#she's so beautiful and delicate and ethereal | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

usagii-bun · 6 months ago

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𝐄𝐗𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑. jing yuan x fem foxian! reader (nsfw).

In which Jing Yuan, a man renowned for his unwavering control and discipline, finds that resolve unraveling in your presence — your every move, every glance, every touch igniting a fire within him he can no longer contain discovering an intoxicating solace in the sensual art of your dance, each sway of your hips pulling him deeper into an obsession he cannot, and will not, resist.

word count : 12k (12k words of edging)

warnings: explicit sexual content includes detailed descriptions of sexual acts (fingering, oral—f receiving, dry humping, thigh riding, implied future penetration), obssesed jing yuan, possessive jing yuan, slight power imbalance implied, erotic dancing/ adult entertainment , sensory overload, marking.

minors are NOT to read this story. If you are uncomfortable with detailed sexual content or themes of dominance and obsession, this is not the story for you. please proceed responsibly and at your own discretion.

DO NOT REUPLOUD OR CLAIM my work as yours. i have taken a lot of time to write this and it would be very disheartening to see someone claim something i took so long to write and craft.

anways, please do enjoy and leave a comment :3 reblogs, likes and follows are high appreciated

— usagii-bun <3

The moon hung high, casting a silvery glow over the quiet, cobblestone streets of Aurum Alley. It was a place where the night whispered its secrets, and the air, thick with the heavy scent of incense and mystery, carried tales only the privileged knew. Tucked away behind a discreet set of bamboo doors was the establishment—a brothel veiled in silence but brimming with the hum of indulgence. Even a general like Jing Yuan, weighed down by the armour of responsibility, found solace in the allure of its hidden embrace.

His feet moved almost of their own accord as he made his way to the entrance. Tired eyes, burdened by countless battles and endless politics, sought release in the only way he knew how—a brief escape from the turmoil of his mind. The soft click of his boots echoed, barely audible against the gentle wind that danced through the alley. And there, the door opened, not by his hand, but by a woman’s, poised and serene.

The Foxian lady who greeted him stood in the doorway like an ethereal figure, her beauty transcending time. Her skin was porcelain, her long, raven-black hair cascading down her back like a waterfall, framed by the glow of lanterns. Dressed in silk, her robes shimmered in shades of crimson and gold, the fabric clinging to her form in ways both graceful and alluring. She held herself with an air of elegance, her fox ears twitching lightly with every movement, her tail curling behind her in soft, languid strokes. She was an embodiment of allure, wrapped in silk and mysteries, every inch a vision of untold desires.

"Welcome, General Jing Yuan," she said, her voice smooth as velvet, respectful yet laden with something deeper, something more intoxicating. "Please, allow me to show you the wonders within."

With a graceful gesture, she led him inside, and Jing Yuan, caught in the captivating pull of her presence, followed. The atmosphere shifted the moment he stepped over the threshold. The entrance was bathed in the soft glow of lotus lanterns, casting flickering shadows on the walls. The scent of incense—jasmine, sandalwood, and something sweeter—hung thick in the air, enveloping his senses like a warm blanket, clouding his thoughts and easing the tightness in his chest. The walls were adorned with delicate scrolls, ancient calligraphy curling like the wind in a lover’s embrace, telling tales of forgotten empires and lost passion. Red and gold adorned every corner, the hues rich like blood and treasure, a royal reminder of the power that pulsed through these hidden chambers.

The floors beneath him were smooth stone, cool and polished, reflecting the shimmering silk curtains that hung like veils, concealing whatever lay beyond. The gentle swish of the fabric was like a soft caress, a whisper of something forbidden. There were flowers everywhere—tiger lilies, peonies, and chrysanthemums—arranged in intricate vases, their fragrant petals drifting lazily in the air, mixing with the incense to create a heady perfume that seemed to linger in his very breath.

As they moved deeper into the establishment, the general’s eyes took in the sight around him. Men and women, dressed in delicate silk robes of every colour imaginable, wandered freely, mingling with one another. The silk shimmered in the candlelight, revealing glimpses of soft skin and delicate features. Women draped themselves over men, while men held women in their arms with equal parts reverence and longing. The air was thick with the hum of quiet conversation, with laughter and sighs mingling in a sweet symphony that seemed to be playing just for those fortunate enough to be here.

"Come," the Foxian lady said softly, leading him up a staircase adorned with red and gold lanterns. "If you wish, you may enjoy performance privately upstairs."

Her eyes, sparkling like the night stars, hinted at something playful, something dangerous. Jing Yuan, ever the composed general, only nodded, his lips curling slightly at the invitation.

The night stretched out before you, the rhythmic beat of the music setting the pace for the dance that would soon unfold. Your heartbeat in time with the soft melody, the flickering candlelight reflecting off your skin as you prepared to enter the stage. The room below you were full of people—men, women, all draped in delicate silks, moving among each other in whispered conversations and soft laughter. The atmosphere was intoxicating, thick with the scent of incense and roses, the air so rich with desire it nearly hummed.

Tonight, you were not just a dancer; you were a vision, a creature of silk and allure, meant to captivate every gaze that fell upon you. You had practiced this for hours, days, months—the art of seduction through movement. As you slowly ascended onto the stage, the soft rustle of your costume, the shimmer of the golden jewellery adorning your body, set the tone for the entrancing spectacle to come. Your tail swayed behind you, brushing against the floor like a soft whisper, your ears twitching with the anticipation of the performance to come.

