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NOT JUST ANYONE’S | A. ANDERSON

warnings and disclaimers, (enemies to lovers), porn w plot (yay), a word count of 15k+?!, wlw content, mean!abby, jealous/delusional!abby, mentions of reader’s hair, abby being a book wormy, abby describes the reader as a goddess (once), fluff, angst, different povs, bullying, light workplace mistreatment, SEXUAL CONTENT, mean/softdom!abby, sub!reader, semi-public sex (hospital’s office), panties stealing, spanking, cunnilingus, fingering, hair pulling, masturbation, usage of a vibrator (once), scissoring, squirting, nipple play, degradation, body workship/praising, overstimulation, usage of pet names (baby, babe, pretty girl, good girl, dirty girl), cum eating, mutiple orgasms, DARK CONTENT, stalking, act of stealing narcotics, cursing, jealousy, alcohol/drug consumption, mentions of inflicting harm on others, acts of frame-up.

TAPE THAT MOUTH SHUT, this is probably one of the biggest/questionable pieces of art i’ve done. though it’s FINALLY fucking done idk how to feel honestly. i just feel like i have such an emotional bind to each and every piece of work i have done. this is my baby, the full nine months and everything, and now the world will see her for her. i feel like a mother watching her baby go off to kindergarten. :”(

ONESHOT PREVIEW | ABBY ANDERSON’S MASTERLIST

PRESENT TIME

saints mary’s hospital - 2:30 am on a saturday morning

the saying goes, “it’s not about how you start, it’s how you finish.” didn’t quite apply. time seemed to move in a blur, making it impossible to piece together a coherent thought. the room filled only with the echoes of your loud, wanton sounds mingling with abby’s, far removed from anything deemed professional. however you weren't concerned with those details, not at all. with the way abby was able to extract those sounds from your throat was almost painful.

almost.

abby derived an addiction from your pleasure. each moment of ecstasy seemed to fuel her further, driving her to amplify the tempo and depth of her ministrations. as the room filled with the lewd symphony of flesh meeting flesh and intertwined heavy breaths, something stirred within abby. something unfamiliar, uncharted. normally, she would exhibit unrivaled confidence during intimate encounters, but with you, it was different—more intense, deeper. a desperate craving to be perfect, to ensure you'd never seek anyone else, but her. she’d hate to admit it, but the realization gnaws at her: the longing for you even after this is over.

"who's making you cum tonight?" abby questioned the obvious, but her arrogance tone underlined the strong need for reassurance. your moans were her only response, and while she adored the sweet sounds, she craved more. a sudden shift in her fingers’ movements made you yell out, "you, abby.” your words punctuated by cries of pleasure.

abby's fingers, now confined within your tight grip, sensed the growing tension, the impending eruption, the imminent of your orgasm. "uh-huh, come for me," she ordered, "let me hear who’s making a mess of you."

the warnings of your impending release came with fervor, each thrust hastening to the inevitable snap of the tightening band in your abdomen. then when it did, a cry rang out, loud and clear, as her name left your lips in tandem with your essence painting her features. in this haze of euphoria, you suddenly find a sense of clarity, wondering how in all worlds did you end up in this situation, in the arms— or rather the mouth of your boss?

MONTHS BEFORE

saints mary’s hospital - 3:20 am on a monday night

the staff room was still mostly quiet, the faint sounds of a few muttered conversations and the soft hum of the fluorescent bulb created a low hum of background noise to complement the bigger situation in hand. you had just finished discarding your dirty gloves and discovered that some residue had clung to your uniform, prompting a soft groan of disgust to escape your lips.

you picked up another clean uniform and quickly changed into it, your mind wandering to the series of events that led you to this moment. working in a hospital meant dealing with a never-ending slew of new problems each day, some imprinting themselves in your memory more vividly than others.

and this time was memorable—at least for the night —for an aggravating sense. it was a vomiting incident in room nine that not only you witnessed, but you were also permitted to clean up after. fun, you thought sarcastically as you trudged your way with a bucket and sponge. nonetheless here you were, the aftermath, running a hand through your uniform to smooth out any wrinkles with your other hand on the doorknob, taking a long, exasperated intake prior to stepping out.

with a final exhale, you turned the knob and stepped out into the main hospital ward. the familiar sounds of hushed conversations and the constant hum of machinery filled your ears as you walked through the hallways.

with your desk in your line of sight now, your body starts to move faster as the thought of getting some much needed rest sets in. despite that, you took a quick glance around, searching for her presence, but finding no resemblance.

a sigh of relief escaped your lips as you settled into the plush chair, the cushions embracing your tired body. hands squeezing the pads provided on the arm’s office chair, this was heaven. but satan herself wouldn’t let that alleviation last for long, she never does. not in this hospital. your body suddenly tensed up and jerked forward as the sound of a hand slamming into the surface of your desk reached your ears. fuck, you thought, your head automatically turning to see the horned asshole with the little tail stuck up her ass.

“what the fuck was that back there, huh? i’ve had people complaining left and right.” she spoke, her face contorted with anger. you knew that was a lie, only there to further embarrass you in front of everyone. the “great” abby anderson was known to make something bigger than it actually was. but you’d be lying if you didn’t say that disruption left you breathless, seemed like all and any explanation that could clear your name left you, but even if you did, would it even work? or would abby deem it as a barely acceptable excuse, or quote “a three year old can lie better than you” excuse?

you could hardly breathe, your mind racing to try to explain yourself. every mistake seemed to be met with harsh criticism, and it was taking its toll on you. your voice wavered as you stuttered out a singular word in response: “what?”

abby’s expression only hardened further, her voice mocking your supposed ignorance. “couldn’t you see the medication you gave her was gonna result in nausea?”

each word was enunciated with sharp frustration, as if you were supposed to have known better, but you didn’t know. it wasn’t stated on the patient's file that she’d react like that. you followed protocol, knowing the consequences if you didn't, and followed through based on the information in hand. you weren’t in the wrong, and you explained that to abby.

though she didn’t seem to care at all, instead her words echoed through your mind like a painful reminder; you keep it up, and you’ll end up on your ass in front of this hospital.

her threat sent a pang of dread through you, and the loud thud of her office door shutting only added to your sinking feeling. you let out a heavy sigh, bringing your hand up to your eyes and rubbing them, trying to ward off the exhaustion and anxiety swirling within you.

your thoughts were interrupted as you realized the truth behind abby’s threat. you had a proven record as a dedicated and skilled employee, and deep down, you knew abby knew it too. there was a reason she couldn’t just fire you on a whim —she needed a valid justification to complete that pesky employee termination form sitting on her desk.

as you pondered on these thoughts, you let out a resigned sigh, the threat suddenly feeling less intimidating and more like a broken record you heard over and over again.

FIVE DAYS LATER

saints mary’s hospital - 11:01 pm on a saturday night

there was a newfound sense of comfort that accompanied your realization. although abby’s words still stung and cut deeply, you now had a silent reassurance— a knowledge that her threats were ultimately empty, that mere words could do nothing. your mind was now at ease, knowing that despite her harshness, she couldn’t truly harm you. the thought gave you a strange sense of power, even as she spewed her usual cruelty.

with your profound resilience, you found yourself feeling more lively and vibrant than before. you no longer fretted over every small mistake or worry constantly about doing your job wrong. your once reserved and introverted self now blossomed, making connections and building friendships where there had been none before.

amelia, the colleague who sat beside you for a year, but whom you had never truly spoken to, was now a friend, and the two of you formed a bond beyond just work-related interaction.

“darling, it’s wishful thinking that the inferno herself would let you off so easily,” amelia teases, the soft pads of her fingertips dancing along the keys of her keyboard. her familiar british accent rolls off and into your ear, making you scoff.

“it’s just for a day.” you mumble, your hands flipping the page to the never-ending paperwork waiting for you. you stop and look at amelia who’s now reclined in her chair, arms crossed with a knowing smirk.

“oh love,” laughed amelia, her playful jab at your wishful thinking only making her more endearing. “i’d love to entertain your rather ludicrous idea, but in doing so would be criminal!”

her words stung a little, you knew she was right, but hearing her say it out loud had you clenching your jaw slightly. abby would never agree to letting you take a day off from the hospital, it seemed like the whole place would fall apart without your presence.

and while it felt like an honor— at times. you longed for just one day off, a single day to rest amongst the countless days spent diligently working at the hospital. how criminal could that be? as amelia called it, you felt your shoulders sag and nodding quietly in resignation. your features must have betrayed your disappointment, as amelia swiftly noticed and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder.

amelia smiled sympathetically, her eyes soft as she saw your frustration. “cheer up, darling. it was just a quip.” she said softly, her tone filled with comfort.

you tried to hold back your tears when you spoke, your voice faltering as you looked up at amelia. “It's not that. i just… work my ass off, and don't even get the recognition i deserve.” your words trailed off as you let out a frustrated sigh. “and it's not like i’m just looking for that.” you pause to mend the right words together. “just some sort of break from it all.” you quickly sniffle, attempting to hide the tears that had escaped from your eyes during your confession. your embarrassment was evident as you turned away, trying to compose yourself. “god, i’m sorry for this.” you sighed heavily, reaching for a tissue to wipe away your tears.

amelia pats your shoulder, her voice filled with understanding. “no, no, i get it, darling. you need a break as much as anyone does in this bloody facility. perhaps more than hamburger-munching samson over there.” she quips, referring to a less than efficient employee.

you let out a tearful laugh, your grin still tinged with sadness. “yeah.” you agreed, your voice heavy with resignation.

amelia smiled warmly at your smile, her hand giving your thigh a comforting pat. “go ask her, and if she doesn't oblige, tell her i'll cover for you.”

her sweet words of offering to cover for you had you fighting back tears again, determined to not further burden her with your crying, and managed to let out a shaky chuckle.

you try to protest, feeling a pang of guilt for potentially inconveniencing her. “you don't have to do that.” you say softly.

however, amelia is resolute, dismissing your objections with a firm, yet gentle push. “no darling,” she replies firmly. “i don’t, but i want to. now go on.” her insistence is unwavering, and you can see that she will not take no for an answer.

with a resigned sigh of “okay”, you straighten your shoulders and approach the entrance to abby's office. a quick glance back at amelia sees her raising her thumbs in a gesture of encouragement to go ahead. you return a grateful smile before turning back around and lifting your hand to knock on the door. but before your knuckles make contact, the door swings open, revealing abby.

you freeze in surprise, caught off guard by the sudden appearance of abby before you even had the chance to knock on the door. you realize you must look like a fool, standing there frozen with your arm raised in the air. feeling a sudden pang of self-consciousness, you quickly lower your arm and bring your other hand up to cup it gently, almost as if you could somehow conceal your awkward position.

abby’s smile catches you off guard, surprised to see her display such genuine happiness at your surprised arrival. "oh—there you are.” she says.

you stand there, slightly confused by her unexpected demeanor. her next words, spoken calmly, further perplexed you: "come in." this gentle tone is unfamiliar coming from her, as she's never used it with you before, reserving it only for the presence of supervisors.

she leaves the door open for you, a silence gesture for you to enter before taking her seat at her desk. "i was going to call for you, but it seems like you heard my call telepathically." she quips, chuckling at her own joke.

you internally scoff at her stupid joke, quietly shutting the door behind you as you enter her office. "well, don't just stand there, sit." she instructs, her smile still uncharacteristically cheerful— almost eerie. you can't help but wonder if this is all just an act, a facade that will undoubtedly crack like it always does, given abby's fiery nature. however, you comply silently, watching her sift through documents on her desk.

you struggled to keep yourself from asking what she was searching for after you caught a glimpse of it being the employee files. your heart began to race as an oppressive silence enveloped the room, fueling your nerves. was she looking for your file? was this gonna be the moment when she’d reveal the anticipated reason to use on that dreaded employee termination form? your mind swarmed with questions, each more pressing than the last. how much more can you deal with this suspense looming over your shoulder like the grim reaper.

you attempt to speak in a firm tone, but your voice betrays you, wavering at the edges. “why are you so happy?” your own curiosity battling with a sense of reluctance to hear the answer.

“and why are you so gloomy?” she taunts with a smirk, chuckling. “put a smile on that face for me, yeah? you’re gonna do me a big favor.” she admits, her eyes sparkling with anticipation as she mentions the word “favor.” finally finding the paper she had been searching for, she slid it across her desk in your direction. the paper contains the resume of someone you’re unfamiliar with, and your curiosity piqued.

"this is cassidy mcclair," she pauses. "and you'll be her mentor for the week. she's the new replacement nurse after what happened to poor old sadie." a pang of irritation stabs at you as abby uses a condescending tone when mentioning sadie. her untimely demise still weighed heavily on your mind.

you inadvertently let out a scoff as you cross your arms, immediately regretting the impulsive action. abby glances up at you, arching her eyebrow before speaking.

"is there a problem?" her question rhetorical, signaling her indifference to your potential objection. however, you're determined to express your feelings, regardless if rhetorical or not. you werent gonna give some half-ass smile and nod. after all, it wouldn’t be the first time your opinionated mind got you into trouble, as abby so often reminded you.

you respond with a defiant tone, your words clearly expressing your dissatisfaction. “yeah, there is actually.” you retort, your arms remaining defiantly crossed. “you’re supposed to do this. not me.”

abby chuckles at your boldness, her expression growing serious as she responds, “that was rhetorical, surely anyone with a hint of common sense would catch on. frankly, i don’t give a fuck if it is.” she dismisses your argument, beginning to organize the documents on her desk, grabbing the paper in front of you without sparing an eye, her attention now focused elsewhere. despite your differences, you remain silent, yet seething within at her dismissive response.

“be here at eight pm sharp on monday.” she adds, ending the conversation on her terms.

so much for a day off..

AN HOUR AFTER

hospital’s break room - 1:17 am on a sunday morning

after your unsolicited meeting with abby, your emotions were overflowing and the need to confide in someone was at an all time high. though the term 'confide' may be a stretch, considering you practically unloaded your frustrations to the mere mention of "hey, heard you had a meeting with the boss?"

“she didn’t even let me speak, once!” you exclaim, frustration seeping through each and every word, punctuating your sentence with lifting your pointed finger.

talia responds with a sympathetic tone, saying, “she tends to do that..” her words trail off, and you can almost feel the strain in her voice, knowing that she’s the unsuspecting recipient of your pent-up frustrations.

“right! god, she’s so fucking…” you trail off, trying to find the right word to describe her. “infuriating!” you say louder than anticipated.

she looks up from the coffee maker, surprise etched on her face as other heads turn towards you, startled by your outburst. you sheepishly mutter an apology before letting out a dejected sigh. trying to lighten the mood, you force a smile and lean against the counter. "so, have you had to do any of abby's dirty work too?" you quirk an eyebrow.

the long haired girl chuckles at your antics, her gaze fixated on the coffee maker as it slowly fills her cup with the dark, yet energizing substance. she turns her attention back to you, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. "yeah, actually.” she replies, her voice filled with good-natured sass. "but she made the task sound much kinder when she assigned it." she jested.

you jokingly say, "oh, fuck you," to which she responds with a playful eyeroll, but then curiosity takes over. "but really?" you ask curiously. "how'd it go?"

a dreaded sigh escapes talia’s lips as she recounts her memories of being assigned to mentor a new employee. the mirth vanishes from your expression as she begins to share her experience, the once lighthearted atmosphere replaced by a sense of foreboding.

“oh, terrible," talia responds through the sigh, her laugh edged with strain before looking back at the coffee maker, which is about a quarter away from being done. "sometimes, i wondered what would be inside her head if i were to cut it open. a brain made out of putty, or no brain at all?" her words make you wince as you begin to imagine what your own experience might be like. the idea of being a mentor to a complete idiot was less than appealing.

talia takes notice of your nervousness and quickly tries to reassure you, saying, "but i assure you, your experience won't be like mine." she offers a nervous smile, hoping to alleviate your concerns.

you respond with an uneasy chuckle and a reluctant "yeah.” not truly convinced by her reassurance. you know that only time will tell if her words will hold true, and so you find yourself resigned to the fact that you'll have to impatiently wait until monday to find out.

THREE DAYS LATER

your home - 6:03 am on a monday morning

the incessant blaring of your alarm felt like background noise for the past three minutes, though you've been wide awake for about ten minutes prior to its start. last night, sleep eluded you, as anxiety and exhaustion plagued your thoughts. you had hoped that your previous activities on your day off would tire you and help you sleep, but unfortunately, that was not the case. you had laid awake for an extra hour, struggling until sleep finally took over.

your anxiety, semi-dissociative state can be attributed to your "big day" ahead, as abby had nicknamed it. the thought of the unknown had you sweating bullets. not to mention, your boss’s words that stayed with you like crazy glue, stubbornly stuck in your mind. with reluctance, you forced yourself out of bed and into the bathroom.

as you turn on the faucet, the soft meows of your kitty-cat, charles, reach your ears. your face lights up with a smile as you turn and spot him. you kneel down, showering him with a few gentle pets as he responds with a pleased purr. "hey, buddy," you whisper, planting a kiss on his head. you then stand up to check the water temperature, only to huff in frustration when it doesn't meet your desired level. turning to the kitty by your side, you murmur, "i know, bud. lemme feed you while i wait for the water."

the kitty yowls eagerly and paws at your legs, anticipating its food. you repeatedly tap the can's bottom against the bowl until the food finally falls free, landing on the plate. the cat's excitement escalates as it watches you kneel down to place the plate on the ground. chuckling, you observe the kitty pounce on the food as soon as it touches the ground.

“eat up, spud.” you give your feline friend one last pat before walking away to the bathroom. you undress and check the water's temperature once more, finding it to your liking. with a satisfied nod, you step inside, letting the hot water wash over you and momentarily rinse away your worries for today.

AN HOUR AND HALF LATER-ISH

saints mary’s hospital - 7:28 am

what was meant to be a calming shower had obliterated your sense of time, leaving you in a scrambling to finish your morning routine. with a start, you realize it was nearly seven-thirty, and sprung into action, throwing your clothes on at an almost superhuman speed. you had never dried your hair this quick before in your entire life. yes, abby had mentioned to be there at eight, but you knew that translated to "be there before eight."

you arrive at the hospital just before eight, clutching your coffee like a lifeline, knowing all too well that you wouldn't make it through the day without it. you quickly exit the elevator, stepping into the lobby to find abby engaged in conversation with a red-haired woman.

the ginger had her hair braided, resembling abby's but with more volume. her fair complexion was adorned with freckles, resembling a sky full of stars. like many others on this floor, she wore a blues-and-white uniform, with a small cat pin attached to her shirt pocket. her colorful keys hung around her neck, and her radiant smile oozed an infectious energy, effortlessly drawing a reciprocating smile from you as you approached.

your smile momentarily falters as you overhear abby's sarcastic, yet condescending tone. “oh, there's the princess!" she exclaims, closing the distance to you with the woman following suit behind. this must’ve been the woman abby was talking about, leaving you feeling increasingly anxious, your eyes locked on the girl behind her. however, abby manages to draw your focus as she speaks up.

“this is cassidy. the one i told you about the last time we spoke.” she says firmly, bringing her hand up to her shoulder and beckons her toward you.

“hi.” you say shyly.

cassidy reciprocates the greeting with a wave, her expression a mix of nervousness and surprise. however, before she can respond, abby cuts in, with a tone of sarcasm. “i trust you won't be as late as our little princess here was," she says, referring to you, causing cassidy to nervously laugh and answer with a tentative "no."

your frustration peaked as you clenched your fists, your anger evident. It was clear what abby was trying to do once again, to twist the truth and make you appear worse than you actually are. she smirked, seemingly enjoying your irritation, before patting cassidy on the shoulder and wishing her good luck.

with the condescending smirk, abby leaned in to whisper in your ear, her tone different, dripping with sarcasm. "good luck, princess." and with that, she walked away, leaving you to face the challenge ahead.

"cunt," you silently say to yourself in annoyance, sending a glare at abby's retreating form. after a moment, you plaster on a forced smile and turn your attention to the ginger girl in front of you. you extend a hand and saying, “hi, i’m y/n."

"hi, i’m cassidy, but you already know that," she laughs, taking your hand in hers and shaking it firmly. after releasing her grip, she absentmindedly begins to stroke her braid with the same hand, a subtle fidget that seems to be her go-to anxiety coping mechanism.

you smile, genuinely impressed by her hair color. “yeah, i love the color of your hair, by the way. it's beautiful.” a hint of bashfulness washes over cassidy's cheeks as she responds, "thank you, it's my natural hair."

you let out a soft "cute..." as your eyes dart over her vibrant locks before gathering your thoughts. "well, let's get to work," you sigh, beginning to walk over to your desk. cassidy quickly follows, and upon reaching your desk, you set down your things and greet amelia with a friendly smile. you then turn your attention back to cassidy, clipboard clutched in your hand.

“alright, just follow me this way.” you lead cassidy through the hospital floor, providing her with a tour of the different departments. while the tour starts off awkwardly, you and cassidy manage to strike up some small talk. despite her quiet demeanor, she proves to be a hard worker, efficiently tending to her tasks. you can relate to her reserved nature, knowing firsthand how it feels to be somewhat introverted.

FEW HOURS LATER

hospital’s break room - 12:40 pm on a monday afternoon

after having cassidy follow you around like a lost puppy, occasionally taking notes on her little cat shaped notepad when needed. you both sat in a corner, eating in comfort silence. amongst the normality, you couldn’t help but notice her lunchbox also in a cat-like shape. a soft chuckle escaped you, causing cassidy to look up from her food, her chewing briefly stopped to ask, “what?”

you point out the box which promptly makes her look down, mouthing “oh.” cassidy chuckles nervously, her cheeks tinted with a hint of embarrassment. "i suppose i’m a cliché," she admits, her smile widening. "it’s no secret now that i enjoy girly things.”

you nod, a smile playing at the corners of your lips in response. "i think it's cute." you utter with a slight smirk.

cassidy grins, a hint of self-consciousness in her expression. "you don't think it's too silly?" she asks, seeking validation.

"nope," you reply sincerely, “everyone has their own interests. who am i to judge?" you shrug, emphasizing the point.

cassidy chuckles again, playfully teasing you with her next words. "i'd beg to differ." she pauses for a moment, before continuing, "dr. anderson seems to be quite interested in you." her tone implies a hint of a tease, suggesting that abby's fondness for you may be noticeable to the people around you.

as soon as cassidy suggests that abby has a soft spot for you, you sputter and cough, practically choking on your food. between gasping breaths, you manage to exclaim, "what?! you definitely need your eyes checked!"

cassidy's eyes widen with concern, and she begins to pat your back to help you through your coughing fit. after regaining your composure, you nod, trying to play it cool as she asks if you’re alright. your voice is still strained when you speak, "i’m fine, but what makes you say something like that?" you ask, completely bewildered.

once she's assured that you're okay, cassidy begins to chuckle lightly and leans back in her chair, arms crossed in a confident stance as if she solved the equation pi in her one sitting. "i’ve seen the way she talks to you," she says, low and soft, smirking.

“yeah, she talks like she has a stick up her ass.”

your blunt comment about abby having a "stick up her ass" makes cassidy erupt into laughter. "yeah, that's—that’s definitely true," she concedes, still giggling, "but there's also… a passion behind it." she pauses before continuing. “It's like she does it out of love or something," her eyes fixed on you.

you let out an amused sigh and roll your eyes, responding with a playful retort, "yeahh, I don't know about that." you can't help but chuckle as you continue, "but, that’s definitely crazy talk." you tease, a hint of mirth in your voice.

cassidy laughs, feigning surrender by holding her hands up in a playful gesture. "hey," she says, a toothy grin plastered on her face, "i know what i'm seeing." she retorts.

you continue to eat, a scoff escaping your lips as you try to dismiss her earlier accusations. "you saw a bunch of nothing.” you remark, keeping your tone nonchalant. cassidy responds with a soft scoff of her own, but the silence that follows is strained, uncomfortable, well at least for you… you think.

your mind drifts back to all the times you've interacted with abby, a strange feeling beginning to grow inside you. there were no signs, no hint of anything more than anger and hatred, right? no itty bitty details so unmissable to others, but you? no, it couldn’t be, that’d be ridiculous, hell, every it'd be a synonym in the book ridiculous! there were never any crossovers besides hatred, a mysterious hatred, but hatred nonetheless. come to think of it, you never really found out why she hated you so goddamn much. was it envy? fear? if so, of what exactly?

whatever the case was, it doesn't matter. because you would fucking pay to see her at your mercy. beneath you with a look of hopelessness glistening in her eyes, for it to be her to struggle to utter a simple explanation, only for you to completely demolish the right of speaking. to watch that stupidly neat braid disheveled and her oh so infuriatingly muscular arms that seemed to taunt you, begging to be popped like a balloon.

yeah… you definitely hated this woman.

SIX MONTHS LATER

front desk - 1:30 pm on a wednesday afternoon

gathering any loose strands of hairs from the nape of your neck with one hand, you create a makeshift ponytail, struggling to keep a straight face as cassidy’s stifled laughter resonates nearby. you playfully chastise her, trying to suppress your own laughter.

“stop laughing,” you admonish, your attempt at a stern tone is undermined by your own stifled giggles. “you’re gonna get us caught!”

as luck would have it, you and cassidy had bonded over an unexpected shared interest— a love for plants. and they say that a mother’s life is over when they have kids. quite literal bullshit if you ask anyone with a brain. cassidy, besides being nature’s supporter, was also incredibly humorous, her wit and humor made work a little more bearable.

over a few rounds of cold beers, she had discovered abby’s mysterious hatred for you. her curiosity knew no bounds, weaving theories on why, but never truly connecting the dots. from that point on, she couldn't resist teasing abby when she erupted into her typical outbursts—episodes she jokingly dubbed "hissy fits." just a few weeks ago, she had been assigned to work the counter beside you after amelia went on maternity leave.

"check this one out," the red-head chimes, tilting her phone towards eyes’s view to reveal a piece of media from abby’s instagram. cassidy, as if being a FBI agent was her second job, didn’t break a sweat looking for abby’s entire life online the moment it was plausible.

now, knowing who to call, you glance to see a photo of the blonde with her usual serious expression. the framing itself is taken from an awkward angle. “she’s so stiff, like a damn statue.” she laughs.

you let your hands fall once successfully securing your hair in a bun, a chuckle escaping your lips. "not a bad-looking statue, though," you remark casually, shrugging your shoulders. a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you added, "maybe she should start a new career as a model. the 'stiff but stunning' look could be all the rage."

cassidy quirks an eyebrow your way, a mischievous gleam in her eye as she teases you, “oh, am i sensing something here?”

you respond with a scoff, hastily denying any such notion with playful push. “god, no!” you exclaim, feigning offense, your laugh mingling with her own.

amidst the laughter, your moment is abruptly interrupted by the overwhelming waft of a potent perfume that assaults your senses. immediately, you recognize the scent and dart your gaze towards its source—abby’s new assistant. wearing a top brazenly too small for her ample cleavage with an extravagant makeup job tailored for a circus clown, it's painfully obvious whom this performance is intended to impress.

fucking ‘asshole’ anderson. It’s a pity really; she’s a decent-looking girl, but a relentless ass-kisser. everyone in the hospital picked up on her antics pretty quickly, constantly trying to win abby’s favor. rumors speculated, suggesting they did more than just work together, but hey, they’re just rumors.

“you should be working, abby wouldn’t like this.” her grating voice rings out, dripping with unwarranted confidence.

“we’re on our break, alexa.” you reply coolly, not bothering to mask the distaste in your expression.

she theatrically glances at her watch and purses her lips, stating smugly, “not anymore.” her gaze flicks to you, a smirk playing at her lips. it takes every ounce of restraint you possess not to grab her by the hair and slam her head against the wall. instead, you listen as she adds, "i should be informing abby about this,” she emphasizes with her hand, going in a circular motion towards you and cassidy before finishing. “but she's requested your presence in her office right now."

you stare at her, bewilderment etched across your face. abby? needing you in her presence? the confusion can’t linger long when she impatiently snaps her fingers.

"chop, chop, she doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” she prompts, her tone dripping with condescension.

fucking bitch.

"you said you needed me?" you inquired, poking your head through the door’s open crack.

"yes, shut the door and take a seat." she affirms, witnessing firsthand the intentitive— almost obsessive behavior driven by a need to be perfection itself. her eyes don’t move from the paperwork at hand, but there’s no need for her body language and demeanor is a revelation on its own.

her stoicism matched almost flawlessly, as if they had been meticulously practiced in the mirror—akin to a morning ritual, like a cup of coffee. and her physique? it’s a memoir to resolution, sculpted from the divine hands of a deity, making you wonder: how could a person be so flawless? is she a forsaken angel, once god's favorite, now cast away from grace?

her voice, now with a hint of a crisp clear edge, breaks the silence, stating firmly, "i need to discuss something with you." her arms are now visible, resting on top of her desk, hands neatly folded together, an action that seizes your attention like a magnet. was this beautiful “angel” of a woman merely toying with you, masquerading as a jester with deceptive tricks?

nervously, you lick your dry lips and nod, responding with a strained voice, "yeah?" she picked up on that.

her eyes narrow with curiosity, and she leans forward, her voice laced with suspicion as she queries, “tell me,” she begins, letting the question linger in the air for a moment. “why do you still waste time with cassidy?” her tone carries a note of mild disdain. “she’s a bit.. odd, don’t you think?”

within the span of a moment, a wave of frustration surges through you, compelling you to argue your case. however, you find yourself inexplicably entranced by her features, unable to break the spell that has woven its way around your thoughts. nodding without conscious thought, your gaze is transfixed on the magnificence standing before you— the artistry of her face and form.

the sun's warm glow streams through the windows just behind her, casting a radiant light upon her as if nature itself were emphasizing its own masterpiece. every detail of her appearance is meticulously crafted, like a tempting apple dangling in front of the unsuspecting. a loose strand of hair falls gracefully in front of her face, accentuating the fine features of her facial structure. the angular lines of her nose seem to carry the weight of her sharp-edged spectacles, and her eyes, often lacking warmth, rarely seek solace in anything but themselves.

the sinew, a testament to the muscularity of her arms, even beneath the loose confines of her doctor’s coat, as if they were destined to stand out, to be admired. the way she held her pen moments ago makes it seem almost insignificant in comparison to her thick fingers, wrapped around it like a vice. her penmanship is impeccable, smooth and faultless, as if her hand is a perfectly calibrated machine.

god’s greatest gifts bestowed on its worst creation alive.

"are you even listening to me, right now?" she questions, her jaw setting tight.

startled, you snapped out of your reverie, blinking to moisten the dry eyes that had forgotten to blink in their fixated state, you confirm. “yes.” no.

“i asked you a question.” she snaps, her voice stern.

“what was the question?” you stammer, feeling flustered under her intense scrutiny.

“why—forget it.” a sudden shift in her expression indicates a change of mind. it seems the words didn’t sound as smart when she voiced them aloud.

“what?” you stutter, leaning forward in your chair. “what were you going to say?”

“i said, nevermind,” she replies, her tone firm and dismissive. “you’re free to go.” she averts her gaze from you, redirecting it towards her paperwork, as if you had suddenly become unimportant and unworthy of her attention.

you’re left dumbfounded, what was that about?

FEW HOURS LATER

your bedroom - 3:20 am on a thursday morning

your sharp gasp and the tension in your body were palpable, confined to the bed where your body lay cushioned. a hand ran through your hair before tugging it tightly, adding to the pleasure that coursed through you. the serene hum of your vibrator, nestled between your legs, was a poor substitute for the fantasies that danced through your mind.

your guilty pleasures, your secret desire.

“oh, abby!” you moaned, the broken syllable laced with longing. images of her flashed through your mind, your body yearning for the warmth of her fingers instead of the cold, mechanical pleasure your toy provided. the thought of being stretched by her strong, capable hands was all it took to push you over the edge.

a wave of ecstasy crashed over you, your body shaking as you orgasmed, the fantasy of abby's touch more potent than the reality. the intensity of your pleasure left you breathless, even as you knew it was only a fleeting escape from reality.

as your mind snaps back, an overwhelming rush of realization washes over you. you toss aside the vibrator, sitting up with a sigh. you can’t help, but feel shame towards yourself. the thought of your boss—the one person who makes your life a living hell—occupies your thoughts. how could you even entertain the thought of her?

a fallen angel, huh?

SAID “FALLEN ANGEL”

abby anderson

she was fucking on one today, and in return she thought you were too. her mind was consumed by you. even the morning coffee, always a comfort, tasted bitter and cold. she didn't even acknowledge the usual flirtatious advances from her assistant when she greeted her this morning. instead, she simply asked for her requested files and retreated to the sanctuary of her office, locking the door behind her.

it was always you, stirring up trouble by merely existing near her. cassidy mcclair, that braid-wearing copycat bitch, had you wrapped around her serpentine fingers. and you? you should have known better than to waste your precious time with people like that, but there you were. in fact, compared to these idiots you had to call coworkers, you were leaps and bounds above them.

you were just making a mistake, a mistake that was costing her sleep— more than she already doesn’t get.

she silently fumed as she stood in front of her office door for her daily check on what everyone was doing, over the years making mental lists of the flaws of each employee. amelia, didn’t know if she was bleating or laughing, and those killer front teeth— literally. one glance and someone’s head would be off. then there was samson, who seemed to do nothing, but shove burgers down his gargantuan throat. she was convinced he never even bothered to chew.

it was laughable, and she could go on and on about the flaws each one of her employees had. but you, well, not a single flaw could be attributed to you. not one mentioned on any list of the many she had. in essence, you were the embodiment of a boss's dream employee—quick on the case, a good sport, but until now, there was one flaw that had eluded you: the habits of hanging around the wrong people.

granted, it's not like cassidy was forcing drugs down your throat, but it was clear she was trouble. competition, that had to be eliminated. but one might wonder, why? why did abby have such a deep-seated grudge against you? why did she feel this burning urge to take you down? just like a pack of wolves, having her sights set on the weak link, ready to pounce.

deep down, abby didn't fully understand her intense feelings towards you. each attempt to articulate her emotions only led to frustration as they were often misinterpreted in the delivery. you made her nervous in a way that was both understandable and utterly perplexing, leaving her with feelings uncharted. in a desperate attempt to maintain control, she decided the best course of action was to keep her fondness for you hidden. surely, as long as you remained oblivious to her affections, there would be no complications, right?

she’d pledge that promise to the death, do everything to her power to keep it this way. there would be no vulnerability, no broken hearts to be on the mend, even if meant being cruel. but when cassidy came and first laid her eyes on you. oh, how she wanted to claw her eyes out just for even staring at you for a millisecond long.

it infuriated her to see how easily cassidy could evoke laughter and smiles from you, things that abby denied herself. many long, self deprecating nights filled with overflowing ashtrays of spent cigarettes and a collection of empty whiskey glasses were becoming too often to be called a casual drinker.

the day she requested your presence in her office, and sat across from her as she filled out the paperwork to transfer cassidy to another floor was a moment of triumph. however, her satisfaction evaporated rather quickly—leaving her dry to the bone. throughout the entire conversation, you appeared to be dazed, barely registering a word she spoke. had she been too late? were you already so smitten with cassidy that you couldn't even comprehend a word coming out of her mouth?

was it already too late?

after you had left her office, abby found herself lost in a whirlwind of thoughts. alone with her musings, her mind raced, and suddenly, all her thoughts aligned. if the two of you were indeed in a relationship, as it seemed so obvious, then separating the two of you would create an irreversible ripple effect. like two peas in a pod, together you were a force to be reckoned with, but tearing one away and crushing it would change everything.

if cassidy wanted to stoop low, she could go lower.

ANDERSON’S ESTATE

4:54 am on a sunday morning

due to the convoluted approval process, the transfer paperwork would likely take weeks, if not months, to be approved. there was no way abby could allow that to happen. by the time the transfer was accepted, you'd be off in dubai for a honeymoon with your apparent soulmate, sipping margaritas without a care in the world. no, she had to find a way to expedite the process, and it had to be done by the end of this overcoming week.

so she found herself in her office, nursing a few glasses of whiskey and indulging in chain-smoking cigarettes, a habit she could never partake in one without the other. surrounded by the solace of her private liar, the alcohol and nicotine fueled her thoughts, as she brainstormed list after list of ways to get rid of cassidy. patient abandonment was one option, but it ran the risk of tarnishing her own reputation as well. however, she was past the point of caring about the repercussions of her actions. all that mattered was taking down cassidy, one way or another.

feeling a mixture of an uncomfortable unfulfillment and disoriented, she runs a hand through her tousled mane. with a groan, rubs her eyes and gets up, smoldering the glowing embers of the cigarette in the overflowing ashtray before trudging off to bed like a pouting toddler.

In the comforts of her bed, shafts of dawn gently seeped through the curtains, with her loyal puppy, alice, sleeping at her feet, whining occasionally as she glanced up at her owner. abby couldn't help but wonder if the dog was attempting to communicate with her, as if offering a cautionary message. was it the effects of the whiskey and cigarettes playing tricks on her mind, or was her canine companion genuinely trying to warn her of impending consequences? these thoughts swirled through her muddled mind, yet the idea of it actually seemed far-fetched.

it’s a thing to think of, and another to do.

ONE DAY, MONDAY

cheshire cat grin

“and i want you all to be more aware— if you haven’t been already.” the firm voice snapped abby out of her reverie.

a weary sigh emits as her body slumps into a loose crescent shape, the strain of sitting in an ass-numbing chair for hours was finally taking its toll, and listening to her supervisor drone on and on about the same old report on employee performance wasn’t helping either. however, one particular statement caught her undivided attention.

the rise in unauthorized narcotics.

the report revealed that there had been a 3% increase in the number of supplies used compared to the usual amount. this increase caused considerable stress for the superior, who advised—no, demanded that all doctors on each floor find the culprit.

with mounting irritation from the current predicament, the overseer noticed abby’s expression and prompted her with a question. “is there anything you’d like to say, abigail?” she inquired, presumptuously.

as the superior fixed a firm gaze on her, abby’s initial instinct was to reply with a simple “no.” but then a new thought took hold. she sat up straighter, straightening her normally confident demeanor even further, and responded with a question of her own. “hypothetically speaking, if i do uncover the perpetrator, what measures will be taken in response?”

the woman’s scoff conveyed a dismissive tone, as if the answer was lingering in the air. she smugly responded, “well, hypothetically, they’d be fired on the spot, and all hospitals in the county would be notified never to employ them again.” there was a brief pause before continuing with that same overly confident demeanor, “so, they’d have to move just to find another job.” eyeing abby as if searching for even the slightest hint of nervousness.

under normal circumstances, abby’s temper would have flared at her superior’s condescending tone, but in that moment, everything was perfect. a polite smile abby offered held more than the naked eye could see.

the jigsaw pieces were falling into place.

TWO DAYS LATER, WEDNESDAY

surprise!

the days melded together, each one weighed down by a stack of endless papers and an incessant, desperate assistant who was over her shoulder, relentlessly nagged for her attention. in those moments of exhaustion, she started regretting ever giving them the slightest bit of her attention in the first place, justifying the brief lapses in her focus as mere 'moments of weakness'.

in obeying her supervisor's advice, she had been carefully observing everyone, with a heightened level of scrutiny directed towards cassidy, intentionally growing increasingly “suspicious” of her. with a fierce determination, she wrestled hard to suppress the many outbursts that threatened to spill over simply due to the sight of you and cassidy together.

even as a child, abby had a knack for fixating on unimportant details, down to the intricate nuances of color. her attention to detail had grown into a deep obsession, enabling her to familiarize herself with an object or being within days. with cassidy, she had approached it like disassembling a game of jenga, meticulously analyzing her every action, carefully calculating her plans. all she needed now was the opportune moment to set everything into motion.

just as she was about to execute her plan, a sudden, unexpected event occurred, as if on cue.

with newfound courage bolstered by a glass of whiskey and a cigarette, she rose from her chair, only for the shrill ring of her phone to pierce the tense atmosphere, and she glanced down to see a rarely-seen name on the screen— her grandmother, susana. an unyielding, meticulous woman, had been a source of inspiration for abby as she grew up, shaping her into the determined individual she had become.

susana, was a renowned fashion designer based in paris, a demanding professional life that had left her with limited time to spend with her beloved granddaughter. with a huff, sitting back in her office chair, abby picked up her phone and pressed it against her ear, preparing for their conversation.

"oh, my darling abigail!" the sound of her grandmother's sweet, melodic voice filled abby's ear.

a subtle wince crossed her face, and a forced smile tugs at her lips, almost as if her grandmother could see her through the phone.

"hi.” she responded, prompting her grandmother to lightheartedly tease, "oh, darling, why so timid?" her chuckle echoed over the line.

abby responded with a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of her neck. "sorry, gam-gam, I'm just a bit stressed." she confessed.

her grandmother replied with a lighthearted hum. “well, in that case, meet me at the cafe down the street for a little whine down.” and with a click, the line went dead, leaving abby scarcely a moment to protest.

with a heavy sigh, she tossed her phone aside, muttering, "damnit." frustrated, she ran a hand over her face.

in the reserved confines of their booth, her grandmother inquired with a casual tone, "so, did you receive my letter?" she pierced a strawberry with her fork, taking a bite.

abby responded with a nod, her thoughts momentarily astray to the brief moment earlier when she'd seized the opportunity to execute her plan on cassidy's unattended bag during your lunchtime in the break room. she knew such an opportunity might not present itself again anytime soon, as cassidy was set to be away until friday.

