable.”

Harry’s face softened as he sat up and ran his hands up your back. “I know, baby. But it’s okay. I’m here, yeah? I’ll make you feel good.”

“But I wanted to make you feel good,” you said.

“Then we’ll make each other feel good,” Harry smirked. “C’mon love, it’s alright. We don’t need revenge sex. Those two other people…they mean nothing. We don’t have to use each other anymore. Let’s just…live in the moment.”

Taking in a deep breath, you let it out slowly. Was he saying what you thought he was saying? His arms around you, Harry kissed your lips softly. Then he continued down your jaw and to your neck. Inch by inch, you let the tension fall until his soft, pillowy lips lightly touched your shoulder.

“Mmm, that feels nice,” you breathed before you realized it.

“Doesn’t it?” Harry murmured before looking into your eyes. “I want you, Y/N. I wouldn’t have invited you here if I didn’t. I wouldn’t have gotten this room. For us. You and me, honey. You’re the one I wanna be with.”

Though he didn’t finish the sentence with tonight, you took it as implied.

“Let’s make each other feel good, yeah?” he continued, pecking your mouth again. “I wanna make you come so hard.”

A low moan sounded from deep within your throat before you started to giggle.

“Does that sound good?” Harry wiggled his brows.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Sounds amazing.”

“Then get that ass up, baby, and turn around for me,” he demanded, patting your behind.

Once on your knees facing away from him, you braced yourself for a quick thrust. But Harry seemed to have other ideas. Instead, he grabbed your hips and pulled you back so that you sat on his lap. Pushing your hair off your shoulder, he kissed your neck just underneath your ear. Then his other hand found your right breast, cupping it and pinching the nipple between his fingertips.

“That feel good, kitten?” he whispered, his breath tickling your flesh.

“Mmm, yes.”

“Good. Now lift up just a bit and bounce on me.”

Doing as you were told had Harry slipping inside you easily just before you bounced back onto his lap, his cock filling you completely.

“Ohhhh,” you gasped. “Fuck.”

“Mmm yeah, babe, do that again.”

With a deep breath, you exhaled as you lifted up to your knees again. This time, however, Harry met you halfway, thrusting up against you as you came down. When you let out another gasp, Harry groaned in your ear.

“Fuck, princess, just like that. Keep going.”

Though your knees were already starting to shake, it was nothing like the nearly exploding feeling in your core. You could feel him fully, all of him in your pussy. And you couldn’t get enough.

You repeated the movements over and over, each time making your toes curl more and more. Finally, you noticed the thrusts weren’t quite as long, as Harry was practically holding you against him, his arm around your waist as he panted in your ear, giving you continuous words of encouragement.

“Oh, kitten you feel so good,” he whined, sliding his free hand down your belly. “I’m so close already. But I want you to come first, alright?”

“Yes.”

“Are you close, too?”

“Yes!”

His fingertips slipped through your folds and pinched your clit. Your knees buckled and you almost fell forward until Harry pulled you up. You could feel his wet, sticky chest against your back as he guided you to your climax.

“Easy, kitten,” he cooed. “I got you. Come for me, sweetheart. I wanna feel that sweet little cunt dripping all over me.”

“Aaaaaa…” you exclaimed, though it was far from an actual word. “Oh, God! Ohhh Haaarrryy….baaaabyyyyy!!!!”

“That’s it, kitten,” he urged, his finger still circling your swollen nub as he continued his thrusts. “Such a good girl. I love making you feel good, baby.”

With a few more whines and pants, you came down from your high, taking deep breaths and hard swallows.

“Mmm,” Harry growled, then kissed your neck. “It’s not over yet, love.”

You chuckled, placing your hand on his thigh. “I know. Shall I stay here, or you want me somewhere else?”

“I’ll let you pick,” he replied.

“Really?” Lifting yourself up, you turned around to face him. “Cause I’d really like to watch you when you come.”

“You got it, babe,” he grinned. Taking your face in his hands, he kissed you with fervor. Then he rolled you onto your back.

“Are you sore, love?” he asked as he resumed his thrusts.

“Not really,” you gulped. “Only in a good way.”

Harry chuckled, “Alright, good. Cause I want you legs up here.” Grabbing hold of your thighs, he lifted them over his shoulders. “That’s it, kitten. Now, keep your pretty eyes on me.”

You had no problem with that request. His arms around you with your knees next to your ears, you couldn’t do much more than stare at him. And he was a sight to behold. A curl had fallen from his forehead, and he already looked fucked out of his mind. Your entire body was on fire, inside and out. You couldn’t look away if you tried.