The room quieted, the hushed murmurs dying down as you took your first step into the spotlight. The soft glow of lotus lanterns, their flames flickering in the dim room, bathed you in an amber hue. Your body moved, fluid and graceful, as if the music itself was a part of you, guiding your every step. You could feel the eyes of the room on you—every gaze fixated; each breath held in anticipation of your every move.

From the elevated room above, General Jing Yuan watched. The scene below him was nothing new—he had seen these kinds of performances before—but this time, something was different. As you danced, his attention was drawn to you, like a moth to a flame. There was something in your movement that was unlike the others. The grace with which you moved, the way your body seemed to flow effortlessly with the music, drew him in. It wasn’t just your physical beauty, though you were undeniably stunning—every curve, every movement was perfection—but something deeper, something intangible. It was the essence you exuded—the confidence, the strength, the raw magnetism that seemed to pull him closer despite the distance between you.

Your movements were slow, deliberate. Your arms flowed through the air, a soft trace of elegance, while your hips swayed in time with the rhythm of the instruments, your skin glowing in the soft light. Each step you took was an invitation, each flick of your wrist a silent promise, each roll of your hips a beckoning. It was erotic without being crude, sensual without losing its grace. You were a goddess in motion, a creature born to captivate and beguile.

As you moved, your eyes flicked upwards, meeting his gaze for just a moment. It was a brief connection—one that he felt more than he could explain. His breath caught in his throat as your gaze locked with his, your eyes filled with an emotion that seemed to pull him in, deeper than he ever expected to go. The flicker of awareness between you made his chest tighten, and his pulse quickened. It was like you knew exactly what effect you were having on him, like you could feel his gaze following every step, every motion.

Your body twisted and arched as you danced, the silk of your costume brushing over your skin like a soft caress. The jewellery you wore—delicate chains, pearls, and golden rings—clinked softly with every movement, drawing attention to the curves of your body. The air was thick with the scent of jasmine and sandalwood, intoxicating and heavy, as your tail swished behind you, swaying in perfect rhythm with your every move.

Jing Yuan, sitting in his private alcove, could barely tear his eyes away from you. He felt an inexplicable pull, a hunger that wasn’t just for your physical form, but for the energy you radiated. It was raw and untamed, a force he couldn’t quite explain, yet he felt it in every fibre of his being. His hands clenched at his sides as the tension built in his chest, a wave of heat spreading through him. His body reacted against his will, betraying him as he watched you.

You were no longer just a dancer. You were the embodiment of something else—something deeper, more primal. You were pulling him into a world he hadn’t known he was even willing to enter, and for the first time in a long time, he felt something—something he hadn’t felt in years. The weight of his responsibilities, his title, the endless wars and battles that had marked his life, seemed to fade into the background. They no longer mattered.

The music picked up, becoming more intense, the tempo quickening. Your movements followed suit, each step becoming more deliberate, more daring. The room was alive with the heat of desire, the air crackling with tension. Jing Yuan’s breath caught in his throat, your body undulating in a way that was both art and allure. You were making a show of it—of him—and for the first time in a long time, it was his turn to be caught.

The music slowed, and you took your final step, the dance reaching its end. Your body twisted, swayed, and your movements grew more subtle, teasing. As the final note of the music played, the room fell into a hushed silence. Jing Yuan remained frozen, captivated by your performance. His mind buzzed with a million thoughts, none of them clear, none of them rational. All he knew was that he needed to be closer to you, to taste whatever you were offering.

As the lights dimmed and the room came back to life with murmurs and applause, Jing Yuan finally found his voice. He leaned forward, his gaze never leaving you. “Can I… request her?” His words were barely above a whisper, filled with an urgency that surprised even him.

The Foxian lady, who had been watching with knowing eyes, nodded with a smile. "Of course, General Jing Yuan. She is yours for the evening."

The air inside the private alcove was thick with a sensual tension, the dim light casting soft shadows around the space. Jing Yuan sat back in a velvet-covered chair, his posture commanding yet relaxed. His mind was still reeling from the magnetic performance he'd witnessed, but now, as he sat alone in this private setting, the anticipation built again.

The door slid open, and the woman who had greeted him earlier entered, guiding you with a gentle hand on your shoulder. Jing Yuan could now get a better look of you, the lingerie delicately adorns your body, the jewels that were placed on you still twinkled and shimmered under the dull lighting. Your fox ears were perked, stiff with nerves, and your tail swayed ever so slightly behind you, betraying your inner restlessness.

Your gaze never met his. You kept your head low, your expression unreadable, as if you'd become a different person. This wasn’t the confident, playful woman who’d mesmerized him with her dance. This was someone subdued, cautious, and perhaps even a little fragile. Jing Yuan’s brow furrowed at the sight, and a pang of something unfamiliar stirred within him. There was an undeniable sadness at the change, a realization that you were a contradiction, both in the freedom you’d shown during your dance and the restraint you now carried.

The woman who led you whispered softly to you as she passed by, "Take care of the general." Her voice was gentle but firm, as if entrusting something delicate to your care. She gave Jing Yuan a final look, a knowing smile before exiting the room, leaving the two of you in silence.

You stood in front of him, head lowered, eyes fixed firmly on the floor. The air felt heavier now, the sense of being watched almost suffocating, yet you remained still, as though obeying some invisible rule.

Jing Yuan studied you for a moment, trying to piece together the shift in your demeanour. His mind, clouded with the memory of your dance, struggled to reconcile the two versions of you. His large, calloused fingers lifted from his side, brushing gently beneath your chin, his touch soft but insistent as he lifted your face to meet his.