“and the book?”

abby paused, strawberry mid-air on her fork, perplexed by her grandmother's question. "what book?" she questioned with a full mouth, confusion lacing her voice.

her grandmother sighs, explaining, "the book didn't arrive?" she grumbled about the subpar mailing service. "doesn’t matter," she continued, "we can just head over to the bookstore after and replace it." her interest piqued as her grandmother added that it was another mythology book, a favorite topic of hers.

abby's eyes sparkled with excitement. "awe, sweet! i’ve been meaning to go." she responded enthusiastically.

the older woman chuckled, observing, "old habits die hard, I suppose." she then posed a question that seemed to ignite her interest even more. "tell me, have you managed to swoon any girls with your extensive library of knowledge?" her grandmother's smile grew wider at this question, her genuine wish for abby's happiness evident. how could abby possibly ruin her grandmother's happiness?

abby wasn't one to lie, but she felt compelled to do so, especially since the truth was more difficult to share. a gentle smile tugged at her lips, and a blush appeared on her face as she played with the blueberry on her plate. though it was a lie, it was an effortless one. "well, there's this one girl at work," she began, her voice growing more softer. "she’s incredibly sweet, and I think she likes me." the rosiness in her cheeks deepened, adding a touch of authenticity to her fib.

“awe, sugarplum, who is it?”

“her name is y/n.”

ANOTHER TWO DAYS LATER, FRIDAY

the final act

after two days of being completely immersed in the book, abby managed to force herself back to reality. cassidy had reappeared, prompting abby to resume her daily observations. she diligently watched over you and cassidy, particularly monitoring the red-head’s interactions.

she had arranged a private conversation with the supervisor, raising concerns about “suspicious” behavior involving cassidy. the supervisor guaranteed action before six pm that afternoon. all she needed to do now was secure her bag alone before then. abby set an alarm on her watch, stashed the narcotics in her pocket, and exited her office, determined to carry out her plan.

she closed her door and was immediately greeted by the familiar sounds of chatter and movement, the distinctive scent of the hospital filling her nose. as she inhaled, it was as if she was breathing in the purest air. but then, the explosive sound of a voice abruptly shattered her moment of comfort. she jumped in surprise and turned her head to see a nurse.

"sorry, doctor," she apologized, her smile tinged with nervousness. "i—uhm, have documents for you to sign for a discharge." she extended the clipboard, waiting for abby to take it.

still feeling discombobulated, abby nodded stiffly as she accepted the clipboard and signed it. “are… are you okay?” the nurse's question caught her off guard, prompting her to look up. "yes—yes, I'm fine.” she replied, her voice somewhat strained.

saying a brief goodbye, she walks down the hallway, and sees cassidy getting dressed in the staff room. abby smirks, and walks inside just as she’s gonna leave. the initial door opening scares, making her jump back, and she sees it’s abby, she greets her with a smile, and quick hi, trying to exit. but abby isnt gonna let her leave so quick.

abby says a brief farewell and proceeds down the hallway, catching sight of cassidy dressing up in the staff room. she stops with a grinch-like grin saunters into the room just as cassidy is about to exit. the sudden door opening startles cassidy, making her jump back. she quickly greets abby with a smile and a casual "hi," attempting to leave. however, abby is determined not to let her go that easily.

"hey, wait." abby halts cassidy in her tracks with a firm arm grab, causing her to stop.

cassidy looks up, bewildered, and clutches her bag close to her shoulder, waiting to see what this was about. abby’s eyebrows furrowed, it’s been truly a long time since she stood by her self-proclaimed enemy. she didn't seem to have changed much— not that she cared to notice, except for the new pin on her shirt— a small pride flag, cute.

abby scoffs, chuckling which prompts cassidy to raise an eyebrow. “what’s so funny?”

in response, she shakes her head dismissively, replying with a hint of mischief, "nothing, just a joke i remembered." adding slyly with a cunning smile, she continues, "how do you like working here?"

cassidy swallows, her nerves becoming visibly apparent as she nods in agreement. "it’s good," she reiterates, adding, "yeah, i love working with the children."

abby hums in response, laughing. "well, don't let me stop you." she promptly opens the door for cassidy, eliciting a smile from her in response, and as she begins to pass through, the taller blonde adds. “enjoy it while it lasts.”

as she watched cassidy leave with her bag in hand, abby's emotions were divided. she felt a sense of sheer satisfaction, empowerment, her lips twisting into a muscle straining grin as she watched the bag recede into the distance, carrying her ticket goodbye. and she didn’t feel an ounce of regret because she did warn her. to enjoy it all, her time at the hospital to its fullest, and she meant it. true to her nature, abby prided herself on consistency, even more so in her efficiency, like a stealthy ninja.

in and out, no flaws, no witnesses.

no window for the light to shine through.

THE LIGHT

cascading over your form was from the now straining lamp above. your head ached, overwhelmed by the events of the day. but one interaction stood out as particularly odd— an event you didn't take part in, rather witness instead.

it seemed under every blue moon that cassidy and abby would interact, despite working on the same floor. there were no crossovers, so when a hand broke that line. there was something unsettling about the whole interaction, especially the invader's body language. her movements were mechanical, unnatural even, making it all hard to ignore.

a chill runs down your spine as you consider the implications. you know what you witnessed, but it feels almost unbelievable. just as with notorious serial killers, you struggle to comprehend the thought processes behind such heinous acts. perhaps this lunatic in particular requires her own account to explain her motives and actions.

you arrived at just the right moment, only a few seconds before their conversation ended. fortunately, you had come in time to witness abby casually slipping something into cassidy's bag while she was turning away. the object had a distinct pill bottle shape, subtle enough to avoid attracting unwanted attention, but enough to pique your interest.

the rumors of stolen narcotics had been circulating, and a mysterious culprit was being gossiped about behind closed doors. you and cassidy had spent some time discussing the topic, sharing silly theories, though nothing more than just pure hearsay.

your eyebrows furrow in thought, though it wasn't helping. instead, only intensified the now throbbing headache, slowly morphing into a full-blown migraine. with your hands holding your head up, you look down at long forgotten paperwork that was meant to be done from the comforts of your own home, but considering the distressing state you’re in. it was far from comforting now.

with a frustrated sigh, you flick off the lamp and abandon your paperwork, ready to rise from your desk. suddenly, your phone rings, jolting you with a spike in heart rate. you glance down at the caller ID.

you immediately answer the call, only to be met with cassidy's hysterical voice. through her sobs and gasps, she reveals that she was fired due to stealing narcotics. your worst fears were confirmed; it was no longer just a mere theory. you had indeed witnessed abby slipping something that resembled a small pill bottle into cassidy’s bag.

as you try to console your friend, a whirlwind of emotions begins to roil within you. some of that emotion directed towards yourself, but strongly towards abby. it was true, you saw it with your very own eyes, and yet chose to wait. you hated the fact that it took you so long to come to your senses, and a wave of guilt consumes you for not marching straight to the supervisor moments after witnessing it.

even if it was too late for your friend, it wasn’t for abby.

the lobby, now shrouded in dimmed lighting with very few sources of illumination, seemed like something straight out of a horror movie. paying no mind to the eerie ambiance, you quickly make your way towards abby’s office door, knowing she typically uses this time to prepare the employee’s schedules. the reasoning behind why she does it in her office is unknown, but frankly, not your biggest concern.

your knuckles collide forcefully against the wood, channeling the full extent of your anger’s strength. the door swings open, revealing a slightly taken aback abby. she utters, “what—what are you doing here?” her tone seems somewhat off.

you don’t waste any time, no words, and cut straight to the chase. “what did you do to cassidy?”

she raises an eyebrow in confusion, responding, “what are you talking about? are you on something, y/n?”

without hesitating, you push past her into her office. turning your head at neck breaking speed to set your hardened gaze onto hers. your voice takes on a more firm tone: “am i? are you?!”

you repeat your question with unwavering determination. “what did you do to cassidy?”

with a scoff, she crosses her arms, feigning innocence. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.” she denies.

“oh, don’t play dumb,” you retort, your gaze unwavering. “you know exactly what i’m talking about! tell me, what was it that you threw into her bag?”

she nervously swallows, her composure faltering for just a moment before she regains control. this reaction was all you needed to confirm your suspicions.

"that’s confidential.” she repeats assertively, making her way behind her desk.

"confidential, my ass!" you yell in response. "i know damn well what i saw!"

she stops in her tracks and turns her head to face you, a look of indignation on her face. “what did you just say to me?”

ignoring her interruption, you push on, demanding answers. “what did you do to her? what did you say?!” your fist clenched tightly.

for the first time, she drops her facade, maintaining eye contact without hesitation, as she admits. “i gave her a little parting gift.”

the intensity in her eyes makes your blood run cold, trying to gather a sense of what her cryptic response implies. you stammer. “what—what does that even mean?”

she suddenly realizes the gravity of her confession—how she inadvertently revealed her actions, but anger clouds her morality. "just drop it.” she grits out through clenched teeth, patience wearing thin.

the fire in your eyes flares up, brimming with anger and defiance that refuses to let you back down. "no!" you firmly retort. "you’re going to tell me!" frustration seeps through your voice as your patience wanes. you’re tired of her smug superiority, the audacity to act as if she had everyone under her command.

her lips curl into a smirk, her voice oozing with sarcastic scorn. “oh, i’m gonna tell you?” she taunts, scoffing. “tell you what? about your little friend?” her tone carries undertones of something against your mere friendship with cassidy.

the mention of something more regarding your friend sends a pang of defensiveness coursing through you.

"what?" you breathe out, taken aback. "what does that even mean, huh?"

she takes a step forward, each breath heavy and labored. her voice betrays her impatient nature, a predator preparing to pounce. “oh, you know what that means,” she retorts, scoffing internally at how dull you’re being to an obvious situation. despite the tension in the room reaching a high, it’s abby’s intensity that seizes the moment. you half expected to see her licking her lips with anticipated hunger, like a ravenous beast.

it sends a rush of conflicting emotions coursing through you—an alluring mixture of curiosity and trepidation. the encounter itself feels like a high-stakes game of chess where you struggle to predict your opponent's next move. as you step back, your confidence falters, and your voice softens into a small whimper.

“i don’t...”

abby catches onto this, pouncing on it like a hungry lion sensing weakness, further igniting her motives.

you gasp as your back meets the cool, solid wood behind you. in an instinctive movement, your eyes flick briefly behind you before darting back forward. only to find abby’s overbearing presence suffocating your personal space.

"oh, i think you do." she rasps, tilting her head to the side, a chuckle escaping her lips. her faltering gaze lingering to your lips for a fleeting moment before pulling away. her tone seethes with anger, words biting as she scoffs.

“you think you’re so damn slick, huh?” she paces back and forth, a fierce intensity in her stride, causing you to wince in response.

“you act like i wouldn’t catch on to your little games, as if it wasn’t painfully transparent to everyone around you!” her frustration builds, and she raises her arms, unleashing a frustrated sigh before bringing them down forcefully to slap her thighs. "as if i wouldn’t notice!”

you couldn't understand where this anger was coming from. sure, she had always been an asshole, but lately, her outbursts and irritability have seemed to reach a new assholery. and it seemed to have started around the same time you had become friends with cassidy. It was almost as if your newfound friendship had awakened something within her, something darker and more volatile. perhaps jealousy?

abby’s anger blazes brightly in her eyes, her words sharp. "god, you’re infuriating," she says, her voice laced with hostility. "like some fucking prodigy, you think you know everything, don’t you?!" she emphasizes with lurching her body forward, her hands slamming down on the desk either side of you, effectively trapping you in place.

your breath hitches as she draws nearer, her proximity sending an intoxicating wave throughout your body. the intensity of her anger is palpable, every labored breath brushing against your skin like a gentle caress. her lips are tantalizingly close to yours, separated by an annoying invisible barrier that could be shattered at any moment if she so desired. just one push.

"fuck you, abby!" you hiss, your voice faltering for a moment before hardening. "you always had a goddamn bone to pick with me, you piece of shit!" your words linger in the air, carrying years of built-up resentment directed at abby. but the shock of her unexpected confession wipes away your outrage, replacing it with astonishment.

"because i love you!" she yells, her voice ringing out louder than intended. her revelation hangs in the air, rendering you speechless. as those words sink in, your breath catches in your throat. "what?" you manage to croak out, hardly believing what you've just heard.

you observed a flicker of vulnerability in her expression that's quickly replaced by a hardened composure. there was no turning back, the cat was out of the bag, and so she only pressed forward with determination.

her voice descending to a low, sultry tone, she says "you think watching what's mine prancing around like a slut at her own workplace doesn't make me livid?" each word drips with possessive anger and suppressed desire.

your voice comes out smaller and fragile than anticipated as you muster the words, "i’m… i’m not yours." you struggle to meet abby's intense gaze, your body tensing subconsciously as you push yourself against her desk, attempting to create some space between the two of you. the air is thick with tension, the room practically vibrating with the weight of abby’s confession and your denial. you felt trapped, your body practically molding into the desk behind you.

"do you believe that?" she inquires, raising a brow in challenge. she lifts a thumb to slide across your bottom lip, her touch firm yet almost teasing. she pauses for a moment before letting out a gravelly chuckle, further probing into the tension. “i don’t.” she admits with a light shrug. her movements felt taunting, yet calculated as if she’s trying to catch you in a lie, and to fess up.

abby was frustrated, bordering on infuriated, trying to make sense of the situation. her mind was a tangle of emotions, and she felt like she was grasping at straws, trying to connect the pieces in her head. she had the mental board laid out in her mind, each string connecting to a different thought, all pointing to one central question: you and cassidy, and the enigma of your poorly hidden relationship. this uncertainty fueled her anger, and you weren’t making it any better. she wanted to do something— anything— to show you that you weren't just anyone's; you were hers.

"what about alexa, huh?" you ask, gaining a peak of confidence, your words snapping her attention back.

“what about her?” she questions truthfully, amused by your presumed jealousy. “you jealous?"

caught off guard and exposed, you feel the equilibrium shift, upending the chess pieces in your mind. "i’m not jealous," you insist, realizing the power her words hold. it’s as if she has cornered you in this game, check. mate.

“oh, sure you aren’t." abby steps closer, her body pressing against yours, trapping you between her and the desk. her words take on a dual edge of ire and yearning as she smirks. "i should’ve known with the way you’ve been acting, you’re practically begging me to put you in your place.” she murmurs, chuckling gravely. "to fuck you until you can only say yes, doctor anderson." she feigns a high pitch moany tone, a lewd and terrible, yet obvious admit of sounding like you as she says “yes, doctor anderson.”

she laughs before humming, seeming to enjoy that fantasy as she lets herself become lost in the idea for a moment before continuing.

abby’s features lean in closer, the heat from her breath caressing the apple of your cheek as she murmurs against your ear, “tell me, do you let cassidy make you her personal pocket pussy?” her words send a shiver down your spine as her hand moves to caress your cheek, pausing to let you feel the weight of her question in the air before inquiring further, “to bend you over anywhere, anytime, and you’ll just take it like a good girl?” her words laced with a lewdness that sends a thrill through your body, despite the fact that you know you should reject the notion. the question itself was filthy, taboo, and utterly intoxicating. but you couldn’t deny the existence of being drawn to it, deep down knowing more than ever if you ever were to think of that fantasy, you’d want it to be her, not cassidy.

“no, no, it’s not like that.” you attempt to defend yourself, trying to find the right words, but abby interjects before you can say anything else. she scoffs at your attempted denial, her grip on you tightening, causing you to wince. her voice lowers into a dark laugh, her disbelief evident. "oh really? you really expect me to believe that bullshit?"

her name escapes your lips in a gasp, but abby cuts you off yet again, her eyes darkening as she speaks.

"lemme tell you what it's like," she begins, her tone husky. “i think you'd like it. hell, you pray that it does happen because you're nothing but just a pathetic girl who wants some attention. is that what you want? attention?" abby inquires, licking her teeth in an almost predatory manner. your heart races in your chest as her words cut through you.

the tension in the room is palpable, thick with unexpressed desire and emotion. you find yourself unable to hold back any longer, your voice quivering as you voice your deep-seated need. “i want your attention," you confess, your words almost inaudible, they're so faint.

even if faint, she heard all of it, dissected each syllable. it’s all she ever wanted, no, needed to hear from you. “yeah?” her voice falters into a soft whimper, tilting her head to the side and grabbing your cheeks with her large hands, only now focusing on your lips. “i’ll give you all my attention.” she promises, swiftly pulling your face, smashing yours onto hers.

your body trembled from the conflicting sensations, a clash of cold and hot, a maelstrom of warring emotions. years without her touch had left you craving her embrace, and her lips on yours sent heat coursing through your veins. though the kiss stood unspoken, there was no need for actions that spoke louder. both hatred and desire intertwined, two sides of the same coin, fueling this volatile gesture. your hands roamed her body, exploring every curve and contour, as hers did the same, desperately pulling you closer, kneading your flesh like clay. your hands finally found a resting place on her shoulders, gripping her like a lifeline in the storm of sensations swirling around you.

your movements, your gasps and sighs, fueled the fire within abby, and with a determined strength, she hoists you up onto her desk. the sudden change in position elicits gasp from you, pressing your body against hers with an arch, and abby seizes the moment, slipping her tongue past your lips, exploring your mouth with a fervent passion. it was a dance both familiar and new, a moment of fiery connection that consumed you both.

her breath ragged, lips tingling from the passion of the kiss as stares down at you, her eyes dark and filled with hunger as she murmurs her confession. "i've always dreamt of this… having you," her fingers roaming over your body slowly as she says this, relishing in the way you react to her touch. she presses her forehead shading yours, her dilated eyes reflecting the depth of her desire. her cold thumbs find their way underneath your clothes, tracing slow circles, sending a shiver through your body. "having this feeling of your skin under my fingertips."

your voice quivered as you call her name, and for a moment you think your plea to have her lips on yours again are answered, but instead, she finds her new focus, your neck. her lips fall, leaving a trail of kisses and love bites. the sound of your whimpers only spurred her on, her hands gripping your hips possessively as she continued to mark your skin, leaving a trail of hickeys.

abby was in her element now, and your desperate tone only fed her desire. she wanted more, to hear you call her name even more. with a smirk, she lifted her head, eyes burning with amusement. "yeah? you like the sound of that, pretty girl?" she muses, her hand suddenly landing a sharp smack on your thigh, making you jump. in response, she chuckled at your reaction, her laugh sent tingles down your spine, a mixture of amusement and desire. her grip on your thighs tightened, pushing them higher up, and drinking up the sight of you, spread before her with your feet on the desk sent abby's desire spiraling out of control. she couldn't help but lick her lips, taking in the full view of your flushed skin and parted legs. you couldn't hold back a squirm, feeling so exposed— though you weren’t — under her intense gaze.

"i love seeing you like this," she murmured, her voice thick with arousal. she steps towards you again, nestling herself in the newfound space. her lips return to your neck, greeting the previous bruises plastered on your neck with soft licks and kisses. "so desperate and needy."

her hands leave your thighs as she lifts herself up to meet your gaze, taking in your already disheveled state. with a hum of satisfaction, she asks, "who gets you like this?"

you manage to respond with a barely audible, "you, abby." she hums at your whimperish respond, a smirk crossing her lips at the confirmation, "yes, not that bitch, cassidy. me. and only me, right, baby?" she gives a slight nod, as if she’s responding for you.

the blonde brings her hand up to your lips, watching as you open your mouth to invite her thumb, which she eagerly accepts.

she let out a low, guttural groan as you suck and lick her pad of her thumb, enjoying the sensations that your mouth causes. she couldn't resist the urge to voice her thoughts, her words thick with possession and desire.

"hm, such a dirty girl." she paused for a moment, taking in the sight of you, before amending her statement with a husky tone, "my dirty girl."

you release her thumb with a pop, humming a tone of satisfaction, and licking your lips to savor the lingering taste of her. a chuckle escapes abby's lips as she watches you, her eyes roaming your body yet again. the desire to rip your clothes off and shut you up has been building since the moment you walked into her office, "take this off, baby. you’re killing me with not showing me what's mine," she growls, her words tinged with need and possess. "need to see it, feel it. need." she mumbled against your skin, completely submitted to her delusions. you don’t fight this time, barely able to remove each article of clothing with abby eagerly kissing and licking every available inch of skin. but stops at your bikini line, encountering a setback— your underwear — cockblocking her.

her eyebrows furrowed in disbelief, looking up at you with an almost comical expression of frustration, and offense. as if being unable to take off your underwear because of her was a you problem. “funny.” she retorts, tone dripping in sarcasm, but nothing on her face shows amusement. “real fucking funny.” she remarks, punctuating her words with a sharp smack to your hip, kneading at the red skin roughly, making you wince. “you fucking tease.” she continues, her voice laced with a mix of desire and irritation.

"i should punish you for that little stunt," her fingers hooking into the waistband of your underwear, intending to pull them down herself since you’re incompetent to do so. “but, fuck, look at all this.” she relents, sliding them off your legs— and pocketing them for later — to reveal your core, practically weeping for her. “all this f’me?” she pants, eyes flicking up to yours.

a whiny moan of her name slips past your lips, but she shushes you gently, her voice softer now. "i know, baby, i know." she cooed, her large hand running comfortingly up and down your side. as she spreads your quivering legs further, exposing your drenched folds, abby feasts her eyes upon the sight before her. her lips curve upward, "fuck," she breathed, her eyes never leaving your pulsing core. “look at this pretty pussy. this is prettiest pussy i’ve ever seen—this has to be mine.” she leans down, her warm breath ghosting over your clit before she pressing a tender kiss there, savoring your reaction to her smallest touch, and now wondering what other reactions she could get out of you.

you weren't prepared for what came next, not one bit. expecting her to take things slow, you were completely caught off guard as abby gripped your thighs and, in one swift motion, separated your slimy folds, lapping any sweet nectar waiting for her. you tense from sudden sensation, letting out a loud, unapologetic moan as you arch off the desk. your hands instinctively tangle themselves into her steady braid that soon unravels from being used as reins.

encouraged by your fervent response, abby delved deeper, her skilled tongue tracing a path to your engorged nub. enclosing it between her lips, she whispered her praise, "you taste better than i thought." her voice trembled, mingling with your own moans.

as her teeth gently nipped at your sensitive bundle, you cried out, your thighs involuntarily squeezing her shoulders. a wicked smirk graced her lips as she basked in your reaction, taking immense pleasure in your submission.

the unexpected pinch sent jolts of shock through your body, your limbs twitching and writhing in a frenzied dance. in response, abby repositions her left hand on your abdomen, gripping tightly to anchor you in place. each sound that escaped your trembling lips fueled her hunger, her throaty hums resonating against your flesh. with a devilish gleam in her eyes, she teasingly traced circles near your navel with her thumb, heightening your anticipation.

a groan rumbled in her throat when your fingers gripped her hair, the sensation only spurring her on. her mouth fastened more insistently around your swollen nub, sucking harder as you cried out her name. the strain in your voice confirmed her suspicions: you were on the cusp of your release, and she was eager to push you over.

abby's fingers joined the fray, sliding in and out of your slick folds with practiced ease. her relentless assault on your clit continued, her touch sending shivers through your body and causing your breaths to come in ragged gasps. the sight of you, quivering and exposed before her, stoked a fire within her, a determination to send you flying over the edge.

abby derived an addiction from your pleasure. each moment of ecstasy seemed to fuel her further, driving her to amplify the tempo and depth of her ministrations. as the room filled with the lewd symphony of flesh meeting flesh and intertwined heavy breaths, something stirred within abby. something unfamiliar, uncharted. normally, she would exhibit unrivaled confidence during intimate encounters, but with you, it was different—more intense, deeper. a desperate craving to be perfect, to ensure you'd never seek anyone else but her. she’d hate to admit it, but the realization gnaws at her: the longing for you even after this is over.

"who's making you cum tonight?" abby questioned the obvious once more, but her arrogance tone underlined the strong need for reassurance. your moans were her only response, and while she adored the sweet sounds, she craved more. a sudden shift in her fingers’ movements made you yell out, "you, abby," your words punctuated by cries of pleasure.

her fingers, now confined within your tight grip, sensed the growing tension, the impending eruption, the imminent of your orgasm. "uh-huh, come for me," she ordered, "let me hear who’s making a mess of you."

it’s rather short lived, quickly fading into a hazy blur. you threw your head back as her eyes closed, savoring the taste of your ecstasy with a hum, helping you through your orgasm until your body laxs.

withdrawing her fingers, abby admired the sight of your juices clinging to them, a testament to her efforts. a satisfied smile stretches across her face as she reveled in the knowledge that she had brought you to such heights.

she licks them clean, feeling a rush of gratification that only you can provide. releasing her fingers with a soft pop, her lips make way and pave along the curve of your hip, leaving a trail of wet, sticky kisses behind as she moves up to stand before you. “such a good girl..” she mumbled against your skin. you lift yourself up with your elbow, taking a moment to catch your breath, your body still quivering from the intensity of your orgasm that has left you momentarily speechless. you couldn't help, but notice abby’s disheveled appearance as well. untangled, her hair strays from its famed braid, now flowing around her face like a cascade of waves.

but before you could comment on the sight, she claims your lips in a tender, sweet kiss, her hands cupping your face. the connection was brief, and when she pulled away, a grin lit up her features. without another word spoken, she unclothes herself, revealing herself in all her glory. you knew she worked out, but goddamn, did she work out! the determination to achieve the physique showed immensely. in your admiration, you felt the apple of your cheeks warm up, causing you to look away.

"don’t go shy on me, babe," she chided playfully, repositioning your face to meet hers. she seals the deal with another kiss pushing you down gently onto the desk. "lay back f’me, ‘kay?"

with a nod, you comply, watching as the corded muscles in her arms flex as she moves into position, lifting your leg. a grin tugged at the corners of your lips as she placed a tender kiss on your ankle, making her soft chuckle fill the air in return before she securely set your leg on her shoulder.

the moment your wet folds connected, a guttural moan escaped her lips. the sensation was everything she craved, wasting no time in starting a vigorous grinding motion. as she ruts back and forth, she can’t help but mutter curses under her breath, lost in her own pleasure. "fuck, baby, you feel so fucking good." she hisses, throwing her head back. the raw intensity of her emotions written clear as day on her features.

her concentration nearly falters when she glances down, and the sight that met her eyes threatened to make her cum on the spot. the image of your hair spread out across the desk, your bouncing breasts with every upthrust combined with the feeling of your warmth against hers drove her to near insanity.

abby swore she had to be on the edge of a near-death experience, or some type of dejà vu as she gazed upon you in awe, swearing that you resembled a goddess straight out of a mythology book she had once read. though the memory of the goddess’s name was just out of reach, abby couldn't shake the feeling that she had personally seen a painting she once visited come to life in front of her very own eyes.

your hair, freed from its usual up do, was now cascading around your head and spilling off the edge of the desk like an ebony waterfall. your body, unrestrained, was a breathtaking display of femininity. each heaving breath caused your breasts to sway gently, your nipples hardened in anticipation. the way your skin glistened with a thin film of sweat only added to the captivating tableau.

in that moment, abby could almost imagine you as a divine muse from an ancient myth, a vision of beauty and desire. if she didn't snap herself back to reality, the mere sight might have been enough to send her hurtling toward an orgasm. but she had other plans, and she was determined to make them happen.

without warning, abby leaned down, her left hand resting beside your head to brace herself. as her mouth wrapped over one of your taut nipples, her tongue danced over the sensitive bud. simultaneously, her free hand kneaded your other breast, eliciting a sharp gasp from you. your hips bucked involuntarily, meeting her thrusts, and for a moment, it stuttered her pace, a low moan escaping her lips.

"fuck—baby, don't—don't do that," she pleads, filthy groans slipping pass her lips as her hand slides down to your hip, holding you firmly in place as her engorged clit pulsated with building intensity. she was determined to make you cum before she did.

your whispered invocation of her name caused her to glance up at your flushed, disheveled appearance. the sight was a temptation she couldn't resist, and crashed her lips against yours, the feverish kiss mirroring the urgency of your coupling. the closeness and ferocity of both embraces unconsciously synced your movements, hips rocking in unison.

"fuck! abby, i’m gonna cum, please!" your gasps grew heavier and staccato, your forehead pressing against hers as her pace quickened, breaths entwining. normally, abby would step in and reprimand her employees for behaving too freely when seemingly having too much fun. however, in this moment, she actively encourages it, the atmosphere brimming with an intense hunger for it.

"i know, baby, i know." abby's hand found your cheek, stroking it soothingly as if trying to appease your mind to allow what’s inevitable. "cum for me—cum with me," she pants, her pace faltering as she reached her zenith. her arms enveloped you, her hair acting as a curtain around the two of you. guiding you through your release, the slick of your shared pleasure coated your entwined bodies.

once over, abby’s rhythm ceased, and she collapsed on top of you, utterly spent. the weight of the night's passionate encounters bore down, leaving the two of you entwined in the afterglow.

in the act of catching your breaths, it gave abby post-nut clarity. her cheeks reddened, overwhelmed with shame for her past behavior, guilt gnawing at her insides as she realized how much of an ass she had been. it makes her get up, promptly making you sit up, confused.

with a shaky breath, she pushed her hair behind her ear, an expression that was nothing like her usual confident self. "look," she began hesitantly, her voice strained as she struggled to find the right words. unable to meet your gaze, she continued, "i’m sorry for everything. i've been having these feelings, feelings i-i don't even know how to process about you, but i... just wanted to say that i'm sorry for being such an asshole. it was pathetic."

finally, she looked at you, her lips laced in a pout. her confession took you by surprise, leaving you speechless. it was a side of abby you never saw, apologetic.

“asshole is an understatement.” you finally say, laughing softly, an attempt to alleviate the tension in the air, yet it brought no amusement to the receiver. with a quick gulp to clear your throat, you question, “what kind of feelings?” tilting your head to one side.

abby's mouth forms into a tight smile at your lighthearted comment. "they're romantic feelings," she confessed, taking a step forward. she knew the likelihood of your response, but nonetheless continued. "i wasn't lying when i said 'i love you’… but if you don't—" she let out a shaky exhale, the next words stinging. "I'll understand."

unable to suppress an oncoming smile, you take the sight of the usually tough-as-nails abby anderson, now a softie. taking for a moment before responding with a soft voice that leaves abby confused, "you look pretty like this.”

"what?"

"yeah, you should wear your hair down when we go on a date."

PERMANENT TAGLIST, @dyk3ang3l, @elliesprettygirl, @les4elliewilliams, @r3starttt, @slut4mascss, @marsworlddd, @bready101, @abbysleftbicepp, @airenaa, @caraphernellie, @astralnymphh, @whore87, @kaiilectric, @sapphicontherun, @mikellie, @nihilisticangelbby, @be3flow3r, @ppuussyyy, @clairoscharm, @lvlymicha, @brackishkittie, @loveyru

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moonlight-prose · 2 months

Text

RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

➛ 01. IN DREAMS WE REST

a/n: i've been stressed about this fic probably more than any other i've ever written. not because it's logan per se, but because wade wilson makes me want to rip my hair out. i love that bastard, but writing him feels like pulling teeth. i'm in love with this concept solely for the angst, so if you see more throughout and wonder if they will ever get a happy ending, please know i'm dead inside. enjoy!

summary: stuck in another universe and unsure of where he stands, logan expects things to even out as they always did. but when you cross his path and you have no idea who he is, he's in for a rude awakening.

word count: 5.9k+

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: not explicit, wade wilson breaking the fourth wall, angst, cussing so much cussing, alcohol consumption, grief, pain, a broken man pretending he's not broken, chance encounters, awkward conversations, hope.

NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

He can hear it when he sleeps.

Their screams.

The constant ring of agony that chimes out like a bell, an alarm he never set for himself. A joke once told to him in the midst of World War II, as bullets flew by him and soldiers lost their lives each second of each day. There's no escape from hell. No running from the devil that nipped at his heels the faster he went, the longer he tried to navigate a way free.

There's no escape from the memories that ate away in his mind. Multitudes of them, of the faces he once called family, the people he used to love. They were his punishment. The boulder he continued to roll up the hill, day after day after day. Until eventually...he was crushed by his own self-hatred.

"Logan." The voice whispered long enough for him to grasp who it might be, yet never louder than a mere breath of air.

He clung to it some days. Sunk his claws into what little of his past remained good and allowed it to fill him with some amount of peace. At least then he'd be able to bear this weight, this grief he could never quite name.

Something light brushed across his cheek. Tickling the skin enough to send a flare of irritation down his spine, but the dreams held him in their grasp. What came next never surprised him. He expected it at this point—longed for it. The distant pain of losing what once made him whole; the entirety of his life now defined by one single moment he could never change.

"He sleeps so sweetly. I just want to curl up in his arms and have him read me bedtime stories."

"He's not gonna like that when he wakes up."

"Zip it Al. If I wanted an opinion, I'd go see a Hollywood therapist."

A scoff echoed in the background. "No therapist wants you on their couch."

"Not true. I hear Ryan Reynolds has a great one."

"Who?"

"Not the point." The feather dusted across Logan's face again, soft enough to keep him asleep yet annoying enough to bring a smile to Wade's face. "I wonder if he's dreaming about killing bad guys. They say it's good for the soul."

"Who the fuck is they?"

Wade laughed. "Oh you know. Them. The readers. And boy howdy do they love their blood."

Every day he was forced to listen to Wade's voice became another day Logan dragged his claw through a tally mark of his sanity. "Do you ever shut the fuck up," he growled, gripping Wade's wrist until he heard the satisfying crack of bones.

"Only when I swallow."

"I'll tear your fuckin' arm off."

The smile on Wade’s face only added another tally. "Nice kitty. No need for the claws."

Anger washed across his skin in a familiar wave as he released Wade's arm, watching it go limp. Trying to kill the unkillable walking irritation was like trying to swat a fly that never quite died. It still buzzed incessantly. Until eventually madness was the only viable option of dealing with it. In his case, he seemed to be driving head on with no brakes.

Logan wasn't sure he possessed enough sanity left within him to keep dealing with this. Sleeping on the couch didn't help the way his body never rested; always stuck in that permanent fighting mode. He'd give anything to find some peace. A small sliver of it carved off the past that continued to call him—that begged him to come back and try again.

Swinging his legs off the couch, he planted a swift kick to Wade's chest that sent him across the floor. The lack of caffeine in his system left everything hazy and half coherent. If he focused he might have caught the keys thrown at him, but being exhausted and sober didn't make for a good combination with him. An empty whiskey bottle lay discarded on the floor from last night; the memories of how he passed out barely tinged on the edge of his mind.

He could recall stabbing Wade in the leg.

Nothing beyond that.

Dried blood—now an ugly brown—stained his white shirt. He nearly stripped himself of it, prepared to throw it in with whoever was washing next, but his flannel being chucked at his head caught him off guard.

"Fuck off," he snapped, stumbling to the kitchen.

Wade sighed, following him. "Get dressed, peanut. We have to go do human things today."

"Human–”

"Food," Al retorted. "We're out."

Even in a new universe, he couldn't see himself acting normal. For so long he did what had to in order to survive. Yet now...he wasn't so sure. Accompanying Wade Wilson in order to complete household chores left a bad taste in his mouth. But the thought of fresh coffee and an unopened bottle of whiskey sounded like sweet silver bells in his head.

With reluctance, he buttoned up half of the flannel before he became annoyed with the small size of the holes punched into the fabric. There was only so much he could do with the life he had now. And sometimes shit really sucked.

"Don't scratch my fucking car," Al pointed her words towards Wade, thankfully ignoring Logan's existence for a brief moment.

"Is it safe for her to own a car?"

The door shut behind him with a bang, echoing down the vacant hallway. He was surprised people actually lived here given Wade's antics. They could hear the loud mouthed fucker across the street—if the angry notes in the mail were anything to go by. He didn't bother asking if he should be concerned with any of it. Not when he had no say in how the house was run. And choosing to insert himself where he wasn’t needed, rarely went well for him.

"God no. But I give her the benefit of the doubt. She hasn't killed anyone. Yet."

He yanked the keys out of Wade's hand. "Yeah well I don't trust you either Bub."

The car didn't leave room for his legs as he squeezed into the driver's side. His body practically folded in half as he turned it over—the rumble of the engine rattling against metal. How Blind Al managed to pay for this vehicle went beyond even Wade's knowledge, and in all honesty…he was too fucking scared to ask.

Too much seemed to be happening for him to ever catch up. While this Earth felt similar to his, small things were different. And when they began to add up...he began to wonder if he was drowning.

"Turn left to merge onto the asscrack of traffic."

He barely heard the directions as he drove, his mind drifting the further they went. Part of him sensed the grief from earlier begin to claw up the back of his throat. It begged him to fall, to be swallowed whole by the darkness he'd been stuck in before. And he nearly gave in; could feel his body shift into its constant mode of fight or flight.

The steering wheel cracked under his white knuckled grip as Wade's voice became an afterthought to the war he fought in his mind. Terror trapped itself in his throat and he slammed his foot on the brakes a foot away from a parking spot in retaliation. The car lurched forward, his claws descended. A snarl rumbled in his chest the longer he sat there thinking.

"Woah..." For the first time in days, Wade fell silent. "You alright?"

Logan ripped himself free, shoving his body out of the car before he even threw it in park. He gulped in breath after breath and did his best to wait for this fucking feeling to leave his system. The nightmares only came as he slept. A constant familiar horror show after two centuries.

Yet now he was left like this. Leaned up against a car, his eyes closed shut, and heart racing.

All because he couldn't do his fucking job.

"Logan–"

He snapped, shoving past Wade and his pity that choked him with a vengeance. He didn't deserve anyone's pity. He didn't want it. But people couldn't help but hand it over unconsciously. As if they could see the layers of broken pieces beneath his false expression of strength. Logan never pretended to be okay. Why bother with something people could see right through?

He merely wanted others to ignore he was there. Walk past him, look through him, do whatever it took to pretend that him and all his tragedies weren't standing before them. Because one day he would die and fuck how he couldn't wait for that time to come.

A small hole in the wall dive bar sat in the corner of the shopping center. He barely caught sight of it. But the unmistakable scent of alcohol poured out the door as someone stumbled out—their eyes squeezed shut against the harsh brightness of the sun. He could understand them in a way.

His world didn't have sunlight this bright. Or perhaps he never noticed it ‘til now.

Maybe his body wasn't acclimated yet; unsure of what the fuck was still happening. Everything seemed to be turned up to eleven for him, yet no off switch existed.

The dark hazy glow of the interior sent a wave of calm through him as the door swung shut with a soft thud. Four people sat scattered around the place and a bartender with white and graying hair stood cleaning a glass so foggy it was probably better to throw it out. He found himself letting out a breath that'd been trapped in his chest since that morning. Finally some peace before he had to listen to Wade yap about bullshit he didn't in fact give a shit about.

"What'll you have?" the old man asked, his face screwing up in a wince as he limped towards Logan's spot at the end of the bar.

A quick glance down let him see the brace wrapped around the man's knee. "Whiskey on the rocks."

He nodded, slowly heading towards the center of the wall—a lonesome half empty bottle of Jack Daniels on the counter. Logan shifted, taking the center seat directly behind the man.

"I can't say I've seen you around before son."

He grinned, his finger tracing a random carving that'd been placed in the wood. "I just moved here. Living with a coworker."

"Coworker huh?"

The word didn't sound right to Logan, but he couldn't exactly call Wade his friend. Although they were more than people who fought together, more than men who shared blood during the same battle. That was the thing about Logan though. He'd never be able to put a label on something like that. To him...things weren't one or the other as much as he wanted to pretend they were. There was nuance to his life.

Complications which made living that much harder.

The man turned, surprised to see Logan so close, but didn't make note of it. Logan could see the gratitude in the way his drink was slid carefully to him. The small silent thank you in the bowl of pretzels placed beside it.

"You look lost."

Logan grunted, biting into the salty and dry snack. "Do I?"

"More than some of the others that come around here."

"And who comes around here?"

The man laughed. "No one as of late. You're the first young man I've seen in a while walk through those doors."

He bit back his laugh at the word young. The stories he could tell would leave the man baffled. About wars that no living person had witnessed. About when the world was far different than today—when mutants were freaks of nature and humans were far less forgiving. He could list it all and then some.

But whether or not someone would listen was another thing entirely.

"This place that old?" he inquired, sipping on the amber liquid with a contented sigh.

"Oh you bet." A weary laugh filled the space. "I bought this place in the sixties. When my wife was still my girlfriend. She almost left me because of it."

Logan huffed, his lips curling slightly. "She wasn't a fan?"

The man shook his head, tossing a cloth over his shoulder. "Still isn't. Well she...wasn't." He pressed his thumb to the worn gold band on his left hand. "When she was alive she used to host a book night. Helped bring in the men's wives. Kept them outta trouble."

"Book night huh?"

"She loved to read."

Before he could down the final sips of his drink it was topped off. Logan nodded his head in thanks, his thumb digging into the thumbprint shape of the glass. If he thought about it hard enough, he could almost see himself coming here every night. He pictured a life far different than his own, a past where he might have been happy. With someone who might have even made him smile.

"I'm not much of a reader," he replied, his voice hoarse and eyes fixed on the ice that floated to the surface.

"Ah me too," the man laughed. "I just liked seeing her smile."

A soft remark was on the tip of his tongue before an entirely new image began to take shape. The face of someone lost. Of a smile he'd known better than his own. Hands that once held his face with the tenderness of a lover—a voice that sent the hair rising on the back of his neck. He could see it as clear as he did the man.