Because of his close proximity, his thrusts were short and quick, his cock hitting you in just the right spot every time. You tried your best to keep breathing, though you could already feel yourself teetering close to the edge. And Harry’s grunts didn’t help. He was so sexy, and it turned you on knowing you felt good around him.

“So fucking wet baby, god damn,” he panted. “Can I fuck you like this every night?”

You blinked in surprise until you remembered your words from earlier. With a gentle smile, you nodded. “Yes.”

“Promise? Cause I don’t think I can go another week, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” you swore to him, and as you wrapped your arms around his neck, you knew that it wasn’t a lie.

Harry’s breaths quickened, and with a deep groan, he shut his eyes tight. Then with two more thrusts, his body trembled and he gasped in your ear.

“Fuck. Oh, kitten, you’re amazing.”

Your fingers played in his hair as he laid on your chest. You listened to his breaths for a moment until he looked up at you.

“Please don’t leave,” he said.

“What?”

“Tonight. Don’t leave like last time, please. Stay with me.”

After a pause, you allowed your fingertips to draw shapes across his back. Then with a sigh you said his name.

“Hmm?” he sounded, rolling onto his side next to you.

You turned and looked at him, giving him a smile. “I have no intention of leaving.”

With a grin of his own, Harry pulled you close and kissed you, no other words needed.

Hope you enjoyed! Please like, reblog and comment (or even better send me a message) if you did.

tagging: @kathb59, @kahluamystery97, @triski73, @lovebittenbyevans, @chibijusstuff, @angywritesstuff, @indierockgirrl, @i-dont-want-your-sympathy (you are all ones who commented on part 1 so I hope that's okay.)

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accursedhex · 1 year

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𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐄.

A/N: It was a moment of weakness. I am losing my mind at this very moment and I need another drink. And just Perhaps, just Maybe… I couldn’t stop thinking about Mingyu’s hands.

GENRE: Smut. [ MDNI ]

T/W: Fingering, body worship (I suppose), marking, unprotected sex (please for the love of god wrap your shit irl), penetrative intercourse; Mingyu is obsessed with you. No, like literally raging stalker level obsessed. Let me know if there’s anything I should I add, thanks.

SYNOPSIS: You’ve been Mingyu’s muse for quite some time now. Though, you didn’t realize just how deeply infatuated the two of you have become. I am unsure as to how, seeing as his studio is filled with nothing but pieces of You.

W/C: 1.2 K

♫ : primavera

His hand around your throat feels a lot like a tender caress.

Your mouth gapes, eyes fluttering, breath stuttering. You do nothing to stop him as his mouth smashes itself upon yours. Lips pliant, eager even as your hands grasp desperately at his form. Fingers tangling in the fabric of his clothes as he presses you against the nearest wall.

Heat radiates from his frame as it easily crowds over you, enveloping you. You felt as though you were being swallowed whole, consumed by his presence.

“Isn’t that what we all crave?” He would whisper in your ear, deft fingers tracing over every curve and divot of your body.

“To consume,” his fingers root in your hair. “To be consumed,” his breath fans over your throat with every syllable. “To consume; is to be,” words barely even a whisper as he sinks his teeth into your skin.

A shudder travels up your spine, to the tips of your fingers and down to your toes. His tongue laving at every raw mark he leaves, with teeth and tongue no inch of you is left unscathed in his wake.

He’d mutter nonsense and you’d devour every word like it was your religion. A devout follower, diligent in your prayers— his name falling from the tip of your tongue like a forbidden sacrament. You weren’t sure when you got here, or even how— at his mercy, at his beholding.

Infatuation; your pulse roared in your ears. Obsession; your lungs threatened to burst with every kiss exchanged. Call it what you will, there was no taste like his on your palate. There was nothing like the sound of his name pouring from your tongue; “Mingyu,” breathy and heady.

His grasp was bruising, and yet, somehow, he held you as if you were a delicate flower. Centering the both of you, there was a pull neither of you could fight. The same way the moon encircles the earth, you were his world, spun it on its axis. As if together you had hung the stars in the sky and gave life to everything beneath.

“Again,” he urges, hands making easy work of your clothes.

“Mingyu,” you breathe, he was your air.

“Again.” A hand slips between your thighs and you let your head roll back with a sharp breath of air.

“Mingyu.”