"Why do you not make eye contact?" he asked, his voice low, his words smooth as they hung in the air. His gaze was intense, capturing you as he locked his eyes on yours. You could feel the weight of his stare, the depth of it, and it sent a flicker of something through you—surprise, confusion, maybe even fear.

You blinked rapidly, trying to avoid his gaze, but his touch lingered, a slight pressure against your chin. You quickly averted your eyes, your cheeks flushing at the intensity of his attention.

"It is not allowed," you murmured softly, the words barely escaping your lips. "I am not allowed to look at the customer unless... unless told to."

Jing Yuan’s expression softened, but his curiosity remained, his gaze never leaving you as you stood before him, silent and restrained. His fingers remained on your chin, though no longer pressing, just gently resting there. He tilted his head slightly, considering your words. He couldn't help but be intrigued by the contradiction you presented: the woman who captivated an entire room with her dance now so reserved, so obedient.

"You are allowed to look at me," he said, his voice almost playful, though the undertone of command was still present. "But for now, I will permit your discretion."

There was a quiet pause between you both, as you silently struggled with the unspoken tension that now swirled in the room. Jing Yuan leaned back, his large frame sinking into the chair as he relaxed, his eyes never leaving you. "Come, sit with me," he said, motioning to the empty seat beside him. "Let us share a drink."

His invitation hung in the air like a challenge, but it was delivered with a calm, measured tone. You hesitated for a moment, still unsure of how to act, still feeling the pressure of his gaze as he observed you carefully. Finally, you took a cautious step forward, your body moving with the grace of a fox, and sat at his side, careful not to brush too close against him.

The room was filled with the scent of incense and flowers, but the closeness between the two of you heightened the atmosphere, thickening the air. Jing Yuan poured two glasses of wine, his movements slow, deliberate. He handed one to you, his fingers brushing against yours, and for a brief moment, the touch felt more intimate than it should have.

"You have a beautiful presence," he said quietly, taking a sip of his own drink. "But I can see there is more to you than what you show. Tell me, what is it you desire, in a place like this?"

You remained silent, unsure of how to respond, but Jing Yuan didn’t rush you. His gaze held a quiet intensity, as if waiting for you to let down the walls you’d so carefully constructed around yourself. The tension between you both lingered, a palpable force, as your bodies sat close together yet distanced by invisible barriers. Your heartbeat faster, your breath shallow. This was new territory for both of you. And for Jing Yuan, it felt like the beginning of something far deeper than either of you had expected.

You shifted in your seat, thighs brushing together under the soft silk of your gown, the sensation sending a faint shiver through you. The air between you and Jing Yuan was thick, charged with an intensity you could neither name nor escape. His gaze was locked on you, and every question he asked felt like it was unravelling pieces of you.

"Why here?" he murmured, his voice smooth, like the finest silk. "A place like this—it doesn’t seem to match your spirit."

His words hung in the air, and you found yourself twisting the fabric of your gown again, seeking some kind of anchor. "It’s... complicated," you whispered, your eyes darting away from his. But the way he leaned closer—close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him—made it impossible to hide.

"Complicated," he echoed, his tone laced with curiosity, as though he wanted to peel back every layer of meaning behind your answer.

You glanced up at him, and your breath caught in your throat. His amber eyes glimmered in the dim light, soft but piercing, holding you captive in their gaze. And then, he leaned in further, the space between you shrinking until you could feel his presence, overwhelming and intoxicating.

The scent of him—clean and faintly spiced—mixed with the sweetness of the wine he sipped moments before. The aroma seemed to curl around you, tangling with your thoughts. His lips were so close now, and you couldn’t stop your gaze from flicking down to them.

"May I?" he asked, his voice a hushed murmur, and his eyes searched yours, waiting. It wasn’t a command, as you’d expect from a man like him, but a request, gentle yet brimming with restrained desire.

Your throat tightened, and you nodded slowly, words escaping you.

His hand came up, fingers grazing your cheek before curling under your chin, tilting your face toward his. The touch was warm, firm yet tender, sending sparks skittering along your skin. Slowly, achingly, he closed the distance.

When his lips met yours, the world fell away.

The kiss was soft at first, a gentle brush of lips, testing, coaxing. But then, like a flame catching the wind, it deepened. His mouth moved against yours with a slow-burning passion, drawing you in, leaving no room for hesitation. You felt the firm press of his lips, the intoxicating heat of him, and your heart thundered in your chest.

His hand slid from your chin to cradle your jaw, his thumb stroking the edge of your cheekbone. It was such a careful gesture, but the kiss was anything but. His tongue swept against the seam of your lips, seeking entrance, and you yielded, parting your lips for him.

When his tongue slid against yours, a low hum of pleasure escaped you, your hands clutching at the silken folds of your gown as if it could keep you grounded. He tasted of wine, rich and heady, and the faintest hint of something sweeter, something entirely him.

His other hand moved to your waist, fingers splaying across the delicate fabric that barely covered you. The pressure was light, a silent promise of what could come, and yet it was enough to make your pulse race, your body alight with sensations you couldn’t control.

You couldn’t help but respond, your hands tentatively brushing against his chest, feeling the solid strength beneath his robes. His lips moved with a practiced confidence, but there was something raw in the way he kissed you, like he was holding back a storm, giving you only a glimpse of the tempest that raged beneath.

When he finally pulled back, his lips hovered just a breath away, his forehead resting lightly against yours. Both of you were breathing heavily, your chest rising and falling in rhythm with his.

"You’re... mesmerizing," he murmured, his voice rough and low, as though the words had been dragged from somewhere deep within him.