You in all your beauty. Lost to a past he could no longer rectify.

He swallowed thickly, beating back every emotion that crawled under his skin. "What's your name?"

"Travis."

Raising his glass, he tipped it towards the man with a tight grin. "Logan." The alcohol went down with a quick and biting burn. A feeling he'd grown familiar with. One he counted on.

"Nice to meet you Logan."

"Yeah you too."

He dug out some cash and tossed it on the bar as he stood with a slight grunt. He may heal quickly but the ache in his bones still existed. As if something resisted against how his body moved with each slow shift.

Fighting meant he could ignore it.

Existing is what made it worse.

The sun practically burned his eyes when he stepped out, the heat of the day encompassing his whole body quicker than he would have liked. For some unknown fucking reason, summer here felt worse than on his Earth. Then again the alcohol didn't help. He stood in the shade of the building next to the bar, searching the parking lot for any sign of Wade.

Going into the store wasn't an option and as much as he wanted to leave the annoyance behind, he didn't want to feel like a piece of shit. That is...even more than he already did.

"Fuck," he hissed, leaning against the brick wall. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

One option would be taking a walk to work off the energy that ran through his veins. At least then he'd be able to sleep at night. And the temptation almost worked. If it weren't for the shop doors that opened to his left, effectively distracting him from the chance of leaving. He could have ignored the person, probably should have given everything he'd been through.

But then his heart dropped to his stomach as you walked out. He'd never seen you in such a soft sundress before, the off white fabric draped off your curves in a way that floored him. As if you were an angel floating by without a care in the world. You were busy shoving a small piece of paper in your purse, your face furrowed in frustration, and Logan smiled. Because he'd traced each line of that face before, he'd kissed those cheeks, your eyelids as you slept.

He'd loved you in ways that would scare a normal human.

And there you were.

"Honey?" he called, unconsciously following you quicker than he intended to. "Honey."

You glanced to the side, completely unaware of the giant lumbering man trailing after you with a soft look on his face and hope in his hands.

That alone tore him in two more than the memories from before.

"Baby, it's me."

The breeze finally went through the air, pushing the skirt of your dress a bit higher on your thighs. Except that's not what he latched onto. Your scent was different. Unlike any he'd encountered before. Honey still sweetly caressed his senses, but flowers overlayed that—peonies if he guessed. Delicious enough to have his mouth watering; his body already aching for you to be closer. To look at him in the way you used to.

He wanted to call out to you—gain your attention properly—but your name wouldn't leave his tongue. Because you were there and you finally caught sight of him and you were looking at him as if nothing bad ever happened between the two of you.

You saw him as a man.

Not a disappointment.

He willed himself to stop and breathe. Take in his surroundings; realize that you weren't who he once knew. You weren't even the same fucking person.

But before he could think straight, he'd already followed you halfway to your car. His eyes were dazed, heart nearly throttling him alive as he stood there dumbly. Waiting for you to finally speak.

"Oh..." Your heart rate spiked quicker than he expected. He couldn't find it in himself to feel bad though. "Hello?"

"Honey," he sighed, the weight on his shoulders lifting ever so slightly.

He caught the way your fingers tightened around your keys, the defense mechanism an instinct by now. And Logan realized what he looked like. A strange man standing too close for your liking. So he took a step back and gave you some space. In the hopes that you wouldn't see him as a threat. That maybe...you'd listen to what he had to say.

"Can I help you?" you asked, eyes darting around the parking lot in case you needed help.

What he wouldn't give for the opportunity to reassure you. To explain that he wasn't here to hurt you. That he'd kill himself before even laying a hand on you. Yet the correct words were lost and all he seemed to get out was an incoherent babble that had him wanting to dig his own claws into his chest.

"You smell different."

You straightened your spine, eyes narrowed into a glare he felt burn across his skin. "Look, I don't know who you are. But fuck off."

Something akin to pride flared in his chest at your tone, your words. But he couldn't show it externally. How would he explain that your fight—your fire—is what drew him to you in the first place? How could he tell you about a version of yourself you'd never know? A person he thought would be with him until his last breath exhaled into the world.

"I'm not here to hurt you." He raised his hands in an attempt to prove his point, but like your variant counterpart you were willing to bite first and ask questions later.

"Yeah. Sure asshole." The shopping bag in your other hand was lifted up, until you had a tighter grip on it in case something happened. You didn't know him. You probably never would.

But Logan had to try. He owed it to you to give it all he had this time around.

Otherwise...what was the point of living?

"My name's–" He made the wrong move stepping forward and knew it the second his boot hit the gravel. With a wince, he watched you stumble back against your car, your arm coming up to protect yourself. "No. Look I'm not gonna do anything–"

"Get the fuck away from me," you spit.

He moved back as if approaching a wounded animal—his body finally on edge in a new way. The fact that you didn't know him wasn't what broke off another chunk of his heart. He could handle that. He'd been through that.

You were afraid of him.

That realization dug in too deep for his body to heal.

That...he couldn't live with.

"WOAH hey!" He'd never appreciated Wade's irritating ass more than in this moment. He jumped between the two of you, the cart of groceries forgotten as he blocked Logan from your sight. "Step away from the nice lady wolf boy." Wade regarded you with a smile. "Hi! Sorry. This is my uncle and well as you can probably tell he's lost eight of his lives. So we're going on little old nine. And well the mind just goes to shit first."

Seconds passed by like minutes and Logan watched you visibly deflate. "Wade," you greeted him, visibly calmer than before. Logan felt his stomach twist violently at the thought. "It's good to see you. How's the job?"

"Oh yup you know. Left that. But I'm really pushing through. I've got an Etsy store where I sell miniature paintings of Michael Angelo's David's penis. So there's that."

Your laughter sent a hole through his chest and Logan bit back the growl that rose up the back of his throat. What the fuck was Wade doing making friends with you? Why were you laughing at his humor?

He couldn't count how many days he'd spent longing to hear your laugh again, the shine in your eyes that always came around when joy flooded your bloodstream. He could smell the honey off your skin, the warmth of what no doubt lay beneath your thin dress. And he wanted to rip Wade to pieces knowing that he was the one making it happen. That you were comfortable with a man who's mouth ran at a mile a minute.

"Did your sister have the baby yet?"

You brightened and Logan felt his heart stutter. "She did! A boy."

"Named Wade I hope."

Another peal of laughter had Logan's claws itching to descend as you ignored he was there. "Theo actually. A cutie."

"Aww." Wade moved closer, head bent to see the small polaroid you pulled out of your wallet. "Wow, he looks like you'd find him in a Gerber's advertisement."

Your eyes drifted up, past Wade's shoulder, until you finally caught Logan's gaze. And he felt like he could breathe. Every ounce of fear was wiped from your face; interest now creeping in as you dragged your eyes down his form. Past the slight peek of chest hair and down to how his jeans hugged his hips. Logan stood taller for your benefit, as if he needed to make a good impression.

He wanted to linger in your mind for days. Until the curiosity ate you alive.

"We're gonna go," Wade announced, after grabbing your bag and placing it in your trunk for you. "Someone has to feed the blind woman in my apartment. She tends to root through everything looking for food." He gripped Logan's arm, shoving him back a good few feet. Even as your eyes still remained glued to his face. "Glad to see the Hyundai is still working. You know you could take the fattest fucking nap in the back of that puppy. Makes you feel like an Egyptian mummy."

"Bye," you said, a dazed look in your eyes as Logan smiled in your direction. At ease with the knowledge that even in a different universe, he could still fluster you with a look.

Dragging himself away from you was hell, but Wade's grip remained unbreakable as they clambered to the car. The groceries stacked in the small backseat.

He could glimpse you driving off and suddenly the nightmare from earlier was the last thing on his mind.

Wade's back hit the wall with a crack before the door could shut properly. The groceries in their hands toppled to the floor. He barely had time to duck before Logan's claws were aiming for his head—a snarl ripping from his throat.

"What the fuck?" Wade shouted, grabbing the paper bag and gently setting it on the table. "Next time just say you need to stay home and find some joy in an empty room and your hand."

"How do you know her?"

Wade smiled, assessing the furious state of chaos Logan was now left in. The tatters of his stability falling to the floor around him. For as much as he held himself together, it certainly remained easy enough to tear him a part.

"Got an eye on someone, do we honey badger?"

Logan grimaced, running a hand down his face. "Would you just fucking tell me?"

"Let me bask in this Logan. I'm about to watch a romcom come to life and need some popcorn." He rummaged through the bag, yanking out some chips. "Salty and sweet. That'll do."

"Wade," he bit out.

"Stick with us girls, we're about to get to the good stuff."

"WADE!"

He tossed the bag to the table, eyeing the way Logan never quite settled. "I'm gonna take a guess and say we know her more than just friendly hellos."

Logan couldn't answer because his grief did it for him. He did what he could to catch his breath, to stop seeing his version of you. The disappointment on your face, the pain in your voice. You'd been so angry with him. To watch the person he loved be reduced to a screaming crying mess wasn't something he wanted to relive, but Wade's question seemed to send an avalanche toppling to the ground.

"She's..." He sucked in a breath. "On my world. I...knew her."

"Knew her? Or knew her."

He reached for the bottle of whiskey Wade threw in with the rest of the groceries and popped it open before he spoke again. "It didn't end well between us. None of it did."

Wade fell silent and Logan found himself loathing the quiet more than the sound of his voice. If he was joking Logan could ignore it. He could pretend nothing happened. That you weren't here, you couldn't be hurt by him again.

You were safe from his destructive tendencies as long as you were in another universe.

"She lives across the street." Logan's head rose and whipped to see the window that faced the building across from them. "The old uncultured shit whistles that keep complaining about WHAM! the greatest thing to happen to music. They're her neighbors. Live right next door."

"Neighbors."

Wade nodded, offering him a chip. "She found their note and angel that she is, she very sweetly threatened to get them evicted. I offered to let her borrow my katanas but was rejected like younger me on prom night. You've really got yourself a catch there buddy."

Logan didn't need Wade to tell him how fucking lucky he was. He knew that the second you walked out of that store. You were everything good in his life at one point, everything he couldn't save. There wasn't much keeping him going on his old Earth, but having you made all the suffering he went through—all the pain he endured—worth it.

If you were waiting for him at the end, he'd do it all over again.

"So you want to take a dip in that honey huh? Taste that rainbow?"

His claws would have sunk into Wade's throat if a knock hadn't sounded at the door. With a huff, he stepped into the kitchen, the bottle clutched tightly in his hand. Whoever decided to give Wade some luck was of no concern to him.

Or so he believed.

"I didn't mean to accidentally take your groceries," you laughed, handing over a overpacked paper bag.

Stuffing the bottle under the sink, he met you halfway to the living room, his eyes drinking in the sight of you still in that dress. Still delicate enough for him to rip if he tugged it right. Heat curled along the base of his spine when your eyes met his, wide and glimmering with your laughter. He felt himself crumple at the sight of your lips parting, the surprise at his size still enough to make you speechless.

"Good to see you again," he greeted you, voice low and soft.

You didn't mean to grow flustered in his presence, but something about the way his gaze devoured you within seconds left you breathless. The swooping sensation in your stomach became too much to handle. Desire and attraction weren't unknown concepts to you. But this felt like more. You could sense him right down to your bones and it scared the shit out of you.

"Oh right!" Wade scooched past you to swing an arm around Logan's shoulders. He did what he could to not stab him in the stomach. "This is Logan. My hunky new roommate."

Logan groaned. "Alright–"

"No, no it's good. You remember when I was declared basically the savior of the universe?"

Your face screwed up in confusion. Logan had never wanted to kiss someone more.

"Marvel...Jesus right?"

"I prefer MJ. Since I've got a Peter." Wade's head whipped to the side. "Suck it Tom Holland." His grip on Logan tightened. "This walking People's Sexiest Magazine helped. We're talking big claws, abs you just want to lick whipped cream off of–"

Logan's elbow slammed into Wade's stomach—crimson slowly tinting the tips of his ears. "That's enough."

"AND the Wolverine."

Surprised etched itself onto your face even further. Until you finally regarded Logan with a look he'd seen once before. Awe. When you first met one another in the halls of the mansion, you stared at him that exact way. As if you couldn't quite believe that iconic figure the X-Men made him out to be actually existed.

He couldn't tell if he liked it. Or if he'd rather you view him as a stranger.

"Logan," he said, offering his hand to you politely. Your skin remained as soft as he remembered.

Warmth bloomed in your body at the feeling of his calloused palm overwhelming yours, the scars across his knuckles old and ancient. Yet you found yourself wanting to trace them over and over, until the sight of them seared in your mind. You fought the urge to press your lips to them, etch your own mark into his skin. Something told you he wouldn’t mind.

Logan could see the intrigue on your face—the distracted gaze he wanted to keep in place. You were still curious. Still willing to learn about him. To pick him a part with soft words and even softer touches.

"Logan," you murmured under your breath, your eyes catching his. He felt his stomach leap at the sound of your voice whispering his name. Memories flooding his mind quicker than he expected. Of mornings spent in bed, your skin pressed against his. Of nights alone in his cabin—your stories lulling him to sleep.

Everything he willed himself to forget, yet could never truly let go of.

"I've got to head back." Disappointment filled your heart at the thought of not getting a chance to talk to him more. He had yet to let go of your hand and you found you liked his touch on your skin. "I'll see you soon Wade."

"Logan will be more than happy to walk you back," Wade replied, waving drastically behind your back. "Can't have you getting hurt now can we? Right peanut?"

You smiled. "I'm just across the street."

"I don't mind," Logan cut in, glaring at Wade to shut the fuck up.

"Okay," your voice was soft. Happy.

Logan would have done anything to keep it that way.

The walk back wasn't long enough for him to explain his actions from earlier, but you seemed to be just as smart as your variant self. Shutting the building's door, you turned to him—your dress fluttering in the breeze. Logan choked on his spit at the slight peek of your ass before you pushed the skirt back down around you.

"Did you know me?" You lead him to the corner, waiting for the traffic to die down. "On your Earth."

He paused, his eyebrows pulling together, and for a moment you wondered if you asked the wrong question. Wade told you bits and pieces of what happened since you last saw him, but Logan's background wasn't a discussion you tried to seek out. All you knew was that Wade acquired a new roommate. Not even a name.

Certainly not that he was Wolverine.

"Yes," Logan muttered, glancing at the change in lights.

You started to walk. "In what way?"

His hands curled into fists—echoes of his past rising to the surface. "We were...friends. You're a professor."

"A professor?" you exclaimed, a smile tugging on your lips. "Am I a mutant?"

He nodded. "You're able to bend time. Or control it." He snorted, following your lead towards your building. "I could never understand it. But Charles did."

The walk up to your apartment was silent, your thoughts filled with the new information he'd given you. And no matter how hard you tried to picture it, you couldn't see yourself as a mutant. A powerful being that held the ability to manipulate time who just so happened to be a professor. Somehow even thinking about it made you wonder why Logan was bothering to entertain this version of you. When the better one existed on his Earth.

"You said were."

Stopping at your door, he nearly knocked into you. "Hm?"

"Were friends. What happened?"

The answer he couldn't give you. The words he wouldn't even admit out loud to himself.

He felt his heart twist as if a knife slowly carved through his spleen. "We uh..." He coughed. "You..."

"I don't have to know." Grasping gently onto his arm, you offered a warm smile he felt down to his toes. A look he hadn't seen in quite some time. Logan could picture the last day you were happy in his head. Laughing with Charles in his office as you shared dinner, working on theories of your powers late into the night.

A week before they came.

"It's good to see you like this," he breathed, his hand reaching out to touch your cheek before stopping midair. "Happy."

Your eyebrows knit together. "I wasn't happy?"

"No." What he wouldn't give to take that information back, but it was out in the open, and as always—he remained too late.

"Why?" you asked, your hand sliding down to his much to his delight.

"I made you a promise." He sucked in a breath, his body begging him to start running. You'd be better off if you never knew. If you never remembered him in the first place. "I couldn't keep it."

I'll always keep you safe.

Words he refused to say again.

How could he promise this version of you that? How could he look you in the eyes and lie again? Breaking his Earth's you would haunt him for the rest of his life. He couldn't fathom doing it all over. It would kill him.

Except you weren't the person in his mind. You weren't the mutant who hated him with every fiber of your being. You were you. A continuous surprise that left his heart stuttering in his chest each time you looked his way. An enigma he found himself wanting to unravel.

"Maybe this time around you can," you said softly, letting him go with a smile as you entered your apartment, effectively opening the wound in his heart so wide there was no saving him.

Although he now knew something he didn’t know before.

He didn’t want to be saved.

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x y/n #logan howlett x f!reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine x y/n #my writing

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haosweater · 7 days

Text

nasty dog

content: best friend! vernon x afab! reader, smut, pwp, college au. warnings: consumption of alcohol. smut: switch! vernon, switch! reader, name calling (puppy, mutt, miss etc), cunnilingus (oral on reader), praise kink, breeding kink.

summary: vernon is overprotective. everyone knows that. he says he just wants to make sure no man takes advantage of you, since y’know, men are dogs. well, then again, so is he.

word count: 2k

note: this was,,, supposed to be less than 1k words... oh well, i went crazy :d divider is by @cafekitsune on tumblr :)

you always found the situation funny.

to people on campus, you and vernon were known to be best friends. he was your partner-in-crime, the one who knew and understood your humour the best. wherever you were, so was he. people rarely saw you apart. it was as if you both were attached to the hip.

your friends always teased vernon about how protective he was over you. it didn’t matter where men approached you. in school, at clubs, on campus— vernon was always lurking nearby, glaring at them from the shadows. if looks could kill, he’d have been a serial killer.

“aw vernon, don’t need to be jealous,” jihyo laughed as the male snapped out of his daze, and turned to look at her. “you’ve been staring at y/n for the past ten minutes.”

it was true. he had been busy staring at you. but he was also staring at the man whose hands were wandering down your body. his lanky figure was bent over so he could whisper god-knows-what into your ear. he just couldn’t look away from the way you giggled, your fingers tracing over the patterns on the stranger’s shirt.

“well, that freak’s with her,” he sighs, downing the rest of his whiskey. “can’t be too careful now, can i?”

chaeyong giggled, leaning against her boyfriend’s shoulder. “aw, are you worried y/n’s gonna leave you?” she teases the male as their whole group laughs. vernon rolls his eyes, but the smile on his face shows that he doesn’t mind it. “don’t worry, babes. you know she always has a special place in her heart for you.”

vernon opts to not respond as his gaze drifts back to you. the man’s hands had trailed down to your waist, and it was now your turn to whisper in his ear. your hand was on his shoulder, gripping it tightly. he shuddered at your words, only fueling vernon’s curiosity even more. he knew you were whispering the most sinful things to him. he could see it in the way you grinned, knowing you were in control.

the music faded into the background gradually as the boy is left with his own thoughts. ‘special place in her heart?’ vernon thought to himself, bringing the glass up to his lips. he didn’t doubt that.

that’s when your eyes meet his. he chokes on his drink, surprised and embarrassed. he knew you knew that he’d been staring. it wasn’t like he was trying to hide it that well anyways.

vernon feels small and shy when you look at him. your gaze was similar to that of a predator’s– focused, sharp, intimidating. you looked like you were about to devour him whole. he wouldn’t have minded that.

he cannot look away. your eyes draw him in, your entire demeanour was confident, seductive, and you knew you were in absolute control. raising a finger, you gesture for him to come over slowly, as if casting a spell on him (for you, he’d knowingly fall for it all). with a soft smile, he finishes his drink quickly and leaves.

he knew what this meant.

“so? what did you tell him?”

you hum, closing your eyes with a smile on your face. vernon’s voice always had a soothing effect on you. “i told him how i’d tie him up and fuck him slowly,” you begin, sipping on your drink. “then i told him to fuck off and keep dreaming.”

vernon’s laugh sounds like a familiar melody from your childhood. he hums, tracing circles across your skin gently. “very on brand for you, hm?” he teases, shifting his body down as the sheets rustle under your bodies.

chuckling, you brushed his brown locks aside, but are quick to gasp as he inserts his tongue into you, catching you by surprise. “fuck, noonie,” you curse, relishing in the pleasure. “god, that tongue of yours,” you moan softly, flushing your hips against his face.

from between your legs, vernon has a wild grin on his face. you roll your eyes at his antics, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of his tongue against your wet cunt. he mumbles something so softly, you only realise he spoke because of the vibrations it sent to your clit.

“what’d you say—ngh, fuck,”you let out a gasp. “w-what’d you say, nonnie?”

vernon lifted his head from between your legs, licking his lips. “all men are dogs,” he said, flicking the tip of his tongue against your clit as you shuddered. “and you know how nasty they are.”

“fuck, 'non,” you whine as his tongue continues to assault your clit, fingers pumping in and out of you. “doesn’t that– oh god, you’re so fucking good,” you breathe heavily, relishing in the pleasure vernon never failed to give you. “doesn’t that make you a dog too?”

the chuckle he let out was enough to make you groan. god, all it took was his laugh to make you even wetter (if that was even possible).

his large eyes peek out from between your legs, mouth place soft kisses to your inner thighs. you shudder as his fingers start to move even faster, your hands grasping the satin sheets below you.

“yeah, it does,” he smiles against your skin. “but i’m your dog, y/n,” he says with a hint of mischievousness in his voice.

his fingers trace along your skin before you feel him gently pry your fingers off the sheets. his fingers intertwine with yours for a moment, a short, but intimate moment that has your heart fluttering more than you’d like to admit.

he hands you something and you’re slightly confused. its texture is slightly rough and it felt foreign to you. you look down and realise he’s handed you the end of a leash that was around his neck. “i’m yours to use. i’m here only to please you, to make you feel good. my pleasure is irrelevant– i’m made to serve you,” he whispers, planting kisses along your thigh as he looked into your eyes.

“so please. use me.”

an insatiable energy surges within you. with a harsh tug of the leash, you have vernon in your lap. your free hand grabs his hair, moaning into his mouth as he grinds against you.

“you’re such a horny fucking mutt,” you groan, as he kisses you back with much vigour. you can tell he’s desperate, the way his hips are moving against you. “you wanna fuck me? fuck your cum into me?”

vernon groans at your statement, nodding fervently as you chuckle, slowly lowering yourself down. the boy follows you, chasing your lips as he whined at the list of contact. you tug his leash and he lets out a low whimper, almost too soft for you to hear. “good boy,” you coo, ridding him of his pants eagerly.

his cock was hard and twitched at your praise. you licked your lips at the sight. “you’re going to fuck me now, puppy. you will fuck me until i’m satisfied, and no cumming until i say so, you understand?”

“yes, miss,” he huffs, eager to please you. at your nod of approval, he enters you, whimpering as your walls wrap tightly around him. “oh my god, miss,” he lets out a whimper, shaking at how good he felt. “fuck, you’re so warm.”

the grin on your face widens, fully taking in how gorgeous your best friend looks. he was flushed, eyes squeezed shut from the pleasure. his hair was tussled messily, framing his gorgeous face.

“may i move, miss?” his desperate whine snaps you out of your daze.

“yes baby, you– ah, fuck!” vernon doesn’t even let you finish before he begins pounding into you mercilessly. you grip the sheets, wrapping your legs around his waist. the way his cock hit all the right spots made you moan, hands moving to his shoulder as your nails dug into his skin.

his cock rammed into you relentlessly, making you arch your back, tears brimming in the corner of your eyes at how good it felt. the sound of your skin slapping filled the room, along with his desperate whines and your breathy moans. pleasure was an understatement for how good you felt.

you yank at the leash, making vernon moan. his eyes were wide and glossy, begging for your touch. “you want me to touch you, baby?” you pant, fingers ghosting over his chest as he nodded. “good boy,” you smile and began to toy with his nipples, making him whine even louder, thrusting into you faster.

“miss, miss, please, i’m going to cum,” he cries, tears rolling down his cheeks. “can i cum, please? i’ve been a good boy for you, so please let me cum,” he begged, lips plump and red.

“no,” you say firmly, pulling his leash tighter. “you’re gonna make me cum before you can,” you instruct as he whined, but quickly obeyed.

his hand moved down, fingers circling your clit as he leaned down to take your nipple into his mouth. you moan in his ear, whispering sweet praises into his ears. his pace increased, his desperation evident as he chased his own orgasm while trying to please you.

the familiar coil in your stomach made you moan. “fuck, noonie, i’m going to cum,” you sigh in pleasure.

as you think vernon can’t possibly go even faster, his hips begin snapping into you at an inhumane pace that made you gasp. “yes, miss! please cum for me,” he moans. “please let me in cum in you! please, please, please, i’ve been so good– i’ve been your good boy,” he begs, staring at you with his beautiful eyes.

the tears that roll down his eyes turn you on even more and you shudder. “okay baby, you can cum inside me. you wanna breed me, yeah? fill me full of your cum until it drips out of me?” you ask as he groans, shaking at the thought.

“yes, yes, miss. wanna show all those men that i’m yours. wanna fuck you full of my seed, please,” he cries out, holding onto you tightly.

the knot in your stomach continues to build and you know you’re getting close. your nails dig down his back, your grip on his leash tightening. “fuck, noonie, i’m cumming,” you pant out, trying to match his thrust to chase your high. “fuck, i’m cumming, i’m cumming!”

as soon as your walls tighten around his big, warm cock, vernon loses it. he lets out a loud groan as his seed spills into you. the sound of your moans echoed, as you rid your orgasm out, basking in the afterglow.

“god, 'non, that was…” you pant, trying your best to catch your breath. vernon continued to stare at your chest, enticed by the way your boobs moved. “pervert,” you smack his ass, earning a help from him. “we need to clean up.”

vernon nods, slowly sliding out of you, eyes trained at the entrance of your pussy. he loved the way his cum spilled out of you, painting your pussy white.

“'non?” you call out as he snaps out of his daze. god, your body looked gorgeous in the moonlight. “if you don’t come, you won’t be able to fuck me against the bathroom walls,” you say with a sly grin.

you love how vernon’s cock twitches at your words. smiling, you wink at him before turning around, swaying your hips as you walked away.

vernon giggled to himself. god, he really was just a nasty fucking dog for you.

#mei’s ✍️#seventeen 🫧#seventeen smut #seventeen fics #seventeen imagines #vernon #chwe hansol #vernon chwe #seventeen vernon #vernon smut #vernon x reader #seventeen x reader #smut #kpop smut #sub seventeen #dom reader

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HOME ⋆✦⋆ kuroo tetsurou

synopsis ➸ you knew nothing good would come from answering a late-night call from your ex’s number. but now that he’s drunk and helpless, you’re stuck with him. and you’re well aware of how this will end—you never could resist him

tags ➸ exes-to-lovers, mentions of alcohol consumption, drunk and clingy kuroo, teeny tiny bit of angst, hurt/comfort (kinda), dry humping, groping, biting, nipple play, teasing, fingering, dirty talk, unprotected sex, squirting, begging, kitchen sex

wc ➸ 9.1k

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?" you growled, snatching your phone away from your ear to glower at the caller ID blinking incessantly.

The string of familiar numbers stared back at you mockingly against the too-bright screen, igniting a complicated tangle of emotions you'd fought to bury deep over the past year or so. That particular contact had been set to automatically bypass Do Not Disturb mode - a relic from simpler times before everything unraveled between you.

Before you'd reluctantly walked away from the love of your life for reasons that still stung with poignant ache.

With a weary sigh, you swiped to answer and tried steeling your voice into something approaching calm neutrality.

"Kuroo?" Your voice still caught slightly on the syllables of his name despite your best efforts. "It's the middle of the damn night, do you have any idea wha—"

"HEEEEYYYYYY!!! There she is! The light of my life, keeper of my—!"

Your brows furrowed as a raucous chorus of unfamiliar voices erupted in the background - tipsy laughter and joking catcalls that swiftly extinguished any flare of long-harbored hurt. Apprehension slithered up your spine as you registered the telltale slur to the once-familiar rasp on the other end.

"...Tetsurou?" you ventured again, unable to disguise the sudden edge of concern creeping into your tone. "Are you...where even are you right now?"

More scuffling and garbled background noise - the distinct cacophony of an evening in full revelry you'd become accustomed to long ago during varsity parties and volleyball socials. A crisp, unfamiliar baritone cut through the whirl of boisterous chatter then, clearer than the rest.

"Apologies for disturbing you so late, [Y/N]-san! It's Akiba from Kuroo's work team here." The perky voice paused to exchange a few muffled words amidst more inebriated hooting before returning ruefully. "We, ah...well we seem to have gotten our friend into a bit of a...state tonight."

You frowned, fingers reflexively tightening around the phone case as a particular rowdy whoop clearly carried Kuroo's timbre. A pit of unease opened in your gut as worst-case scenarios swirled unbidden. Despite the bitter fallout at the end, old habits died hard when it came to his wellbeing.

"What exactly happened?" you demanded, already pushing up from the couch to search for shoes and coat. "Don't sugarcoat it - is Tetsurou somewhere unsafe or in trouble?"

An awkward pause stretched from the other end, punctuated by more muted murmuring until Akiba cleared his throat carefully: "He...might have overindulged a bit in tonight's celebration and become a tad uncooperative about calling for a ride home, shall we say?"

The understatement settled like a lead weight somewhere behind your ribs even before you tuned back into the commotion filtering through. But it was Kuroo's sudden drunken declaration that swiftly blanketed you in resigned dread:

"Jus' call m’girlfriend, she'll swoop in an' rescue me again! 'Smyyyy...precious kitten...beautiful, preeecioussss..."

His slurred affection collided squarely with the messy reality of your current estranged relationship status without reservation. Of course, Kuroo had always been a relentlessly sappy, clingy drunk whenever you were around as his girlfriend to keep him anchored. And clearly, some long-buried part of him still instinctively grasped for you to be that tether despite the distance between you now.

You drew in a shuddering breath against the memories threatening to well up and sting behind your eyes. There really wasn't a choice here, was there? Not when it came to Kuroo's potential safety hanging in limbo like this for one sentimental instant.

"Yeah, okay...I hear you," you managed finally. "Just tell me where you assholes are and I'll come pick up the mess, okay?"

Akiba listed off a familiar bar address, hurriedly agreeing as you grabbed keys and coat to head out into the night. And as you descended the front steps into the brisk spring air, you steeled yourself against the maelstrom of tangled emotions bubbling just beneath the surface at the prospect of seeing your ex-boyfriend again in such unpredictable circumstances.

The rowdy dive bar loomed into view at last, dim neon signage flickering as the cab pulled up to the curb. You cast a steeling glance towards the entrance, squaring your shoulders in preparation before handing over the fare with a murmured thanks.

Despite having braced yourself the entire journey over, nothing could've quite fortified you for the sight awaiting within those grungy walls.

The instant you stepped through the doors, a chorus of raucous whoops and hollers erupted from the far corner booth. Your eyes immediately zeroed in on the source - a familiar form draped over the leather bench, shirt rumpled and hair artfully disheveled in a way that stabbed through your chest with acute yearning.

Kuroo Tetsurou.

His chin lolled forward, supported by a firm grip on his broad shoulders as he swayed precariously. Even from across the room, you could make out the bleary, lidded gaze roving sightlessly until his tawny eyes finally landed squarely on you.

A beat passed, the raucous background noise fading away entirely. Then Kuroo inhaled sharply through his nose, back straightening fractionally as you two locked stares through the smokey dimness.

"...Kitten?" he rasped out, the old pet name escaping without a shred of uncertainty or pretense.

His friends followed his dumbstruck gaze, muttering in surprise. But you remained transfixed, rooted to the spot as a dozen conflicting emotions ricocheted through your thoughts in rapid succession. Because despite the gulf of time, space, and irrevocably changed circumstances now separating you both...Kuroo was still drinking you in like a man stumbling upon an oasis after months adrift.

Like he'd only just realized you existed again after so long missing from the orbit of his singular focus.

He began to struggle against the firm hands clamped on his shoulders then, long legs splaying under the table clumsily in a clear bid to rise and approach. But before he could topple into the surrounding din completely, you spurred yourself forward once more - moving on autopilot towards his wayward form even as reason warred with instinct.

"Tetsu," you called out once within earshot, stomach clenching at the unwitting endearment rolling from your tongue so easily. "Let's just get you home and sobered up, alright?"

His disheveled head whipped up at the sound of your voice, features etched in mournful longing and boyish hopefulness in equal measure that left you reeling slightly. Then Kuroo shook off his friend's restraining grip with a sloppy roll of his powerful shoulders, surging upright to sway dangerously.

"But 'myyyy home," he rasped out almost petulantly, prowling a few steps into your personal space with that same prowling intensity from back when you'd shared quarters together. "My home's wherever you are, precious girl..."

His trembling fingertips ghosted over your cheek in a shockingly intimate caress for a man nearly insensate with inebriation moments ago. They trailed, featherlight, along your jaw and down the delicate column of your throat until your entire body hummed with white-hot tingles of restless, half-forgotten longing uncorked all over again so suddenly.

"Stars couldn't shine half as bright as you," Kuroo murmured, breath hot and tinged with whiskey against the shell of your ear as he boxed you in against one solid forearm braced along the peeling wallpaper. "M'heart's been a black hole swallowing allll the light since you left it, kitten...just cold and empty."

A shuddering inhale punched itself from your lungs as his nose nudged along your hairline, nuzzling unabashedly and utterly oblivious to the raucous hollers of his colleagues nearby. Kuroo's free hand settled heavy and possessive on your hip, bunching the fabric there as you instinctively surrendered beneath the delirious weight of his presence so intimately close once more.

"Please come home finally, precious," he rasped in a broken sigh...teetering on the edge of lucidity yet remaining unwavering in his raw ache for you to soothe some deep-seated wound even you'd never discovered the extent of during your time together until now. "I miss...so, so much..."

The crack in Kuroo's voice threatened to completely undo you from the inside out, body tensing in aborted retreat until you regained enough oxygen to think clearly once more. With gentle yet firm motions, you pried his wandering palms away and guided him back from your shared orbit of wistful temptation for just an instant.

"You're drunk out of your mind," you scolded, well aware of how hoarse and wrecked your own voice sounded now. "And I'm not your home anymore, Tetsu...we both know that."

One dark brow pinched fractionally at the reminder, lips parting around a sharp inhale. Before he could voice the tortured protest welling up behind that intense amber regard, though, you motioned for Akiba and the others watching on in stunned silence.

"Let's just get out of here," you sighed, already giving up the battle before it truly began. "I'll let him sleep at my place until he's fit to function like a big boy again. Then maybe we can actually talk properly when he's present for once..."

Exchanging subtle nods with the young men, you scooped up Kuroo's arm and slung it over your shoulders without needing to be told. The familiar, smokey cedar wood and old spice aroma swamped your senses fully, igniting a flurry of delirious intimacy in its wake like some Pavlovian response hardwired straight into your cerebellum.

Of course his solid weight pinning you close felt as natural as breathing after all this time...just like the hungry yet adoring look glowing in his dazed stare as Kuroo leaned in to nuzzle sloppy, open-mouthed kisses down your cheek towards the thundering pulse in your throat.

"Gonna take such good care of me, kitten," he mumbled in that too-raspy cadence you'd memorized beneath the sheets so many steamy nights spent unraveling together. "'Smy good girl...always have the- the magic touch to put me back t'gether."

You swallowed thickly, grateful for the steadying hands of Akiba and a few others helping guide your stumbling entourage back out into the bracing midnight breeze before you surrendered entirely to the delirious, tactile torment of Kuroo's undivided debauchery laid bare once more like this. Despite the consequences already stretching out before you both in the form of that inevitable reckoning soon...you were already helpless to deny or escape from finally reuniting in the thrall of his gravitational pull a while longer.

So as you ushered your sloshing mess of an ex-boyfriend into a waiting cab, you couldn't help but steal a glance down at the contact listing for your number - helpfully still saved to his phone under that beloved nickname you could never seem to scrub from your wounded soul no matter how hard you tried:

My Precious Kitten 🖤

The cab ride back to your apartment passed in a delirious, heated blur of Kuroo's wandering hands and increasingly bold murmurs against your flushed skin. No sooner had you bundled his languid bulk into the backseat beside you before those long fingers were smoothing up your thighs and ghosting over the exposed column of your throat.

"Pretty kitten," he rasped gutturally, amber eyes glazed yet burning straight through you with naked yearning. "Lemme touch...need to relearn what heaven feels like after so long..."

You caught his straying palms just as they began roaming over your breasts, nipples pebbling traitorously underneath your shirt. Kuroo whined low in his throat, pawing against your restraining grip with intoxicated insistence until you leveled him with a stern look.

"Easy there, big guy," you managed in a tone far steadier than you felt. "Let's just get you settled somewhere more private before you try seducing me, yeah?"

The blunt teasing helped ground you both fractionally. Kuroo huffed out a thick chuckle smeared in tipsy amusement, allowing you to corral his restless limbs close once more. He turned to nuzzle his nose into your hair then, inhaling deeply with a shuddering exhale that caressed your nape in delicious wisps.

"Was always only ever yours to seduce, though," he confessed in a gravelly murmur tinged with mournfulness. "Miss your touch most of all, kitten..."

You swallowed hard against the sudden emotion clogging your throat, forcing yourself to remain as aloof and unaffected as possible. Just a little longer and you could bundle Kuroo off to sleep and collect yourself properly before allowing the tidal wave of still-lingering sentiment to crest in relative privacy.

Sure enough, the familiar facade of your apartment complex quickly hoved into view outside the grimy cab window. You nudged Kuroo gently until he roused enough to blink owlishly at the unfolding surroundings, momentary comprehension flickering behind that hazy stare.

"Wait...s'this your place?" he rasped in a rare moment of lucidity. "'Sgonna be real easy for me to mix signals and cross lines if y'bring me to bed again, baby..."

Rather than mount either indignant protest or bemused flirtation, you simply levelled him with a weighted look before shrugging gamely.

"Well unless you've got any better options handy, this is what you're stuck with right now," you declared mildly. "So let's just get you settled somewhere soft so tomorrow's hangover won't be quite so unbearable, hmm?"

His tongue darted out to wet full lips you definitely didn't track with laser focus, shoulders rolling beneath the rumpled button-down in that boneless shrug of idle surrender you recalled so intimately from happier times. Without further preamble, Kuroo roused himself enough to shuffle from the cab without excessive guidance, muscular forearm slung over your shoulder while you supported his swaying weight against your side.

From there, navigating the dingy entrance and dimly lit stairwells passed in another heated blur of scorching looks and whispered flirtations that made your skin prickle with slowly escalating temptation the closer your shared destination loomed. Somehow, you managed to guide your stumbling entourage down the hallway and swipe your apartment door open without too much struggle. But the feeble illusion of control vanished the second Kuroo's unsteady gait carried you both across the threshold with graceless momentum.

Your footing faltered, chest impacting the nearest wall with a low grunt of effort as Kuroo's arms encircled you from behind in a viselike brace. His chin hooked over your shoulder, the scruffy rasp against your nape sending fresh shivers slithering down your limbs until you trembled despite the radiating heat of his body pressed flush against your own.

"Easy...easy there, baby doll," he purred in a familiar rumble that punched straight through any lingering self-possession you'd been clinging to pathetically. "S'okay...lemme jus' hold you 'gain, hm? Been way too long..."

You inhaled a shuddery breath in time with the molten glide of Kuroo's wandering palms along your sides - exploring the dips and flares with a shameless sense of ownership that bordered on delirium in its intensity. He sighed gustily against your neck, each tremor of his chest seeming to reverberate all the way through your own ribcage until your heart galloped completely out of sync.

"You came when I called," Tetsu murmured in something resembling awe, lips brushing the shell of your ear in a searing brand that made you squirm helplessly. "Never shoulda gave up hope...not when y'feel so goddamn perfect in m'arms again, dollface."

His slurred endearments and the scorching heat of his hands mapping over every lush curve robbed you of any outward composure completely. A punched moan slipped free without restraint as he rolled his hips with aching leisure, allowing you to feel every rigid inch of his cock straining against the taut fabric below. Kuroo groaned low in his chest in response, nuzzling closer until your cheek slanted against his and you drowned in the earthy, intoxicating notes of his cologne still clinging to sweat-slick skin.

"Used to dream about this, y'know?" he rumbled out brokenly, dragging scalding kisses over the thundering pulse at your throat between panted confessions. "About findin' m'way back t'you some way...fallin' into bed together just like this an' never wantin' t'stop feelin' you everywhere again..."

Your head fell back against the solid weight of his shoulder in something akin to rapturous surrender as his hands and mouth roamed restlessly. Deep down, every syllable dripping from that low, raspy timbre you adored resonated with your very core - igniting long-buried embers to crackling life once more despite your staunchest denials.

Because you'd spent countless, endless nights chasing the very same fantasy, hadn't you? Indulging in the hazy, forbidden imaginings of Kuroo blazing back into your world like a black hole's gravitic allure - inescapable and irresistible as the cosmic forces driving his rapturous, ardent worship of your body yet again.

He seemed to sense the exact moment you teetered over the edge into resigned capitulation entirely. Kuroo stilled for a charged beat, the tension coiled in his looming frame transmitting straight through your merged forms in electric vibrations until every nerve ending pulsed in time with your rabbiting pulse.

"Yeah...that's m'good girl," he crooned against the fevered hollow of your nape in a silken rasp that robbed what little breath remained in your lungs completely. "Been waitin' so fuckin' patiently for me all this time, I bet. No need t'fight it anymore, kitten...I got you now."