Maybe there was a madness to it all, the way his eyes pierced you as you fell into pleasure. You were his muse, pushing him over the edge of insanity. To find himself; his breaking point. He’s told you as much as you had laid many a night sprawled upon silks as he drank in your form.

“You’re perfect,” he voices his awe, thick fingers trailing against your core.

Your breath hitches as he collects your essence, sinking those digits into you.

Mingyu’s eyes are as dark as the midnight sky just outside, racing over your features. Looking everywhere the eye could see, tracing every line, every curve. From the arch of your brow, to the tremble of your lip, to the flutter of your lashes and the desire that clouded your eyes as he worked his fingers into you.

He had committed every bit of you to his memory. His paintings that flooded his apartment could attest to that, the sculptures that were eerily life like were tribute to you.

“Can’t get enough of you.”

Your thighs spread, hips rocking forward against his hand. Fingers scissor and thrust into you, his mouth working a new piece of artwork upon the blank canvas on your skin. You could come undone upon his fingers alone any day, he made sure of that as he works you closer to your own edge. Nudging you, coaxing you, sweet words of encouragement stuck like honey.

“Always so fucking perfect,” his voice strained, much like his own clothed need as it prodded against your thigh.

He wished he could capture every sound in his work, it was the only thing his pieces were missing. Maybe that’s why it drove him mad whenever your voice bounced off the walls of his loft, with every gasp and pant of his name, every pitch and crack of your voice. The moans— “Fuck,” he grunts out at the way you squeeze around him and the moan that follows was icing on the cake.

“Close... so fucking close, don’t stop,” you labor out, praying your knees don’t give out as Mingyu continues to sandwich you between himself and the wall.

“That’s it baby,” he coaxes, nipping along your jaw. “Just like that, come on. Give it to me, mhm?”

With every slide, you could barely keep yourself together. His thumb coming to tease over your bundle of nerves, sending sparks up your spine, eyes rolling back as a plethora of noises fall from your lips unrestrained. It wasn’t long until you were tumbling over that edge, reaching that pinnacle you had so truly needed, the knot in your stomach snapping. Thighs quivering, knees trembling, you have to hold tight to him as not to collapse right there as pleasure ebbs the corners of your vision.

There’s a guttural noise that sounds from Mingyu before he’s all too easily handling you, spreading you upon his desk. It rocks, jostled by the abrupt force of two bodies bearing down upon it. He rids you of the tattered slip that had scantily covered you.

His hands are on you in an instant, from the swell of your chest, to the dip of your waist, and the curve of your hips. His hair mused, locks out of place, his shirt missing a few buttons as it hung from his broad frame. You could make out the rise and fall of his bare chest, the way every muscle rippled as he let his shaft spring loose, slapping against his abdomen as you follow down his happy trail.

You grab for him, fisting his shirt as your lips meld together. He finds you, still basking in the aftermath of euphoria but greedy enough for more. Your free hand wrapping around his length as it throbs under your touch, thumbing at the pearlescent substance that had gathered, smearing it upon the raging tip. He curses, your name on his lips.

“Please.”

“Please?”

“Mingyu.”

“As if I could deny you.”

The both of you let out a slew of swears, though, yours were perhaps a little less coherent as he bottoms out. He offers his condolences as he smatters your face in messy kisses, lips grazing the corners of your mouth as he loses himself in your heat. Your body bending and arching, tears springing into your eyes even despite the preparation.

He kisses the salt from the corners of your eyes, murmuring heartfelt apologies. Mumbled apologies, “I’m sorry,” followed by desperate words, “I can’t help myself.”

You weren’t sure who was more of a mess at the moment. Hips rutting against you with abandon, dark locks shadowing his gaze as he watches himself disappear inside you. You weren’t sure where he began and you ended, bodies molding together as you took the brunt of him.

“Fuck,” he exclaims hoarsely, “You were made for me.”

“Mingyu.”

“Again . . .”

“Again for me.”

“Please.”

“Mingyu . . .”