You opened your eyes, and his gaze bore into yours, intense and unyielding. His thumb brushed against your swollen lips, and you could see the faint flush dusting his cheeks, a rare crack in his usual composure.

"I’ve wanted to do that," he admitted, his voice softer now, "since the moment I saw you."

Your heart raced, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, the weight of his confession crashing over you like a wave. His touch lingered, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate patterns against your skin, and you knew—this was only the beginning.

Jing Yuan’s hands were impossibly large, their warmth seeping through the sheer silk draped over your body as they slid down, slow and deliberate. His touch felt like a whispered promise, each fingertip tracing a path that left fire in its wake. You couldn’t help but shiver when his palms grazed the curve of your hips, his fingers splaying possessively over them as he was now on his knees between your thighs.

The silk clung to your skin like dew, yielding under his touch as his hands lingered, pressing into the plush softness of your thighs. His movements were unhurried, deliberate, as though he wanted to savour every second, every inch of you that he claimed. His thumb stroked a languid circle against your skin, teasing the sensitive flesh just below the curve of your hip, and your breath hitched.

“You’re trembling,” he murmured, his voice a deep, velvety whisper that seemed to echo in the dim, scented air. His words held a teasing lilt, but his eyes were dark, heavy-lidded with something far deeper than amusement.

The room was quiet, save for the soft rustle of silk and the faint crackle of a distant candle. His hands moved lower, trailing down the sides of your thighs as if he were sculpting you from memory. He paused, his fingers flexing slightly, almost reverently, before sprawling over the fullness of your legs. The pressure was firm but not harsh, his touch grounding you even as it left you breathless.

Jing Yuan’s head tilted, his silver hair catching the dim light like threads of moonlight spun through shadow. He leaned closer, his breath ghosting over your skin, and his hands tightened their hold on you ever so slightly. The contrast of his strength and the tenderness in his touch made you feel both vulnerable and cherished, like a treasure he had no intention of letting slip away.

"You’re exquisite," he murmured, his voice soft yet weighted, as though the words carried a gravity only, he could understand. His thumbs traced upward, following the natural curve of your thighs, his hands mapping you with a deliberate slowness that felt like an exploration, a quiet devotion.

When his eyes flicked back to meet yours, his gaze was molten, heavy with desire yet tempered by something gentler, something that made your heart stutter in your chest. His hands stilled, settling like a question, a challenge, as if to ask how far you would let him go. And in that moment, you were weightless, caught in the intoxicating pull of him, the world beyond fading into nothingness.

Jing Yuan's fingers, warm and deliberate, slid down to the edge of your thigh highs, the lace soft under his touch. He let his fingertips dip beneath the delicate material, brushing against the bare skin beneath, sending shivers coursing through your body. The contrast of silk and skin was electrifying, his movements unhurried as though he had all the time in the world to explore.

Your breath hitched, and you gripped the silk of your gown, desperate for something to anchor yourself. The sensation of his hands so close, his strength tempered by the tender way he handled you, made your mind race. The General of the Luofu, a man revered for his authority and composure, was here, knelt before you, his hands on your thighs as though you were the centre of his universe.

His thumb traced lazy circles against your skin, the pressure both teasing and grounding. "You’re trembling again," he murmured, the teasing lilt of his voice sending a new wave of heat through you. His silver hair gleamed faintly in the soft, golden light, the contrast between his composed expression and the intimacy of his touch almost too much to bear.

Then, without warning, he leaned in, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your thigh. It was a feather-light kiss, soft yet searing, and it stole the breath from your lungs. The warmth of his mouth lingered, a silent claim that left your heart pounding.

Your mind spiralled, the weight of the moment crashing over you like a tidal wave. This was the General—the General—his broad shoulders and imposing presence now knelt before you in an image that burned itself into your memory. The sight of him, his head bent, his lips on your skin, was something you knew you’d never forget.

Your pulse quickened as his hand slid higher, his palm pressing into the softness of your thigh with a deliberate slowness that made your body hum with awareness. He tilted his head slightly, his golden eyes flicking upward to meet yours, his gaze heavy with something that made your heart stutter.

"You’re beautiful like this," he murmured, his voice low and rich, the words wrapping around you like silk. His fingers flexed against your skin, and you swallowed hard, feeling as though the world had narrowed to just the two of you. The scent of incense, the warmth of the dimly lit room, and the weight of his attention made it impossible to think of anything else.

Your breath hitched as his lips lingered against your skin, so close yet unbearably distant. A soft whimper escaped you, unbidden, the sound trembling on your lips. "General..." The word was barely a whisper, carried more by instinct than thought, but it was enough.

Jing Yuan’s golden eyes gleamed at the sound, a primal intensity overtaking his usual calm. That composed facade he wore so effortlessly cracked, revealing something raw and untamed beneath. His lips curved into a slow, almost predatory smile, and you felt the heat of his gaze burn against your skin.

He leaned closer, his broad shoulders dipping as his face moved towards your clothed pussy, the faintest warmth of his breath ghosting over the flimsy material of it. The sensation was maddening, a tantalising promise that made your thighs tense under his hold.

Your ears twitched uncontrollably, betraying your spiralling emotions. You tried to steady them, but they betrayed you with every sharp intake of breath. Your tail curled and flicked at the edges of the plush cushions beneath you, the movement erratic, mirroring the storm building in your chest.

Jing Yuan noticed everything—of course, he did. His gaze flicked to your twitching ears, and the corner of his mouth quirked, a dark satisfaction dancing in his eyes. His hands remained steady, sprawling over the plush of your thighs, fingers pressing just enough to ground you while still making your skin tingle.