With a low, ravaged sound rumbling from his chest, Kuroo twisted his hips in a practiced grind that had your knees buckling shamefully. One mammoth palm anchored around your shoulders, pinning you upright through the shockwaves as inch after delirious inch of his scorching erection rutted against the soft give of your ass in unhurried possession.

You cried out shamelessly at the torturous friction, hands flying up to clutch the arm banded across your abdomen in a desperate, futile anchor. But still Tetsu didn't relent - continuing his merciless rhythm as he sealed every searing inch to your form with leonine mastery, raining whiskey-soaked praises and growled endearments against your skin in a delirious mantra of sin.

"Such a perfect lil' fuck toy, takin' m'cock so pretty for me like y'were made for it," he rasped hotly at one point, making you quiver. "Can already feel those sweet walls squeezin' down like a greedy vice...yearnin' t'get stuffed up an' bred full of my babies again, ain't that right baby?"

You whimpered helplessly against the onslaught, hips unconsciously pivoting into each grinding roll as he mercilessly chased your unraveling higher with every crude vulgarity spilling free from his swollen lips and scorching exhales. Long-denied flashes of muscle memory stirred to vivid life - of nights blurring into mornings spent wrapped in Kuroo's powerful embrace as he took his fill and gave back in equal measure; of being stretched impossibly around his throbbing cock; of the addictive, dizzying rush of his cum painting your innermost depths white and dripping out messy and hot rivulets.

It was only once you'd finally managed to deposit Kuroo's bulk onto the plush embrace of your living room sofa that things quickly veered out of controlled territory altogether.

Because no sooner had you straightened up fully with the intent of retrieving some water and painkillers for what promised to be a brutal hangover come sunrise...only to find yourself promptly hauled back down into the sinuous sprawl of Kuroo's trembling form over yours with crushing urgency.

You gasped aloud as his powerful thighs caged your hips between them, vision swimming briefly until your senses managed to recalibrate around Kuroo bracketing your prone sprawl with utterly relentless possession. He loomed over you panting harshly, eyes finally focusing with piercing, unhurried intent that robbed you of oxygen entirely.

"Please..." he rasped with raw earnestness laced through each syllable, calloused palm settling over the thundering cadence of your pulse in a searing caress. "Pretty girl, I need you...I can't—I can't keep going like this without you anymore..."

Kuroo pitched forward then, hot and trembling as he nuzzled and sought out every slick expanse of your throat with unbridled ardor. Each open-mouthed suckle and rasping noise he painted onto your fevered skin sent another cresting surge of electric heat saturating straight through to your pussy like the sweetest poison drip-fed directly into your veins.

The only tether to reason you still desperately clung to through the rising fog of delirious lust crashed over you with each molten glide of Kuroo mapping every curve and hollow with a devotion that teetered beyond the obsessive into something profoundly more all-consuming altogether. Raw, boundless need burned behind every caress and filthy endearment he showered over your unraveling form - yearning so utterly visceral that you couldn't tear yourself free of its anchoring depths even as your own restraint frayed.

"I can't..." Kuroo rasped again in a voice wrecked with equal parts ruin and rapture intermingled. "Can't breathe without you in my lungs, baby...fuck, need you like oxygen or I'll—"

Whatever apocalyptic promise hung trembling behind his gaze went mercifully unvoiced. Because with one final shuddering inhale, you summoned the last fragments of your slipping resistance and twisted free from the delirious tangle of Kuroo's limbs before he could swallow you whole again.

The resulting whine that punched free from his chest sounded utterly shattering - eyes gone blown wide and anguished as he watched you hastily retreat towards the bedroom on shaking legs. You paused only long enough at the threshold to pin him with one last weighted look that hopefully conveyed a semblance of the tempest still roiling beneath your own defenses in the face of his unbound hunger.

"Get some sleep, Tetsurou," you managed with gentle steel laced behind each weighted syllable. "We...we can talk properly in the morning."

He opened his mouth to protest, clearly. But you had already turned and fled through the doorway entirely before granting his fraying self-restraint the chance to tempt capitulation once more tonight. Because as the bedroom door closed behind you with an ominous thud of finality...part of you already sensed this latest reunion would merely serve to finally unmake you both with blinding, rapturous certainty in ways neither of you had yet recovered from their last disastrous conclusion.

The sizzle of bacon grease popping in the pan punctuated the uneasy silence permeating your kitchen like a stifling fog. You kept your back turned towards the entryway, feigning focus on tending the eggs with studious concentration despite your rattled nerves.

Last night's heated confrontation replayed through your mind in lurid flashes, stoking embers of yearning and consternation alike. Because as much as rational thought might attempt to overwrite the visceral reality of having Kuroo's scorching adoration and unrestrained ache poured over you so reverently...your body betrayed deeper truths.

Ones where you desperately craved being laid utterly bare before him without defenses or hesitation once more.

The telltale shuffle of approaching footsteps across creaky hardwood sent your pulse skyrocketing anew. You braced yourself, drawing in a fortifying inhale and squaring your stance instinctively.

When you finally turned to face your guest, however, all the hasty pep talks fled your temporarily vacated lungs entirely.

Kuroo stood in tousled disarray just beyond the kitchen's threshold - collared shirt hanging open to reveal a broad swath of defined musculature you couldn't tear your gaze away from instantly. His dark locks stuck up at wild angles, countenance still bearing the rumpled vestiges of last night's heated imbibing and intimate tussle sprawled across the sofa.

Yet it was the open longing etched across his striking features that undid you most of all in that suspended heartbeat. The same rapturous adoration shone bright and undiminished behind each fractured inhale shared between your suspended forms once more.

"Hey pretty girl," he rasped out in that smoke-roughened timber that caressed over every inch of your overstimulated nerves exquisitely. "Missed being the first thing my eyes landed on every morning."

Your throat clicked with an audible swallow as Kuroo prowled further into the tiny kitchen space, relentless in his approach. Despite hours of anticipated reprieve between that delirious reunion and the cruel light of sobriety now bathing him fully...the slow burn of his molten need remained banked and simmering bright within those arresting tawny irises.

"Don't," you managed roughly in what you hoped was a tone of forbidding steel despite the tremor fracturing its foundations. "Just...stay right there, Tetsurou."

Kuroo's steady advance only faltered briefly at the command before resuming its measured pace anew. It was only when he drew within a few scant feet that you whirled away again, bracing both palms against the tiny kitchenette counter as if it could somehow serve as an impenetrable barricade.

"Pretty sure breakfast's about done by now," he commented idly - utterly unphased by your clear retreat and hostility. "Mind if I steal a—?"

"Get cleaned up already if you're actually intent on sticking around," you interrupted with more venom than intended, forcibly resuming your tasks to distract from the delicious masculine proximity now swamping your senses so thoroughly once more. "And once you're done gussying up that hungover mug of yours...I think it's high time you got the hell out of my place too while you're at it."

A tense silence followed your gritted demand - charged and pregnant with unspoken currents thrumming between your rigid frames with dizzying friction. Finally, after inhaling a weighted breath of his own, Kuroo spoke up once more in a low, tempered pitch that sliced through your defenses like a hot knife cleaving soft butter.

"You know I can't leave without us finishing this first, kitten..."

He was closer now - close enough for the wafting cedar wood and crisp spice of his cologne to swamp your heightened senses completely, robbing you of any lingering faculty for retreat entirely. You sensed Kuroo moving, circling around your flank with that same purposeful yet indolent prowl you'd witnessed stalk so many opponents down to utter devastation right before claiming rapturous victory over the years.

"I get that you're pissed...and hurt," he continued, rich cadence bleeding into your stuttering focus now. "Hell, maybe you even hate my guts a lil' still over how things crashed between us back then."

You flinched against another scorching glide of his presence alongside your left hip, blunted fingernails digging into the laminate counter until your knuckles went white as paper. Any second now Kuroo would come into your periphery properly...and then all remaining delusions about composure or propriety would officially fracture beyond repair completely.

"But looking around this place again so fresh..." Kuroo husked from somewhere over your shoulder, radiating magnetic want and bittersweet yearning in equal seismic waves. "All our old routines and reminders everywhere I look, baby...not much has really moved on despite those brave faces you put on, has it?"

You flinched again - utterly undone by his perceptive summation as those calloused fingertips came into view over your trembling fists. There Kuroo traced the outline of a vibrant yet faded kitchen towel emblazoned with a whimsical cartoon cat motif - one of his silly yet doting gifts from happier days.

Further over sat your favourite ceramic mug decorated with a cheeky slogan you'd laughed over countless mornings curled up against his bare chest enjoying the quiet tranquility before rushing off to classes or jobs. On the fridge hung a lurid assortment of old takeout menus, inside jokes scrawled beside favored recommendations in your half-forgotten couple shorthand.

"I still see the home we made together everywhere I look, precious girl," Kuroo confessed in a broken rasp tinged with wistful sincerity and bone-deep fatigue alike. "And I know you can't have forgotten what we we shared here either...no matter how badly you've tried moving past our trainwreck eventually."

Time seemed to fracture and blur around you as he spoke, memories and tantalizing glimpses of a life you'd both meticulously nurtured together over years of triumph and hardship seeping through the fragile cracks of your armor against his smoldering attentions once more.

It was true. No matter how resolutely you'd vowed to press onward from the messy conclusion you'd arrived at - some stubborn, sentimental part of your soul simply refused to lay down arms against the life you'd shared with this beautiful, maddening soul of a man completely.

Every tiny touchstone or embedded routine kept in defiance of your mutual separation served as a lighthouse beacon calling you both home despite the tempestuous waves still swallowing your wrecked ships in darkness.

Kuroo took a measured step forward, closing what little distance remained separating your pinned forms until you could feel the blistering heat radiating off his solid frame in delicious waves. Instinctively, you tensed - muscles coiled to resist or perhaps even lash out against the achingly familiar onslaught of temptation swamping your senses once more.

But just as you teetered on the brink of that momentary defiance...Kuroo continued slowly, inexorably crowding your personal space without restraint. You squeezed your eyes shut as his broad chest brushed against your shoulder blades, torn between surrendering and fleeing before that magnetic aura of dark rapture and ruinous lust could fully ensnare you within its dizzying, euphoric spirals yet again.

"Don't..." you managed to bite out weakly, barely above a trembling whisper. "Tetsu, please...you need to just go before we—"

"Before we what, baby?" Kuroo rumbled from just behind your ear, smokey cadence dripping scorching sin over your thrumming pulse points. "Before you finally give in and let yourself have a taste of what you've been so desperately craving since I walked back into your world, hm?"

You whimpered despite every last fraying thread of self-composure willing otherwise. Because Kuroo spoke nothing but blistering truth laced through each gruff vowel ghosting over the prickling hairs along your nape. Already, you could feel yourself wavering - rigid defenses steadily liquefying beneath the relentless onslaught of his virile presence and unbound desire laid achingly bare.

"Hush now..." Kuroo groaned when you managed a pitiful whine of protest, calloused knuckles skating up the undersides of your forearms until goosebumps erupted in their scorching wake. "I've got you, kitten...always did, even after we completely lost the plot for a while there."

He nuzzled his face into your mussed tresses then, inhaling deeply like a man starved for air before trailing open-mouthed kisses behind your ear and down the racing column of your throat. You trembled around a ragged inhale, eyelids fluttering as every nerve ending burst to searing life beneath his scorching brands of worship once more.

"There's my sweet girl..." Kuroo husked in rapturous delight, tongue darting out to taste the thundering pulse leaping desperately against your overheated skin. "Always so responsive, like your body just can't wait to invite me back in after raising those prickly defenses to drive us both crazy..."

You shuddered against him bodily, head lolling back in helpless surrender at the first electrifying graze of his stubbled jawline scoring a delicious path to better access the vulnerable dip of your clavicles. He growled low in pure masculine satisfaction at your visceral response, one large palm settling squarely over your abdomen in a molten possession that had your back arching wantonly against the solid wall of his bulk behind you.

"There she is..." Kuroo rumbled with evident approval, tongue swirling over the juncture of your neck and shoulder in searing figure-eights that undid you completely. "My sweet, gorgeous girl finally...so desperate for her man to take the lead again after stumbling around lost for too damn long..."

Low in your belly, a coiling ache began throbbing to life in tandem with each unhurried swipe of his searing mouth mapping every inch of you he could reach properly again. You rolled your hips back mindlessly, seeking friction against the rapidly hardening length already straining against the worn denim of his slacks as a low, needy moan punched free.

"You don't have to say a word, baby..." Kuroo snarled with possession lacing every word, stubble rasping deliciously against your bared throat. "Know you better than anyone in this world...the way your pretty lil' cunt gets so fucking soaked just from me pinning you with this hungry look, yeah?"

Your vision whited out momentarily at the filthy endearment, body going utterly liquid against the brutal intensity now pinning you in sublime rapture. Because Kuroo was right - always had the uncanny knack for reading your every non-verbal cue and unspoken need like a savant. Just like he seemed to understand you were already a hairsbreadth from shattering apart into blind surrender without reservation once again now...

So when Kuroo growled out another guttural noise of relentless possession, turned you around and seized your jaw firmly to angle your slack mouth towards his waiting hunger...the only response that tore free was a broken, keening whimper of joyous capitulation at last.

He swallowed down the sound greedily, tongue sweeping between your parted lips in a searing glide of satin and sin that punched the air from your trembling lungs entirely. Each slick swipe of his probing velvet strokes branded you anew - searing unspoken promises of ruinous devotion deep within your marrow as you arched and whined mindlessly into the glorious collapse.

Because this was always your undoing in the end - slipping fully into Tetsurou's unraveling thrall against your feeble will and giving him every scrap of your surrender to claim and mould as he saw rapturous fit. Your hands roamed his rippling musculature with frantic greed, desperately seeking every hard ridge and flexing hollow as if mapping the sacred geography of his form by touch alone could fully unearth your eternal salvation there.

Only when Kuroo finally tore away from your swollen mouth on a sawing inhale did your scattered focus manage to drag its way back into sluggish coherence. He stared down at you utterly wrecked and ravaged already in his ruinous embrace - raw adoration and transcendent hunger searing through his intense tawny gaze that robbed you of breath anew in an instant.

"So perfect..." Kuroo rasped out in a tone laced with rapturous wonder and naked reverence both. "My sweet girl...my beautiful kitten...letting me touch her like this again, after the stupid shit I've put her through lately..."

He cradled your slack jaw with earth-scorching tenderness, leaning in until your laboured breaths intermingled deliriously between trembling lips. You could only gaze up at him dazedly, already utterly undone in the best way yet once more by the soul-sundering truths radiating from every blazing syllable dripping from his wicked mouth.

"Still the only home that's ever mattered, kitten," Kuroo confessed hoarsely, tilting your faces together until your noses brushed in an intimate nuzzle that made your eyes flutter shut rapturously. "No matter how many times I lose my way..."

With a trembling inhale, Kuroo sealed his confession with a soft, lingering kiss that set every nerve ending alight with delirious heat and aching need anew. He cradled the back of your skull tenderly, guiding you into the perfect angle to savour the slow, intoxicating glide of his velvet mouth over yours until you could no longer tell where his essence ended and your own began.

Only when the last scraps of rationality threatened to flee your addled brain entirely did you break the seal with a shuddering gasp. Kuroo's lips curved against yours in a satisfied smirk, nipping at your swollen lower lip in playful chastisement before pulling away entirely.

You whimpered, chasing his addictive warmth on instinct - utterly bereft without his consuming heat pressed fully against you once more. But as his grip slid from the base of your skull to clasp around the delicate column of your throat in a steely brand of possession, that familiar rush of dark rapture and intoxicating submission swept back in an instant.

"Let me take care of my pretty kitten, hm?" Kuroo husked against your parted lips, thumb stroking down the rapid flutter of your pulse beating wildly against his restraining grasp. "Need to spoil my good girl after making such a mess of her these last few weeks..."

"Tetsu..." you whimpered, hips rolling in mindless abandon now as he traced the pad of his thumb over your pouting mouth teasingly. "Fuck, just...please..."

A low chuckle reverberated against your over-sensitive flesh, his other hand gliding down the planes of your shuddering abdomen with tantalizing indolence. The calloused pads of his fingers stroked a lazy, circuitous path across every quivering plane and dip before finally dipping between your spread thighs.

The first tentative graze of his dexterous digits against your soaked panties had you jerking helplessly against the iron bands of his restraining hold. You keened aloud, nails biting into the taut bulges of his biceps as Kuroo traced a featherlight path down the soaked slit, pausing to circle your engorged clit agonizingly slowly.

"Look at my pretty girl..." Kuroo groaned low in his throat, tawny eyes blazing with ravenous intent as he watched your lashes flutter and hips grind desperately against his teasing strokes. "Already soaked straight through this lil' thing for me...just aching for me to tear them off and bury myself in this tight cunt, aren't you?"

You sobbed openly at his taunting words, head lolling back helplessly. Because even as his fingers dipped beneath the clinging fabric to tease your dripping core properly, he never applied the slightest pressure or friction where you needed it most. Instead, Kuroo drew his soaked digits out to circle your neglected bundle of nerves in lazy circles, relishing the way you bucked and mewled mindlessly for more.

"Please," you finally broke and begged, unable to endure the slow-building torment any longer. "Tetsurou...baby, I can't...fuck, need you so badly, love...please..."

That seemed to finally undo the last threads of Kuroo's own tenuous composure, because in the next moment, he had you pinned against the kitchen counter once more. He captured your open, pleading mouth in another ravenous kiss, tongue spearing past your gasping lips in time with two thick fingers plunging into your clenching walls without mercy.

You cried out against his devouring mouth, hips canting to welcome the exquisite stretch as he immediately sought outyour most sensitive spot with devastating precision. His thumb worked feverish circles over your swollen clit, each merciless thrust and scissor of his wicked digits coiling the building pleasure tighter and tighter deep within.

Kuroo tore his mouth away from yours, panting harshly as he continued pistoning those talented fingers into your drenched core with unrelenting rhythm. The molten tawny pools of his darkened gaze roved over your disheveled, wanton form, taking in every blissful grimace and desperate whine you gave with evident male satisfaction.

"Always so responsive," Kuroo praised with a growl, grinding the heel of his palm against your clit as he worked a third finger into your greedy core. "So fucking sexy like this...can't believe I was dumb enough to leave you hanging these last few months, baby..."

You whimpered, eyelids fluttering as those sinfully long fingers continued pistoning in and out of your soaked depths, stretching and filling you to perfection. Kuroo chuckled darkly, curling his fingertips up against your spasming walls in a come-hither gesture that had you crying out hoarsely as sparks ignited along every nerve ending.

"But don't worry, kitten..." Kuroo leaned in until his lips were grazing your flushed earlobe, nipping at the sensitive flesh as you keened helplessly against him. "I'm gonna fuck all those nasty memories of those lonely nights right outta your tight cunt tonight, baby...promise."

Your entire body shuddered, a choked sob breaking free as Kuroo's scorching words and skilled touch sent you spiralling towards the edge of release without mercy. The delicious coil of pressure wound impossibly tighter as he worked those thick digits in and out of you, relentless and perfect, while his thumb continued circling and teasing your pulsing clit without pause.

"Come for me, kitten..." Kuroo urged hoarsely, tongue flicking over your earlobe before his teeth bit down possessively. "Want to feel your pretty cunt gushing all over my fingers, baby...gonna watch my pretty girl make a mess of herself just from this..."

And then, without warning, he curled his fingers up against that bundle of nerves tucked deep inside, thumb circling your engorged clit and drawing you closer and closer to that precipice. The dam finally burst, shattering the last restraints holding you captive beneath the weight of his intoxicating rapture.

You were keenly aware of the obscenely strong gush of fluids coating Kuroo's knuckles as he continued thrusting his fingers in and out of your throbbing core, the slick sounds of your juices echoing loudly through the kitchen. His groans of masculine approval and praise washed over you like a soothing balm, lulling you back down from the high with every tender stroke and husked syllable.

Kuroo eased his digits from your spent body gently, leaning in to nuzzle and kiss at your slack jaw as the aftershocks continued wracking your trembling form. Your limbs were a deadweight at your sides, muscles still twitching and shuddering around the delicious burn of your release as you floated through the haze.

"So good for me, kitten," Kuroo husked against your temple, gathering you into his solid frame tenderly. "So goddamn perfect, baby...I can't believe I've gone without this sweet cunt around my cock for months, huh..."

You shuddered, instinctively wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders as he hitched you up to sit on the countertop. Kuroo stepped between the V of your spread thighs, calloused palms stroking up and down your exposed flesh soothingly as he buried his face into the crook of your neck.

"Missed you so fucking much," Kuroo admitted quietly, breath fanning over the sensitive juncture of your shoulder. "Not just like this, baby...missed everything about you, all the time. It's been killing me, kitten..."

You hummed softly, pressing a featherlight kiss to the crown of his mussed raven locks before leaning your cheek atop the silky strands. The last lingering threads of resentment and bitter disappointment faded away in the warm cocoon of his embrace, leaving behind the familiar sense of comfort and ease you'd only ever felt in his arms.

"Me too, Tetsurou..." you admitted on a sigh, stroking your hands down his broad back soothingly. "I missed you too, baby...but we're here now, right? That's all that matters."

Kuroo shuddered against you, pulling back just far enough to gaze down at your upturned face with burning intensity. In his smouldering tawny gaze, you saw the same unspoken promises and eternal devotion that had been laid bare in your soul for far longer than you cared to admit.

And then, Kuroo was surging forward and claiming your lips in a kiss so fierce, you could almost swear you could feel your bruised heart beating a tattoo in his own chest once more. His hands tangled in your hair, tugging on the messy strands just the way you liked to tip your face back for better access.

You moaned openly, arching into his scorching form and giving him anything and everything he demanded in the wake of that all-consuming kiss. Your own hands clutched at his shoulders, kneading and stroking the firm contours as if you could somehow drag him closer, deeper, and fuse him to your very being completely.

Kuroo growled low in his throat, wrenching himself away from the kiss just far enough to mutter a single command. "Lift your hips up for me, baby...gotta get this cute ass naked for me, okay?"

You whimpered, nodding dumbly as he reached for the waistband of your dampened underwear and tugged it down your shaking thighs. Kuroo peeled the garment off completely, tossing it aside before sliding his palms up the length of your calves.

When his calloused grip reached the crease of your thighs, he yanked you towards the edge of the counter, prompting a surprised squeal to slip free as your balance shifted precariously. Kuroo only laughed, the sound boyish and carefree as he wrapped one arm around your waist and dragged his stubbled jaw against your collarbones in a playful rasp.

"Don't worry, baby...gotcha," Kuroo assured, the heat of his breath fanning over the exposed swell of your breasts. "Gonna take such good care of you, kitten...gonna fuck you nice and slow, the way my good girl deserves, yeah?"

You keened aloud, fingers carding through the messy strands at the nape of his neck as Kuroo began mouthing his way down the valley of your breasts. He traced the curve of each mound reverently with his wicked tongue, laving and suckling until you were a trembling, moaning wreck beneath his worshipful attentions.

When Kuroo's lips closed around the sensitive bud, you cried out, arching into the hot, wet cavern as he suckled greedily. His teeth grazed the hardened peak with the barest edge of pain, and you hissed, grinding down against the growing bulge pressing insistently against your aching core.

Kuroo groaned, releasing the swollen nipple with a wet pop and leaning his forehead against the valley between your breasts. His breaths came in harsh pants, the muscles in his back rippling and flexing beneath your questing fingertips as you clung to his broad shoulders for dear life.

"Fuck," he swore on a ragged exhale, nuzzling the sweat-dampened skin as his hands slid down the dip of your waist and over the curve of your ass. "You're driving me fucking crazy, kitten...keep trying to go slow, be all gentle and sweet like you deserve...but all I can think about is slamming this cute ass down on my cock and fucking you until you scream my name loud enough for the neighbours to hear, baby..."

The filthy confession punched the air from your lungs entirely, and you were suddenly acutely aware of how much you needed that too. Needed the hard, relentless stretch of his girth bottoming out inside your quivering walls until the only thing you could remember was his name.

"Yes," you begged brokenly, tugging his raven locks hard enough to tilt his head back and seal your plea with a filthy kiss. "Please, Tetsu...just want to feel you, baby. Need it so bad..."

Kuroo swore again, biting at your swollen lower lip and sucking it into his mouth as his hands kneaded the flesh of your ass with bruising force. He pulled away just far enough to rest his forehead against yours, sharing a shuddering breath as his hand fumbled blindly at the button and zipper of his jeans.

"Fuck, hold on," he muttered, tearing away entirely.

You blinked hazily, watching as Kuroo shucked his jeans and boxers down his lean hips and off his legs entirely. His swollen length bobbed heavily between his legs, flushed a dark crimson and already leaking copiously at the swollen tip.

He palmed the thick base with one hand, giving himself a few long, hard strokes from root to tip and swiping his thumb through the pearlescent bead welling at the slit. Your tongue darted out to moisten your suddenly dry lips, entranced by the sight of him pleasuring himself before you.

It was an achingly familiar and yet strangely erotic scene, and the thought that you were both still so eager and needy after all this time was equal parts humbling and exhilarating.

Kuroo groaned, tawny eyes blazing as he took in your dazed expression and parted lips with obvious male pride. He stroked his free hand up the planes of your inner thigh, teasing his thumb through your soaked folds and tracing the glistening path back to your swollen clit.

Your breath caught, fingers scrabbling against the smooth countertop for purchase as he rubbed lazy circles against the hypersensitive bundle of nerves. Your hips jerked helplessly, torn between chasing the addictive friction of his dexterous touch and the growing emptiness between your trembling thighs.

"Tetsurou," you whimpered, eyes fluttering as he teased your sensitive flesh with expert precision. "Tetsu, please..."

Kuroo chuckled, stepping between your thighs and hitching you closer to the edge of the counter in a single, fluid motion. He gripped the base of his cock, nudging the flared tip against your dripping core and dragging the velvety length through the gathered slickness.

You moaned, canting your hips forward instinctively as one hand reached for his shoulder while the other clung to the edge of the counter. But just as the swollen tip breached your quivering walls, he retreated once more.

"Tetsurou," you hissed, glaring up at the smug bastard.

Kuroo's lips twitched, eyes glimmering with unbridled mischief as he repeated the slow, torturous drag of his cockhead against your slit. His other hand snaked up the length of your torso, teasing the soft underside of your breast before plucking at the swollen nipple once more.

"What's the matter, baby?" he taunted, tweaking the sensitive peak with a little more force this time. "I thought my kitten liked it when I played with her, hm? Or does my greedy girl just want my cock instead?"

You scowled, the flush on your cheeks deepening at his shameless words. But even as your mind scrambled for some clever retort, his deft fingers continued toying with the tight bud. The sudden surge of pleasure left your thoughts scattered, and all you could do was keen in a desperate bid for more.

"Hmm? Does she?" Kuroo prompted, slipping the chubby tip into the searing wet heat of your cunt just far enough for your greedy walls to clench around the intrusion. "C'mon, baby...use those pretty words for me and ask nicely..."

"Fuck, please!" you finally sobbed, nails digging into his shoulder blades. "Please, Tetsu, want you so fucking badly...please, baby, need your cock, need you to fill me up...please..."

Your rambling pleas seemed to satisfy him at last, and with a guttural groan, Kuroo finally slid home with a single, powerful thrust. Your back arched, a silent scream parting your lips as his cock split you open without mercy.

It burned, stretched you impossibly wide, but the sensation was exactly what you'd needed. You felt the exquisite ache all the way to your bones, every nerve ending lighting up in response to the deliciously familiar fullness.

Kuroo's breath was hot and unsteady against the sweat-dampened skin of your neck, his broad shoulders quaking beneath the white-knuckled grip of your fingers. The taut lines of his body were coiled tight, and you knew he was hanging on by a thread.

"F-fuck, kitten," he panted against your neck, nose skimming along the curve of your jaw. "Always feel like the first fucking time with you...so fucking tight and wet, baby...god, you're perfect..."

You keened softly, rolling your hips down onto his cock to urge him on. Kuroo took the hint, slowly dragging his cock out until the flared tip was just barely kissing your clenching entrance. And then, without warning, he slammed back home, the punishing snap of his hips rocking your entire body forward and punching a breathless cry from your lungs.

Kuroo didn't give you a moment to recover, setting a steady rhythm that soon had your vision blurring around the edges. His hips pistoned forward, spearing his cock deep into your fluttering walls with every thrust. The obscene sounds of skin slapping skin echoed throughout the kitchen, joined by the filthy squelch of his cock pumping in and out of your dripping cunt.

You were lost to the sensations, reduced to a moaning, writhing mess as his swollen cock continued pounding into you with ruthless force. There was no space between your bodies, no way for you to move or grind down against the delicious friction except for the unrelenting pace of his thrusts.

"Such a good girl," Kuroo praised against your temple, the words slightly slurred as he chased his own release. "Taking my cock so well, baby...such a good, pretty kitten...love the way your sweet pussy feels around my cock, kitten..."

A ragged moan tore from your throat, head falling back against the cool wall as your walls began to spasm around his shaft. The telltale pressure coiled tighter, the delicious drag of his cock along the sensitive walls of your cunt building the pleasure to dizzying heights.

Kuroo seemed to sense your impending release, one arm hooking beneath your knee to hike your leg higher as his thrusts picked up speed. The angle allowed him to delve deeper, and your jaw went slack as a strangled moan was punched from your chest.

"Come on, baby," Kuroo urged, voice hoarse and strained. "That's it, kitten...let go for me, sweetheart...wanna feel that cute cunt squeezing the fuck outta my cock, yeah?"

You sobbed, fingers scrambling against the firm lines of his back as the tension finally snapped, sending you tumbling over the edge. Your body seized, a silent scream parting your lips as he continued pounding into your quivering cunt without mercy.

Dimly, you registered the guttural groan of his own release and the searing heat of his release flooding your fluttering walls. You whimpered, clinging to him with what little strength you had left as the aftershocks of your climax continued to wash over you.

Kuroo held you close, stroking one hand down the curve of your spine soothingly and dropping featherlight kisses along the side of your face. He murmured quiet praises against your flushed skin, lips skimming the shell of your ear and down the curve of your jaw.

Slowly, your senses returned, and the hazy euphoria ebbed away enough for the aches in your body to register. The tender flesh between your thighs throbbed, muscles twitching and shuddering around the spent intrusion buried within your sensitive core.

Kuroo pressed one final lingering kiss to the corner of your lips, nuzzling the damp strands of hair plastered to your temple as he gently lowered your leg back to the countertop. You sighed softly, relishing the comforting weight of his body as he pressed closer.

"Still with me, kitten?" Kuroo prompted, breath warm against your cheek.

You nodded dumbly, forcing your heavy eyelids open to meet his heated gaze. Kuroo chuckled softly, leaning in to brush his lips against yours in a fleeting caress before carefully easing his softened cock from your spent core.

A weak whine slipped free at the loss, but you bit down on your lip to silence the embarrassing sound as Kuroo helped you down from the countertop. Your legs felt like jelly, and you swayed precariously for a moment before he scooped you into his strong arms and carried you across the kitchen.

"So," he started casually, carrying you into the bathroom and kicking the door shut behind him. "Does this mean I’m your boyfriend again, kitten?"

You snorted, wrapping your arms around his neck as he set you down beside the bathtub. "What, you didn't get that memo when I was literally begging you to put a baby in me, Tetsurou?" you retorted, arching an eyebrow at him.

"Well, no," he admitted with a wry grin. "I was a little too focused on the whole 'putting a baby in you' part of that deal to really focus on the semantics."

You rolled your eyes, tugging on his arm to join you in the tub. He laughed, climbing in behind you and tugging you into his chest. "Okay, fine, you big idiot. Guess I’m stuck with you."

Kuroo smirked, leaning forward to capture your lips in a deep, languid kiss. "I think I can live with that, kitten."

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader smut #kuroo tetsuro smut #kuroo smut #kuroo x reader smut #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsurou

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kehideni · 2 years

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Oh god.... i am between hyperfixations and right here at work in nightshift!

I hate it, what do??!

I'm also hungry...

#i can't even draw now #no paper.... can't game or video edit #no hyperfixation.... no show i wanna watch #well i watched the Green Snake titled movie #was great.... nothing crazy tho #was weird that they ignored the baby after the intro tho... thought for sure the nameless guy would be the baby #turns out no... it was her sister all along which Grern Snake knew for half the movie #ending explains everything tho so like ok you fooled me but i did not understand what your movie wants to communicate #there's literally no character development #green snake was like angry from start to finish #she did develope in ONE(1) thing so i guess i just lied but #it was such a stupid thing to develop.... wasn't even like.... important to the story #that or i know shit of chinese way of thinking and legends and i'm probably missing a crucial background knowledge #in which case this was not for general consumption and was veeeery much for local consumption

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vivwritesfics · 8 months

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Hooked On A Feeling

Chapter Eight - Wine drunk

Daniel is a Formula One driver, but, more importantly, he was a single dad to a wonderful little girl. He wants her to be a normal little girl, to have a normal social life, so he sends her to daycare. That was where she met Milo, her future best friend.

Milo's mother was incredibly stressed. She worked so hard to provide a good life for her son. But then he makes a new friend, a friend who has a hot dad (ofc they fall in love)

1.5K

Single Dad!Daniel x Single Mum!Reader

Warnings: Daniels terrible ex, alcohol consumption, drunkenness

Series Masterlist

"Danny, we can't," Y/N said as she passed the wine bottle back to him. "I have work tomorrow and I have to get Milo to daycare," she said and leaned against the counter.

Daniel gave her another look. "You don't let loose enough, do you?" He asked as he put the wine down on the counter top. Y/N shook her head and Daniel grabbed the corkscrew from the drawer. "Well, for once, take the night off. Milo and Olivia can have a sleepover and I can drop you off at work tomorrow," he offered.

Y/N thought about it. She seriously thought about it. She and Milo had no clothes for the next day. "I have a condition," she said as she tapped her nails against the counter top. Daniel looked at her to continue. "We wake up early and go and get clothes for Milo and I."

"Deal," Daniel said and held out his hand.

As soon as Y/N shook it he pulled out his phone and set an alarm. He then handed her the wine and the opener, and went to grab two deep wine glasses.

Y/N worked on opening the wine as Daniel placed the glasses down in front of her. She filled them only half way, and handed one to Daniel. "Cheers," she said and tapped her glass against his.

They took one sip before Y/N put her glass down. "We should probably let the kids know that they're having a sleepover," she said, watching as Danny placed his own glass down.

He grinned at her and led her out of the kitchen. He took her through the halls, leading her to the living room. Milo and Olivia were still watching Cars, only at the part where Lightning was paving the road.

Their popcorn had been finished and Olivia looked half asleep. She had been so excited for this that she spent the first half of the movie explaining the entire plot to Milo. Milo was still awake, but only slightly. He looked towards the door as Daniel and his mother walked in.

She crept in front of the television and crouched in front of her son. "Hi, Munchkin," she whispered, sending a little glance in Olivia's direction. Her eyes were now fully closed as she laid against the one of the many fluffy cushions.

"Hi, momma," Milo responded, his voice tired.

"How would you like to sleep here tonight?"

Milo's face suddenly paled. "Please don't leave me here, momma," he squeaked, hugging Y/N's hand.

She let out a small, kind laugh and ruffled Milo's hair. "I'll be here too, Munchkin," she whispered and kissed the top of his head. "Are you okay if we stay here?"

Milo let out a relief breath. He pressed his finger against his chin as he thought about it. "Yeah, momma," he answered after a moment.

Kissing the top of his head, Y/N crept back out of the room. She met Daniel at the door to the living room and held up her thumbs, unable to hide her smile.

While the kids fell asleep as they watched the television, the adults walked back to the kitchen. They clinked their glasses together once and again and drank.

It wasn't clear when they ended up on the floor. But their first bottle of wine was almost finished and music played softly in the background. The kids had already been put to bed, Olivia carried to her four poster bed and Milo put to sleep in the spare room. Olivia had given up her frog teddy for Milo to cuddle while he slept. Y/N leaned against the island in the middle of the kitchen and Daniel was against the cupboards opposite her.

"Who... who the fuck has their own brand of wine?" Y/N slurred as she looked at him. They both had their legs stretched out, side by side. At some point Daniel placed his warm hand onto her leg, but she wasn't complaining. Either she didn't mind or she hadn't noticed. "A-and why is the wine so good?"

Daniel squeezed her leg and finished his glass. "This was my last bottle," he answered, his voice just a little clearer than her own. "I was saving it for a special occasion."

"Sorry Danny."

"Why are you sorry?"

"Because we drank all of your special wine for your special occasion."

Daniel laughed, but he didn't bother to explain it, didn't bother to explain that this was the special occasion and he was happy to share it with her.

"Can I say something?" Y/N said suddenly and Daniel nodded his head. She sucked in a breath and stared into his eyes brown eyes. "Your ex is the biggest asshole I've ever met." She said and Daniel let out a laugh, one that overtook his entire body. "Seriously!" Y/N continued. "What did you ever see in her?"

It was the wine talking, but Daniel explained it to her. He sat there and explained his romantic history with Olivia's mother. "We met when I was still in Red Bull," he answered. He didn't notice Y/N's confusion (since, you know, she doesn't know anything about Formula One) and continued. "It was actually her that convinced me to go to Renault. It was early on in our relationship and I didn't see the red flags. By the time I did, she had fallen pregnant and she didn't want to get rid of it.

"We stayed together, tried to make it work for our child. She was manipulative and, when I was away racing and she was looking after Olivia, I saw it. Still, though, I wanted to make things work. But I realised it wasn't worth it. If Olivia's mother and I couldn't make things work, I didn't want to make things miserable for Olivia.

"When we split up, it became clear she was only with me for my pay check. She might have loved me at first, but things definitely changed."

Y/N leaned forward, slipping her wine slightly on the wooden floor, and tapped Daniel on the nose. "You've done a good job with Livvy," she said, crawling across the floor and tucking her body against his side. "She's so amazing."

"So is Milo," Daniel reassured her, letting his arm rest on her shoulder.

Y/N let out a scoff. "I know Milos a good kids," she whispered. "He's the best kid. I got so freaking lucky. He's my entire world. But..." She paused, sucked in a deep breath and sipped her wine. "I wish I could give him a father figure."

Just like she had, Daniel tapped her on the nose. "Come to a Grand Prix with me," he said, somewhat suddenly.

"What? Danny I can't just drop everything to come to a grand prix with you," she said, her head against his shoulder.

"Come on, Y/N. It would be amazing. And I know Milo would love it. Olivia would love having him there. Plus, I'd love it if you could watch me race."

Finishing off her wine, Y/N huffed. "Fine," she said and put the glass on the floor beside her. "But only because Milo would have a good time, Olivia would have a good time, and I really want to watch you race."

Her eyes were drooping, her words becoming quieter. "You can be my lucky charm," he whispered.

When Daniel looked over, her eyes were shut. He made light work of putting the wine and the glasses away before scooping Y/N into her arms and carrying her out of the kitchen.

"Danny," she mumbled against his chest, his eyes still closed. "Can I sleep in your nice big bed?" She never would have asked it sober, but he was too drunk to notice that.

"Sure," Daniel muttered and carried her up to his room. He sat her down onto his bed and pulled out an old pair of pyjamas that was definitely going to be way to big for her. He turned around and let her get changed.

Daniel was turned around for a long while, waiting for her to tell him when she was done. But she never did. After he felt like enough time had passed, Daniel turned around.

There she was, wearing his clothes. She was laid back on the bed, her arm over her stomach, her eyes shut, and her chest steadily rising and falling.

Daniel smiled softly. He gently moved her, getting under beneath the blankets. When Daniel went to leave, something grabbed his arm. "Wait," she said, her voice sleepy. "Stay, please. This bed is too big for me."

For someone so tired, her grip on him was like a vice. Plus, they'd both be fully clothed, Daniel said to himself, trying to justify it. "Okay," he said, prying her hands away from his wrist.

He made quick work of getting changed into something more comfortable and slipped into the bed.

When things started, they were far away from each other, on opposite sides of the bed. But she must have scooted herself back. Daniel didn't mind. He simply wrapped his arms around her and continued to sleep.