#so this happened #edens diary #svt #mingyu #seventeen #kim mingyu #mingyu scenarios #mingyu imagines #mingyu smut #svt smut #svt imagines #svt scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios

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wonijinjin · 5 months

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seventeen’s vocal unit singing their s/o to sleep

author’s note: this is such a cute thought i love when people sing others to sleep.

synopsis: what the title says.

word count: 0.9k | genre: fluff, comfort | pairings: seventeen vocal unit x gn! reader | warnings: mentions of food

the moment jeonghan saw your eyes drooping while on your way back to your home he thought he would melt. he was driving with you on the passenger seat and it was nearing midnight, so it was no surprise that you weren’t able to resist the calling of dreamland. “are you gonna fall asleep on me? you promised you would keep me company.” he joked while looking over at you at the red light. “i know, but i am sleepy.” you replied trying to surpass a yawn. “i will play some music that will hype you up.” he reached out to turn on the radio, but you stopped him with a whine. “sing for me, please?” you pleaded. he naturally couldn’t resist his baby angel’s soft gaze, so he started humming the melody of to you. “that sounds nice.” you smiled sheepisly with closed eyes, already half asleep. “quiet. just sleep.” jeonghan ordered then continued while you fell asleep.

you watched as joshua entered through the door after his shower, hair messy and face tired. “it is so great to finally be able to relax after this long day.” he whispered into your hair after he got under the covers of your shared bed. “thank you for waiting for me.” he cupped your cheeks, giving them a soft kiss each, his golden eyes boring into yours under the moonlight. “i am so glad you are back darling. i missed you.” you said while settling into his arms further, getting sleepier by the minute. “so did i.” he replied in a warm tone. soon after the silence a heavenly sound hit your ears; his voice singing run to you. “i love your voice so much, shua.” you adored how gentle his voice was, just like he himself. he stopped for a moment to let out a giggle, then continued; you could hear the happiness in his tone, how content he was with the situation, enjoying how he could witness your last moments before sleep took over your form. “sweet dreams darling, good night.”

“how can you keep composing songs for days without really sleeping?” you asked jihoon while chilling on his couch in the studio. “when you are in love with music it is easier than you’d think.” he laughed quietly. “and i am in love with not just your music, but you aswell.” you kissed his cheek. “thank you babe.” he smiled like a maniac, but what could he do, you made his heart jump for you every single minute. “you should rest a bit though. it is geting late and i know you are not used to staying up.” he suddenly said. he was always the type to take care of you, you were his world, his muse inspiring him every day to keep going. shortly, he loved you so much. “you are right as always, sir.” you playfully answered, making yourself comfortable on the couch, looking at him sitting at his desk and doing something on the computer. “it would be so great if you sang me to sleep baby.” you muttered, face squished into the pillow. he didn’t answer but instead gently sang as you wanted, the lyrics of _world making your heart flutter, soon taking you deeper into dreamland.

it was a late afternoon, on the weekend. you were in bed with dokyeom, him scrolling through his phone and you relaxing silently with eyes closed, trying to take in the rare moment of peace at this hour, letting the light of the descending sun tickle your skin. “look sunshine, isn’t this cat so adorable?” dk suddenly asked, tapping your shoulder to get your attention. “yeah, it is baby.” upon seeing his excited face you sighed; this was everything you’ve ever dreamed of, your happy place. “are you planning on taking a nap?” he mumbled, in the meantime muffling an escaping yawn. “i could, but only if you join me.” you replied. “want me to sing april shower to you? i know you love it so much and it goes so well with the vibe right now.” you kissed his lips tenderly, voice barely above a whisper. “i would not pass this opportunity on for anything else my love.” not even ten minutes later he found you snoozing next to him, making his heart flutter yet again.

“drop the beat!” you watched as seungkwan grabbed the microphone and started dancing and singing; you were in a karaoke booth, after spending the night out doing shopping and having dinner. while walking down the street he spotted the sign inviting you to sing a bit, and him being himself of course he had to drag you into the tiny room to enjoy yourselves for a bit longer before taking a turn to go home and sleep. you were quite drained, having had delicious food before; the sleepiness had definitely set in, you kind of felt like a big baby for it, but you didn’t want to ruin his fun so you opted for watching him quietly from the couch. “come on babyboo! sing with me!” he pleaded and you joined him, bobbing your head to the rhythm. “you are getting sleepy, aren’t you? you are such a big baby.” he giggled while gently patting your hair, turning the volume down a bit. “want me to sing you to sleep? you can nap a bit here, we still have time left.” he asked, and your ears perked up at his question. “yes please.” he got to the keyboard, waiting for you expectantly. “so which song is it this time?” you thought for a moment, then typed it in for him. “ah i see, yawn it is then. coming right up!” as the music started you could barely hear his angelic voice anymore, sleep overtaking you. “have a good nap baby.”