"You’re so responsive," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the air. "It’s captivating."

The warmth of his breath fanned over the delicate fabric again, sending a shiver racing up your spine. He paused, his lips so close yet maddeningly still, his eyes watching every tremble, every twitch, every unsteady exhale. You felt utterly laid bare beneath his gaze, a mixture of vulnerability and desire tangling in a way that left you breathless.

"Tell me,” he said softly, the words a mere whisper against the heat of your skin. "Do you always react this beautifully... or is it just for me?"

Your entire body felt as though it had been set alight, the heat rushing from your cheeks to the very tips of your ears as Jing Yuan's lips hovered ever so teasingly over your cunt. The blush that painted your skin deepened, spreading like wildfire, your hands clutching the silken material beneath you in an effort to steady yourself.

And then, his lips pressed softly against your pussy—through the delicate fabric that barely served as a barrier. The kiss was unhurried yet deliberate, and the sensation made you gasp, your heart leaping into your throat. Your thighs quivered slightly beneath his strong, steady grip as your body betrayed the flood of emotions overtaking you.

Jing Yuan closed his eyes, the scent of you filling his senses as though nothing else in the world existed. Sweet and heady, with a potency that made his mind spiral, it was unlike anything he had imagined—and oh, had he imagined. His fingers curled slightly against your skin as if grounding himself from the overwhelming allure.

The sweetness of it mingled with something darker, more intoxicating, and utterly unique to you. It was pungent but not overpowering—an earthy, sensual fragrance that clung to the air around you and pulled him deeper into the haze you created.

His breaths grew heavier, his mind clouding as the scent wrapped around him like an invisible tether, binding him to you in a way that felt both maddening and necessary.

"Addictive," he murmured, his voice low and rough, the single word almost swallowed by the quiet intimacy of the room. His lips brushed against you once more, this time lingering a second longer, his tongue darting out briefly to taste the fabric.

A groan rumbled deep in his chest, and his grip on your thighs tightened ever so slightly, his composure slipping as he inhaled deeply again, utterly consumed by the fragrance of you. His golden eyes, now darkened with something primal and insatiable, flickered up to meet yours—a blush still staining your cheeks, your wide-eyed gaze unsure and yet filled with undeniable need.

Jing Yuan's tongue pressed firmly yet gently against the thin fabric, a deliberate movement that sent shockwaves coursing through your body. The sensation was unlike anything you had ever felt, the warmth and softness of his mouth combining with the teasing pressure to ignite every nerve in your skin. Your toes curled instinctively, the sheer intensity of the moment leaving you breathless, as though the air itself had thickened.

His large hands, splayed across your trembling thighs, gripped you tighter, his fingers pressing into your soft flesh in a way that left you aching for more. The contrast of his strength against your vulnerability only heightened the whirlwind of sensations overtaking you. He groaned softly, a deep, resonant sound that seemed to vibrate through you, as if he too was succumbing to the weight of his desires.

Jing Yuan’s gaze lifted, drinking in every detail of you. The flush that coloured your cheeks, spreading down your neck and disappearing beneath the thin fabric of your gown. The way strands of your hair had fallen loose, framing your face like a delicate painting. The rise and fall of your chest as your breath quickened, each exhale shaky and unsteady.

He felt an unrelenting need to unravel you, to witness you laid bare, in every sense of the word. His hands moved slightly, his thumbs brushing slow circles against your skin, grounding you and driving you to the edge all at once.

His tongue pressed against the fabric again, this time with more insistence, and his lips followed with a lingering kiss. The heat of his breath seeped through, and it felt as though he was marking you with each touch, his presence imprinted on your very soul.

“Do you feel it?” he asked softly, his golden eyes locking onto yours as his hands squeezed your thighs again. “The way I want to devour you—piece by piece—until there’s nothing left of this composure we’re pretending to hold on to?”

Jing Yuan's grip on your thigh loosened as he let his hand slip away, only to settle firmly on your shoulder. The weight of his touch grounded you, but the intensity in his golden gaze sent your mind spiralling into chaos. His other hand moved with a deliberate slowness, two fingers brushing against the fabric that separated him from you, as though he were savouring the act of uncovering you.

He pushed the fabric aside, exposing your glistening skin beneath. The air felt cool against the heat of your pussy, and the juxtaposition made you shiver. Your scent—intoxicating, sweet, and unmistakably you—filled the space between you, strong and pungent in a way that made his breath hitch. His eyes could not leave the sight of your cunt, your clit throbbing, clear liquid oozing from between your glistening folds as he glances at your face, lips swollen and eyes teary – a sight that made his cock leak.

His eyes darkened, a glimmer of something primal flickering in their depths as he took you in. You were fluttering, every part of you trembling in anticipation, and it made his lips curl into a faint, knowing smile.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and reverent, yet laced with raw hunger.

His hand tightened slightly on thigh, grounding you further, while his gaze remained fixed on you as though you were the most captivating sight he had ever encountered. The vulnerability in the moment only seemed to embolden him, and the way his breath fanned against your exposed skin made your thighs tremble under his hold.

Jing Yuan's tongue pressed against your clit, lapping up the sweetness that spilled from you with a deliberate, unrelenting pace. The warmth of his mouth against such a sensitive part of you was overwhelming, sending jolts of pleasure rippling through your body. His eyes, golden and intense, never strayed from your face, watching every twitch of your expression, every blush that spread across your cheeks, and every soft whimper that escaped your lips.

A low hum of approval resonated from him, vibrating against your core as he worked, his large hands gripping your thighs firmly to hold you in place. Each stroke of his tongue was purposeful, slow at first, then more insistent, as though he were a man on the brink of starvation, and you were the feast he'd been denied for far too long.