Taglist (CLOSED): @biancathecool @rewmuslupin @prettiest-at-the-party @hellowgoodbye @cassie0sstuff @spideybv28 @andydrysdalerogers @aundercover @lou-bean28 @landossainz @purplephantomwolf @ggaslyp1 @layazul @phantomxoxo @minkyungseokie @gills-lounge @hollie911 @annispamz @lillians-world-is-f1 @cixrosie @notyouraveragemochii @charli123456789 @amalialeclerc @stay1strongbeautiful @tallrock35 @teenwolf01 @chiliwhore @darleneslane @sava207 @thatsusbitch @formulaal @leptitlu @angiesw0rld @yunakynn @landosgirlxoxo @msolbesg @cherry-piee @catmouseggy @bathedinheat @chanshintien @ilove-tswizzle @woozarts @evie-119 @trouble-sistar @mysticalnightenthusiast @lewisvinga @spilled-coffee-cup @starkeyellow @fxrmuladaydreams @viennakarma @radiator101 @lightdragonrayne @angelxxrose @millinorrizz @xemiefx @ellies-world61 @the-depressed-fellow

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domjaehyun · 30 days

Text

the boy is mine (l.dh) — part six

PAIRING. haechan x fem!reader GENRES. smut, angst WORD COUNT. 8.6k CONTENTS. infidelity, alcohol & weed consumption (MC is a non-smoker if that matters to you), explicit smut (dirty talk, fingering, finger sucking, oral (receiving), rimming (receiving), groping/frottage, marking, spit play, (brief) ear play, breast play, creampies/unprotected sex (if you explicitly need me, a stranger on the internet, to tell you not to fuck raw, you are not responsible enough to be reading this. move along now), snowballing, public sex, car sex, riding, bratty dom-leaning switch!haechan, bratty sub-leaning switch!reader, sweet dom!jeno, face riding, handjob, overstimulation (receiving), praise kink (receiving), light degradation kink (giving), mating press, morning sex) NOTES. here’s part six! thank you so much for reading this far!!! i hope you enjoy it!! please leave feedback if you liked it :) i would also greatly appreciate tips if you really liked it :3 THANK YOU LIKE THE HUUUUUGEST THANK YOU TO BRI (@jalitepng) FOR BETA READING THIS BIG OL FIC :D PLAYLIST. the boy is mine - ariana grande // fantasize - ariana grande (unreleased) // lowkey (feat. erykah badu) - teyana taylor // agora hills - doja cat // pussy is mine - miguel // softest touch - khalid // cut - tori kelly // seatbelt - josh levi // often - doja cat // surrender - nbdy

You wake up abruptly to the sound of your phone ringing, and you reach over to answer the call, bringing the device to your ear. “Hello?” you rasp out, groggy as can be.

“Thank God you finally woke up! Listen, Winter’s on her way to your house.” Chaewon says in a panic, and you yawn, shrugging.

“Okay?”

“She’s on her way over there because Haechan broke up with her.” Chaewon says slowly enough for it to process in your freshly roused mind, and you sit up straight in your bed, now fully awake and alarmed.

“Oh, shit. Did he—”

“He told her about you two.” she confirms, and you curse under your breath, messing with your hair anxiously.

“What exactly did he tell her?” you say slowly, and from the hesitation on the other end, you know it’s not good. “Chae, tell me.”

“He told her you two have been fooling around for a while and that he can’t hold back anymore and keep pretending and he said he doesn’t want to be with her anymore.” she blurts out, and you gasp.

“When was this? What the fuck? Why wouldn’t he run it by me first—” you mutter, worriedly stumbling out of bed and starting to fix your appearance in the mirror of your vanity.

“It seemed like it was eating away at him, honestly.” Seulgi pipes up from the background, and you sigh in defeat. “He must really like you.”

“Yeah, or really not like her.” you mumble bitterly, flinching harshly at the sound of a fist pounding on your front door. “I gotta go—she’s here—”

“I know you’re in there!” Winter shrieks through the door, and you freeze mid-stride, not sure what the best course of action might be. “Why would you do this to me?” she cries, and your heart twists painfully as regret swims through you.

You silently pad to the door, placing your hand on the doorknob before retracting it and shaking your head to yourself. You already know what Winter looks like when she cries; an adorable kicked puppy, and you have no desire to see that face when you’re the one who caused it.

“I should have known by the way he looks at you.” she sniffles, and you swallow a thick lump in your very dry throat. “He never looked at me like that.”

You try to speak, but your voice is so hoarse from just waking up and the remorse practically clogging your throat that the sounds barely register as a faint squeak. Thankfully for you, Winter doesn’t seem to hear your attempt at a remark, the heartbroken girl crying softly on the other end.

“Now you won’t even answer me? That’s just great.” she remarks bitterly, and you look at the doorknob as if you’re expecting it to unlock itself magically and let Winter in to unleash a can of whoop-ass on you.

“Y’know, I really thought you were my friend.” she says softly, her voice cracking on the last word. “If it wasn’t obvious, I don’t ever want to hear from you again.”

You quietly rest your forehead on the door, eyes sliding shut as a hot, guilty tear threatens to slip past your closed lids.

“I hope you two are happy together.” Winter scoffs, a thud from the other end telling you she’s kicked your door in frustration. After what feels like ages of silence, you peek through the peephole to see her entering the elevator at the end of your hall and let out a tortured sigh of defeat.

You slowly start to drag yourself throughout your apartment, the guilt weighing you down like shackles as you get ready for work, only to be interrupted by a hesitant knock on your door.

When you look through the peephole, your heart speeds up in panic as you see a dejected-looking Jeno standing on the other side of your door.

You take a deep breath and pull your door open, offering a feeble smile that, you notice with a pang, he struggles to return.

“Hi,” Jeno greets, despondent as he shifts to lean against your doorway.

“Hey,” you say slowly.

“I heard.” he explains, and you nod, swallowing thickly. “I noticed Winter left the group chat, then when I asked her why, she told me I should ask you.”

You wince in anticipation of his next words. “So you came to ask me what happened?”

“No, she told me what happened.” Jeno clarifies. “I came because I have a different question.”

“Oh,” you mumble, moving back to let him into your apartment. “Well, do you want to come in to ask?”

He seems to think about it for a moment before shaking his head with a sad smile. “I’d rather not.”

Ouch. You try to hide your saddened expression by scratching at the side of your nose, but you’re not sure you were successful because Jeno’s expression shifts to guilt for a moment and you hate it. You hate that even when he’s coming to you from a place of hurt, he’s found it in himself to be selfless and care about you.

“That’s fair,” you say too quickly after an awkward pause. “I respect it. What was your question?”

He looks uncomfortable now, shifting his weight from foot to foot before finally asking, “I was just wondering if, um… if you entertained me, I guess, as a distraction from him?”

Your eyes widen. “Jeno, no.”

“Was it to get back at him?” he asks hoarsely, and you shake your head vehemently.

“Not at all.”

“Did it mean… anything to you?” His voice cracks on the last word, and he averts his gaze, thumbing at his nose.

“Jeno, I always had a little thing for you, even before I met Haechan. I did—do like you, I really do! I just—” you rush to explain, but Jeno cuts you off with a hand raised in a silent request for you to stop talking.

“You just… like Haechan more.” he says with a sad sort of acceptance and understanding that breaks your heart.

“Jeno, I am so sorry.” you whisper. “I don’t expect you to forgive me—”

“But I want to.”

“But you don’t have to.” you assure him. “It was never my intent to make you feel used, so I am so sorry I did.”

“It’s o–” he starts, but you shush him.

“Don’t say it’s okay until you’ve had time to think about it.” you insist.

“Yeah… yeah, I think I do need time,” he slowly agrees. “I just need to, like, get over this because,” he lets out a humorless laugh, “I really liked you.”

You’re not gonna lie; the past tense hurts you to hear. You do your best to take it on the chin with a small nod and apologetic smile, but look away to prevent Jeno from noticing the glassy shine of your eyes.

“I’m sorry, again, and I’m even more sorry for this, but I kind of have to finish getting ready for work.” you say carefully, and Jeno’s eyes flash with realization before he’s nodding and backing away from your door.

“No problem, I’ll, uh… see you around, I guess.” he says with an awkward wave before turning and heading to your elevator and pressing the button.

Shutting the door, you take a deep, shaky breath before wiping the single tear that you failed to hold back and continuing to get ready.

Apparently, there really isn’t any rest for the wicked, because as you’re now rushing to get ready for work after your horrible start to your morning, your doorbell rings.

“With my luck, it’s gonna be some goons Winter sent to beat me up,” you lament sadly as you walk to your door and peek through the peephole.

To your surprise and sudden onset irritation, Haechan is standing at your door, hands clasped behind his back and teeth nibbling his bottom lip nervously.

You fling open your door and stare at him, incredulous and outraged with your hand on your hip, and he winces.

“I’m guessing you heard the news,” he says sheepishly, and you just stare at him, slowly simmering in your fury.

“You… ruined… everything.” you say slowly, and he frowns. “You—I—first of all, Winter and Jeno have already stopped by here to give me a piece of their mind, so I really feel like the Worst Person in the World right now.”

His eyes widen. “You talked to Winter?”

“She talked at me through my front door because I was too much of a coward to open it,” you mutter bitterly, and he frowns deeply. “She hates me now, as you might imagine.”

“I didn’t mean for that to happen,” he says quietly, and you scoff.

“Doesn’t really matter now, does it?” you huff. “You weren’t supposed to tell her you were dumping her for me! You were just supposed to break up with her without bringing me into it! Why wouldn’t you run this by me first?”

“Well—I didn’t think about that,” he stammers.

You scowl. “And this is why you should have brought it up to me first. So I wouldn’t have woken up to being blindsided by being blocked and verbally dragged through the mud by your rightfully scorned ex-girlfriend and my ex-friend—and then being guilt-tripped to the maximum as I apologize profusely to the absolutely wounded sweetheart that was Jeno Lee in my apartment earlier for, essentially, leading him on and breaking his little puppy heart.”

Haechan looks pained. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. Really, honestly.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose and breathe in and out deeply. “What possessed you to do that?”

“It just kinda… blurted out. I felt like I couldn’t stop, and once I’d started talking, it was too late to take any of it back.” he says hesitantly.

“I should have known this would end badly,” you moan in anguish, and you miss the look of hurt Haechan shoots you.

“End?” he asks, but you’ve already moved on to your next topic.

“I should have known when you met me and your first instinct was to lie to me—”

“I explained myself back then!”

“—and pretend you didn’t have a girlfriend. You didn’t seem to have a hard time withholding that information, did you?”

“That’s not fair,” he replies hoarsely, and you can’t bring yourself to look at him.

“She told me she hates me, I’m a terrible friend, and she never wants to see me again.” you whisper sadly. “And she’s right! I am a terrible friend, and she should hate me and never want to see me again.”

“In your defense, you were only a bad friend to her; you’re not a bad friend overall.” Haechan adds in an attempt to be helpful, but he balks when you glower at him.

“‘Bad friend’ might be subjective, but you know what’s not? ‘Homewrecker.’” you counter. “I might as well have the words ‘dirty man stealer’ written on my forehead because by the time word gets around, that’s all everyone’s gonna know me as.”

“Please stop catastrophizing,” Haechan tries to comfort you, reaching forward to take your hand, but you pull back slightly, folding your arms over your chest and looking down at your feet to avoid the wounded look you know Haechan’s sporting right now. “Listen,” he says firmly, and you huff. “I didn’t do all this—didn’t come this far just to lose you. I broke up with her for you. I broke up with her to be with you. You think, after getting to know me, that I’m just gonna stop trying to get you to let me in?”

“This is just—Haechan, it’s too risky—I’m so scared—” you whimper, and he places his hands on your shoulders, drawing your attention to his concerned expression.

“This is the type of risk you should be taking!” Haechan insists. “Give me time to gain your trust.”

“Haechan, you’re the most risky part about all of this! You cheated on your last girlfriend!”

Hurt flashes across his face for a moment, but he doesn’t release you. “So are you saying ‘once a cheater, always a cheater?’ Are you saying that I sealed my fate as a cheater and don’t deserve a chance at love and happiness?”

“Well, no, I’m saying this is all just… a very high-risk situation… that I’m not sure I can handle.” you say carefully, but apparently, you weren’t careful enough, because he steps back in surprise, recoiling almost as if you’d slapped him.

“I’m too risky.” he says slowly, realization and hurt creeping into his expression.

You hate to see him like this, but you can’t take back anything you’ve said, and, unfortunately, you are very much in a time crunch, as an alarm on your phone reminds you, ringing loudly to give you your warning to head out.

“Haechan, I— I have work in like an hour, I have to go—” you plead, pushing between his shoulder blades to usher him out of your apartment. When you’re both standing outside, Haechan turns to look at you with an expression not unlike that of a kicked puppy, and you’re starting to get a little fed up with everyone having that expression when it comes to you..

“So we’re not gonna finish talking about this?” he pleads, and you shake your head vehemently, inching closer and closer to the elevator door.

“We’re gonna talk about this,” you promise him, finally pressing the elevator button once you’re in reach of it, and he frowns deeply. “Just not right now.”

The door opens a moment after, to your relief, but Haechan just remains rooted in place, you would guess due to being frozen with shock.

“Are you not coming?” you ask slightly impatiently, pulling up train times on your phone and sucking your teeth before opening the Uber app.

“I’m trying to figure out whatever this was that just happened.” Haechan responds loudly enough that you can hear him, but not so loud that he’s blasting your conversation to the ears of all your neighbors.

“Is that a no?” you stress, trying your best to emphasize the fact that you’re holding the elevator door open for him.

“It’s a no,” he confirms, a hint of sadness and defeat in his voice, and your heart pangs as you release the “Door Open” button on the elevator and the doors slide shut.

As the elevator descends to the ground floor, your heart makes a similar journey, sinking to what feels like the pit of your stomach and leaving you feeling desolate and almost hopeless as you fidget impatiently waiting for your Uber.

Even as your Uber driver pulls up in a sleek white Venza and you climb in and exchange pleasantries, you keep thinking about the look on Haechan’s face when you told him you were leaving.

You will talk it out with him—you’ll make sure of that. But first, you need to clear your mind and organize your thoughts, and that can’t happen with him standing right in front of you.

“I just want to know what exactly you were thinking,” Seulgi sighs disappointedly. “Like, the whole time—did you just think you could keep seeing him behind her back forever?” she asks, and you wince.

“I wasn’t thinking about her.” you admit quietly, and Seulgi scoffs.

“Clearly! What you did was selfish—reckless—irresponsible, stupidly inconsiderate—”

“I get it.” you cut in gruffly.

“I don’t!” Seulgi exclaims, throwing her hands up in frustration. Yunjin catches your eye from her arm chair and something about the sympathetic gaze in her eyes brings you closer and closer to breaking down. “You weren’t thinking about her, obviously, so what were you thinking about?”

“I don’t know—”

“Yes, you do.” Seulgi says sternly.

“I don’t—”

“You do!”

“I was thinking about him, okay?” you snap, and she pauses, stunned. “I can’t explain myself, but the whole time, all I thought about was him, and how much I—” your voice catches in your throat and you stop talking to collect yourself.

“How much you… ?” Chaewon asks, and it’s the first time she’s spoken, a cursory glance in her direction revealing that she’s looking at you just as gently as Yunjin is, making the backs of your eyes hotter than before.

“How much I like him,” you confess in a wail, and Yunjin moves from her seat to sit beside you, pulling you into her embrace as you sniffle. “I like him so much, guys. He walks into a room and I, like, can’t look away. It’s like he’s magnetic or something, or like—like—” you stammer and Yunjin places her hand on yours gently.

“Like you might be falling in love with him?” she asks softly, and you freeze before fresh tears well up in your eyes and threaten to spill over.

“Like that,” you agree pathetically, tucking your head into her neck sadly, and she tuts sympathetically, resting her cheek on the top of your head as she continues to hug you.

“I just—” Seulgi starts before taking a deep breath and restarting with a significantly gentler tone, “I don’t understand when this started exactly.”

You take a deep breath and look at Yunjin, the two of you exchanging meaningful glances.

“You know the welcome home party we had when I came back from Oxford?” you attempt to jog her memory, and she looks thoughtful before nodding. “Remember my party crush that disappeared?” you continue, and she nods again, her eyes widening at your expectant expression as you wait for her to put two and two together.

“It was him?” she asks in a whisper, and you nod.

“I didn’t know at first—”

“I had to tell her,” Yunjin butts in, coming to your defense, and your heart warms with gratitude for your friend. “She didn’t want anything to do with him, but I guess he wasn’t done with her.”

“Well, don’t paint him as this cunning, evil mastermind,” you say carefully, frowning. “We connected. He couldn’t shake the connection. I should have pushed him away more.”

“But you liked him from the start,” Yunjin points out, still defending you even from yourself. “And he knew. You two didn’t really stand a chance of this ending well.”

Seulgi looks between you and Yunjin with a heavy sigh before turning to Chaewon. “What do you think?”

“I think,” Chaewon says slowly, “in spite of my sapphic lifestyle and ways, I can tell why you like him. And I can see why he likes you. You two are cute together—Seulgi, don’t make that face, because you know it’s true. It’s sad it happened like this, but I think everything happens for a reason.”

“So you think I should be with him or something?” you ask, surprised and confused and just a bit hopeful.

“I think this shouldn’t be the way to end it, if you do choose to end it. I think you should talk to him again.” she says wisely, and you nod thoughtfully.

“I guess I understand.” Seulgi finally chimes in, and you could practically faint with relief. “You’re basically, like, in love with him. And based on his behavior the other day—y’know, breaking up with Winter—he must love you, too.”

“Well, let’s not jump the gun.” you chuckle hollowly. “I already told him we couldn’t talk about it when he showed up at my place, and I think he thinks I was ending things.”

“Well, were you?” Chaewon asks, and you pause to think before shaking your head slowly.

“I don’t think I was.” you realize in surprise, and Yunjin lets out a low whistle.

“So, how are we going to get your little lover boy back?” she asks, and you shrug hopelessly.

“He probably doesn’t even want to see me,” you sigh.

“We’ll figure that out later,” Seulgi says comfortingly, sitting down on the carpet in front of your knees. “I’m sorry for coming at your throat like that earlier,” she says with a sad smile. “I thought I had an idea of what was going on, but I was wrong.”

“It’s okay,” you reply with a small smile. “You were just making sure I wasn’t, like, a terrible person and a homewrecker.”

“You know what I wonder?” Chaewon says out of the blue. “If the guys are comforting Haechan.”

“I hope they are,” you reply immediately. “I hope he’s not alone in this.”

“Well, why don’t you ask them?” she supplies helpfully, and you think about it before nodding in agreement.

“I can do that,” you say resolutely, and she squeezes your hand with an encouraging smile.

“Good,” she hums, “now can we talk about something less dreadful? Like girls, perhaps?”

“I agree on the topic change,” Seulgi adds immediately, and you snort.

“We could watch a movie?” Yunjin suggests, and you sit up slightly in your spot.

“We could watch a classic movie about girls,” you add on, and it’s almost like everyone’s mind syncs up at once. “Like—”

“But I’m A Cheerleader?” Seulgi finishes hopefully, and you laugh before nodding. “I’m in!”

As Yunjin and Seulgi start to bustle around the kitchen and living room to prepare for your movie viewing, Chaewon scoots closer to you and rests her head on your shoulder.

“We’ll make it through this, you know,” she comforts you gently. “This feeling definitely isn’t permanent.”

Her words linger in your mind the whole night as you hope and pray she’s right.

“So,” Chenle remarks loudly, folding his hands over his omelet and regarding you carefully. “Let’s recap, shall we?”

“Oh, God,” you groan, putting your face in your hands.

“You knew it was coming,” Mark says with a sympathetic smile.

“In the past week,” Chenle recounts to your table, “Winter has gone completely AWOL, Jeno’s sulking, and Haechan is in the middle of a depressive episode.” He sits forward and eyes you intently. “How do you feel about all of this? What are you gonna do about it all?”

“I already talked to Jeno,” you point out.

“Yes, and may have worsened his sulking.” Chenle counters, and you scowl.

“Who invited this guy?”

“I think what he’s trying to say is that, except Jeno, the ball’s kind of in your court in both situations.”

“I think Winter’s final message was perfectly clear and, frankly, she deserves to have the last word.” you raise your hands in surrender, and Chenle rolls his eyes.

“Don’t you think she deserves an apology?” he butts in, and you frown.

“Of course she does,” you say, “but I didn’t think she wanted to hear from me again, so I’m probably never going to speak to her again if I can help it.” Chenle shoots you a disapproving look, and you continue with, “I’m not going to ask her to unblock me because I deserve it. I did a bad thing to her! I betrayed her!”

“Okay,” Mark relents on that front, choosing a new angle. “How about Haechan?”

You pause, considering your words carefully. “I… I really like Haechan. Like, I really like him, but I’m scared, because I feel like if he cheated on Winter with me, who’s to say he won’t find another me in someone else later down the line? It’s just a very… high-risk situation.” you sigh, not yet noticing the look your friends share before sitting forward.

“Did you happen to say that during your talk with Haechan?” Mark asks, and you cock your head to the side in confusion.

“Say what?”

“High-risk,” Chenle presses, and you think back before nodding. “That explains that, then.”

“What are you talking about?” you ask, confused.

“He, um. He keeps saying that. That he’s too high-risk to be with and what’s the point of it all anyway, and—” Mark says, but you hold your hand up to silence him.

“I’ll talk to him,” you promise quietly, trying to hide the way your heart is breaking. “I never meant to hurt him. I’ll talk to him soon.”

“And Winter? You never meant to hurt her either, I’m guessing.” Chenle asks.

“I’ll talk to Winter if she can manage to look at me without attacking me.” you sigh. “But we don’t live near each other, don’t work together, and it’s not like we’re gonna run into each other in the middle of the street or anything.”

“That’s fair,” Chenle shrugs. “But you might. It’s not exactly a small city, but it’s likely.”

“Pfft, okay.” you scoff. “Can I finish my waffles now?”

Chenle gestures at your plate with his fork invitingly. “Dig in.”

The universe has a funny way of making you eat your words sometimes.

You’re walking around at the farmer’s market in search of fresh produce for you and Yunjin, when a familiar head of strawberry blonde hair catches your eye and makes you freeze.

“Oh, no,” you whisper to yourself, ducking behind a cart of mangoes. The man running the cart peers down at you curiously but, at the sight of your pleading expression, doesn’t protest. “Please keep walking,” you say hopefully, peering over the counter of the cart.

To your complete and utter dismay, not only is Winter in perfect eyesight of you still, but now you’re in perfect eyesight of her.

You two lock eyes and, frankly, you don’t know what to do. Recognition, then pain, then a flash of anger passes over Winter’s face before she settles on indifference and turns, walking away.

You stand up slowly, embarrassed, and smooth out the invisible wrinkles on your sundress, nodding gratefully at the still confused older man who you’ve joined behind the counter. “Thank you.”

“Welcome,” he replies, voice kind of gruff. “Would you like some mangoes?”

You pause, thinking. “Actually, I would.”

The universe must be feeling silly again, you think as you contemplate your current predicament.

You’ve been walking around the farmer’s market with a general sense of anxiety and wariness, flinching at every redhead you see, and you’ve just finished checking over your shoulder to make sure she’s not about to run up behind you with a spear when you run directly into the very person you’re avoiding, Winter stumbling to the side from the impact before you steady her.

“Thanks,” she says with an awkward smile, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder.

“No problem,” you reply with a small smile, nodding uncomfortably. You two stare at each other and Winter opens her mouth as if to speak, but ultimately seems to decide against it and turns to leave. She gets about five feet away before you’re blurting out, “I’m sorry!”

She pauses mid-stride, and you take a deep breath. “I’m not asking for forgiveness because I don’t deserve it,” you say carefully, “but I want you to know that nothing about this was personal. It was selfish and horrible, but it was all about me and had nothing to do with hurting you. I can’t explain what happened because I don’t fully understand and I suspect you don’t want to hear it, but I really am sorry and it’s over now.”

She turns to face you finally, her brows raised in surprise. “It’s over?”

You nod resolutely.

“I mean—you’re right. I’m not gonna forgive you. I am gonna say, though, that from seeing you two together, like even when I had my suspicions, I… I get it.”

It’s your turn for your brows to shoot up in shock. “You get it?”

She nods with a small shrug. “Your connection is, like, electric. Like, it hurts for real, don’t get me wrong, and I definitely don’t forgive you, but I’d rather he break up with me to be with the love of his life than break up with me for no reason, y’know? Am I making sense? I guess what I’m saying is: you already did the bad thing… so you might as well reap the benefits of the bad thing and have a whirlwind of a relationship whether it ends well or not.”

You nod slowly, in a daze but still unwaveringly focused on one part of her response. “He said that?” you ask quietly, stunned.

Winter tilts her head to the side in confusion. “Said what?”

“That I’m the love of his life,” you repeat, awestruck. “He said that?”

Winter shifts her weight from one foot to the other, but nods. “Yeah.”

“Like those were his exact words?” you press as you move a bit closer.

Winter coughs uncomfortably into her fist, looking pained. “I’d rather not rehash every intimate detail of my boyfriend dumping me for my ex-friend… and I’d rather not do it to said ex-friend.” she explains, and you nod immediately, stepping back slightly in a silent apology for overstepping.

“My bad,” you mumble, embarrassed.

“You’re fine,” she replies quietly, adjusting her bag strap again. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m saying it because, unfortunately for me, I still care about both of you. Give him another chance? I just… you two could be really good together and I don’t want to have suffered for nothing.”

Your nodding starts slow and builds until you feel more confident in your decision. “Thanks, Winter. I really am sorry.”

“Yeah,” she nods dismissively in response, and you purse your lips awkwardly. “Um, I’m gonna—” she gestures with her thumb over her shoulder.

“Sure! Yeah, me too. Take—um—take care, I guess.” you mumble, and she smiles slightly.

“You too.”

You think over Winter’s advice for about a week, really considering and weighing out your options. The whole time, though, your mind keeps wandering back to Haechan because, honestly, you miss him. You’re trying not to let that color your decisions, but at the same time, how could it not?

You’re home with Yunjin, both of you sprawled out on the couch watching some mindless reality television show in an attempt to distract yourself from the internal debate you’re having, when the doorbell rings. You both turn and look at each other, confused.

“I’m not expecting anyone,” you say slowly. “Are you?”

“Nope,” she answers, brows furrowed curiously. “I’ll get it, though.”

“Thanks,” you sigh, trying once more to become one with the upholstery. She gets to her feet and walks to the front door, the sound of it opening catching your attention just in time for you to hear her call your name.

You stand and make your way over to the front door only to stop short at the sight of Haechan standing in your doorway.

The three of you stand there, seemingly frozen, before Yunjin breaks the silence.

“I’ll, um, be in my room if you need me.” she says, squeezing your arm gently before turning and heading to her bedroom.

You two just stand there, still frozen, taking in the sight of each other. Seeing Haechan makes all your feelings from the past week multiply tenfold, but one thought pushes to the forefront: you really did miss him.

“Hi,” he says with a small wave, and you offer the beginnings of a smile.

“Hi,” you reply, waving back awkwardly.

“How are you?” he asks softly.

You shrug half-heartedly. “I’m okay, y’know—living, I guess.” you answer, and he nods slowly, drumming his fingers on the sides of his thighs.

“Well, that’s, um, good. I’m happy to hear that.” he says carefully, and it’s your turn to nod.

“How are you?” you ask, and he looks you directly in the eyes.

”Bad.” he answers simply, and your brows raise in surprise.

“Oh—?”

“I feel like I’m not living when I’m not with you.” he admits plainly.

You’re not really sure what to say. “Oh… that’s not good?”

Despite his admission, Haechan still manages to chuckle at your flustered state, stepping forward and asking, “Are we gonna have this whole conversation with me standing outside of your apartment?”

You shake your head and move back to let him in before you even realize you’re doing it. “You can come in,” you offer, and he takes the invitation immediately, stepping closer and into your apartment. He walks straight to your living room with you following after him and stands in the middle of it, running his hand through his hair.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he whispers the confession, and your eyes widen slightly. “I like you so much. You make my day better when I know I get to see you.”

Your face softens. “Haechan—”

“I’m not intentionally being selfish, either!” he defends himself, and you stop speaking, waiting for him to finish. “It was just… eating me up inside not to be with you and show the world how much I like you. It just felt so wrong to me, like, what was I doing in that relationship?”

You wait for a minute. “Is that all you wanted to say?” you ask gently, and he shakes his head, taking a deep breath before continuing.

“I know I’m a cheater and I’m pretty dangerous in terms of being in a relationship with me because I literally just dumped my girlfriend quite abruptly after cheating on her with you, but—”

“Haechan, I wasn’t saying you’re a cheater. Like, yes, you did cheat, but that doesn’t define you, I don’t think.” you say slowly, not willing to hear him about to beat himself up, and he relaxes slightly, looking over at you hopefully. “I just… I know I have a hard time trusting people, and I’m having a hard time right now because you’re one of the first people I’d like to trust again, which is terrifying to me.” you say with a slight shake to your voice.

“I would never hurt you on purpose,” he assures you. “Like I would never do anything like this to you.”

You wrap your arms around yourself in a tight hug in an attempt to comfort yourself. “How do I know that’s true?” you whisper, and he gives you a small, sad smile.

“You’re just gonna have to trust me and find out. And I know that’s a big, high-risk situation, but—”

“It’s worth it, though,” you interject softly, and he stops short, looking at you with eyes swimming with hope. “Like, you’re worth it. I think.”

The beginnings of a smile tug at his lips. “Yeah?” If hope was a light, he’d be glowing from every orifice of his body as he tentatively steps closer to you, smiling wider when you don’t step back.

You nod with a smile curling your own lips. “Yeah, the risk is worth the reward this time, I think, because… I really like being with you.”

Haechan’s eyes hold a playful twinkle as he leans closer, a mischievous grin on his lips. “Yeah? You like being with me?”

“Yeah, I do. A lot. That’s why I was so upset,” you admit. “I wished… still kinda wish… that things were different. That it was me from the beginning.”

“It was you, baby,” he says with an incredulous laugh. “Winter and I were done for the second I laid eyes on you, truthfully.”

“I mean, I wish that we had met when you were single and we could have gotten together without compromising our morals.” you explain, and he nods in understanding before tentatively reaching a hand out to you. When you take it, he beams and pulls you closer to wrap his arm around the small of your back.

“Well… it can be you now.” he suggests, hope glowing from him once more. “You can trust me.”

“That’s a risk I’m gonna have to take, I guess.” you say with a growing smile, and he doesn’t waste another moment before wrapping you in a tight embrace that feels like coming home after a long day. “I missed you,” you confess, voice muffled by the hug, and he pulls back to regard you with shock all over his features.

“You missed me? I was about two days away from doing some grand gesture to get you back or crashing out horrendously if you said no.” he laughs, and you giggle, looking up at him with bright, happy eyes.

“Oh, really? Actually, that does sound about right.” you tease, and he narrows his eyes at you playfully before leaning in closer.

“Shut up,” he chuckles before bringing his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. It feels like warmth floods your whole system, not a warmth akin to desire, but a warmth unlike one you’ve experienced or find yourself able to identify, and you wonder, for a moment, if this is what it feels like to be in love. “Missed you so much,” he groans against your lips, and you pull back slightly to give him small, soft pecks that leave him chasing after your lips for more. “You know what?”

“What is it?”

“I wanna say something.” he decides, and you regard him curiously.

“What’s up?”

“I would really, truly, never ever cheat on you or do anything to break your heart.” he promises you, and you nod with a warm smile.

“I think I believe you,” you say slowly, almost surprised at yourself, and his eyes light up.

“Really?” he asks excitedly, and you nod, draping your arms around his neck.

“I guess I just figured that you wouldn’t do that to the… love of your life.” you say with a teasing smile towards the end, and Haechan stiffens.

“Who told you that?”

“Winter.” you answer simply, and he gapes at you.

“She told you I said that?” he says hoarsely, and you nod, your eyes twinkling with delight. “Why would she do that to me?”

“Possibly her final act of revenge.” you suggest, and his mouth twists awkwardly as he looks away from you with his face reddening. “Hold on a minute. Are you—”

“Don’t,” he groans, but you ignore him.

“Are you shy right now?” you giggle, and he lets out a small, adorably pathetic wail before burying his face in your neck, the force of his actions knocking you off your feet and sending you both falling onto the couch with a shriek slipping from your lips. “Aw, poor baby,” you coo patronizingly, running your fingers through his hair as he wraps both arms around your waist tighter and nuzzles into the space between your chin and shoulder.

“Don’t be mean,” he whines, and you can’t even stop laughing even if you tried, truly delighted at this new side of Haechan.

“I think you kind of like it when I’m mean,” you remind him through your giggles, and he nods vehemently against your skin, only making your laughter grow.

“Yeah, so quit it before I get hard and make it your problem.” he grumbles, and you scoff.

“I’m not scared of your little friend, Haechan.” you say, and he pulls back to look at you incredulously.

“Little?!” he practically squawks before his fingers are dancing up and down your sides to tickle you mercilessly.

“I’m sorry!” you shriek through your uncontrollable laughing, and he stops abruptly, bringing his face to yours and studying your expression carefully.

“That’s what I thought. I mean, little? Really? Did you actually forget so soon, baby?” he says with a mocking pout, and you swallow thickly as you gaze up at him. He leans closer so your noses are touching before he says, “I think you might need a reminder.”

“Can you remind her in her bedroom and not defile our lovely couch?” Yunjin’s voice appears out of nowhere, and you jolt in surprise, trying to sit up (in vain, as Haechan has you pinned down). “Love is a beautiful thing, but cum stains aren’t.”

“Amen, girl.” you agree, patting Haechan’s chest to let you up, which he does. “Come on.” you stand and offer him your hand, which he takes readily, and lead him to your room. It’s not until you two are safely in your room with your door shut that you say, “I do too, by the way.”

“You do… what… too?” Haechan asks, puzzled, and you smile secretively, collapsing onto your bed.

“Love you.” you answer simply, and his eyes look like they could pop out of his head at any moment. “Don’t freak out.” you warn him, and he jumps onto your bed, climbing on top of you with a wild, exhilarated look in his eyes.

“The love of my life just told me she loves me back and you expect me to stay calm?” he says incredulously, and you nod.

“Precisely.”

He dips his head down swiftly to kiss you before sitting up and pulling his phone out of his back pocket. “No can do. Gonna text all my friends the news right now and tell my boss I’m not coming to work later.”

“Now why would that warrant calling out of work?” you say with a snort.

“Hush, lady, I’m posting on my Instagram story.” he silences you with a focused look on his face.

“Can I see when you’re done?” you ask, and he nods, turning his phone to face you. “…Haechan.”

“Yes?”

“‘My girl said she loves me, crash out postponed’ is a crazy thing to post.” you snicker.

“It’s true!”

“Your crash out should be canceled!” you exclaim incredulously.

“I’m never truly not at risk of crashing out.” he confesses, and you make a worried face and start sitting up, pretending to get ready to leave. “Oh, no, you don’t.” he mumbles, wrapping his arms around your middle and pulling you back down to him. “You’re stuck with me, I fear.”

“Mm, I guess that’s okay.” you say with a grin.

Truthfully, you don’t think you could be happier.

“What are we watching tonight?” Chenle asks as he plops down on the other end of the couch you’re sitting on.

“I vote Aquaman,” you pipe up, reaching out to Haechan as he approaches with a plate of pizza rolls for you two. When he offers the plate to your outstretched hands, you shake your head and wave the plate away, reaching out again to make it abundantly clear what you’re reaching for. He grins, setting the plate down on the coffee table in front of you before collapsing into your waiting embrace with a pleased sigh.

“You just wanna drool over Jason Momoa,” Chaewon jeers, and you shrug.

“That’s my God-given right.” you defend yourself casually, and Haechan nods in agreement.

“You do know she’s gonna lust after him the whole movie, right?” Chenle points out to Haechan, who just shrugs dismissively.

“Then when she’s all pent-up and frisky, who’s she gonna come to?” he answers smugly, and you beam, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

“He’s playing chess, y’all, not checkers.” you remark.

Haechan snorts in amusement and grins proudly before jerking his chin towards the television. “Exactly. Now someone put it on.”

“Bossy ass,” Yunjin mutters jokingly under her breath.

“What was that?” Haechan puts a hand behind his ear. “Couldn’t hear you over there.”

“No, you can’t fight Yunjin.” you whisper to him, putting his hand down. He looks over at you confused and you continue, “I can’t pick a side.”

“Pick my side?” he replies slowly as if the answer was obvious. “I’m your boyfriend.”

“She’s my best friend, though.” you reply with a wince, and Yunjin nods from the armchair she’s curled up in. “And she knows where I sleep at night.”

“Both are true,” she confirms proudly, and Haechan sucks his teeth but backs down with a roll of his eyes.

“Fine. For now,” he relents with a brief glare shot in Yunjin’s direction. “Can we put the movie on now?” he complains, and she rolls her eyes exaggeratedly before starting to navigate to the movie on the television screen.

Haechan laces his fingers with yours, curling them into his palm as he brings your linked hands to his mouth. You watch with rapt attention as he kisses the back of your hand, then each knuckle, all the while maintaining heavy eye contact.

Your cheeks blaze something fierce and you look away with a nervous, shy giggle that makes Haechan chuckle.

“Look at me,” he murmurs insistently, moving his head so it’s more in your line of sight. When you swallow and look away again, he coos fondly, pulling your chin so your face is angled towards his once more. “There’s my pretty girl.”

“Haechan,” you whine quietly, and his gaze darkens.

“What is it, baby?” he murmurs with a sympathetic lilt. “What’s wrong?”

“Stop looking at me like that,” you mumble, placing your hand up between your faces so he can’t look directly at you. “It’s making me nervous.”

He snickers, moving your hand to your lap and regarding you carefully.

“How am I looking at you?” he asks with a raised brow and a devious little grin.

“You know how you’re looking at me.” you gripe, pushing his shoulder slightly, and his eyes flash with mischief.

“Well, it’s not that I’m looking at you like you’re the only thing on my menu for tonight, is it? Because I look at you like that all the time.” he thinks aloud, slowly pulling you onto his lap and winding his arms around your waist.

“God, Haechan,” you half-laugh, half-gasp, and he grins.

“No, it can’t be that. Is it because I’m looking at you like I love you?” he asks plainly, and your throat closes up slightly in shock from his bluntness.

“Well—yes, a bit.” you mumble, shifting in your spot slightly.

“I don’t know if you realize this,” he murmurs by your ear, “but I’ve been looking at you like that from day one.”

“It’s way different now,” you counter, frowning as you explain yourself. “Before it was like… fascination more than—”

“Understanding?” he finishes for you, and you blink in surprise before nodding. “So I could look at you like I love you when I didn’t know you, but now that I know you, I can’t look at you like I love you? Even though now I have more reasons to love you?” he says slowly, looking at you with his brows raised. “Do you see how silly you sound, baby?”

You can’t help but laugh fondly, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair. “I kinda do, yeah.”

“Good. Now gimme a kiss before you let me look at you any way I want.” he huffs playfully, pressing his lips to yours with a pleased hum.

“Can you two get a room?” Chenle gags, and you break apart, a sheepish smile on your face while Haechan rolls his eyes. “Man, what’s Jeno gonna do when he comes back to hanging out with us and has to watch you two practically going at it all the time?”

“He’s a big boy, he’ll manage.” Haechan grumbles before pecking you on the lips again.

“Speaking of Jeno,” you ask, shifting to sit up slightly. “Do we really think he’s gonna feel comfortable being friends with us again?”

“He’d be silly not to,” Chaewon answers in confusion. “It’s not like you two were a thing for real.”

“Speaking of people and forgiveness and that kind of stuff…” Haechan trails off, his voice softer as he shifts his target audience to you alone, and you turn your head slightly to regard him suspiciously.

“You’d better not ask what I think you’re about to ask.” you warn him, and he frowns.

“I was just wondering if you think Winter would ever forgive us?” he asks hopefully, and you shake your head resolutely.

“No. And she shouldn’t, frankly. We did a bad thing.” you explain, and he nods slowly.

“I just feel a little guilty.” he muses quietly, and you can’t hide your small snicker of amusement.

“You should, actually. But it’ll pass with time hopefully.” you assure him.

“What are you two lovebirds chatting about?” Seulgi calls out from across the room.

“Wondering if Winter would ever forgive any of us.” you answer for Haechan, and Seulgi, Yunjin, and Mark shake their heads immediately, Chenle straight up laughs, and Yunjin shoots you both a sympathetic frown.

“I doubt it. She blocked all of us when she found out we knew.” Mark points out, and you nod slowly in understanding.

“Actually, she didn’t block me,” Yunjin corrects, “but I think that has more to do with the fact that we’re kind of coworkers.”

“Have you seen her since everything?” Chaewon asks curiously, and Yunjin thinks back for a moment.

“I saw her the other day because she was working with a client that stays on the same floor as Mrs. Rothschild. She gave me, like, that reflex half-smile that you give people when you don’t wanna seem rude, y’know?”

“Oh, I know that one.” you reply with a solemn nod. “We’re doomed.”

“Can we stop moping around and watch this movie, please? Also, can we order pizza or something, because I’m starving.” Mark complains, clutching his stomach, and you snort loudly in amusement.

“Yeah, moping session over. Let’s press play and figure out the food situation.” you announce, and Yunjin nods once before starting the movie. As the starting credits roll, you all decide on the pizza order (three medium pizzas, one with extra cheese, one with pepperoni, and one with half pineapple, half chicken and tomato) and place it for delivery before you settle further into the couch on Haechan’s lap in an attempt to get comfortable.

When the doorbell rings, you all look at each other in a silent standoff before Haechan sighs loudly and clambers off of the couch to get the door. You all wait with bated breath until he returns with three boxes of pizza stacked on top of each other before you start cheering.

As you all scramble to get your slices of choice, Haechan pushes Chenle out of the way none too gently, the male squawking indignantly before muttering something about favoritism and revenge and Haechan’s toothbrush, and tugs you closer to the boxes. “Take your pick, baby.”

“Aren’t you a gentleman?” you coo fondly as you take your desired slices.

After he takes his, the two of you make your way back to the couch and settle down in your spots from before.

“Y’know, I’ve been trying to convince you I’m a gentleman since, like, the first day I met you,” he chuckles.

“It was a lot harder to believe when you were literally dating You-Know-Who.” you reply in defense, and he rolls his eyes.

“I’ve been yours from the beginning, though. I told you that.” he reminds you, and you gaze into his eyes for a moment before reaching up and gently cupping his cheek.