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ncoincidences · 9 months

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All the fics I read this year, part 1: ship I read most this year —

It's James/Lily !! I've read about 80 fics for Jily this year! I've linked them all down below and limited myself to describe every fic in only a line to fit Tumblr's 4066-character limit (I don't think I did any of them justice though ,:) they're all amazing and incredible in their own way). They're not sorted in any order - it's a chaotic mess ,,:,,)

Kindly Stopped for Me* by @nodirectionhome-ao3 - Lily survives AU, an angsty fic with great badass Lily moments!

Lay All Your Love On Me* by @athenasparrow - Jily Hogwarts fic that also has smut :D

The Art of Identification by Athenasparrow - cute one-shot featuring amortentia :D

She Will by @relyingonoldships - ANGSTY! gather your napkins. I have warned you.

The Summer I fell in Love* by @annasghosts - Muggle meet cute + summer love <3

Finding Lily by Annasghosts - unique premise + fake dating for the win :D

Things That Haven't Happened Yet by @kay-elle-cee - SMUT

the silence in the sorrow by kay-elle-cee - secret relationship during war + battle angst

to ache, to hope by kay_elle_cee - unplanned pregnancy that explores both James and Lily's emotions

i'll be fine, i'll be good* by kay-elle-cee - Slytherin!Lily AU focussed on Lily's character + secret relationship

Tall Dark and Glasses by @jamesunderwater - lovely writing and a heart-melting meet cute!

Meet Me At The River by @charmsandtealeaves - PEN PALS JILY, absolutely adorable fic!

Laundry Day by charmsandtealeaves - cheeky fic

Midnight Dip by charmsandtealeaves - ALSO cheeky 😏

Call Me By Name by charmsandtealeaves - feat. Phone Call sex 😏 and strangers to lovers!

Incoming by charmsandtealeaves 'call me by name' but James POV and it's so good!!

Wake Me Up (When September Ends)* by charmsandtealeaves - Hogwarts Jily 7th year coming of age :)

Love Birds by charmsandtealeaves - fluffy ridiculous rom com au where James cannot be separated from his accidentally acquired duck and Lily is a gorgeous vet :D also features insanely cute doodles :D

Something Black and Blue by charmsandtealeaves - what's making Lily Evans so late to her own wedding?

Sugar Quills by charmsandtealeaves - SWEET x

Padfoot's Nose Knows by charmsandtealeaves - indeed sirius can smell the good news from a mile away!

The Exchange Principle by charmsandtealeaves - cute body swap fic!

Nom De Plume by AnnaBtG - !!!!! unique concept! secret erotica writer James needs Lily (his coworker who's totally NOT his muse) to pretend to be his persona but Lily hates his guts...... or does she 😏

Haircut by PetalsToFish - James gets a new haircut!!

Lipstick by PetalsToFish - James bought Lily a lipstick and she's trying it out 😏

WILF by PetalsToFish - Wizard I'd Like to Fuck 😏

Reputation (Wildest Dreams Version) by PetalsToFish - Slytherin!Lily + enemies to lovers fic <3

State of Grace (Never Saw You Coming) by PetalsToFish - Lily never saw James coming..... literally. a car accident meet-cute (no one's hurt tho :))

Prodigal by PetalsToFish - slightly angsty, exploring Lily through her years at Hogwarts from first year

Girl Crush by PetalsToFish - actually Peter's POV centred around Jily

*[The asterisks next to a fic indicate that I haven't caught up to the latest chapter update]

#ciden recs #jily #james potter #lily evans #fic rec 2023 #this was a pain to format

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fayes-fics · 2 years

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Happy Birthday, Mr Bridgerton

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Benedict's wife gives him the best possible birthday gift.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors dni, masturbation, vaginal sex, massage, pregnancy.

Word Count: 3.0k

Author's Note: A more romantic fic than my usual. The sweet, soulful artist deserves to be loved and cherished. Enjoy <3

It’s midnight, and a birthday has just begun.

You pad through the house to Benedict’s studio. He is perched on a stool, busy sketching. He often works late into the night when the muse takes him. You pause in the open doorway to watch him work. Admiring his skills as he feathers his charcoal across the page. Admiring him, the movements of his artistic hands, his white shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his braces hanging loose around his hips.

“Happy birthday, my love,” you call softly as you close the door.

“Thank you, my lo…” his answer dies on his lips as he turns and sees you.

Speechless is a good start.

Your skin feels aglow as you bask in his attention, sauntering towards him. His eyes track your every movement. His hand is still suspended in midair, charcoal in hand.