Your fingers clawed at the leather couch beneath you, the cool material a stark contrast to the heat building inside you. Your hips bucked slightly against his face, but his strong grip kept you steady, his mouth never faltering.

"General..." you whimpered softly, the word barely audibles through the haze of sensation.

At that, his eyes gleamed with a feral satisfaction, something primal and wild flickering within them. He groaned softly, the sound muffled as he devoured you, his tongue exploring every inch with unyielding hunger. The sight of him—so composed, so regal—reduced to this raw, unrestrained desire sent your mind spinning, leaving you trembling under his touch.

Jing Yuan's tongue dragged deliberately against your slick folds, his pace torturous yet intoxicating. Without a word, two of his thick fingers slid down, pressing against your entrance before sinking into you without warning. The stretch was immediate, a mix of pleasure and intensity that tore a loud whimper from your lips. Your body arched into his touch, thighs trembling uncontrollably as your breath hitched.

"General... General..." The title fell from your lips in a broken chant, each syllable a prayer as your mind spiralled. Nothing else existed beyond the overwhelming sensations he wrought upon your body—his tongue flicking expertly up and down your slick heat, his lips closing around the sensitive bud that made your vision blur.

His fingers curled inside you, finding that spot that made your entire body jolt. He pressed into it mercilessly, dragging a sob from your throat as your thighs quaked against his face. His other hand gripped your thigh tightly, holding you still as he worked with relentless precision.

The wet, obscene sounds of his tongue and fingers filled the air, mingling with your soft cries and whimpers. Your world narrowed to the molten heat pooling low in your belly, each flick of his tongue and curl of his fingers sending you closer to the edge.

He sucked on the swollen bundle of nerves, his tongue circling with maddening skill. You sobbed his name again, your thighs trembling, your body barely able to keep up with the intensity of his actions. Through the haze, you felt the curve of his lips against you—a smirk, as though he took pride in unravelling you completely.

Your vision blurred, tears threatening to spill as a tight knot in your stomach coiled and twisted unbearably. Each thrust of Jing Yuan's fingers pressed against that devastating spot inside you, sending shockwaves through your trembling frame. Your eyes rolled back, a broken cry escaping your lips as the tension snapped, pleasure washing over you like a tidal wave.

Your entire body quivered, your thighs shaking uncontrollably as the release tore through you, leaving you gasping and breathless. But Jing Yuan didn't stop. His fingers maintained their relentless rhythm, coaxing you through the aftershocks, prolonging every moment of your bliss.

You felt his warm tongue, soft yet firm, trailing along your folds as he licked up every drop of your release. His eyes, golden and piercing, never left your face. He seemed captivated by the way your lips parted, the flush painting your cheeks, the glazed look in your eyes.

"You're beautiful," he murmured softly, his voice thick with reverence and desire, the words vibrating against your sensitive skin as he placed a soft kiss against your fluttering clit. His gaze was heavy with pride and satisfaction, as though committing the sight of you undone to memory. He slowly moves up your body, Jing Yuan’s lips traced a delicate path up your neck, each soft kiss like a whispered secret against your skin. The air between you thickened with warmth, every subtle movement drawing you deeper into the moment. He paused just below your ear, his breath mingling with yours, before he reached out for the bottle of alcohol and took a slow, deliberate swig of the sweet alcohol. He placed the bottle down and he finally met your gaze, something unspoken passed between you.

With a gentle but firm pull, he lifted you, as if in a trance, and brought your lips to his. The kiss was tender at first, like a soft brush of silk, but then it deepened, becoming something slower, more languid. The sweet taste of the alcohol seeped into your mouth, dribbling out of the corner of your lip as you moaned when his tongue brushed against yours, the alcohol, sweet and intoxicating with the taste of your essences mingled between your tongues, each shared taste adding to the heat building between you. He tasted you and you tasted him, the kiss a slow, sensual exchange, each second stretching out as if the world outside ceased to exist.

You could feel the warmth of the alcohol in your veins, but it was nothing compared to the warmth that spread through your chest as his hands held you close, pulling you deeper into him. The kiss deepened, became more desperate, yet still slow—each movement deliberate, a beautiful rhythm of lips and tongue, a dance that belonged only to the two of you. Time seemed to stretch, the room fading away as you lost yourself in the sweetness of the moment, the alcohol, and the slow burn of his kiss.

Jing Yuan’s lips lingered against yours for a moment longer, his breath warm on your skin, before he slowly pulled away. His tongue tracing the bit of alcohol that dribbled out of your mouth, gaze intense and molten. The world seemed to pause for a heartbeat, leaving you suspended in the air between his touch and his gaze. Your heart pounded in your chest as you waited, uncertain of what he might do next, but instead of drawing you back into his embrace, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, the gentle gesture so tender it made your breath catch in your throat.

He pulled away just enough to meet your eyes, and in that moment, there was a strange, knowing calm about him. “Thank you for the... meal,” he said, his voice low, smooth, and unhurried, as though savouring the taste of the drink, you and the moment.

His words hung in the air, unexpected and enigmatic. The meal? You blinked, a flush creeping up your neck, your heart fluttering in confusion. Was that truly all he wanted from you? Was it just a fleeting moment, a passing indulgence?

Your gaze dropped to his chest, your eyes tracing the contours of his form—strong, unwavering. His shirt clung to him in a way that made you acutely aware of the man standing before you. And then, your gaze caught something—he was...