“Yeah, but now I actually believe you.” you say softly, almost surprised by your own revelation, and his eyes widen slightly before a smile starts tugging at his lips.

“Oh, yeah? How’s it feel, then?” he asks in a murmur, and you tilt your head to the side in confusion.

“How does what feel?”

“Knowing I love you,” he answers, and there goes that arrhythmic thud of your heartbeat starting up again. “That I’m yours.”

the boy is mine. watch me take my time. i can’t believe my mind. the boy is divine—

In lieu of a verbal response, you cup his chin and pull him in for a slow, deep kiss that you hope conveys all the feelings you can’t put into words. When you pull back, his eyes are heavy-lidded and he’s gazing at you with blatant adoration in his gaze.

“Like that,” you whisper back with a smile, and by the sheer radiance of his responding beam, you know he understands.

—the boy is mine.

TA DA!!!!! i hope you enjoyed your read! this is the final installment, so thank you so so much for your support with this fic! it was a Lot to write but i’m proud of it! i really love positive feedback and also, if you’re able, i very much appreciate tips!!

if you’d like to read the bonus scene, it’s available on my patreon here :) it answers a couple of questions you might have had, and down the line there will probably be more bonus scenes to come, exclusive to patreon members!!

LINKS: KO-FI // VENMO // CASHAPP // AMAZON WISHLIST // (if you’d like to support via paypal, let me know off anon!!)

#haechan smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #lee haechan smut #donghyuck smut #lee donghyuck smut #haechan x reader #donghyuck x reader

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peachysunrize · 1 month

Text

[ TANGERINE DREAMS ]

Summary: being stood up on his wedding day, Aemond’s life takes a turn for the worse. Heartbroken and humiliated, he finds unexpected help in Helaena’s childhood friend, who helps him move back into his family mansion. Summer cocktail parties and a long stay at the Targaryen residency, Aemond might let the girl who’s always been in his life make a home in his heart.

Tangerines, in general, symbolize prosperity, good luck and happiness. So if these delicious fruits appear in your dreams - whole or in the form of juice - it is usually very positive. A dream with tangerines expresses the desire and the possibility of progress and prosperity

Word count: 5.1k+

Warnings: tensionnnnnn, alcohol consumption (just wine) & fluff! English isn’t my first language <3

A/n: ‘m not gonna say anything more than just that ITS THE BEGINNING OF SOMETHING NEW!! Reblog & comments are most appreciated🍊🧡

Taglist: if you’d like to be tagged in the future chapters, please fill this form with your username!

Updates: every Saturday!!

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Chapter 3: The beginning of something new

He leans back on the chair, his book abandoned next to him on the desk as he carves a line on the wooden pallet, his glasses on the bridge of his nose, the sound of wood getting cut echoing in the old workshop.

He’s been here since early morning, all of his thoughts are consumed by you and your talk a few days ago. There’s still a part of him that is immensely guilty for how he treated you, especially after you told him about that Lannister boy.

He is heard and understood, maybe not by someone he expected, but the sweetness and calmness in this revelation makes it more special. You’ve been in the background image of his life for so long, someone always present yet too far and out of reach. But now, you’ve turned into someone important, someone he can rely on and trust wholeheartedly.

He sighs, letting the chisels fall from his hand on the table as he stretches his arms, groaning as he cracks his back and slowly lumps in the chair, glancing at Vhagar who does the same and slowly walks towards him, jumping on him to cuddle — the chair is so little to have them both sitting on it together, so Aemond has to hold Vhagar to his chest with a hand under her belly while she rests her head on his forearm as the other hand rubs slowly circle on her back.

Vhagar barks suddenly, jumping down to go near the door, alerting Aemond that someone is coming. He also stands up, grabs his abandoned book from the table, and walks towards Vhagar who is clawing at the door before he opens it and lets her out, locking the door workshop’s door behind him.

He follows her, watching as she bolts through the bushes and trees to reach whoever is approaching them. He hears your voice, melodically and softly when you start talking to Vhagar, giggling and letting her probably lick your face.

“Morning!” You say as soon as you spot him, strengthening your back before you stand up, holding two cups of coffee in your hands, “I couldn’t find you in the library, so I thought you’re probably taking a walk with your old lady.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “we had an early morning, and she gets restless and impatient when she doesn’t set foot outside.”

“Here’s your coffee, little nerd,” you hand him his cup, stepping closer to him until you’re only mere inches away from him, looking up at him through your lashes.

Aemond’s break is stuck in his throat as he looks down at you, he gulps when he sees you reach for his face, pushing his glasses up so he sees better. Your touch is warm against his skin, but your smile is warmer, more welcoming than anything he’s ever seen.

Get a grip, he thinks to himself as he thanks you quietly, clearing his throat before he wraps his long fingers around the hot mug.

“Let’s take a walk, shall we?” He asks, glancing back at the workshop door quickly.

“What’s that?” You turn around and follow his gaze, pointing at the door hiding behind the trees.

“Oh, um, that…” he rubs the back of his neck nervously, “nothing, just an abandoned storeroom,” Aemond shrugs, the book in his hands falling to the ground as his palm grows clammy.

“Shit—“

“It’s okay, I’ve got it,” you crouch down to grab the book, smiling softly when you look up and find Aemond turning red with embarrassment, especially when you glance at the book in your hand, “No way.”

“Give me that, please—“ he tries to snatch it out of your hand, but you hold it behind your back, biting your lip to stop yourself from grinning, taking a sip from your coffee to hide your smile, “tell me why you are reading Maester Orwyle’s book of Philosophy!”

“To kill some time, now please—“ he sighs, gesturing to you to give him the book by his hand while the ghost of a smirk finds its way to his face, “Don’t be ridiculous and give me the book so we can both go back to the house.”

“Nope,” you take a step away from him and he matches your huge grin as he extends his hand again, “if you want it, you should come get it.”

“Come on,” Aemond groans, “I’m not the five-year-old kid who used to chase you around the house to steal one of your books!”

“I’m not saying you should chase me, but maybe say please a few more times then I’ll agree—no!” You squeal when he leans over and snatches the book out of your hands, his tall and lean frame making it impossible for you to hold it back anymore, “You’re no fun!”

“Someone has to be the adult of this friendship,” he says, securing the book under his arm as he walks ahead of you, turning around to look at you, pointing at the path in front of you with his head, “Come on.”

“Fine, fine!” You laugh, following him towards the path leading to the backyard and the Weirwood tree.

The sound of friendship left a bittersweet taste in his mouth, something he only felt when Alys would give him backhanded compliments, but he knows you, maybe even much better than he ever knew his ex-fiance, and with the talk you had a few days ago, he is left confused. Not by your actions no, but by your words; it is hard to find someone who’s had the same experience, especially with someone so understanding and willing to share them.

“Don’t sulk now, Little nerd,” you bump your shoulder to him, watching him take a long sip of his coffee, “tell me about the book, it mustn’t be the first time you’re reading it.”

“Of course not,” he sighs and continues, “he was a friend of my grandfather, no one knows what happened to their friendship after this book was written, but apparently all the answers are in this—“

“You can’t be reading this giant hard-to-swallow book just because you wanna know about your grandpa's failed friendship,” you wiggle your eyebrows at him, “come on, tell me the truth!”

“No,” he gives you a pointed look, “this is the truth.”

“Alright,” you smile at him, not wanting to pressure him if he truly doesn’t wish to explain it, walking side by side with him until the trees are behind you except the Weirwood tree that looks so beautiful under the morning sunlight.

“The coffee is perfect…” he hums in delight as he glances at you, holding the mug in one hand with his arm keeping the book rightly against his body while he puts his right hand on the small of your back, walking slowly to your right side to be able to look at you more comfortably.

“My goodness, Aemond, I’m so sorry I didn’t realize—“ you try to apologize but he cuts you off with a slow shake of his head.

“It’s okay, don’t fret about it,” he rubs circles on your waist as you walk towards the house, the sunshine casting a glow on your face, and he fights off a smile when he sees how your eyes shine, “how did you find out I like my coffee with three sugars?”

“You’re not too hard to read,” you chuckle a little leaning to his side as he keeps his palm secured on your waist, “I observe people, mostly my friends and I wanted to make sure you were alright after everything, so I kept a close eye on you. Turns out you have a horrible sweet tooth!”

“You haven’t seen the worst of it yet,” he teases you, finishing his coffee in a sip, “Hel and I used to bake together, a silly hobby she took when Viserys and Mum separated. It was only simple cakes and bread but you know me, I can’t settle for less than perfection.”

“So you started to get better and better.”

“Yeah, it turns out Hel & I would make an excellent team, many of the birthday cakes were on us,” he explains, handing you the book so you’d hold it for him so he can open the door for you when you reach the building, “if you’re lucky, you’ll get a special birthday cake from me one day.”

“Stop being so talented—oh, fuck—“ you yell in shock when Vhagar runs past the two of you, knocking to your legs, making you lose your grip on your coffee and having it spill on Aemond’s book.

“I’m so sorry, fuck, I should have finished it first…” your voice grows quieter as you open the drenched book, reading the first page’s note, “Is this…?”

“Yeah,” he nods, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully, “it’s yours.”

“No wonder I was looking for it when I got back home after another vacation spent here,” you laugh, tracing your finger over the blue note, “I caught you reading it in your old stable. Why would you go there to read?” It was full of horseshit, yet you seemed to like it.”

“Well, it was the only place no one seemed to want to spend any time there. Best place to read the book I stole from you,” he follows you inside the building to the kitchen to leave your cups there, “besides, you’d find me and discuss the book anyway, maybe I wanted you to find me.”

“You seem to enjoy that, don’t you? Me always finding you?” You ask him after you put the book on the kitchen island, turning around to look at him.

It seems like he has caged you with his body, he is standing close, probably closer than he should but not too much to deem it inappropriate for friends, and when you look up at him, he is sure the distance between the two of you has decreased considerably — physically and mentally.

“I like the idea,” he whispers, his good eye never leaving your face as you stare at each other before he clears his throat and pulls away a bit, giving you an awkward smile, “I think Hel and others are in the TV room.”

You nod hesitantly, moving past him towards the other room, leaving him alone in the kitchen. He sighs shakily, swallowing the lump in his throat before he decides to join you after he puts his cup away.

When he enters the room he finds you leaning on the back of the coach and Helaena is curled up on your side with Dreamfyre resting her head on Hel’s calves. His brothers are playing yet another round of Mortal Kombat — which he is sure Aegon insisted on. He looks around for Vhagar, and when he can’t find her, he assumes she must be in the library, taking her morning nap.

“Morning.”

“Hey, Aemy!” Aegon greets him, “We thought you were kidnapped when you didn’t join us for breakfast.” “Fuck off, I don’t have the patience to deal with you today,” Aemond grumbles, throwing his head back, and closing his eye before he is hit by a cushion, followed by a loud snort and soft giggles from you and Helaena, “What the fuck was the for?”

“You need to have patience! This is our summer, we will be annoying you until you give up this crappy attitude and enjoy your time with us here! Who knows when we’ll gather together like this again! You live here now with Daeron and Mum, I live in Oldtown, She,” Helaena points at you, “lives in Rosby, and Aegon… well he floats around the country.”

“I have a home, you little bitch—” “Doesn’t seem like it when you constantly show up at our places,” you say, earning a loud gasp from Aegon before he pouts and rolls his eyes at you, turning around towards Daeron with a glare when he laughs at him before he says ‘I’m gonna kick your ass’ and they start playing again.

“You know what we should do this week?” Helaena asks suddenly, sitting up with glee, “Aegon should throw one of his infamous parties! That way not only our dear brother will get better and forget about everything even for a few hours, but we get to have some fucking fun!”

“I thought you didn’t like parties,” Daeron pauses the game, turning around to give his sister a pointed look. Aemond does the same, but instead, he glances at you and finds you already looking at him, giving him a tight-lipped awkward smile before the two of you look away from each other and focus on Helaena.

“I do! But that doesn’t mean I loathe them, besides, Aegon’s parties are fun, they are not like Mum’s when we have to sit in awfully formal clothes, sipping on champagne like high-class ladies.”

“I hate to break it to you, babe, but you are a high-class lady,” you say, earning a nod from everyone in the room.

“That’s not my point,” she groans, chuckling when you side-eye her, “I just wanna have fun, and Aegon is fun—” “Did you hear that, pirate?” Aegon points at Aemond, laughing when he is met with a glare from his younger brother, “She thinks I’m fun, not you, me!”

“Don’t make her change her mind,” Aemond sighs, sneering at his older brother. “Aemond is fun, mind you,” you defend him, giving Aegon a pointed look which makes Daeron laugh out loud, “You are just too chaotic to understand him.” “And you do?” Aegon scoffs, and Aemond senses something is going to happen, that his brother can’t simply keep his large mouth shut, “his fiance didn’t find him fun—” “Jeez, Aegon!” Daeron yells, face twisted in disbelief.

“What is your fucking problem?” you ask him, scoffing at Aegon’s scared look, “You are always mean to him.” “I am not!” “Shut the fuck up I’m talking,” Aemond looks at you, surprised by your outburst, “he needs your support more than ever, his face and his life are now all over the fucking internet! Have you considered how hurt he must be? Of course, you haven’t because you don’t think. He doesn’t need to be reminded of what happened constantly when he is trying his best to move on!”

“I—” Aegon can’t say anything as he looks at you like you have grown another head.

Aemond is as equally shocked as others, he fights off a huge smile as he watches you defend him, his lips parted in surprise, jaw on the floor while you talk and put Aegon in his place.

“Morning my loves,” Alicent comes to the rescue, looking around the room to find Helaena and Aemond looking at you with a pleased smile while Aegon shrinks under your gaze and Daeron nearly falls on the floor with how hard he’s laughing, “What’s going on here?” “I thought maybe I could throw a party!” Aegon speaks, avoiding your gaze as he looks at his mum, “A month has passed from summer and I have yet to throw one of my infamous spontaneous parties!” “Alright, but you know—” “I know, I know! In the guest wing, no drugs, no strippers—” “You brought strippers to your parties?” Aemond asks, giving Aegon a disapproving look who in return only smirks and wiggles his eyebrows at him.

“Did you forget your insanely cool bachelor party? Did you think I brought random girls to give you a lap dance—” “Okay enough!” Alicent laughs awkwardly, “There are better times to discuss these matters! I have more important things to tell you.” “Like what?” Daeron asks.

“New Gossip Girls season dropped?” Aegon looks at you shrugging when you snort at his question.

“Be serious for a fucking second please,” Aemond warns his brother before he looks at Alicent softly, “What’s wrong?” “Nothing, nothing! In fact, I kind of have a surprise for all of you. Not a huge surprise but I wanted to take you somewhere,” she explains, stroking her neck in nervousness.

“Where do you wanna take us, Mum? Hopefully nowhere near Father,” Hel says, making everyone sigh in relief when Alicent shakes his head.

“No, of course not!” she scoffs as if even the idea of seeing her ex-husband disgusted her — and it did — she continued, “Do you remember when I told you I had put the winery under a reconstruction? And specifically told you to not go there?”

“No?” Daeron answers, confused as he tries to remember when Alicent told them to not go there, “I doubt you did, Mum.”

“You have a winery?” you ask, a joyful smile comes on your face when Hel nods excitedly.

“Not just a winery but a vineyard!” “Oh, wow! I had no idea!” “Well, it’s your lucky day because now it’s useable again!” Alicent matches your enthusiasm, “Also, this is not just to show you the vineyard, but…” she looks at Aemond, “It’s Aemond’s birthday too!” “It’s not,” he replies, glancing at you quickly, “It’s in a few weeks.”

“Well it doesn’t matter because I am going to throw a party for you, and for that, we need to have a winetasting session and choose a few bottles for that occasion!”

“Mum, there is no need—” “Do shut up, asshole,” Aegon teases him, “what do you mean there is no need? Those are gonna be for your birthday, and also, I don’t have to drink in secret!” “I’m afraid I agree with Aegon,” Hel says, you and Daeron nod in encouragement, and Aemond has no choice but to also agree and surrounder, but it’ll be worth it, he thinks, because the way your eyes light up at the idea of visiting their vineyard makes his heart beat faster.

“Alright then” Alicent claps, shooing you all out of the TV room, “Wear something cool, I don’t want you to get sick under this god-awful heat.”

••••••••••

You and Hel put on your sundresses and you help her apply sunscreen on the back of her neck, covering her pale skin so she won’t burn under the awfully hot sun. The weather is exceptionally warm today and you regret agreeing to go to the vineyard without cars as soon as you step outside.

Aemond and Aegon are already there, smoking together as they wait for you and Hel to reach them. Aemond sends an endearing smile your way when he spots you, taking in the sight of you; you look beautiful, with your smile and the baby blue sundress you are wearing.

“Alright, ladies! Choose your gentleman— hey! At least let me finish,” Aegon whines when you loop your arm with Aemond, making a gagging sound when Aemond rests his palm on top of yours, “Ew, get a fucking room. Come on, Hel, we’re cooler than them.”

You chuckle when Aegon throws his arm around Helaena’s shoulders, taking the lead towards the vineyard not before he gives you a middle finger.

“Asshole,” you mutter, leaning your head on Aemond’s arm as you walk side by side, “since when did you guys have a vineyard? I’ve been Helaena’s friend for years and not once did she mention anything about it.”

“It was Viserys’ vineyard, everything belonged to him, but after Mum filed for divorce and the evidence she had against him, he gave it all away,” he explains, his thumb caressing your knuckles, “I’m glad though, Mum deserves this. I mean we weren’t in need of a huge house in King’s Landing, Old Town was enough for us anyway, but after what he put her through, she really deserved it.”

“Alicent is strong, I’m not sure if I could handle such a mind wrecking thing,” you sigh, squeezing his arm as you smile at the memories you wish to tell him, “I remember when your parents were getting divorced, Helaena would spend days with me at my Grandparents’ country house, she’d bring Dreamfyre too. It felt like an eternity when we were together.”

“Hel has that effect, time doesn’t pass with her,” He agrees, both of you waving when Helaena looks back and blows you a kiss, “I feel like that with you too, maybe because we have shared interests.”

“You’re lucky,” you reply softly, bumping your shoulder to his, “because I feel the same. Every talk we have had since we were kids till now is a core memory of mine. Yeah, Hel will always be my favorite, my best friend, but you are different from everyone I’ve met, you mean so much to me.”

“You’re a dear friend or at least a dear friend to my sister,” he laughs a little, “I remember those days though, it was just me and Daeron in this huge house. Aegon was somewhere probably fucking and drinking and doing drugs while I had to take care of Daeron. He was too young to understand anything.”

“I wish things were different…”

“I don’t,” you look at him, confused and intrigued, “Maybe my eye, yes, but… I’m glad he is no longer a part of our lives, I could care less if he drops dead tomorrow, I’m happy he is no longer here to pester us about Rhaenyra or anyone.”

As soon as you try to answer him, a huge truck goes past you at a fast pace, and in an instant, Aemond wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you to his side, keeping you close to his body as he steps between you and the road.

You pant, hands fisting the front of his shirt in terror as you try to regain your breathing. Aemond looks down at you, his fingers keeping you tightly against him as his other hand reaches to caress your cheek.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you nod, resting your forehead on his chest as he embraces you, “Yeah, I think I am.”

“We’re here, come on,” he finds Aegon and Hel already waiting for you, and gestures for you to follow them inside, “are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, Little nerd, I’m fine,” you reach and squeeze his hand, holding it as you walk through the entrance of the winery, finding Alicent, Daeron, and Cole already there.

“We’ll start with the winery!” Alicent announces, walking ahead of everyone with Criston on her side, “I’ve asked Qoren Martell to send us a very professional wine taster from Dorne to help us choose, and… here he is!”

“A pleasure to finally meet you, Ms. Hightower,” the old man nods at Alicent, shaking her hand gracefully, “I’ve been told you produce different wines here.”

You let go of Aemond and meet Helaena midway as she takes your hand and walks with you behind her Mum and Cole, pointing at different parts of the winery. At first, you see the huge Grape-filled bowls getting crushed, the noises are loud but the fruits look so juicy and sweet.

“This is incredible!” You tell Hel as the group walks toward the next room, watching in awe how huge these oak barrels are. There are probably hundreds of them, with one glass under each so if someone wants to taste the wine straight from the barrels would have easy access.

Helaena pulls you to the next room, not just you but the Targaryen siblings are shocked as well.

“You genius,” Aegon calls his mother, “This is insane!” “I have to agree,” Aemond looks around with his hands in the pocket of his shorts as he walks toward you and Helaena, “Our previous wine cellar was so little it barely fit two people in it. This is…” “Gorgeous,” you finish his sentence and take a good look at the wine cellar; the room is rounded, the walls are curved and the temperature is low to keep the bottles cold. The shelves start from the ground to the ceiling, all of them filled to the brim with different wines in each specific section,

“It’s amazing, right?” Alicent asks, looking at her handiwork excitedly.

“You’re amazing…” It came out as a really really hushed whisper, but you and Aemond heard it correctly, Cole did say that.

You press your lips to contain your laugh when your eyes meet Aemond’s, finding him shaking his head as he reaches to rub over the huge round dining table in the middle of the room, smoothing his palm over the surface of the wood.

“Shall we start?” Alicent asks, and when you all say yes, she tells the older man to bring the bottles one by one.

You take a seat with Hel and Aemond on your sides at the table, waiting for the old Dornish man to bring the bottles. You see two other men bring a few plates filled with different cheeses and bread rolls.

“When will we see the vineyard?” You ask the siblings, pouting when Aemond chuckles at you, “Hey! Not everyone grew up with tons of money.”

“I’m not making fun of you if that’s what you’re thinking,” he replies, reaching to play with the rim of his glass, his white shirt stretching against his biceps, “your eagerness is cute.”

“Oh, fuck off!” You hide your face in your hands, laughing when Hel reaches to stroke your back, “Fine, but you need to take me there as soon as we’re done here.”

“Whatever you want,” he says, and all of you watch as Cole and the old man bring four bottles; Cabernet Sauvignon, Dornish Red, Rosè, and Chardonnay.

“Bring it on, old man,” Aegon whistles, plopping down on the chair next to the head of the table, bowing his head dramatically when Alicent sits.

You start with the Dornish Red and observe all of the siblings closely; Helaena sips gently and takes a piece of cheese immediately, Daeron and Alicent go on the exact same pace while humming at the same time, Aegon chugs the entire liquid and doesn’t let interest even for a second but Aemond… well you have only seen this move in social media but to see his slim and elegant fingers wrapped around the thin glass as he first looks at the color of the wine then swirls the liquid around before taking a whiff of the smell and after that a sip that follows with a deep rumbling from his chest.

You look away as soon as you sense he might turn around and catch you red-handed, taking a long sip of your glass before coughing at the too-sour taste of it.

“Not your favorite, huh?” Hel asks, handing you a piece of bread.

“Absolutely not,” you clear your throat before shooting Aemond a glare when he chuckles at you, “What?”

“Nothing,” he shrugs, “Come on, let's taste the next one.”

The next one is the white wine, it tastes much better than the Dornish Red, less sour but the bitterness of it is intolerable — you are by no means new to drinking alcohol, but wine has always been a tricky drink for you. You go through the third bottle as well, but again, it doesn’t taste excellent, until Aemond opens the Rosè, his arm bulging as he pulls up the corkscrew, making a delicious sound of ‘pop’.

“Here you go!” Alicent says as she brings a huge plate of lime and Tangerines to the table to cleanse your pallets before you have the next drink.

“How did you find Tangerines in the summer?” You ask excitedly, side eyeing Aemond as he pours the wine in your glasses before he sits down and grabs the Tangerine from you.

“Not easy to find, but you can trust Criston with these things,” she looks at Cole who’s standing in the door frame with a glass of Dornish Red. How typical.

“What are you doing?” You ask Aemond before you take a sip from your drink, humming in joy as you finally taste the most delicious Rosè you could have ever had.

“What does it look like? I’m peeling it for you,” he answers as if you have asked the most stupid question ever.

“Oh, okay, thank you,” you smile at him, completely dumbfounded by the amount of consideration he’s shown towards you today. You must look so bashful as you avert your eyes from him and stare into your glass, trying to stop the thoughts from flowing in your mind.

“Here,” he hands you the peeled Tangerine before he rises up from his seat and extends his hand to you, “come on, I promised you a tour and the vineyard looks so beautiful now.”

“Alright,” you put your hand in his, letting him pull you on your feet effortlessly, keeping you straight when you wobble a bit. You thank him shyly, reaching to grab your glass as well and leave the wine cellar.

“Why did the previous cellar not have enough room for all of you?” You ask suddenly, eating a piece of the Tangerine and offering him one as he leads you towards the staircase that reaches the vineyard.

“It was Viserys’, not ours,” he shrugs, “besides, Daeron and I were underage, we couldn’t drink—“

“This is… beautiful,” you exclaim the moment you step on the grass-covered path, the rows of Grenache trees have made a breathtaking sight, “how can you visit here so little? This is out of this world!”

“I’m glad you like it here,” Aemond smiles softly at you, watching as you slowly walk through the path, finishing your fruit before you reach and take one of the leaves between your fingers, slowly caressing it before taking a sip of your wine.

“It’s so dreamy, why didn’t you hold your wedding here?” You facepalm yourself, giving him an apologetic smile, “Sorry…”

“Sometimes people just… forget, and I think that’s what I want too, but… the wound is still fresh, I think about her more than I should,” he steps next to you, one hand in his pocket while the other swirls the rose wine in his glass, “besides, this place is too beautiful to waste it on someone like Alys, yeah, I loved her but…I was blinded by her sweet words.”

“I know, it’ll take a little while to get there, you know. Sometimes you feel unworthy, so ugly and bruised by everything but… it’ll get better.”

“It will, this place helps a bit, and I’m sure Aegon’s massive parties will be very helpful as well,” he grins at you.

“Yeah? Well, it definitely feels like a new beginning, right?” You ask him, taking a step away from him, biting your lip while smiling, keeping your eyes on him as he scoffs, “Which one will you choose for your birthday party, sir?”

“Which one did you like?” He asks and takes a step forward, finishing his glass. He hears his Mum calling you to go for lunch, but before you go, you answer him.

“The Rosè.”

#aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #house of the dragon #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #hotd aemond #prince aemond #🍊dreams

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yangcherie · 9 months

Text

mating season

𐀔 pairings: astarion x reader. karlach x reader. halsin x reader. background cast (wyll, shadowheart, lae’zel, gale) x reader. background rolan x tav.

𐀔 content warnings: tiefling!tav, LITERALLY PWP, alcoholic consumption, brief sexual memory (halsin), heavy petting, noncon to dubcon (with astarion only), slight slutshaming, oral (f!receiving), mentions of breeding, afab anatomy but g/n pronouns. astarion is very slightly, slighty mean, up to you if he is ascended or not.

𐀔 sypnosis: you, a tiefling, go through your first heat cycle around your companions. some are willing to either indulge you or take advantage of you.

𐀔 author’s note: hoppinh on the bandwagon of tieflings having heat / rut cycles. astarion, briefly halsin, ROLAN and karlach get some action, teehee. and don't worry. everyone is a pervert and thinks about it. everyone will get a chance. someday. merry christmas!!

The first thing everyone wakes up to is heat. Sweltering, palpable heat, pervading the air up to the point it felt like it was trying to smother them, casting annoying, relentless burnishes of perspiration on their skin.

It couldn’t be the sun, no. The warmth felt too close, within of reach – but even then, it was no lively and unextinguished campfire, no engine out of hand nestled within Karlach, Shadowheart concluded.

They’d all been taking turns the entire morning seeking cold relief in the stream. Thankfully, as the day prevailed, the sun was no longer so glaring, the heatwave lessening by a tad bit, the rest of the party excluding a certain Ravenguard had found it now bearable.

It wasn’t until Wyll was fed up with the sweat that would inevitably come no matter how much he wiped at it, marching towards where it felt most blistering, most fervent; the intense source.

It had led him to your tent — and without doubt, the demon believed the source was your tent; your fucking otherworldy furnace of a tent. Even as he stood from outside, the heat was practically choking him. He wouldn’t be surprised if he took a look inside and finds out you, little fiend you, stuffed the entire Nine Hells inside. And take a look inside he does, peeling away the entrance, a delirious but polite request to turn down the heat ready on his tongue —

But it isn’t the Nine Hells’ heat and musk that slaps him to his face, to his utter surprise.

It’s you; trembling, flushed raw and in all of your fiendish glory, naked. Tail loud and thumping on the floor as your whimpers permeate through the air, legs spread and — No!

Somewhere in the back of his horned head, he wonders if it’s the heat, the shock, or simply his building arousal that has rendered him stuck to his position. It takes Wyll all his strength he can muster to tear his eyes away; what was he doing? He was intruding on your tent— your privacy! How could he forget basic etiquette, so much for being a noble-!

(Without a doubt, he’s ruined his chance of any traditional courtship.)

“Sorry.” The Blade himself awkwardly coughs before pushing himself out of your tent with an inhuman force, slamming the fabric entrance shut and tripping on his own two feet on the way out. “It’s Tav!” He shouts, sprinting with little idea on where to; the heat is unbearable and by the gods, he isn’t so sure anymore if it was coming from your tent or if it was simply his body. His commotion with Tav gathers the attention and eyes of his fellow companions, and it is both Karlach and Shadowheart that push at him to settle him down.

“Hey, hey. Calm down, you!” Karlach, ever the concerned companion with her furrowed brows, assures him like steed. “Tav, you mentioned?” Shadowheart, upon quick confirmation that he was not injured, is quick to coax him for answers of his behavior. He’s a bit mortified as his little flustered fit had everyone around him.

“Tav, they’re– get this–” Wyll swallows, tense with the image of you squirming and dripping still on the front of his mind. “T-they’re hot.”

It’s a dreadful thing, he realizes later a split second more than he’d like, the silence that follows. Through the tadpole, they’ve seen what he’s seen; and judging from the atmosphere, they’re chalking it up to an active imagination. All but loud, with a lone cricket chirping in the distance. He shoots up to in an attempt to explain, but wordlessly splutters instead.

“So you’ve had your first wet dream, I take it?” Astarion scoffs, finding the dirt under his manicured nails more interesting than what the fiend had to say next. “Had an issue with morning wood, perhaps– or should I say, a hardened blade?”

“No!” Wyll refutes, now standing up with the help of Shadowheart. “I-I meant to say they’re hot, literally. They’re drenched with sweat, lookin’ like they’re about to keel over. You saw it, in my head, what they looked like!”

“Ah, yes.” The vampire recalled that vision. Though brief and concerning, yes, it was also undeniably delectable. What he wouldn’t give to have seen you writhing with want up close. But still, he slips his desperation behind a theatric mask. “Like a mutt in heat, how hilarious.”

“In heat.” Karlach had repeated Astarion’s words and bristled, her muscles twitching once but violently enough that it had them staring at her like they had been with Wyll. The look on her face tells everyone she’s had her eureka moment, a light flickering beside her head. “Tav is in heat. Of course they are; it’s breeding season!” She guffaws then, disregarding the disbelief of the party — save for Halsin, who simply nodded.

“So what you’re saying is we have a feral, unspayed animal amongst us for the time being?” Lae’zel grunted, though she certainly did not mind if the blush on her face was anything to go by.

“Mating season is upon most of the forest.” The druid responded, crossing his thick arms, ever the calm elf. “Given the... more animalistic features of some cambions, it is not entirely unreasonable. Given the intensity, it must be their first heat since you’ve all been on this journey.” The party gapes; Karlach nods, and though she does not mention it, she’s mildly disappointed your heat had not aligned with her rut.

“So, what you’re both saying is that they need to breed – or be bred?” Though the vampiric rogue balked, he was unable to deny the inkling of lust that washed through him at the idea. You, and your all proud visage crumbling into one of a desperate, slut of a fiend.

“Well, when you put it in such a frank and vulgar manner...” Gale coughs, flushed, Astarion notices, inwardly grimacing. The wizard’s never been discreet about liking your musk – and today, it is especially honeyed and heavy around the campsite. “Yes.”

And that’s when it hits the rogue, the shared tension and ignited lust in everyone – not just Gale. It’s a slow and heavy shift, like puffs of smoke. The current of lust in the air runs deeper when a small, inviting moan permeates from your tent. The sounds of heavy breaths and trousers shifting from around the party, it all goes unobserved to any eye that doesn’t belong to an experienced rogue.

Still, the rest would’ve been fools to think only one or two of them would be intrigued, he thought. It was with a silent agreement amongst them that by the end of this week, you’d be thoroughly savoured.

The first thing you wake up to is a dull ache across the expanse of your stomach, and a pool of your own arousal drenching the bedroll between your legs. Your bed-kissed face tightens, glaring down at the growing tension in your belly. A groan is torn out of your dehydrated throat – and if the obvious lack of sun on your tent was anything to go by, you’ve slept through nearly the entire day.

Fuck, what was going on? Distoriented, you attempt to sit up only for the dull ache to morph into heated convulsions that immediately spread like wildfire around your weakened body. It was then that you realized that to your utter horror, you were burning hot, to the Nines and beyond — as if you were forcefully thrown into an early heat.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. No. The edges around your vision blackened for a split second before you violently lurched yourself out of your too-warm, too-cramped tent, slamming your palms and knees into the dirt ground and digging your nails in, your mouth open to welcome the hot pants stuck in your dry throat.

You spat out a vicious string of Infernal curses, your focus blurring in and out of itself. You shut your mouth, biting your lip to keep in whimpers, sweat trickling down from your forehead as your mind fought in vain against the primal urges now closing in on it; the feral ache for relief deeming itself more important than reason.

Relief. Fuck, it sounded good right now. You hissed, your mental resolve crumbling, tail furiously lashing against the dirt. Relief. Your eyes darted around the camp anything that could relieve the heat in your loins; Shadowheart and her healing hands or a cool river stream to let the water wash over you, but fuck, you needed real relief. A body you could sink your teeth into and ride until the next morning – preferably Karlach, or Halsin–!

Thick, strong Halsin.

“You feel good, little one.” Halsin quietly groaned up from above you, touching you as if he’s been longing to.

He moves inside you; thick cock bruising your insides. Every open-mouthed gasp and hurt or pleasured cry was eagerly welcomed into his own mouth with wet kisses. He was unrelenting, but kind. Full of sinew your hands could run across or scratch in slight distaste if the fat tip of his length pressed a sensitive spot deeper than you’d have liked. And without fail, he had laughed everytime, gentle and light, even if his deep thrusts into your spent hole were anything but.

He must have been trying to burrow in you with how deep he was inside, letting you raggedly cry into the slope of his neck meeting the thickness of his shoulder. Halsin set out to plant an apologetic kiss into the crook of yours, fucking you deep until you fluttered around him, dragging him to his peak alongside you.

No, you winced, tearing your eyes open and your mind out of its lust-ridden gutter, the burn inside you relentless. No Halsin nor Karlach, not a single soul that could provide you relief to be found around camp — and damn them all, you were in no state to be crawling around searching for even the slightest whiff of their scent in gods know where.

Relief.

Yet another infuriating wave of heat rolled through you, forcing you to clench your hands and drive dirt beneath your nails. What remained of your rationality sought out to the crevices of your memories, ones that weren’t flooded of nightly trysts with the druid elf or — Rolan.

Relief – Rolan. A drop of your drool hitting the ground; Rolan with his horns you could grip and sharp teeth that could sink into your shoulder. No doubt warmly cooped up in Ramazith’s Tower, signing trades or shoving his nose in dusty books. He’d do, for tonight – he’d understand, indulge you and lift you from the unbearable heat clouding your head. He wouldn’t mind, you know it, because you’d be a blind fool to not see the way his eyes would fondly trail over your face, or the dips in your body.

He wants you, and for tonight, you will do him a favor and want him back.

You urge your trembling body to stand up and begin the treacherous trek from camp to the Gate’s city.

It was only the next night, moon high, that you sauntered into camp instead of out your tent, sporting a relieved glow, a fresh set of bites around your throat, a heavy limp, and of course, the hands of a flushed Rolan around your waist.

Your ragtag party watched from their campfire logs, a petty and envious air about them whilst the winsome smile on your face turned into an airy laugh as Rolan tenderly cupped your jaw with his hands, whispering something that had you curling your tails together. You shook your head and sweetly pecked his cheek as he nodded and bumped your horns together like lovers as a bid goodbye before stepping back to part ways.

“Well?” Karlach greeted with an amiable smile as you joined the group’s circle, having been worriedly sniffing around and asking for you the entirety of the morning; your scent lingering faintly around the air but with no continued path as to exactly where you were. She knew firsthand the extent of pain and delirium heats could bring, and god forbid you had fallen in the wrong hands.

(And thankfully, you hadn’t. She was simply glad you found someone trustworthy to mingle with instead of being alone.)

You scooched near her with a charmingly teasing grin, matching her liveliness, turning a blind eye to the tension in the air. “Well, what?” And before the red-skin tiefling could play banter with you, a certain rogue had pettily overtook the conversation.

“Well, did you enjoy your little fling?” Astarion dryly teased, a goblet of wine in his spindly hands and a sardonic smile on his face. He let the wine swivel for a moment. “Enjoyed playing charity, whoring yourself out?”

Karlach quietly called out his name in a disappointed manner, either to scold or deter him from what next he could say.

“What can I say?” You entertain his snark, peeking around the campfire logs for a bottle of blingdenstone blush wine; grabbing ahold of ot and pouring yourself a goblet. Taking a gracious swig, you allow the fruity taste to melt on your tongue. “My company is sought after.”

“Sought after? You amuse me,” The pale elf laughs, dry in a manner that has you eyeing him, his hand tightening around the rusted goblet whilst you set down yours. “Are you sure?” He asks, glaring. “I’d say it’s desperation, on your side of the coin – you’d spread your legs to anyone asking politely, darling.”

You scrunch your nose at that, the warmth and flavor of the wine turning cold and bitter in your throat.

The silence is almost hostile around the campfire – the crackling of it serving to make it less awkward. “Take that damn wine out his hands,” you hear Wyll whisper to a reading Gale and a Lae’zel sharpening her dagger – but both the wizard and githyanki don faces that tell you they aren’t approving of your escapade either. You allow your eyes a brief roam around all their faces; finding it tightened in displeasure.

You don’t feel so well, all of a sudden. Some part inside you chalks it up to the wine.

Save for Karlach who was nudging you with her tail, pleading you from the corner of her eye; asking you to back down from Astarion. Considering it was an option until he opened his mouth once again, his breath smelling of merlot wine. “You’re missing out, you know.” He hisses when you raise him a brow.

“These flings you have,” he eyes around the party, making sure to pointedly look at Halsin for a second longer. You’re half-sure he’d vex Rolan if he was here. Slurring, he pauses again to savor another sip from his wine. “They can’t give you something real.” Your eyes meet his, hesitant, reading the unsaid but he can in them.

“You...” You’re not sure if it’s a trick of the light, the fire shedding a hopeful glint in his eyes for a split second at your tender tone of voice, face softening at the way you curl in yourself. “You’re drinking too much.” And just as quickly as it came, it left.

Something heavy twists in your gut; and you can’t quite decide if it’s from the wine, the second wave of your heat, or distress. Silently pushing yourself off the log, you might as well to take that soak in the river that you’d been dying for.

(You’re not very surprised to feel the many eyes piercing through you.)

Shortly after you left the circle, Karlach had followed you, indiscreet. It’s a game of chase, really – and she’s hot on your tail but you just keep evading her when she thinks she’s got you, a hairsbreadth away from her hands. The way your shoulders tremble with little laughs from your lips are not missed by her, and if she were any closer she’d chase it with her own.

(She smiles, not seen through the dark mouth of the night. Was it her presence or the alcohol that has made you soft?)

It’s not a long trek to the lake by any means, the path obscured by dense foliage she’d occasionally lose you in. Within moments, she’s at the edge of the water with the gravel crushing beneath her boots, overtaking the slow stream of water you’re delicately undressing by. Her longing gaze lingers on the slope of your jaw, the fullness of your lips and the fresh, deep indents of teeth along your shoulder. She’s unsure of whether it’s from Astarion’s feeding or Rolan.

It’s only when you’re fully bare that you turn to face her, that same plush smile that’s melted the hearts of hundreds.

“Are you joining me?” The sweet lilt of your voice makes the gears stop turning in Karlach’s nodding head, her body moving before her mind to start peeling away at her own clothes at the appealing invitation; wading into the water with you as soon as she’s done. A snort is pulled from her when you playfully splash at her with your tail when you hear her behind you.

“Don’t play a game you can’t win, you little...” Karlach jovially returns the splash, inwardly rejoicing at your giggle; this little, shared intimacy is nothing new, but it makes her heart lurch all the same. What she wouldn’t give to have more time with you.

By the gods, she could never get enough of that you and your joy. Some selfish, unbidden part of her hopes you’ll take her up on Wyll’s offer on the path to Avernus, for the sole reason to see it just a little longer.

She shifts around for a topic to hear your voice a little more, “How is your heat coming along?” The smile on your face falters slightly at her choice of inquiry – but you relax instantly. She’s one of your dearest friends, concern is her second nature.

“When is it never dreadful?” You shrug, casual though your words ring true. An unmated tiefling’s pain during a rut or heat was nothing short of agonizing. She watches the nervous swallow bob in your throat. “But I had a little bit of help- from Rolan.”

“Ah, the new master of the tower, was it?” You nod at her, and it comes to you once again that Karlach was no jealous woman. She was glad you had your fill of enjoyment. “He looks smitten with you; are you courting him?”