Your gown is totally sheer, the colour of your flesh, its only adornment being tiny starbursts of silver sequins that glitter in the candlelight. You feel beautiful in it, like a walking shimmering fireworks display. With a few layers of chemises, this would be a stunning ball gown; without them, it’s a scandalous sight. Everything is visible through the translucent tulle layers. And you wear absolutely nothing underneath except a dab or two of his favourite perfume.

He still hasn’t said anything, but he is breathing slightly heavily as you draw up to him, his eyes raking up and down your body. You pluck the charcoal between his fingers and place it down on his easel.

“I am the luckiest man in the world,” he exhales quietly, finally finding his voice.

Warmth blooms in your chest, and you smile fondly at his compliment, stepping between his slightly bended knees; one of his feet looped onto the stool, the other kicked out towards the easel. You set aside a little glass vial you came in holding.

“Wh…” he begins, but you hush him with a soft finger to his lips.

“Shh, you don’t need to speak tonight, my love,” you murmur, running your hands into his hair, “just feel.”

His eyes soften and give silent acceptance, and his body relaxes a notch. Even though he finds solace in his art, he’s had a long few days; you want to soothe him and bring him peace.

His soulful blue eyes watch your expressions as your fingertips trail across his cheekbones, curling inwards to brush the back of your fingers down his jawline to his chin, mapping the structure of his face. There are libraries worth of literature extolling female beauty, but you’ve found precious few pieces that capture the truth of male beauty such as his. Your thumb traces gently over his lips, and you ghost a smile as he busses gently against your digit.

You move your hands to outline the shell of his ears, passing his earlobes between your fingers, sweeping down to cup his neck, pressingly on the tension points you feel corded there. He exhales deeply, leaning into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed. Tonight it’s all about making him feel special, not just because it’s his birthday, but because he spends so much of his time catering to the needs of others, most of all yours, and he deserves to be indulged.

Splaying your fingers upwards around the back of his head, you enjoy running them into his thick hair. He hums contentedly as you massage lightly. Then his breath hitches as you scrape your nails lightly across his scalp, the skin around his open shirt collar erupting into goosebumps. Oh, the responsiveness is so enchanting.

You lean forward and kiss his lips softly, just a brief touch. His eyes fly open, and he chases your lips as you pull away. He pleads with the most mournful expression, so you relent and press your lips to his again. His hands curl around your shoulders, their sizeable warmth at once both centring and sending you soaring. He kisses back slowly, opening his lips slightly, his tongue requesting permission to yours. Hands still in his hair, you pull closer, deepening the kiss. His arms now slide around your back to hold you close. It’s luscious and languid. Shared breaths and gentle flirtation.

You reach down and tug his shirt up. He assists your efforts, removing his arms from around you and pulling the garment up and over his head. You catalogue the sculpted plains of his arms, chest, and stomach. He is watching your face with a crooked smile; he knows all the telltale signs of your desire. Your tongue feels thick, wanting to run over every inch. For later, you tell yourself.

His brow knits in puzzlement as you circle him, coming to a halt behind him instead. You kiss the back of his neck, running your nose up into his hair, where his natural scent is most potent. On instinct, it draws you closer; your hands curl around his biceps as you press your upper body against him. The rasp of your tulle dress against his shoulder blades hitches his breath and yours, the friction causing your nipples to pebble heavily. Knowing he can feel it too—a little tease of what else will come later.

He is listening intently as you reach for the small glass vial you came in with, opening it and pouring a little oil into your palm. Usually, by now, he would be asking what you're doing, using the velvety tone that makes your body sing. Tonight he is quiet, but one look into his eyes would say everything his lips are not.

Notes of orange and bergamot swirl into the air as you massage the oil into your hands, warming it. His inhale is a sign he recognises the scent from the hours of pleasure in your bedroom. Usually, it is him massaging your body into a blissful state before slipping his fingers inside you, making you come over and over. More derailing thoughts you need to put aside.

You begin by running the flanks of your hands firmly down either side of his spine, all the way from his neck to his waist. His moan is one of relief, not desire, but your body reacts regardless; the sudden want to be filled by him is visceral. Your lips tingle to kiss him again, but you resist the urge, focussing on bringing him serenity.

Feeling the tension easing under your fingers as you work on the knots around his neck is a mutual reward. His breath is deep and even; he shifts to place both feet flat on the floor. You spend many minutes mapping the stress points in his back and kneading the flesh until it relents into a relaxed state. His hums and sighs act as the guide for your progress. You circle back to his front when it seems he is entirely free from any strain.