Your breath caught, and your eyes snapped back up to his, meeting his with a quiet intensity that made your pulse quicken. But he only smiled softly, almost like he understood the storm brewing within you, before gently reaching up to pat your head, a small, affectionate gesture that sent a wave of heat rushing to your cheeks.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his fingers brushing against your hair, making your fox ears twitch involuntarily. The touch was so casual, yet somehow it deepened the flush that spread across your face, your heart racing at the intimacy of the moment. It was a small, almost teasing action, but it made you feel as though you were suddenly laid bare in front of him.

His smile softened, his eyes warm yet impossibly distant, as though he were saying goodbye without words. “I enjoyed your company,” he said, the weight of his words settling between you like an unspoken promise that felt both comforting and impossible to decipher. “I will be anticipating another dance soon, until than darling.” His voice smooth as honey, your face turning crimson at the word ‘darling’.

His gaze lingered on you for a beat longer, filled with a complexity you couldn't understand, before he turned and left the private area. The soft sound of his footsteps faded, but his presence remained, lingering in the air, as if he had never really left at all.

You stood there, the room suddenly feeling too large, too empty. ‘Did I do something wrong?’ The question echoed in your mind, drowning out the quiet hum of the space. He had seemed so... needy, as though there was something more. And yet, now he was gone, leaving you with nothing but his words and the warmth of his touch.

Why didn’t he want more? You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was left unfinished, the desire you felt mirrored in the air between you. Why had he stopped? Why hadn't he sought what you had both seemed to crave? It was as if your body had been aching for something deeper, and yet he had held back.

As the silence grew heavier, your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening. The owner stepped inside; her voice sweet like honey but with an edge that sent a chill down your spine.

“You’re done for the night,” she said, her smile thin but knowing. “You can go home now.” Confusion clouded your thoughts. “But... I thought you only let me go after twelve?”

The owner’s smile grew, as though your question amused her. “I won’t be needing you until I call for you,” she replied, her tone light but filled with something more. A finality? You weren’t sure. The words left you unsettled, uncertain of what she truly meant.

She reached into her pocket and handed you something—a silky pouch. The weight of it felt strange in your hand. “Here’s your pay from the General,” she said, her voice dripping with a sort of satisfaction that you couldn't place. “You sure did make him happy.”

Your mind whirled. Made him happy? The words bounced in your skull, unanswered questions stirring within you like a storm. What had just happened? What had you been to him? The idea of him leaving with only that—just that—felt like a question mark lingering in the air. He had seemed so close, so wanting, and yet he left.

The thought of the lingering kiss, the sweet warmth of the alcohol shared between you both, made your chest ache. He had left with a soft smile, but you couldn't shake the sense of something unfinished, something unspoken. Had you misread the moment? As you looked down at the silky pouch, the weight of it felt more symbolic than ever. The pay was there, yes, but the ache, the unanswered longing in your chest—it was something deeper, something that the money couldn't soothe.

The owner’s grin widened as she stepped back, her eyes gleaming with that same knowing look. You were left with the pouch, your heart full of questions, but no answers.

Jing Yuan hadn’t been himself lately, and he knew it. No matter how many duties he fulfilled or how much paperwork he completed or the many sneaky naps he took, his thoughts consistently drifted back to you. He couldn’t erase the memory of your skin beneath his hands—soft and warm, the kind of touch that lingered even after parting. Nor could he forget the taste of you, intoxicating and sweet, or the way your body moved with such elegance and allure during your dances.

It had been nearly a month since Jing Yuan began seeking you out, yet with each encounter, his fascination deepened into an obsession. He couldn’t get enough of you—the way you moved, the sound of your voice, the way your presence filled the room and consumed his thoughts. After every performance, he would reward you in ways that left you trembling, his mouth devoutly working between your thighs, tongue lapping at every drop of your arousal as his fingers thrust deeply into your slick heat. Yet, he never allowed you to touch him, never let you return the favour. His pleasure came solely from your moans, the way your body responded to his touch, and the sight of your unravelling beneath him. He would grind against his own restraint, rutting against his pants, hard and aching, but never crossing the line. He wanted to wait for the perfect moment, the right time to claim you fully—a moment that would be as unforgettable as you were to him.

It wasn’t just your beauty that consumed him, though it had ensnared him first. It was the quiet calmness you exuded, a soft-spoken grace that contrasted so deeply with the fire of your movements. The way your tail swayed behind you, how your ears twitched in subtle reaction to the world around you—it was as if you were always caught between serenity and mischief. The thought of you was a constant hum in his mind, an ache he could not shake.

He found himself wandering the streets of the city more often now – much to Fu xuan dismissal, hoping to find distractions from you. Yet even his usual escapes held no relief. And today was no exception.

As he strolled through Aurum Alley, the faint clinking of porcelain caught his ear, drawing his attention to a small tea shop tucked into the corner. He stepped inside, the familiar scents of herbs and dried flowers wafting over him, soothing but unremarkable—until his eyes fell on you.

You were standing near the back, your head tilted slightly as you admired the display of teacups arranged on a low wooden shelf. The dim lantern light cast a golden glow over you, highlighting the soft fur of your ears and the elegant sweep of your tail swaying absently behind you. You were dressed in a delicate white dress, its

fabric light and airy, brushing against your knees with every movement. The dress was adorned with tiny floral embroidery, dainty and unassuming, much like the way you carried yourself.

Jing Yuan’s breath hitched. He hadn’t expected to see you here, not outside the confines of your world of silk and candlelight. Here, you looked softer, more natural, yet no less captivating. It was a sight that made his chest tighten, as if the universe had conspired to remind him that you were always just out of reach.