“Huh?” Your tail whacks against the relaxed surface of water in disbelief, a flush festering on your disgruntled face. “It’s more like the other way around, he bumped his horns to mine earlier.”

Karlach guffaws at your distress, tearing up with her joy until her breath catches on a sweet aroma. She squints, cautiously sniffing the air, once, twice – and she looks to you, pursing her lips when she realizes it isn’t the fragrances you’re washing over yourself; it’s just you, or rather, the second wave to your heat. She hopes the hunger welling in her isn’t clear in her eyes.

You smell really good, she thinks as she chews on the inside of her cheek, staring at the dip of your back as your turn around. And you’re a really good friend, too good, maybe. She feels what she’s about to do isn’t very good.

Karlach doesn’t know what compels her to do what she does but she follows like it’s law; catching your wrist in her hand, capturing your jaw in her other and kissing you tender, swallowing the gasp that comes out.

It’s only when the air starts to feel thick with your heat and her lust that she pulls away, a string of spit following you both – and she’s already pulling away, horror welling up in her eyes but before she can grovel with apologies, you’re reeling her right back to your spit-slick lips with a moan so utterly full of want it has her pulling you closer.

“I can help you,” she murmurs against your taste before pulling away, your want reassuring her she’s got nothing to be sorry for. Your heaving breasts press against her face when she dips half of herself in the water to wrap her arms around your legs. She pleads. “Let me help you. Please.”

Karlach carries you with her muscled arms and settles you on the edge of a rock, softly parting your legs for you and making herself a warm home between them. The way she looks up at you gives you a bashful knot in your stomach.

“Do you want this?” She swallows thick, as if to wash away the heavy weight of her need, eyes situating her hands on your hips with a trembling but still dominant grip. “Use your words.”

You nod, frantic. Breathy pants now visible in the hot air. “I do,” your tongue feels weak when you speak, looking at her with dazed eyes. “P-please, I- I want it, Kar.”

It’s all the push she needs to lick a stripe up your slit, rendering you still when she wraps her lips around your clit and sucks. It drags a heavy moan out of you and it’s nothing but music to her ears. She hopes it’s the sound that greets her in the afterlife instead of angels with their harps or trumpets.

“Ahah,” Karlach pants, hot against your clit, and you look down to see your slick running down her chin, her tail pulling you closer by your calf while yours whips around. “You taste so fucking good.” She murmurs against you, sending an arrow of pleasure straight through your trembling spine that makes her dive right back in, tracing your fluttering hole.

She tongues inside your hole, moaning when it tightens around her, fucking and writhing it around in response.

If the heat wasn’t so heavy, you’d think she was tracing her name on your cunt. You huff, rocking your hips into her face as much as you can with her hands firmly clasped around your hips. Your hands find themselves around her horns and they gently pull her head closer to you, riding her face as if to help brace you for the knot snapping in your stomach.

Karlach takes a moment to pause, smiling with your heady flavor on her lips, chuckling against your core. “So needy.”

You don’t last long, not with her smile and teeth and tongue around your folds, no, and it’s a blind rush of time and hot white when your thighs tremble around her head, mouth dropping open in a silent scream.

“Karlach...!” You cry her name, cumming and convulsing around her tongue with open-mouthed moans. Her grip on you tightens, an Infernal curse leaving her as your slick taste floods her mouth. Her hands run over you, the small of your back, your hips and then to your ass, gripping the fat of it to keep you still while she laps at what little you have left to give; only giving in when you whimper and try to kick her away.

(In the rational crevices of your head, you’d hate to prove Astarion right about being a whore but fuck, does she make you feel good.)

It’s soft silence that fills the air, after you both cease your panting. You stare at the stars, head foggy with the orgasm that racked your body, humming when Karlach gently sets you in her arms again to wash your arousal away in the water while your head contentedly lies against her shoulder.

“Let’s get you to your bed, hm?” She coos, bumping her horns against yours – only letting you go to stand up again when she finishes washing and drying you, allowing you to clothe yourself. Time is a blur then, as you spend it aided to walk by her warm arms, staring at the intricate maze of foliage you’re surrounded about.

You’re snapped out your limping daze when you look around to see the foliage isn’t dark anymore, lit around by hues of oranges from a familiar campfire. Karlach grins, closed-eye as she squeezes you and kisses you warmly before nudging you towards the direction of your tent, quaintly lit up by a candlelight lamp you set inside earlier.

“Go inside,” she coaxes you, all-kind. It’s a certain emptiness you feel when you peel yourself away from her warmth with a whine that has her chuckling and pressing her lips against yours again. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

You do as she says, stumbling inside your tent and falling with a thud to your soft bed – but not without curling your lips into a loving smile, savoring the memory of her. It’s the last thing you see before you succumb to the hands of rest.

Fuck.

It’s the middle of the night when you’re next startled awake.

And it’s no surprise when you wake up to yet another surge of dull aching and your own arousal just starting to drip out of you. You waste little time; stumbling like a fawn out your tent, movements laden with the remnants of sleep –

You’re halfway out when your face slams against a body; lithe and cold, and in your sleep-ridden state, you could be convinced you just bumped into a slab of ice draped in flesh. But you urge your heavy lids to open up, to see the man, well, vampire you’d bickered with earlier, staring down at you from the very opening.

“Astarion,” you state, bleary-eyed and fisting your nightshirt closer; the fleece of it grounding you under his piercing gaze. Your heart is beating quick; a brief thought hopes it stays beating, and you will it away. You have half the mind to ask what he’s doing in front of your tent, but you have no time. The air is thick. The heat inside you is boiling. You need relief – Rolan.

“I...” Your words crawl in your throat, the line of your brows furrowing when you feel the familiar pinpricks of your heat pressing into you. “Please, move. I have somewhere to be.”

You almost feel small under the depth of his gaze; everything about him reeks of fury mingling with need.

“Off to find another bed to warm, I assume?” Astarion hisses with the slightest slur, the breath which he speaks out carrying the scent of fine wine – the air around him dangerous. Starving. He moves closer, and you, in all your confusion, slowly crawl back into your tent, unsure on what to fight first; the heat that consumes you or the danger you feel is about to overtake you.

“Astarion,” you mumble, this time with a bleat to your voice and your eyes wide like the lamb to be drained and slaughtered you feel you are. The air is heady; laden with fear and need thick like honey. Everything around you is too much. Where is Rolan? Karlach?

A hand tightens around your ankle, refusing to let go even as you yelp and watch Astarion force his way inside your cramped tent and crawls himself between your legs to nestle his face in the crook of your neck.

“No, no,” You whisper to him, shifting under him in a panic when you feel his familiar lips on your neck. “I’m sorry but you cannot feed from me tonight, Astarion. I need to leave, now.”

“I’m not here to drain you dry, silly.” Astarion’s voice is husky, breathy. It has you clenching your thighs around his hips; his hands clasp around yours in return. “Though, I am starving, I have something else in store for little you.” You grit in discomfort, the unease and desire a blend that you feel entirely drunk on.

(He would never admit it but that tender pit of terror in you has him salivating.)

“Leave...!” You hiss. He chuckles at that; the sound velvet-rich and grating, and does exactly the contrary – pushing himself closer to you until you’re chest-to-chest. You hate that you cannot see him tucked away to your neck. It does not help he is close to your raw, still-sensitive core; you have nothing on save for a long, flowy poet’s shirt thanks to a certain crimson tiefling.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. I can’t have you running off to somebody else.”

It’s then that you feel it; the press of a cruel, toothy smile against your throat and something of leather, something of warmth digging into the meat of your thigh. He is not here to drain you out of his anger, rather, he’s here to devour you, prey on you. You fear you’ve catched on belatedly.

“Mfh. I don’t want–” Your late, futile resistance is met with a finger to your lips, flushed thighs being pushed further apart as his hips slot between yours. Somewhere in the back of your muddled mind, you hear yourself keen with delight at the friction before he hushes you.

“You’re right, you don’t want it.” Astarion croons, watching as you writhe your hips against his for friction, as your bare cunt instictively grinds against the hot imprint of his still-clothed cock even as your head grasps for even a thread of coherence. “You need it, need this - need me.”

Your body does not deny his claim, arching your hips to meet his grinding, swollen folds clinging to his leather trousers – the pit in your stomach and the crawl up your spine indistinguishable between dread and ecstasy. The line of reason and morals are once again blurred in your head.

You curse yourself for having indulged in the alcoholic delicacy earlier. He’s emboldened by the wine; you’re weakened by it. The finger on your lips slip inside your mouth, firm on your tongue. You gag on it when his other hand clasped on your hip reaches down in between your legs and feels around for your, unsurprisingly, dripping vulva, the both of you gasping in delight.

“You’re soaked. What a fine surprise!” He chuckles, continuing to buck his clothed erection into your heat, petting your hair when you moan around his fingers. “I hope it’s because of me and not just your little heat.”

Your body is transparent, visceral with him, loyal to the promise of pleasure he can give you – even if your mind, what is left of your rationality indignantly fights tooth and nail to convince your body to stop giving in to animalistic pleasure.

It’s not long then, until Astarion becomes impatient, always having been; unlacing the ties on his trousers with one skilled hand and leaning over you to toss it off – it’s all too quick for your swarmed mind to catch up to, and the next thing you see and know is that you’re hissing through your teeth and thrashing while he pushes the burning head of his cock into you, hushing you as if you were a distressed animal. Your muscles tense, jerking away, a feeble little no on your lips—

But it’s an easy intrusion, a quick thrust into you is all it takes to bury himself deep with the help of your slick and his pre. He groans as, eyes rolling back as yours start to prick with tears, hold tightening on you as you whimper and turn limp like a ragdoll to his experimental thrusting. Some part of you wants to preen at the pleasure; the honeyed heat inside you pleased.

“Good- fuck, good pet.” He breathily murmurs, clasping a hand around your hip again; alternating between sensual grinding and abruptly slamming into you. All while he laughs and watches with a vicious smile as you’re torn between pathetically moaning and crying, the fingers in your mouth helping to muffle the sounds.

“See? Not so bad if you just close your eyes and give in.” He presses down particularly hard on your tongue when you wail at a sharp, unexpected thrust. He couldn’t have someone from the party playing hero. “I’m trying to help you.”

Tears sting at the corner of your eye, and you have no doubt you look pitiful right now - but fuck, he feels good. You don’t want to admit it, but you won’t deny it either; you needed this. And though you would have preferred to have it be Rolan, all gentle, rutting into you with sweet whispers and even sweeter promises, the heat in your body cannot be satiated with the tenderness he can give you. But you would rather stake him first than admit he’s helping you fill that gaping need in you.

“Astarion...” You furrow your brows and swallow around his fingers, your own life clinging to the back of your throat. It’s with a certain horror and desperation that you realize you’re approaching the edge faster than you’d like – and you know he knows, because he pulls his fingers out your mouth and presses a warm, spit-slick thumb to your aching clit. Your hole flutters around him, and you writhe around, the tightening burn of your incoming orgasm too much to handle. Pleasured, honeyed mewls are wrenched from you as his hips snap, driving his cock deep.

Astarion purrs – a hand on your thigh to help him slam into you, gripping hard enough to form bruises whilst the other was relentless at your clit. It’s with a shriek that you fall apart, seizing on his thrusts that only seem to quicken, the wet sound of skin on skin and your crying permeating through the entire camp, no doubt. He coos when a whine slips out of you, a tear gliding from your eye.

You’re seeing fucking white, blots of black dotted along your vision by the time he greedily slams inside you a final time with a low groan – something pleasingly warm filling you up, satiating you. Astarion holds your face and tugs it meet his for a breathy, passionate kiss whilst he twitches seed inside you - smiling in delight against your lips when you melt.

Relief is found; a warm glow settling on you despite your lids fighting their damndest to stay up. You’re a soft, slow little thing now, all but warm and ready to be taken by approaching slumber. Astarion gladly takes the chance to lie on his side and gather you in his arms, lips curving sweet yet again, but with less threat, as he watches you contentedly curl yourself up against his side. He sighs at the warmth that washes over him, thankful that fatigue has tamed you and fanned out that little spark and scratch you had earlier.

“Happy?” The smitten vampire asks, cheeky, smug as he pulls you closer into him, massaging your sore hips. “No need for you to go looking around for victims when you have me at your disposal, darling. I’d hate for you to lose sight on what really matters.”

You hum as if far away, you’d slap him in the morning that comes, but for now you’d let yourself be lulled into a soft, gentle slumber. A kiss on your head is the last thing you feel, a feeble little goodnight whispered.

#bg3 x reader #bg3 smut #karlach x reader #halsin x reader #astarion x reader #tav harem #um?#i dont wanna tag the other characters because i don’t think they were featured enough and i’d be clogging tags :')#this was very messy i wrote this on a whim #i do not like it but alas astarion’s scene is delightful

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stardewstardropthoughts · 6 months

Text

Haley teaches you to touch yourself

Content warnings: obviously nsfw, minors I am not responsible for your media consumption but pls do not interact with this one, fem farmer, they’re lesbians your honour, masturbation, praise

She masturbates pretty regularly, so when you guys get into the more sexual aspect of your relationship and she learns you’ve never masturbated simply because you could never quite get it right boy if she determined to help

She’s got the mood set, lights are dimmed, some music playing in the background on low volume (I cannot be convinced she doesn’t listen to Chappell roan), sweet scented candles lit

Has you sit across from her, your both naked, she’ll start trailing her hands over her body telling you to copy her movements on yourself

Gently running her hands over her thighs and stomach, cupping her tits and watching as you shyly follow along, showing you how to pinch your nipples and delighted in the breathy whimper it elicits from you

She’ll spread her legs and instruct you to watch her closely, spreading her pussy lips apart and showing you how sticky she is “you’ve been such a good girl for me, following along perfectly baby” she praises in a low soft tone, “now keep being good for me and I’ll reward you” she teases lightly

She watches intently as you follow her movements, your hands exploring your own body slowly and sensually as you begin to feel your slick gathering, your thighs becoming sticky

Your fingers gently dipping to finally pay attention to your neglected clit, a moan leaving your mouth as the pleasure begins to build, Haley’s all but abandoned her own pleasure in favour of watching you more closely

“That’s it sweet girl, you can take two fingers can’t you?” She coo’s at you as she watches you dip your fingers into your cunt, savouring the way your face scrunches in pleasure as your high begins to build

When you let her know your gonna cum she’s over beside you pulling you into the sloppiest kiss, swallowing your moans as you ride out your high with her, panting into her mouth

“What a good girl I have, did so good for me” she praises, pulling you into her arms to help you calm down after such an intense orgasm “how about we draw a nice hot bath, and then later when your up for it I’ll reward you for your good behaviour?” And reward you she does

#stardew valley #stardew fanfic #stardew farmer #stardew x reader #stardew headcanon #sdv smut #stardew smut #sdv haley #stardew haley #stardew Haley x Reader #sdv Haley x Reader

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multifandom-worlds · 3 months

Text

In The Shadows

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: secret relationships, non-canon, profanity

Authors Note: This is a reader insert fic, but the background is basically the reader is Draco Malfoy's twin sister. If I have forgotten any warnings, do let me know, please!

Your content consumption is on you.

“Why was she wearing your jersey, Mattheo? Answer me that: why does another woman get what’s mine?” You demand, walking into changing rooms. You knew everyone was out; you counted them yourself. Mattheo was standing up, waiting for you to arrive.

“I could ask you the same question. Why are you wearing another man’s name?” Mattheo retorts, stalking towards you. He’s used to you cowering, becoming putty in his hand, but this time, you were defiant. You were not going to let him intimidate you.

“I don’t think I’ve met someone with such pathetic critical thinking skills,” You shot back. “It’s not just “another man’s last name” like you so kindly said; it’s my fucking last name, Riddle. If you used your brain for once in your goddamn life, you’d see I’m wearing my brother’s jersey. Why am I wearing my brother’s jersey? Because someone is too fucking embarrassed to be seen with me that he refuses to let me wear his. I’m beginning to think you just want me for sex, and that’s is”

Mattheo stops his advances, caught off guard by your aggression. He was not at all used to you standing up for yourself. Not to mention reducing his love for you to merely sex. “...Don’t say that, love. You don't mean that you know I love you; it's just…”

“It's just what, Riddle? Your father? Do you realize who I am? Who my family is? I'm a motherfucking Malfoy. I am the daughter of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy, the fucking death eater.” You look up at him, all your insecurities manifesting into anger.

“No…your brother,” Mattheo says meekly.

You look at him dumbfounded. “My brother? You're worried about my brother? My brother couldn't punch his way out of a wet paper bag. Are you worried he'll tell our father? Baby, father would be happy I'm dating the literal Dark Lord’s son. That gives him a leg up, so to speak.”

Mattheo raises his hand to cup your cheek before he hears the changing room door open. He immediately takes three steps back as Astoria walks in, his jersey in her hand. “Here you go, Matty.” She says, a nauseatingly flirtatious tone in her voice. She gasps when she sees you, grabbing onto Mattheo’s bicep. “What are you doing here? This is the men’s changeroom.”

To his credit, Mattheo steps away from her but is not quick enough for your liking. “She was just...” he began before you cut him off, your jaw tight, and a look of pure hatred burned behind our eyes.

“Leaving.” You spoke with absolute authority. “Goodbye, Riddle, good fucking riddance” You turn and walk away without even a second glance. However, you do linger at the door, silently hoping he comes after you.

You could hear Astoria laughing, “she actually believed she had a chance with you? She really is an embarrassment to her family. Now let’s go; I have a reward for you!”

You walk away after that, knowing you’ll only break your own heart more. You walk away, the tears threatening to spill. How can you be sad about something nobody knew about? What do you say when people ask…what do you do? You move on in the shadows, just as you were loved in the shadows.

You navigate your way through the Slytherin common room, staying near the walls and doing your best to avoid the partygoers. You have no desire to party; all you want is your bed. It was then that you felt a familiar, calloused hand grab your wrist. Turning around, you come face to face with Mattheo’s captivating smile. For a moment, you nearly forgot everything he put you through.

“I was wondering when you’d show up, Mally. A party is not the same without you.” He says, pulling you close and nuzzling his nose against your neck while wrapping his arms around your waist. You wanted to believe him, believe that he finally decided to love you publicly, but you could smell the fire whisky on his breath. He's drunk.

“You’re drunk, Mattheo. Leave me alone; I’m not partying tonight.” You say, pulling away from his grip. “Go party with Astoria; she must be just dying to spend time with you since you’re single, after all.”

He looks at you, confusion twisting his gorgeous features. “I’m not single? What do you mean, Mally? I’m dating you. I have been through the 7th and 8th year. I want to stay with you.”

You sigh, stepping back away from him further, with tears prickling in your eyes. “That would mean so much more if you weren’t drunk, Matty. It’s over for us, don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” You turn from him and slip effortlessly into the writhing student body.

You collapse on your bed and release the sob that had been building in your throat all afternoon, ever since seeing Astoria wearing Mattheo’s jersey. ‘It’s better this way,’ you told yourself; this way, you can find someone who loves and appreciates you in the open, not hiding you away like some dirty little secret. You cried yourself to sleep that night with Mattheo's shirt tucked tightly to your chest, not wanting to wake up the following day.

The following days dragged on. You did everything you could to avoid your ex, but it was getting more challenging by the day. One night, after you and Mattheo had been partnered for Charms, you broke down to your brother, confessing everything. Your 2-year relationship with Mattheo, your “break up,” all of it. You cried in Draco’s arms for hours, and like the dutiful brother he is, he consoled you the whole time, quietly seething. How dare someone do this to his beloved sister? How dare someone reduce her to tears like this?

You were almost asleep, floating just on the precipice of dreams while Draco was reading you a story, when there was a knock on your dorm door. You move to get it, but Draco stops you. “You need to sleep, moon. I’ll answer it.” He says softly, pushing your hair from your face.

You heard the door open, and Draco stepped out into the hallway. What you didn’t expect to hear, however, was the conversation.

“What are you doing here, Riddle? Haven’t you done enough?” Draco says, his tone angry.

“What are you talking about, Draco? I came to check on her, but she hasn’t been answering my messages; she’s ignoring me. I just want to talk to her. Is that so bad?”

“Why would you keep her a secret, Riddle? My sister is brilliant and incredible. She is more my father than I could ever hope to be. She is the greatest duellist this school has ever seen, which is why she’s the Slytherin Dueling Club Captain, and you threw her away for Astoria? All she ever wanted in her life was someone to see her for who she was, not what she could be. She hoped it was you, but keeping her a secret, that's not what you do to someone you love. Leave her alone, Riddle.”

Draco shut the door before you could hear Mattheo’s response. It warmed your heart that you had someone in your corner, your confidant, your protector. You now understood what Fred and George were saying - having a twin is the best thing.

You pretended to sleep as Draco walked back over, but you felt his lips land softly on your temple. “Goodnight, little moon. I’ve got you.”

Mattheo catches you in the hallways while you are walking between classes with your brother several days later. “Mally, wait, please... talk to me. There has to be a misunderstanding. Please.” He looks like he hasn't slept in days.

“For the last time, Riddle, leave me the fuck alone!” You yell while pushing him away from you, but he comes back like a moth to a flame. Clearly, you were going to have to tell him in a language he would understand. Once he got within arms reach, you punched him square in the nose. You could feel the cartilage break under your fist. “I told you, leave me alone, Riddle! You had your chance with me, and you gave that up.”

Mattheo holds his nose while looking at you in complete shock. Everyone in the hallway was looking at you in complete shock. You walk away, Draco hurrying after you, leaving Mattheo to deal with his broken nose himself. You could faintly hear a commotion happening behind you, but you didn’t dare look around.

The rumours began mere hours later and steadily built up momentum as the days passed.

“Did you hear Mattheo Riddle got his nose broken by that Malfoy girl last week?”

“Did he actually? How did Tom react?”

“I still can’t believe Mattheo got his nose broken by a girl.”

You were growing tired of all the gossip about you. You heard from Draco that Mattheo had started withdrawing from everyone; clearly, he was, too. The guilt began to eat you up alive - was he actually that in love with you that your separation was this hard on him? There’s no way he loved you, not with how he acted; maybe he was just embarrassed. Hopefully, he was just embarrassed, but you couldn’t worry about that; you had bigger things on your mind - the Dueling Club tournament.

You sit back, watching your team dominate, cheering them on and giving the newer ones points before they step into the ring. You have to sit with the other house captains, something about rules or whatever. You clock Mattheo, sitting a few seats down, but pay it no mind.

Slytherin and Gryffindors were neck and neck; this next duel would decide who won that year's tournament. You stepped up for your house, stepping into the ring amongst hoots and hollers. After some intense planning, Harry Potter steps into the ring. The whole room fell silent. The Chosen One, the boy wonder up against Hogwart's greatest dueler. This really would be a duel to remember.

“I guess we’re doing this, Potter.” You chuckle, taking your wand from your robes and holding it comfortably in your hand. You scan the room before your eyes lock with Mattheos, and you see a myriad of untold emotions. His eyes draw you in, locking you in place. The world beyond you slips away, melting into a sea of nothingness; nothing mattered to you more at that moment than Mattheo.

Until, out of your peripheral vision, you see a spell coming hurling your way; instantaneously, you snap into action, quickly casting a barrier and returning the spell at him. “That was a good try, Potter,” You taunt, waiting for him to engage again. His eyes burn into you before slinging spell after spell at you. One or two of them connected, but it wasn’t enough to win.

“Fuck you, Malfoy! Fight back, you coward!” Harry hissed, growing more and more agitated as the duel commenced. He was getting sloppy, precisely what you counted on. He may be “The Chosen One,” but that doesn’t change the fact that he is a hothead and a thoughtless dueler.

“Easy, Potter, don’t lose your head,” You taunt again, stalking around the ring like a predator stalking its prey. You watch closely, taking note of his actions as you patiently waited, waited for the right time to strike.

Now.

You go on the offence, unloading a flurry of harmless attacks, each one hitting its target with deadly accuracy. Within seconds of your attack, that match was called, and Slytherin was named winner of the Tournament. Your whole house jumps up and swarms you, chanting your name. You were enjoying all the celebration when you saw Mattheo pushing through the crowd. You prepared yourself mentally for whatever argument was about to ensue, but when he reached you, instead of starting an argument, his lips collided with yours.

The kiss was electrifying, hungry, desperate, and everything you needed it to be. Mattheo's hands danced their way down your face to the side of your neck, resting there as if they were always meant to be there…and perhaps they were.

“You're mine, do you understand me?” He growls as he breaks the kiss. “No more of this ignoring me bullshit. I know where I fucked up, but I need you back, Mally. Please, no more hiding, no more keeping you a secret.”

You look at him, seeing the vulnerability he’s showing in front of everyone. He bites his lip, and his hands begin to tremble ever so slightly. You knew in your heart what to stay.

“You’re a goddamn idiot, Mattheo Riddle, but you’re my goddamn idiot.” You punctuate your sentence with a kiss, sealing everything.

#mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo x you #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle angst #slytherin x reader #slytherin

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aouiaa · 2 months

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hii can you please do an abby x reader where Manny throws a party at the WLF stadium and abby and her gf go and her gf gets quite drunk and when she gets drunk she gets clingy and it’s just cute and fluffy and stuff.

if not don’t stress 💐💐

❝ HOW ABOUT THAT OFFER ? ❞ — ABBY ANDERSON

warnings and disclaimers, dealer!abby, alcohol consumption, usage of pet names (babe, pretty), descriptions of types of drunks, abby being so mm (need her).

TAPE THE MOUTH SHUT, i couldn’t resist the chance to scooch in the amazing dealer trope. i meannn, who doesn’t love her? I DO, MUAHAHA. keep sending requests! i love getting requests, or asks in general. just read my rules AND don’t be weird. OKAYYAYAABYEYEE

A firm knock on the wooden, painted door interrupts the participants inside. the music, once a mere background noise, now assaults your ears as the door opens and manny stands there, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. after greeting abby with dab, the two of you step into the room, the space seems to shrink as groups of people mill about, mingling together. the thick air, laden with the combined scents of sweat and weed, assaults your senses.

The tension in the air calls for some liquid courage, barely letting abby mingle with her own crowd, you practically drag her towards the makeshift alcohol table, where you promptly pour a random assortment of shitty, cheap liquor into a solocup. abby, who’s barely registering how she even got it there, notices your witch’s concoction, and laughs, leaning close enough so you can hear her over the music. "you sure you wanna drink that?" she taunts playfully.

In response, you scoff, rolling your eyes as you defiantly pour the chaser into the cup. "i can handle my liquor just fine, abby." you assure her, unamused. she immediately leans back, putting her hands up in a playful gesture of surrender "alright, alright," she laughs, "just saying ‘cause last time..." her voice trails off into laughter as you let out a exasperated sigh.

As the night wore on, so did the consumption, making the atmosphere becomes more carefree. it was cup after cup as you soon feel that familiar warm, fuzzy feeling that signals your transition to “that type of drunk.”

Everyone knows there are distinct of drunken personas: the aggressive, rowdy, and affectionate. as for you, the affection is on full display as you shower the apples of the blonde’s cheeks with kisses, dispensing them like a sprinkler sprinkling a flowerbed.

Abby, taking on the role of the caregiver for the evening sticks by your side at arms length. seated on a couch in the far corner of the main room, you purchase a spot on her lap, head resting on her shoulder with your arm flung around her neck while your other hand gently holds a half-empty cup of tonight’s libations. one of her lean, strong arms is wrapped around your waist, acting as your anchor.

Occasionally, between conversations with manny, she checks on you. this time is no exception, a strong tingling feeling resonates down your body from the touch of her lips brushing against your ear as she whispers, "lemme know when you're ready to head out, alright, pretty?" pressing a kiss to your cheek which makes you whinge, burying your face into the crook of her neck, flushed.

The thought of escaping this crowded scene and snuggling into the warmth of your fluffy pajamas, ensconced in the embrace of your plush bed, was tempting. but a guilty pleasure at best. you knew that abby's presence was strictly for business, parties merely transactions for her trade.

Over the course of the past three hours, a steady flow of people approached the two of you, each one slipping her money before muttering a brief ‘thanks’ and disappearing into the masses.

When money talked, you wouldn’t dare silent it.

It’s why you haven’t confirmed your submission, maybe the booze was talking, but all you really wanted to do was be coddled by your gentle giant. it’s not anything different than what it was three minutes ago. from afar, someone shouted her name, summoning her services. abby acknowledged the call, quickly murmuring, "i’l be back." before waving manny over to keep an eye on you.

It should have taken no more than a minute, perhaps a minute and a half if the asshole was particularly awkward. but that additional thirty seconds felt like an eternity of separation from her. you shook your head, pressing your body against hers as if your proximity alone could make her stay.

“no, stay here.” you sulk, abandoning the cup within milliseconds and wrap your arms tightly around her neck.

She chuckles, enclosing your body in a warm embrace. "but, i’ll be gone for a minute, tops." she promises.

Frustrated, you give her your best puppy eyes, questioning. “why can’t they just come over here?” shortly adding the dramatic proclamation, "i’ll die in those sixty seconds." that she knows you mean. with a heavy sigh and zero hesitation, she looks up at the guy waiting for her, then shakes her head dismissively before returning her attention back to you.

“okay, okay,” she hushes you, “i’m right here, babe.” she says, kissing your forehead and shifting in more comfortable position to embrace you. resting her head on yours and utters the only good thing that has came out of her mouth tonight.

“how about that offer?”

requests are open, don’t be shy :3

[!] — PERCHANCE YOU WANNA BE ADDED TO MY PERMANENT, look here for more info!

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depravitycentral · 4 months

Text

Yandere! Asahi Azumane NSFW Profile

Yandere! Asahi Azumane x fem! reader

TW: kidnapping, mentions of non-con, light somnophilia, masturbation, panty sniffing, breeding, lactation kink, mentions of pegging, Asahi wears lingerie, size kink but remember that Asahi is very large and it's written with the idea that everyone is smaller than Asahi, one very, very brief mention of reading not eating enough, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 12K

HABITS:

Before having you in his life, sex was something Asahi wasn’t super comfortable with. Despite coming more out of his shell with the passing years, he’s never truly shaken off his shyness, and so the prospect of casual sex is absolutely not something he’s interested in.

He’s had a girlfriend or two and is thus not a stranger to women’s bodies, but he’s found that he’s simply just not that sexual of a man. Sex just wasn’t important to think about – he gets easily flustered even as a fully grown adult, and while he can handle mature conversations about intimacy, just the thought of being so lewd and bending someone over to have his way with them gets his ears turning red, his knees buckling and his words coming out all slurred and distorted because he can’t think clearly.

It’s embarrassing, if he’s being honest, and so he finds himself simply avoiding sex and, in turn, partners. And this extended into his personal sex life and habits as well – he’s not the most regular in terms of touching himself, preferring to just let the bout of horniness or the occasional incessant boner pass on its own.

He’ll do it occasionally to relieve tension and because he enjoyed how it feels, but it’d only happen a few times a month, if only because the embarrassment was difficult to overlook. After all, how lonely is it to look down and see his own hand wrapped around his cock? Familiar fingers gripping his red, swollen length in the comfort of his own room, the lame background music he’d put on to feel better doing absolutely nothing.

The reality is that Asahi is actually quite lonely before you step into his life – he's not quite smooth and suave enough to be successful with women or even be willing to put himself out there, and the realization that the only way for him to get some sort of sexual relief is via himself makes him too sad to indulge often.

And even once you step into his life, this is still true – except now there’s the addition feeling of yearning, wishing so strongly that it’s your fingers instead of his own (or perhaps your mouth, your breasts, or – god forbid – your pussy) that touching himself becomes even more of an emotional struggle.

And as time passes, Asahi sticks to his typical pattern of seldomly masturbating – but then his feelings grow deeper, his infatuation with you festering more and more, his thoughts about you delicately toeing the line between sweet and only slightly disturbing to downright depraved.

After all, how can he not imagine fucking you in every position he’s ever seen?

How can he not imagine the sight of you perched in his lap, pretty body bare for him to ogle while you scoop your hips up and down, moaning his name and guiding your lips to latch onto a bouncing nipple, your cunt squeezing down on him like a fucking vice?

The embarrassment is still there, of course, as is the shame and loneliness, but his feelings for you are just too strong to ignore, his desperation too insistent to quell. And with every gasping, toe-curling orgasm that wracks his body, Asahi comes closer and closer to deciding that he needs you, that just his hand or his pillow aren’t enough to satisfy him.

No, he needs you – your touch, your body, your pretty, tight, warm walls sucking him in so hard that you never let him go.

As the frequency with which he gets off increases, Asahi finds that he has a particular system for how he pleasures himself - and it involves a secret that he is not proud of.

He’s not especially proud of the fact that he relies exclusively on the (now a bit ragged) pair of panties you’d accidentally left at his apartment in order to get off, but it’s too late to change now. You’d had a rather serious dental procedure, and had turned to Asahi to request that you stay the night at his place to minimize your driving and responsibilities while the anesthesia wore off.

Asahi had of course jumped at the chance, ending the phone call with shaking fingers, a blush covering every inch of his face, and his heart practically beating out of his chest at the prospect of sharing a roof with you for a night just like couples do. And he’d been attentive to your every need; cooking you a warm soup, getting the best sheets he had and letting you sleep in his bed rather than the couch.

(Of course, he still hasn’t washed those sheets after you’d slept in them – if he tries hard enough to thinks he can smell you in the fabric, occasionally finding strands of your hair by his pillow and letting each one sit on the tip of his tongue for just a moment, savoring the taste of you.)

You’d forgotten a pair of underwear in your overnight bag, and while Asahi had meant to tell you, curiosity got the better of him and before he knew it he was picking them up, swallowing thickly, and thumbing at the double-layered section that rubs right up against your folds. It was all too easy to imagine how you must look in them – the mental image of you making a shiver erupt down his spine, needing to lean on his desk for support.

He felt a bit guilty for not returning them, but he couldn’t help it - they were so utterly you, your favorite color and a style he just knows would frame your cute little ass perfectly, your plush thighs and creamy skin sitting on display and practically begging to be kneaded, squeezed at, marked up and bruised with hickeys.

And that night, as he lay in bed and stare at the ceiling, thinking of your face and how he’d quite literally give up his own life just to kiss you once, just to feel your lips pressed snugly against his own, slowly the more risqué thoughts are drifting into his mind.

What would it feel like to have you kiss other parts of his body? How would you taste if he kissed your collarbone, gently suckled on a nipple, licked a long stripe up the puffy lips of your cunt?

How would you react if he were to teasingly kitten lick at your clit, or if he whispered a heated, honest I love you into your ear as he pushed deep inside of you and filled you to fucking brim with his cum?

His mind slowly drifts to more lewd areas, his body growing hot as he imagines you riding him like your life depended on it, bouncing up and down and making your entire body jiggle, your tits bouncing in his face and your voice thin and gasping as you tell him that it’s too much, I can’t Asahi, please, need you to fuck me now…

And soon, he’s deciding that he can’t just ignore the stroke of luck he’d gotten that day, that he’d somehow managed to come by a pair of your panties, something he’s only been able to dream about. And as he locks his door and dims the lights a bit, he’s snatching the pair of panties he’d neatly folded and placed on top of his dresser.

Immediately, he notices the slight fresh stain against the crotch, and his eyes go wide - you had already worn them? They’d already touched the slick, warm place between your legs, the place that gets Asahi salivating and bright red with just a mere thought?

With shaking hands, he timidly brings the cloth up to his nose, inhaling and moaning aloud as the smell he can only describe as you clouds his senses. They’re pungent, proof that you must have had a long day with them adorning your pretty body, and immediately his cock is standing at attention, his tip flushed and oozing precum in copious amounts, his balls occasionally twitching in desperation, practically begging to be touched. He lays the panties down against his face, tilting his head back slightly so that the cloth stays against his nostrils, the smell of you filling every breath his takes.

He gulps, wrapping his fingers around himself, hissing slightly at the pressure and letting his eyes drift closed. He gently squeezes, bringing his hand up to the tip, using his thumb to swirl around his slit for a moment as he brings the material once more up to inhale again.

He groans, the pleasure sending shivers down his spine, and before he knows it his fist is pounding down against his pelvis, long strokes against his rock hard cock as he grunts and lowly moans your name, airy breaths of oh – oh you’re so pretty, I love you – hah, love that pretty pussy of yours.

The pace is purposefully slow, his movements still a bit timid because he’s worried he’ll come too fast, that he’s too pent up, that the smell of you will send him over the edge way too soon.

He doesn’t want this moment to end – the pleasure, the exploration, the feeling of having you the closest he’s ever had. He continues to sniff and whine, absolutely amazed at the wonderful, musky scent of you, fantasies running through his mind about the way you’d react to him touching you, to him sinking his cock inside of you again and again and turning you into a trembling, incoherent mess all for him.

He can’t help himself from imagining what you’d smell like when you’re finally in front of him, a groan slipping from his lips as he imagines the way you’d feel perched on his face, your thighs caging in his head and your fingers raking through his hair as he slurps and sucks and moans against you, desperation lacing his movements because god he wants to make you come.

He can’t help but imagine you taking every inch of him inside that warm little pussy of yours, sucking him in and gripping onto his swollen length so tightly he’s sure you must never want to let go. And his eyes flutter close his lips part slightly, drool pooling in his mouth as he loses himself in the pleasure, the feeling of his hand so much better than normal now that he has something to smell, something that’s so clearly you rather than just his thoughts. His hand picks up a bit, and as his tongue darts out to lick his lips, panties still draped over his face when he stops short, eyes flying open as his hips buck wildly.

Tentatively he sticks his tongue out once more, rolling it against the crotch of your panties. Immediately his eyes are flying open and he’s whining your name, hips bucking up as he runs his tongue along the fabric once more, relishing the taste of you against his tongue.

Curses and whimpers of your name along with yes, o-oh yes yes yes, god feels so – so good fly out of his mouth. Suddenly a particularly hard clench of his abs makes him gasp, the words slurred and nearly incoherent as he moans out ‘m gonna – I can’t hold it in, a-ah oh god ‘m-!

His whole body tenses, every breath he takes smelling like you you you as warm cum spurts up and onto his chest, the t-shirt he’s wearing utterly destroyed as it just keeps coming, rope after rope. He’s moaning your name, eyes squeezed shut as he loses himself in your taste, imagining he’s buried as deeply in you as possible, stuffing you full of his cock that he’s all you can feel, all you can see and hear and taste and think of.

It takes him a few minutes to recover, and once his breathing is steady once more he’s staring at his ceiling, in shock of how good it felt to have your scent and taste, to make it seem just a bit more realistic. He’s careful with your panties as he delicately picks them up off of his face, chest still heaving with the residual pleasure of his orgasm, dutifully and carefully folding up the cloth.

After much debate he ends up slotting the panties neatly under his pillow, swallowing heavily and practically giddy with the knowledge that he’ll be sleeping so close to something of yours, his face mere inches away from you, basically.

And that night, as he lays in bed, he’s breathing in hard, hoping to get even the slightest whiff of you from below his pillow, sleep eventually lulling him into dreaming about you laying in his arms, his cum still leaking out of you.

FAVORITE BODY PARTS:

Your hands

Asahi’s always found himself drawn to your hands. Perhaps because his job requires so much of his hands between sewing, measuring, tailoring, and everything else, or perhaps because he’s simply attracted to them.

Regardless, Asahi quickly discovers that every time he’s with you, he’s always aching to reach out and intertwine his fingers with yours, to feel your palm pressed against his own.

And really, they’re just so small compared to his own rough, calloused hands – so soft and delicate, something he can stare at for hours without growing tired.

He’ll trace every line, every mole and mark, memorizing each and every detail because it all just feels so important. He doesn’t care whether your fingers are long and dainty, shorter and wider, veiny and pale, anything and everything is pure perfection to Asahi, and he’ll be worshipping your hands no matter what condition they’re in.

Even in the early stages of his obsession with you, he’s always been interested in them – the way you idly crack your knuckles, how you mindlessly tap random rhythms against your desk when you’re bored or waiting for something, how you run your fingers over your hair when you’re focusing.

He has a tendency to stare, and while he thinks that you don’t catch him often (you d0, but based upon the fire engine blush on his cheeks and the way his eyes immediately dart away, you figure it’d be kinder to not confront him about it), he’s been fascinated since day one with how they could possibly feel, how soft your fingers would be, the exact lines on your palms, whether they get clammy easily or not.

And once your relationship moves to the point of any sort of affection, Asahi’s preference for your hands will quickly become apparent – he’s trying to hold them at any chance he can get, intertwining his fingers with your own, bringing them up to kiss each knuckle individually, listing off a thing he loves about you for each.

He loves the way they feel against his own calloused palms, how your fingers are so much shorter than his own, how when you hold your palm up against his, you barely reach his last knuckles.

It only furthers his perception of you being so in need of protection, and he loves to feel those hands against him, touching him. He loves the sight of your fingers wrapped around his thick cock, barely able to wrap fully around, such a stark contrast to the hard, pulsing, veiny expanse of his length. He loves the friction as you thrust your hand up and down, biting his lip and knitting his brows together because even though it’s just a simple handjob it feels so much better when it’s your hands and fingers wrapped around him.

He loves how they feel against him when you’re touching him, running them along his front and down below his v line, how it sends shivers down his spine just to have you ghost a fingertip against his sensitive skin.