“Does that feel better, my love?” You know the answer, but asking gives you a moment to indulge your heart, appreciating the blissful look on his face as he nods contentedly.

He pulls you in for another kiss and gently bites your lower lip. The room grows a few degrees warmer, a sparking feeling notching up your spine, radiating out across your skin.

You run your hands heavily up his thighs, admiring the latent power you feel underneath the material, him watching your movements. Your hands reach his hips and pause, waiting for his gaze to meet yours. Then you start unbuttoning; you know he’s not wearing anything underneath today; he often doesn’t when you are home. It’s gratifying to watch his pupils dilate as you twist your mouth into a playful pout with each button relenting.

As you reach the last button, you grin broadly, grab his hand instead, and pull him bodily across the room towards the emerald green chaise. The one you have posed on countless times for him. He trails behind you with a carefree laugh, holding up his britches with his free hand.

“No need for modesty Mr Bridgerton” you tease as you pull him to a stop next to the chaise. He raises an eyebrow and lifts his hand, his britches falling to a heap on the floor. Your gaze descends to his cock, standing proud. So familiar to you now, but every time as tantalising and thrilling as the first time he showed you his body.

“Why do you ever wear clothes?” you think wistfully. Your cheeks flush as his lopsided smile tells you you have voiced your thoughts.

“If the lady wishes, I never will again in this house”, he whispers seductively. “But only if you only ever wear this dress” His fingers trace the neckline of your gown with feather-soft touches. “Or nothing at all.” His lips find the spot just below your earlobe that makes you shiver.

“This evening is supposed to be about me seducing you, birthday boy,” you admonish affectionately, pulling your neck away reluctantly, “not the other way around.”

“By all means, Mrs Bridgerton, please continue,” using that voice he knows makes your knees weak.

“Lay down,” you whisper.

He relaxes back on the chaise, one arm tucked behind his head, with an easy smile, an innate confidence in his nudity. You wish you had his skills to capture this moment on a canvas. You take your time surveying the sight before you, shameless almost in your ogling. Ladies of good breeding are not supposed to be so lascivious, but you can’t help it when it comes to your husband. He is gorgeous to you. And, based on how heads turn when he walks into a room, you are not alone in that sentiment. Not for the first time; you consider yourself very lucky he returned your feelings.

“Penny, for your thoughts, my love,” his arm reaching for you, his fingers gently circling your wrist.

“I was just thinking I am the luckiest woman in the world,” you reply truthfully, echoing his sentiment when you walked in earlier, leaning down to kiss the hand that holds your wrist.

His smile turns almost shy, and he averts his eyes, long eyelashes fluttering as a slight blush colours his cheeks. It makes your heart melt and your pussy clench simultaneously. How he can do that astounds you. You want to wrap him in the tightest, sweetest hug but also fuck him so hard your teeth rattle. What a beautiful contradiction.

“I had all these plans,” you sigh, “but I find myself impatient for you, my love.”

“Tell me about them,” he requests, looking back up at you, his lips tugging into a playful, beautiful crooked grin.

“I planned to tease you for ages, kiss every inch of your skin from your ankles to your hair,” you reply, your gaze tracking up his body again, fingers itching to trail over his contours.

“Sounds lovely,” his voice teasing.

“Mmmm, but,” you hitch up your dress and straddle him, settling your hips on his waist, your dress fanning out over him, your fingers tracing the constellation of freckles on his breastbone, “you are too tempting, Mr Bridgerton, and I find I just want you inside me.”

“That sounds even better,” he admits, his voice rough as he grabs your knee and runs a hand up your thigh under the gauzy layers. His questing fingers slide between your legs, and you moan as he expertly flexes them against you.

You grab his forearm. “No, my darling, it’s you who gets the pleasure tonight,” you counter, gently shaking your head and pulling his hand away.

“But I want to watch you. I love your face when I do this to you,” Benedict pleads, his eyes so beseeching.

“Then allow me,” you offer with a raised eyebrow.

Gathering your dress slightly, you slide your fingers between your legs, loving the wetness you find there, all for him. You moan gently, holding his gaze as your fingers move. His grip on your thigh tightens; you intuit what he is asking for and speed up your ministrations. You bite your lip and groan loudly, not daring to break eye contact. His other hand behind his head moves to grip your other thigh; his Adam's apple bobs visibly as he swallows, and his chest rises and falls more visibly.

“I need you,” his voice breathy and low, “please…”

Your fingers slip from your body and reach behind to grab him, and he groans as you give him a few gentle pumps with your hand before shuffling backwards to line him up with your body. Watching many expressions flit across his face, revelling in his breathy anticipation, you allow his tip inside. His moan is like poetry, and you sink fractionally lower, loving how it feels when he invades your body—the insistent stretch and heat. You roll your hips, eager to envelop him but also to maintain a slow tease. He looks at you pleadingly.

“What do you need, my beautiful birthday boy?” you ask softly.

“Please, my love, take all of me; I need you,” his voice sounds so needy it makes your chest flutter.

You smile as his eyes burn into yours, then sink down, gasping at the hot, plunging invasion pulling you so taunt. The lustful noise he emits makes you pulse around him, which in turn makes him call out your name, a wanton call and response that has you grabbing his hands and placing them on your breasts. The tulle of your dress scrunches against your nipple, sequins catching against your sensitive skin and between his fingers. He slips his hand inside the neckline and grabs your naked flesh as you press into his touch and start to rock gently.

Usually, you talk to each other when you make love, whispering debauched thoughts or just communicating how you feel. But tonight, you enjoy a silent, almost psychic connection, something more sensual and decadent, staring into each other's eyes, saying everything without words. Your movements are fluid but slow and deliberate, savouring the intoxicating feel of him sliding within you.

He lifts your left hand from his body and brings it to his mouth, brushing his lips over the wedding ring you wear proudly. You mirror his actions, taking his left hand, but instead plunge his wedding ring finger into your mouth, sucking it gently, the metal of his ring knocking against your teeth as you rise and fall. Hoping to convey through your actions the depth of emotion and passion you feel for this man.

He groans and drives his hips upwards, sliding even deeper, catching against the top of your channel, your toes flexing at the pleasure that causes. You call his name, releasing his hand, your nails scratching over his abs. Something more carnal, taking you both somewhere frantic.

You surge up and down, chasing all the sensations, his hands running down your back, warm through the layers of your dress, grasping your hips and pulling your down harder into him as your fingernails drag against the ripples of his abdomen muscles. Over and over until your thighs burn, and still, you don't ever want to stop, revelling in the feeling you get every time he nudges that place inside you that makes all the exertion worth it.

You see in his eyes as he is approaching his peak, the desperation for you to join him, making you reach under your dress and touch yourself, him hissing encouragements as you do so. His voice rockets you to the edge, the sonorous rumbling through his body that sweeps you over to a place that is a kaleidoscope of bliss; breath stolen, body tensing and releasing, firing a euphoria in every fibre from your scalp to your toes. Distantly, you can hear him climaxing, his fingers a vice-like grip as his groan turns guttural, and he holds you down fiercely. All his muscles tense in rigid relief as he comes hard. He looks so beautiful in this moment, biting his lip and screwing his eyes shut, that you collapse onto him and kiss his jaw, even biting gently in a way that makes him more vocal and his grip stronger.

Then as the intensity of the moment passes, all is serene as you recover together, breaths evening out, hands laced together. These quiet moments after the passionate storm feel the most intimate—the languid caresses, soft kisses and whispered words.

“Thank you for the most wonderful birthday gift,” he sighs, sated, as you lay atop him, your head on his shoulder, drawing idle shapes on his pectoral muscle with the tips of your fingers.

“A massage and making love are not your gift, my love,” you refute quietly, twisting your head to look up into his inquisitive eyes. “You deserve those and so much more. No, your gift is something else entirely. There is a reason I dressed like this, to look like the nicest gift wrapping that I possibly could,” you explain and sit up, straddling him again.

“I will always think of you as the best gift in my life,” he chuckles happily.

“Not me, Benedict.” You grab his hand and place it on your dress, just below your belly button.

“There is a gift in here for you, my love. It will probably take another, hmm, seven months, but I think it will be the greatest gift you, and indeed I, could ever receive. A beautiful gift we made together.”

His breath catches, and his mouth opens a fraction in surprise; his eyes suddenly go glassy and soft with emotion.

“Are you with child, my love?” he murmurs excitedly.

“I believe I am Mr Bridgerton. Or should I say papa?” you smile indulgently. Suddenly he is sitting up and pulling you into an embrace with his other arm, his lips finding yours.

“This is the best gift ever,” he grins, his eyes damp, his hand cradling your still-flat belly as if it is the most precious thing in the world.

“Happy birthday, Mr Bridgerton,” you beam as you place your hand over his, “from both of us.”

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @wysteria-clad @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld

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