He likes holding your hand while he fucks you, keeping his grip on you firm as his hips steadily thrust into you, the pleasure slowly mounting. His fingers clench onto your own progressively tighter, until they nearly crush yours as he stares down at you with wide eyes, his lips falling open into a desperate moan of I – coming! while he buries his face in your neck, filling you with spurt after spurt of cum.

He loves the way you scratch his down his back as he hovers over you, the pleasure and pain mixing together while he focuses on holding off his orgasm for as long as possible, not wanting to end the feeling of being inside of you, not wanting to end the way you’re clutching onto him and moaning for him, begging for him and telling him that he feels so good Asahi ‘m gonna come-!

Asahi loves your hands, and at any given time he’ll be touching them in some capacity - whether it be holding your hand, resting his cheeks against your palm or sucking at your fingers while you toy with him and make tears well up in those pretty eyes of his.

He just loves them.

His hair

He’s long harbored fantasies of you playing with his hair, to feel you giving it attention and mindlessly running your fingers through it.

He’s absolutely convinced that it would be the most comfortable, wonderful thing in the world, that it would be the single most amazing experience he’ll ever have, to have your attention solely focused on him, you touching him, maybe even telling him how lovely his hair is, how you’re jealous of how soft and smooth and pretty it is…

Just the thought of you complimenting his hair is enough to have him wildly blushing, his dark eyes staring at the floor in embarrassment and bashfulness, secretly yearning for you to tell him more, to compliment him again and again until he faints from all the blood rushing to his cheeks.

(And, though he’d never tell you, to his cock, too.)

And once you’re trapped with him in your new shared ‘home’, Asahi is still harboring the fantasy, even more so than before – and yet, he will never ask for it, never request for you to play with it, to run your nails against his scalp and gently tug on the roots.

He wont’ ask, if only because it feels wrong to request anything of you after he’s kidnapped you, when you’re so obviously still afraid of him.

So he waits in silence, praying for the day when you mindlessly start playing with his hair – he’ll always position himself so that his hair is accessible if the desire overtakes you, a small flame of hope igniting in him chest and extinguishing out every time you move and don’t come any closer to his head.

(He goes to bed on those nights with a heavy heart, his own tangling into his hair and tugging, your name slipping past his lips.)

But Asahi is a patient man, and once you do start absentmindedly playing with his hair, Asahi is beyond pleased to know that you don’t stop. You seem to grow an affinity for running your fingers through it, for braiding it, styling it, really doing anything at all.

He knows that you enjoy his hair – it becomes his favorite thing in the world to feel you play with it, and he spends hours with you sitting behind him with his head leaning back between your knees, his body starting out stiff because holy shit, he’s so close to you, but eventually relaxing, even falling into a slumber because the feeling is just so calming. He wants you to braid it, mess with it, do anything your heart desires with it because he loves the attention and the relaxing feeling it brings.

But of course, he also loves his locks for other, less wholesome reasons - the way you tug at it when he’s got his face buried between your legs, for example, and how your grip tightens against his scalp as you get closer and closer to release.

Sometimes you synch your cries with the tugs, something that Asahi is sure you’re unaware of, but he can’t help the way he forces himself to work harder, to focus more in order to get you off, in order make you have the most Earth shattering orgasm, the best feeling you’ve ever experienced, and with each hair tug he only becomes more determined.

He loves the way you get rough with it, the slight tinge of pain that accompanies it, and it never fails to make him groan, to sigh out your name against your cunt.

(Sometimes, when he’s in the mood but you physically aren’t in a position to touch his hair, he’ll reach up and tug at the strands himself, imagining your fingers instead of his own. It gets him whimpering, desperation for you so thick that he can nearly taste it, but Asahi just can’t help it. It’s an obsession in and of its own right, and he can’t deny how much he loves it.)

DRIVE:

Asahi’s drive is really quite average – he’s not an incessantly horny man by any means, and while he does have the occasional passing fantasy or wet dream, he’d never categorize himself as a hormone-driven man. He doesn’t watch porn, doesn’t follow any social media influencers whose content borders on the edge of distasteful, and he sometimes even fastforwards through sex scenes in movies simply because he finds it uncomfortable to watch two people having sex – even if it’s fake.

And so Asahi finds himself mostly avoiding intimacy on that level, though it’s not entirely on purpose. He’s by no means a saint, though; he’s still human, and when he sees a woman with particularly large breasts or perfectly manicured fingers there’s always the fleeting thought of what if, the fantasies clawing in the back of his mind of how he’d love to latch onto a nipple and suck, to imagine how much better those fingers would look wrapped around his cock or cupping at his balls.

He rarely touches himself, sure, but he’s not a stranger to sex, his limited experience still experience nonetheless.

And so while it’s very, very easy to fluster or rile him up, he generally isn’t hard and desperate to fuck you at all times. He values you for much more than just your pussy – you’re his dream woman, the person he views as his life-long partner, the one he wants to spend every waking moment with and share every last breath. He’s content to just hold you, to press a soft kiss against your temple and whisper a little confession of love rather than pin you down and fuck you until you’re crying.

(Of course, he won’t say no if you were to beg him to touch you, his face only turning red and his voice cracking a bit as he rushes out a quick yes! Um, yes of course, I’ll uh, be right back… and then leaving the room to take a few deep breaths and whisper to himself that it will be fine, she wants you, you’ll do well, don’t overthink it.)

Asahi is very dependent on what you want, always concerned about your opinion and vote and desires, and so while there are times that those wild hormones do in fact take over and his body starts begging him to slip down that cute pair of panties he bought for you and sit you directly on his cock, to bounce you up and down and use you like some life sized sex toy, watching as your breasts jiggle and your face contorts up into that sexy, perfect little ‘o’, Asahi won’t until you make the move to do so.

(It’s out of respect and lucidity for your consent and state of mind. He already feels guilty enough from having stalked you and stolen you away to live in his modest apartment with him, and forcing himself onto you is absolutely the last thing he wants to do.)

He’s not constantly horny, but it doesn’t take too much to rile him up. A few suggestive words and lingering touches can have him needy and eager to touch and please you in mere seconds – casually tell him over dinner that you feel so empty, Asahi, won’t you come fill me up and watch the way his entire body stiffens, brown eyes meeting your gaze and immediately looking at the table in embarrassment, his face flushed a bright red and his knee bouncing under the table as he mutters out a are – are you sure? I don’t want to leave you hungry – not that you haven’t eaten enough! That’s not what I’m saying, I just – um, I uh… Do you really want that?

(His voice gets a bit vulnerable at the end there, his tone higher and his eyes daring to meet yours again, his mousy brown hair falling around his jaw like a halo.)

Leave a hand on his bicep and gently squeeze, biting your lip and making a show of raking your gaze up and down his body and you’ll see the way he gulps, the sound audible as he shudders a breath, his pants already growing tight and nudging against you.

(You can actually feel the warmth of him through his jeans when he does this – cock warm and ready and throbbing.)

For him, your pleasure is the number one priority, and as such it’s his duty to prioritize what you want when you want it, rather than his own desires. You should be in charge, should be the one calling the shots and telling him that you’re okay with him fucking you like he so desperately wants. You should be the one to tell him that it’s okay each time he nervously and compulsively asks you if it’s okay for him to kiss you or touch your waist or unclasp your bra or moan your name or come -

And even once you’re both naked and touching one another, he views his own orgasms as a background to yours. He mostly just wants you to feel good, and he’s pretty much at your beck and call for whenever you’d like to feel the euphoric high that only an orgasm can bring you, in whatever way you’d like him to get you there. He’s game to finger you, to eat you out, to fuck your cute little pussy that makes him moan and whine every time, even your ass if you bring it up.

Asahi never fails to deliver, and he’ll never, ever complain. He loves to touch you and get you moaning, even if he’s a bit shy and flustered the whole time. It makes him so, so happy to know that he’s the one touching you, that he’s the one making you feel so good and satisfied.

But before you begin feeling any desire to be with him in an intimate setting, Asahi still has urges. He still very, very badly wants to touch you and feel you against his skin, to trace out the map of your body and chart every mole, hair, blemish and roll.

You’re just so fucking perfect to him, and he can’t help but desire you physically when he sees the way your breasts bounce as you try to reach the top shelf in the kitchen (he’s more than happy to come to your rescue and grab the jar off the top shelf, secretly smitten with himself because he’d put it there with the hopes of creating this moment).

He can’t help but want to taste your saliva when he sees you sweating on a particularly hot day, the bead rolling down your temple and following the curve of your cheekbones, his tongue coming out to lick a long stripe along his lips because fuck, he bets you taste sweet.

These urges are still present and strong, but because of his commitment to not force you into anything, Asahi finds that he has to satisfy himself in other ways. That is, it doesn’t necessarily feel good to sneak into the extra bedroom he’d transformed into your personal room, but as soon as he catches a whiff of your scent and sees your sleeping, relaxed form on the mattress, his mouth goes dry and he’s shuffling forward before he even realizes it.

You’re sprawled out on the mattress he’d bought especially for you, the soft t-shirt and short set he'd gotten you sitting haphazardly on your hips and riding up to expose a bit of your stomach. It makes him gulp, his eyebrows drawing in a bit as he slowly, carefully, sits down onto the empty space beside you on the bed.

He can’t stop staring at you – you’re so pretty, and as your lips part slightly and you breath, he can’t help but whimper slightly – he can only imagine how it would feel to kiss you, to feel your lips against his own and feel your tongue brush against his.

Would you bite his lip, tease him with a bit of pain before kissing him harder, pushing your tongue inside and moaning into his mouth because it just feels too good? He hopes so, and it’s not long before he’s imagining all of the other things that mouth of yours could do – he’s sure your kisses would feel like heaven against his chest, lips wrapped around a nipple and sucking lightly, tongue flattening out to run over the pebbled skin again and again and making him shiver.

He’s sure that your lips would feel even better lower, pressed against the juncture of his hip and thigh, moving up and to the side, slowly – so fucking slowly – moving towards where he really needs you, where he’s pulsing and throbbing and leaking so much precum that it almost looks like he’s already reached his high.

He closes his eyes briefly as he imagines the way you’d suckle on his tip, your pretty lips puckered and those eyes of yours staring up at him from between his knees, how you’d pull back to press small kisses and kitten licks against his sensitive skin.

The thought has him groaning lightly, a hand coming down to carefully push his boxers down just a hair, just enough to let his cock spring free, slapping heavily against his lower stomach as he bites his lip. He makes sure to settle the waistband just below his balls, a hand idly moving to grope and squeeze as he continues to stare at you. It feels wrong to be touching himself while so close to you, while you’re totally unaware, but he just can’t help it – he’d been furiously pounding away moments ago in his own bed, eyes squeezed shut and flashes of you playing through his mind, but the knowledge eats at him that you’re only a wall away, your pretty body ripe to ogle and fantasize about and right fucking there…

Guilt weighs heavily in the back of his mind, but as he wraps his fist around his base and slowly pulls up, the heaving breath he lets out has the shame creeping to the back of his mind. It’s so much better with you in his sight – he watches the rise and fall of your chest, your breaths and soft and light, matching the pace of his fist with it.

His toes curl and his lip catches between his teeth, the dull, teasing pleasure from such a slow pace making his head tilt back. He stays like this for what feels like hours – his eyes never moving from your sleeping form, his pace matched to your breathing, just simply breathing in deeply and letting his eyes flutter closed as he exhales, the scent of you you you filling his lungs and making him feel dizzy.

Some forty minutes later, Asahi’s breath is hitching, little whimpers and bitten back moans filling the otherwise quiet air, his fist slowly speeding up out of his control, his orgasm slowly building and mounting, his cock so sensitive and hard and wet –

He comes with a strangled, too-loud I love you, his eyes struggling to stay open as he strokes his way through it, his hips bucking up into his fist and cum landing in ropes along his fingers and wrist. Fuck fuck fuck fuck, he’s chanting under his breath, his breathing uneven and labored as he tries his best to be quiet, terrified to wake you up.

You’re still so ethereal in front of him, looking like an angel as he slows his fist to a stop, his entire body trembling at the aftereffects of his orgasm. He swallows heavily, shaking fingers stained with cum reaching out and nearly, barely brushing against the soft skin of your forearm, clenching his teeth tightly at the contact as it sends one last, final push of pleasure through him, a few final beads of cum oozing from his tip and making him whimper your name.

He doesn’t touch you any more than that, scared to wake you up or cross some invisible line of privacy and consent, but thus starts a pattern. He’ll sneak into your room every week or so, spending far too long simply staring at you, moving to every angle imaginable just to see you, to see all of you, all the while furiously pumping his fist, doing his best to bite back every moan because god, what would you say if you saw him?

(He hopes you wouldn’t stop him, that you’d instead berate him for being so dirty, that you’d reach out and stop his wrist, telling him in that lovely, sweet voice of yours to earn it, Asahi, show me that you deserve to come. And god, the fervor and desperation in his movements as he’d lick and suck between your legs is too good to be embarrassing.)

MAIN THREE KINKS:

Praise

As a general rule, Asahi absolutely crumbles the moment any sort of positive comment towards him falls from your lips. He’s never been the most confident man on the face of the planet, and while time and a successful career have helped mitigate that a bit, he’s still a bit doubtful about himself, always just slightly insecure and unable to believe in himself.

And for the most part he doesn’t mind, but he always, always appreciates your support in the area of his lacking – declrataion of you being happy or grateful or pleased with him leave Asahi’s throat feeling tight and his palms clammy. But specifically, Asahi has little to no confidence in himself in the bedroom – and to hear you say anything even remotely positive about his skills in bed gets him hot under the collar, the desire to please you making his fingers itch and his pants feel much too tight.

His lack of confidence between the sheets stems from the belief that he’s sure that he won’t be able to satisfy you, that his touch and love won’t be enough to get you off, that you’ll end up just using your own fingers because he just wasn’t good enough.

He’s convinced that you’ll grow to prefer your own touches and ministrations over his own, that you’ll simply sigh and roll your eyes when he asks you in that timid voice if you’d sit on his face, if you’d let him play with you, if you could just please let him taste you, he’s been thinking about it all day…

It’s never ending cycle of negative thoughts and assumptions, always absolutely sure that things will go the worst possible way once he becomes intimate with you, and honestly you’ll quickly pick up on this.

When he’s hovering over you, brown eyes staring wildly down at you, impossibly wide while his mouth opens and closes like a fish, unsure of what to say or do because you’re finally right in front of him, like he’s been dreaming of for months, you’ll notice the way he’s too stiff to move, his every muscle tense and his eyebrows knitted together so tightly that he almost looks like he’s in pain.

(A few soothing words will have him instantly relaxing, though – run your hands up and down his arms, cooing at him that he’s so handsome, that he looks so good over me Asahi, you’re so pretty, and maybe tell him that you’re so excited, you’ve already made me feel so good baby, and you haven’t even touched me yet and you’ll see the way he visibly perks up, embarrassment written across his face but this sort of shy, boyish joy taking over as he leans down and kisses you. The kiss is too sloppy, too needy, too wet, but it’s the push he needs to finally press himself against you, your slick folds against the sensitive underside of his cock making him hiss into the kiss and his arms nearly give out.)

He’s too nervous to try fingering you or eating you out the first time he’s got you naked in front of him, but he also knows that you need prep before you take him, his girth enough to stretch your walls out to a painful degree if you don’t get some aid.

(Take the initiative and guide his fingers down your body, going slow and making all sorts of keening and sighing noises, until he’s finally pressed up against you. Tell him that his fingers feel good when you’re helping him rub slow circles over your clit. Overdo your hips bucking at the sensation just to give him that extra assurance that he’s doing a good job. Gasp his name as he slips a finger inside and purposefully clench down on him, letting him hear you babble on about how he feels so good and he’s so big and he’s exactly what I’ve been imagining… You’ll see the determined purse of his lips, every ounce of concentration going into making you cry out his name, making you squeal out more praise, getting you to gush on his fingers and tongue and give him what he’s been dreaming of for months – the sight of your pretty body convulsing up in an orgasm, your cunt spasming and clenching down on him like a fucking vice.)

Towards the beginning of your sexual relationship you’ll find that more often than not he’s at a standstill, something that is more than obvious to you, and in moments like these it’s best if you just tell him what to do. When you take off your bra, breasts bared for him as he unabashedly stares, his lips parted and his eyes wide, guide his hand to squeeze at one, sighing at the sensation and telling him that it feels good baby, you can go a little harder if you want, too.

When he’s carefully (and almost tentatively) rubbing your back, giving you a massage and doing his best to relieve your back pain without hurting you, moan out his name and tell him right there, god Asahi you’re so good at this. It’ll leave him blushing and squirming, his cock growing hard and suddenly he’s hearing your moans as moans, seeing the pleased expressions on your face as being expressions of pleasure.

You need to follow his every action up with a bit of praise the first few times you fuck – when he slips a finger or two inside, bite your lip and make a show of gasping, telling him that he feels so good, please Asahi, just like that!

When he’s going down on you for the first time, tangle your fingers through his hair and tell him that he’s doing so well, it feels so – so good Asahi, mmm please don’t stop! And when he fucks you for the first time, gasp sharply and moan, tell him that he’s s-s0 big! Stretches me out so good, ngh –

(Asahi has always seemed gentle to you, even after having kidnapped you – tall, sure, but more afraid of his own shadow than anything. But once you moan that out, that gentle man you’re familiar with is gone – you realize just how strong he really is as his hips crash into yours, your cunt stretched and nearly split open with the sheer power and vigor of his thrusts, each one seeming to reach deeper inside of you, coming faster and faster until your moans at all forced, genuine incoherent nonsense slipping from your lips because god, you’ve never been fucked like this before – this fully, this desperately.)

He loves to know that he’s the one making you feel so good, making you cry out and curl your toes. When you say things like ‘so good Asahi’, or ‘yes, just like that’, he’ll become a blushing, flustered mess, but it’ll only drive him even further in his mission to please you, to get you to come.

After all, in his mind, your pleasure is so much more important than his own, and he’ll give you anything and everything he possibly can to get your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your pussy clamping down around him.

His actions will pick up speed and eagerness, and if you weren’t so fucked out while he’s got his tongue against your clit or his cock stretching you out, you’d be able to practically feel the desperation to get you to orgasm rolling off of him in waves.

He just wants to know that what he’s doing is feeling good, that you’re enjoying him, that you’re loving this wonderful intimate moment as much as he is. He loves your vocalness, and it helps his confidence to hear you so openly praising him and his body.

So tell him, while he’s hovering over you, his cheeks flushed, his hair falling in waves over his shoulders and a few beads of sweat rolling down his temples, how big he feels inside of you, how you’re sure that nobody could fuck you like Asahi can, and he’ll make the cutest little gasp, before he’s thrusting into you even harder, burying his face into your neck and chanting your name over and over.

He loves it.

Breeding

But unlike a lot of men, this kink doesn’t stem exclusively from a sense of possessiveness or ownership over you. (Of course, he very much is possessive over you and hates the idea of another man interacting with you, but still.)

Instead, Asahi’s fascination with the concept of breeding you mostly stems from a genuine desire to knock you up. Asahi craves a domestic life with you; the mere idea of being one big, happy family is something that makes his heart melt, that makes him giddy with excitement and an embarrassed flush spread across the bridge of his nose. There’s so many cute, wholesome things that Asahi wants to do with his future children; family pictures, reading to them before bed, dressing them up in his latest fashion designs, making them go eww! when they see Mommy and Daddy kissing…

And when you step into the picture, this natural desire for children only steps up, increasing astronomically because Asahi genuinely believes that you’re his soulmate, the woman he’ll spend the rest of his life with, and he couldn’t be happier.

And while he’d never force it upon you, he really loves the idea of getting you pregnant and giving you the family that you both deserve. He wants to give you the baby he so desperately wants you to have, to see you softly rubbing your tummy and smiling at him, showing the world exactly who you love, who you choose to be with, who you’ll be spending the rest of your life loving and loyally staying alongside. He thinks he’d be a good father, in his oh so humble opinion, and that he’s completely, absolutely sure that you’d be a wonderful mother, and that together the two of you could have a happy, perfect family.

But of course, Asahi is no pure angel saint – he may not be the most possessive over you, but he can’t deny the wonderful side effects that come with pinning you down and breeding you. That is, there’s something about the fact that it’s his cock emptying load after load inside of you that gets him harder than he’s ever been in his life.

There’s something about the fact that it’s his name you’re moaning out to finish inside of you that makes him hot under the collar, his fingers twitching and his thighs flexing involuntarily because god, you’d sound so fucking good moaning his name.

The idea that it’s because of him that the cute little bump throwing your body off proportion even exists makes him feral, hands eagerly ripping at your clothes and slotting you in his lap, grasping at your hips and physically bouncing you up and down on his cock until he’s groaning your name and stuffing you full again and again and again, leaving you dripping white and smelling his cum, like him.

He’s not the most possessive yandere, sure, but even Asahi can get behind the idea of marking you as his own, of claiming you in the most natural, animalistic way. It satisfies something deep within him – the same thing that urges him to rush forward and keep you from getting too close to the open flames on the stove, the same thing that urges him to buy the pretty flowers on his way home from work and tuck one behind your ear. He’s never given much stock to gender stereotypes, but it just feels right to have you be his sweet little housewife, to be your big, strong protector, to be your provider in more ways than one.

And while bringing you gifts and keeping a roof over your head and warm food in your stomach are certainly ways he loves to provide for you, he’s more than willing to provide for your more carnal needs, too.

He’s more than happy to fill you to the brim with his cum, the sticky white dribbling out of you in big globs that he pressed back in with a thumb, voice shaky as he jokes about having to buy some sort of a plug just to keep everything inside.

(The next morning you find a pretty, purple plug on your bedside table, Asahi looking sheepish as he tells you that it’s the only way to really be sure, you know? Can’t have you wasting anything…)

He’s more than happy to keep his cock inside of you after he’s come, to make sure you’re plugged up, to keep you laying so that you’re hips are elevated, so that his cum will surely reach your womb, so that your body will have no choice but to give him exactly what he wants.

And during sex, the thoughts racing through Asahi’s head absolutely reinfornce this – as his high approaches, there’s a mantra repeating over and over in his head to come inside her, fuck a baby into her, get her pregnant so she’ll never leave you.

His hips will speed up, the sound absolutely obsene as he throws your legs over his shoulders, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he watches your tits bounce with the force of his thrusts, the mental image of you swollen and round and so fucking fertile leaving his head spinning and oh fuck fuck fuck –

He’s coming with a whine of your name, burying his face into your neck and grasping tightly onto your breast, chanting your name under his breath and pressing himself just a bit deeper inside, anything to try and increase the chances of it taking.

The idea of knocking you up clouds his senses as his hips plow into you, the sensation so overwhelming that he’s nearly crying, but fat tears welling up and streaming down his face to land on your own while he clutches onto your hand, the emotional end of realizing that he might get you pregnant hitting him at full speed and making him dizzy with desire and love.

He’ll oftentimes whisper sweet nothings about how beautiful you’ll look, how much he wants to give you children, how deeply he wants to come inside while his hips are pounding away, practically ramming into your cervix with each powerful, passionate thrust.

He loves the idea of having a baby with you, and it’s just an added bonus that giving it to you feels so good.

Size kink

No matter your size, Asahi will be taller, stronger, bigger.

He’s six feet tall, muscular, and despite his timid disposition, he’s very much a force to be reckoned with. Despite transitioning to a career less focused on physical prowess, Asahi largely retained his physique.

He’s a little softer now, the muscles covered by a small layer of fat, but he’s still got definition lining every inch of his body, the short-sleeved t-shirts he wears doing very little to hide the outline of his biceps. When his shirt rides up as he pulls his hair back into its signature bun, it’s impossible to miss the way he seems to tower over everything and everything, his presence something commanding the room, making everyone else just feel so small.

And while none of it is on purpose, Asahi slowly notices with time just how pronounced this difference is.

He sees it in the way that your palms compare as he timidly snake his hand against yours, swallowing heavily and avoiding eye contact because god, not only are your hands soft and warm, they’re practically engulfed by his, the sight making something scratch at the back of his throat.

He sees it in the way that your arms just barely wrap around his torso when you hug him, your fingers lacing together. (Of course, this took him a very long time to notice – he was too flustered by the fact that you’re hugging him to really notice any details, and even then he’d been too preoccupied by the feeling of your clothed breasts pressing against his chest, willing everything in himself to not get hard, to not let the blood rush to his cock as he imagines the way your legs would feel wrapped around his waist.)

As time passes, Asahi discovers that not only is he noticing these things, but there’s something about the sight that gets him hot under the collar, his breathing more strained than usual and his voice coming out a bit crackly.

And really, this kink stems from his protectiveness of you and his need to feel like your savior, but there’s just something about having you underneath him, seeing how small your body is in comparison to his own that really gets to him.

The idea of you being a fraction of his size, of your body being so much cuter, tinier, and softer than his own is something that makes Asahi blush, the red spreading from the tips of his ears all the way down to his collarbone, the idea that you’re such opposites yet so perfect for one another simultaneously warming his heart and begging him to fuck you because he just loves you so much.

And while your size difference is something that Asahi has always rationally known about, it’s so much different to actually see it, to be physically forced to recognize that he’s just so big compared to you.

When you’re naked below him, looking up at him with those vulnerable, beautiful eyes while you clutch the pillow underneath your head and shakily swallow, Asahi is hit with the sudden realization that you so clearly need him, need his help to do everything, and that includes turning you into a panting, drooling mess with his fingers, tongue and cock.

He loves the foreign surge of dominance he feels, how powerful and manly it makes him feel to see you under him, looking up at him like that, your lips swollen and puffy from kissing and biting them, from enjoying the pleasure he’s so focused on delivering to you.

He loves watching you take his cock; how it stretches you out to the point where you’re tensed up, fisting the sheets and telling him to slow down because you need time to adjust to his massive length.

(Of course, Asahi immediately stops, panic eating away at him because what if he hurt you? There’s not a sadistic bone in his body, and when you have to tell him things like that it only reminds him how easily he gets lost in you, how quickly he succumbs to the carnal urge to just fuck you so hard that you’re screaming his name and showing everyone exactly who owns the tight little pussy he’s fucking and filling with his cum.)

He loves to intertwine his fingers with yours while he thrusts into you, marveling at how his fingers dwarf your own while his cock stretches you out so fully, so completely that it’s almost visible against the skin of your navel.

He’ll purposefully fuck you in positions that really showcase this difference in size, too – of course his favorite is missionary, getting to look at you while he slowly rolls his hips into yours, but there’s something exquisite about folding you into a mating press, too. The way he’s strong enough to practically force your ankles up to your ears, his entire body hovering over yours as he pounds into you, watching the way you seize up because the angle is just so fucking deep.

It’s not his favorite, but he’ll fuck you from behind, the position slowly morphing from doggy into prone bone as he becomes more and more desperate for you, soon laying almost completely on top of you while his hips stutter into yours, the sensation of warm cum flooding you and the feeling of Asahi in every inch of your space making your head spin.

Even non-penetrative positions have this effect on him – watching you settle between his legs and eagerly jerk him off gets him clutching onto the nearest surface, the sight of your fingers, so small and sweet and pretty compared to his own, making his knees feel weak because fuck you’re so delicate compared to him.

And god, your mouth? It’s over for him the moment that your lips wrap around his tip, the sight of a much-too-big cock forcing its way down your throat threatening to bring him to orgasm much, much too soon.

Every part of him is bigger, and he just loves how obvious his muscles and height make it that he’s the protector in the relationship, that he’s the one providing for you, keeping you safe, keeping you happy.

Because after all, he’d do anything to keep you happy.

OTHER NOTABLE KINKS INCLUDE:

Hair pulling

Quite honestly, Asahi’s not sure where this kink came from. His scalp has always been a bit sensitive, his hair silky and in remarkably good shape for little he brushes it, for how poorly he cares for it. And while he’s kept it long for all of his adult life, he’s still just the slightest bit insecure about being a man with long hair – the lingering stares of others making him slump his shoulders a bit, wishing they’d stop staring.

And so, he’s never really viewed his hair as something sexual – no girl has ever really pulled it, and on the rare occasions when he’s touched himself, a hand never manages to travel north of his chest.

And even on the more practical side of things, he’s never really been one for pain, for enjoying the stinging sensation of sharpness against his skin, of feeling the dull throb of a bruise being pressed on. He’s never really found it to be sexy, and by extension he’s never bothered to explore hair pulling.

But then he becomes intimate with you and as he’s kissing you, tongue tracing the shape of your teeth and moaning into your mouth he feels it –

Your nails scraping against his scalp, digging in and grabbing a fistful of hair, pulling and tugging.

He actually moans, the sound high and whiny and so girly it nearly makes him cry, but he can’t help but beg you to do it again, a hand coming up to secure your place against his scalp.

There’s just something about the your fingers tunnel into his hair, gripping the brown locks between your nimble fingers while his tongue works fast, desperate circles against your clit, his fingers curling and arching just the way you told him to. Every tug at his hair drives him to work harder, to suck harder and lick faster because he just wants to please you, and the way you’re mixing pain with pleasure is making his hips buck against the mattress, unable to control himself as he whines against your cunt.

When your nails lightly scrape against his scalp, Asahi can’t help but close his eyes and moan, the vibrations going straight up your spine as he doubles his efforts, wanting to get you to come to an almost unhealthy degree.

And yet, as your hands pull harder, coaxing him into fingerfucking you harder, moving in the specific motion against your clit he knows you love, all you can do is throw your hair back and moan, little gasps of oh Asahi, oh please – I’m so close, don’t stop!

There’s something about the light touch of pain that makes him shiver, that makes the excitement stand up at the back of his neck, his eyes growing dilated and his efforts even more vigorous because fuck, you deserve to come, and by god is Asahi going to be the man to do it.

It’s become a staple of him giving you head – you always burrow your fingers into the loose, flowing brown locks, pulling him ever closer to your sopping cunt, something Asahi couldn’t be happier about.

And if you really want to leave him a flustered, panting mess, lightly tug at his hair without any warning in a non-sexual context – reach over during breakfast and give a light tug and you’ll see in real time as his face turns red, gaping like a fish and letting a hand drop his fork and wander down to his crotch, the table covering his motions. (Though the sound of a zipper slowly undoing is hardly difficult to identify, nor is the way the slick, clicking noises echo through the room as he shakily tells you to f-finish your breakfast…)

Lingerie

Perhaps it’s a result of his heightened attention paid to fashion, or perhaps it’s just Asahi’s nature, but as his infatuation with you develops, so too does his desire to see you all dressed up for him.

He doesn’t view you as a doll, per se, but Asahi finds that one of his guiltiest pleasures is to put you in clothing he designs specifically for you – pretty colors and cuts he thinks accentuate your curves, always sucking in a sharp breath and muttering out this awed, overtly genuine wow that makes you too embarrassed to respond.

And it’s sweet, more than anything, because the dresses and outfits he creates for you really are flattering – except that as your sexual relationship develops, he starts taking certain liberties, his creations becoming more and more risqué.

The lingerie he designs for you is tasteful, at least – it’s flattering as well, always in shades of pinks, reds, and white to enhance your natural coloring, his fingers always trembling when he helps you put them on, catching a bit of lace between his thumb and index finger and sighing out your name in a tone much too airy to be normal.

You look absolutely stunning – and he finds that fucking you with the lingerie still decorating your body only makes his kisses more heartfelt, longer, more needy because you’re just so damn pretty all dressed up and practically wrapped up like a gift for him.

But really, where’s Asahi’s true lingerie kink lies is not in you wearing it, but rather in him wearing it.

It’s beyond embarrassing to him and something that would take a long time for him to admit, but there’s a certain part of him that would actually like to try on a few of the lingerie sets he sees in magazines, tv and social media. Some of them are just so fucking pretty, soft pastels with lots of lace and ruffles, things that scream feminine and soft, pretty and fuckable.

And while Asahi knows he’s supposed to be the ‘man’ in the relationship, it’s a guilty pleasure that he just can’t shake – and so, when you one day catch him staring at an ad for a brand new baby blue two piece set on his phone, you ask him if he’s going to get it, cocking a brow at him because it’s rare for him to ever buy you lingerie sets rather than make them himself.

(He’d told you once that he can fit them to your body better than any manufacturer can. And what he hadn’t told you is that there’s a certain allure to knowing that you’re wearing something that he made you, not some unknown, random worker with no appreciation for you or your beauty.)

Immediately Asahi is scrambling to cover it up, nervously chuckling and denying your words, but when it shows up the next day and Asahi mumbles if you’d be willing to um, give me an opinion about something, you’re intrigued. And as you open the door to reveal him, familiar brown eyes are unable to meet your own gaze, his body language clearly nervous at your scrutiny.

But really, the sight of the six foot tall, burly man clad in the soft material hugging his body and bringing out the natural tan color of his skin leaves you oddly breathless, the sight strangely bizarre and erotic.

The bra cups are a bit loose, though you can still see his pretty, pink nipples hard as a rock underneath the sheer material. The bra may be loose, but the pair of lacy, red panties most certainly are not – his cock threatens to burst out of it at any moment, his balls hanging on by a thread to stay inside of the dainty fabric.

And when you take a few steps forward, looking at him with wide eyes, he feels his heart drop when you say oh Asahi, you’re so beautiful.

(If you look closely enough, you can see his balls visibly clench at the compliment, the skin angry and red at the tightness of the panties.)

So while it’s not the manliest thing, Asahi can’t deny that it makes him feel good, and you’re always so touchy and sweet when he’s wearing it.

And so when he’s in more of a submissive mood, wanting you to take care of him, dote on him, love him and show him that you’re just as desperate and hopelessly in love as he is, he throws it on and sits patiently on the bed, waiting with baited breath for you to pull the strap out and make him feel like a good little boy.

(And god his moans are pretty, his little gasps and whines when you toy with the fabric making you power-hungry, the sight of his cute little hole clenching as you toy with him, bent over and panties pushed to the side is the stuff of fantasies – he’s just so fucking obedient when he’s all dressed up for you.)

BIGGEST FANTASY:

Going hand in hand with his breeding kink and his want of starting a family with you, Asahi has a few guilty pleasures when it comes to the idea of a pregnant you.

He just can’t help it – his biggest domestic fantasy is having a family with you, and every time he sees a pregnant woman out and about something inside of him just snaps, the flood of images of you all knocked up making his knees nearly buckle.

(Of course, in these images you’re sometimes clothes and sometimes not – the clothes, when included, are always too small, making your breasts look even bigger and your stomach ever rounder.)

Something about the roundness of your body, how your curves are enhanced, how you look so fucking fertile really gets to him, especially with how your breasts begin to swell.

Something about watching as your nipples begin to darken, your areolas get larger, and the way the flesh begins to hang heavier, looking so full and ready to be emptied really gets to him, sparking some odd, primal instinct in him that he didn’t even know he had.

He’s staring constantly, brown eyes darting to the way his t-shirts are stretched taut against your belly bump and engorged breasts, how you look so perfect and domestic and like a real mother.

He’ll be much too shy to say anything, too nervous at your rejection of the fantasy he holds close to his heart, but he really wants nothing more than to just latch onto a leaking, aching nipple, wrap his lights tightly around it, circle his tongue over the sensitive skin, and suck.

He wants to taste you; feel the white liquid against his tongue, nurse off of you in such a human, natural way.

He almost feels as if it’s his reward - he put the baby inside of you that’s causing you to produce, he’s the one heading to work everyday, making money to bring back to you and your slowly growing family.

He’s the one that spent hours between your legs, fingering your pretty cunt and giving you load after load after load of hot, potent cum.

He’s your protector, and it’s his deepest fantasy to be rewarded for all his hard work with your breastmilk. He’ll never, ever admit it, but when he fondles your breasts and nibbles at them, sucking at them with a vigor you’ve never experienced before, those are the thoughts racing through his mind.

“I’m home!” Asahi calls, closing the front door and letting out a small, satisfied sigh at the sight of his little home. Touches of your style are everywhere - the couch has your favorite color throw pillows, your favorite art is on the walls, pictures of the two of you hanging in frames on the shelf above the fireplace on the far side of the living room. It makes him smile, something warm and fuzzy settling in his chest.

He slips his shoes off, shrugging off his coat and venturing further into the house. Normally you’d be in the kitchen by now, preparing dinner and wanting to have a nice meal while the two of you discussed your days, telling one another how much you missed the other. When he doesn’t find you in the kitchen, his brow arches and he calls your name once more, a small pang of panic bolting through him at the thought of you not responding.

“Oh! You’re home!” He hears you exclaim from behind him, and heaves out a small sigh of relief. He turns around with a soft smile on his face, but that smile vanishes as soon as he takes in your appearance.

You’re wearing one of his old tee shirts, the material a bit light and comfortable, and a pair of your favorite panties peeking out from under the hem. You look so fucking pretty that it takes him a moment to register your words, brown eyes dilating and focusing on the sight of you in his shirt, the smooth expanse of your thighs, the smile on your face that gets his knees weak. But as he takes in the full sight of you, something else catches his eye – immediately saliva is pooling against his tongue, his fingers twitching and his tongue flicking out to lick over his lips.

Two small, uneven pools of wet form right over the swell of your breasts, staining the fabric a darker shade and making his mouth water slightly. The sight of your chest straining heavily against the shirt has him taking a step forward hastily, aching to get closer and closer.

You notice his staring, and you scratch the back of your neck a bit awkwardly. “Welcome home, love. Sorry, I was just about to go start pumping but the laundry had me busy. I lost track of time.”

He just nods, not able to take his gaze away from you. You blink, before quirking the corner of your lips up. Although your husband had never asked, you’d noticed his affinity for your chest increasing tremendously after you’d begun lactating - he thought he was smooth when he’d oh so innocently walk in on you with your pump, watching your milk fill up the bottle, but you knew better. The fixation in his eyes as he stared was telling, the way he’d play with his hands and fingers, struggling to keep eye contact with you making it oh so apparent. And so, with a confidence that only he could allow you to develop over the years, you realize that maybe it was alright that you hadn’t started dinner quite yet.

You bite your lip and slowly walk up to him, until you’re close enough to hear the slight wheeze in his breaths. You watch his Adam’s Apple bob as his eyes dart between your face and your breasts, trying to decide where to look. You almost laugh. “Asahi...I have an idea, if you’d be willing to try it out.”

His gaze meets yours with a bit of reluctance, and his brows tighten. “S-sure! What did you have in mind?”

You smile, leaning up on your tippy toes and placing a kiss against his cheek. “Well, since I haven’t started dinner yet, and I didn’t get to start pumping, and you’ve been gone all day, working hard and making me proud, I think you deserve a little reward.”

Asahi visibly flushed at this, and his eyes widened a bit. “A reward? What do you mean?”

You bite your lip, reaching out to take one of his large hands into your own, before carefully placing it over one of your breasts. He gasps sharply, his entire body tensing as he feels the wetness underneath his palm. You look up at him, doing your best to give him as seductive and sultry a look as you can muster.

“Well, I was thinking that maybe I could give you a little treat? As a thank you for everything that you do for me. It’s been waiting all day, and I’m so, so full… would you like that? Do you want a little snack as a reward?” You ask, watching his reaction carefully. His brown eyes are so warm, so genuinely shocked, and for a second you almost wonder if he’ll say no, or push you away. But before you can take back your words, he’s eagerly nodding, walking you backwards into the living room and settling you down into a sitting position on the couch. He crouches below you, on his knees in between your legs, still in the nice clothes he’d worn to work today. You grab the hem of your shirt, carefully lifting it over you and throwing it to some unknown part of the room. The cold air hits you, and you feel your nipples harden and the skin of your breasts tighten up.

Asahi lets out a mix between a moan and a whimper at the sight of your bare chest, staring in awe with his mouth open. When you see him not moving, you carefully reach your hands up, cupping your breasts and gently squeezing, causing a small stream of milk to leak out of each nipple.

“Darling, don’t you want your reward?” You ask, squeezing extra hard, sending a spurt of liquid out, his eyes following the arc as he licks his lips.

Asahi gulps, a low growl escaping him as he gently pulls your hands away, instead latching his mouth around a nipple and sucking -

You sigh softly, the feeling of his lips applying pressure and his tongue swiping over your nipple much more erotic than you had been expecting. His lips work against you, tongue swirling against your sensitive areolas as his cheeks hollow. He moans against you, the taste of you overwhelming his senses and setting his body alight with pleasure. He can feel his pants growing uncomfortably tight, but he just sucks harder, listening to your coos and cries above him.

His hand reaches out to cup your other breast, squeezing a bit more firmly and watching the milk leak, before he leans back, releasing the nipple from his mouth with a popping sound, and squeezes once more, harshly, watching as a stream of milk arcs through the air and directly into his parted, awaiting mouth. You both moan, and he swallows. He rubs his fingers over your nipples, and looks up at you, licking his lips.

“I think it’s time you showed me just how good you taste down here, too.” He says, grinding his clothed erection against your crotch. You moan, nodding your head and tangling your fingers into his hair, watching his eyes flutter closed at the sensation.

And, thirty minutes later as he’s pulling out of you, hissing slightly at the overstimulation, Asahi can only pant, a hand once again coming up to lightly squeeze at your breast, the kiss he gives you heated enough to have you melting against the mattress, too relaxed to even notice the way he pushes himself back in again, gasping into your mouth and pushing through the overstimulation because he needs this, needs you.

After all, he can never get enough of you.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere asahi #yandere asahi azumane #haikyuu smut #_haikyuu #_asahi azumane #_lee's profiles

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