You seemed unaware of his presence, your attention wholly captured by a teacup you held delicately in your hands. It was a beautiful piece, adorned with intricate floral designs, vines curling around painted blossoms, the base glimmering faintly with gold. You turned it slowly in your fingers, your tail swishing with a faint, almost wistful rhythm.

The sight of you, so enraptured by something so simple, made his heart clench. And when you set the cup back down with a small, defeated sigh, it took all of his willpower not to close the distance between you immediately.

Instead, he lingered, watching as you hesitated, your fingers brushing against the rim of the cup one last time before you turned away. Jing Yuan didn’t need to guess why you’d left it behind—the soft downturn of your lips told him everything.

He stepped forward then, his presence a shadow that fell over you before his voice, low and smooth, broke the silence.

“Admiring something, are we?”

You startled, your ears twitching at the sound. Turning to face him, your eyes widened briefly before you quickly averted your gaze. “Oh, General,” you murmured, your hands clasping nervously in front of you. “I didn’t see you there.”

He allowed himself a small smile, though his golden eyes remained fixed on you. “It’s a charming shop, isn’t it? Something here seems to have caught your attention.”

You hesitated, glancing toward the shelf where the teacup sat. “It’s nothing,” you said softly, your voice tinged with embarrassment. “Just a pretty cup. I was… just admiring it.”

“Just admiring it?” Jing Yuan repeated, stepping closer, the faint scent of his cologne filling the space between you. “And yet, you look as though you’ve left a piece of your heart behind with it.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you shook your head. “It’s beautiful, but it’s not something I can…” You trailed off, gesturing vaguely, unwilling to say the words aloud.

Jing Yuan’s eyes flickered with something unreadable—part amusement, part something darker. “A beauty such as that shouldn’t be left behind,” he said, his voice dropping lower, softer, as though he were speaking to himself as much as to you. “Nor should one such as you.”

Before you could respond, he moved, his hand reaching out to lift the teacup from the shelf. With a smooth motion, he turned toward the shopkeeper, the transaction over before you could protest.

“General—”

“Consider it a gift,” he interrupted, his tone firm but kind as he handed the cup to you. His fingers brushed yours as you took it, the brief contact sending a jolt through you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, clutching the cup to your chest. Your tail swished nervously behind you; your ears flattened slightly as you avoided his gaze.

Jing Yuan watched you with a quiet intensity, his smile never faltering. Yet, beneath his calm exterior, his mind raced. Seeing you here, holding something he’d given you, made something primal stir within him. You were no longer just a fleeting obsession, no longer a memory confined to dimly lit nights. You were here, real and tangible, and he wasn’t sure he could ever let you go.

Jing Yuan couldn’t help himself. The moment you stepped outside the tea shop, clutching the intricately designed cup he had bought for you, he was already glancing back at the shelves. He ended up purchasing an assortment of things—fine tea leaves, a brewing set that complemented your cup, and even a small silk pouch embroidered with a motif. It wasn’t about the items themselves; it was the thought of you using them, of you remembering this moment, that drove his actions.

He exited the shop with a bag in hand, catching up to you with ease. The sun cast a warm glow on the cobblestone streets, and your figure seemed to glow in the light. Your white dress fluttered softly with each step, and your tail swayed gently behind you, a detail he couldn’t help but admire.

“You didn’t have to get more,” you said softly, glancing at the bag he carried.

He chuckled, his deep voice warm. “It’s no trouble at all. Tea is best enjoyed with care, wouldn’t you agree? Besides, you deserve nothing but the finest.”

Your cheeks turned the faintest shade of pink, and you glanced away, your ears twitching. “Thank you… General.”

“Jing Yuan,” he corrected smoothly, his golden eyes gleaming. “When it’s just us, there’s no need for formalities.”

You hesitated but nodded. “Thank you, Jing Yuan.”

As you walked together, he took the opportunity to get to know you better. It started with small questions—your favourite teas, if you frequented the shop often—but soon, the conversation deepened. He found out that you were passionate about dance, your eyes lighting up as you spoke about it, despite the soft-spoken nature of your words.

“It’s always been something I loved,” you admitted, your fingers brushing the edge of the teacup you still held. “But… the work I do now, it’s not exactly what I envisioned.”

“Oh?” he prompted, his gaze sharp but gentle, encouraging you to continue.

You hesitated, glancing at him briefly before looking back at the path ahead. “The dancing I do now… it’s to pay off my father’s debts. It’s… different from the dancing I dreamed of as a child.”

Jing Yuan’s jaw tightened, though his expression remained calm. The thought of you, someone so poised and graceful, burdened by another’s mistakes, ignited a protective streak within him. He didn’t press further, sensing you weren’t ready to elaborate, but the knowledge lingered in his mind like a seed waiting to take root.

When the time came for you to part ways, you stopped at a small intersection, turning to face him. Your hands clutched the teacup tightly, your expression shy but sincere. “Thank you again, Jing Yuan. For everything.”

His smile softened, and for a moment, his golden gaze held yours with an intensity that made your heart race. “I’ll see you later,” he said, his tone leaving no room for doubt. You blinked, your cheeks heating up as you realised what he meant. You gave him a small, flustered nod before quickly excusing yourself, your tail swishing nervously as you hurried away.

Jing Yuan watched you go, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. He would see you later, of course, but not just as part of a crowd. No, when you danced tonight, it would be for him, and he would make sure you knew it.

The brothel exuded an even more sinful opulence. Red and gold fabrics draped like cascading rivers of silk from the high, arching ceilings. The air was thick with the intoxicating scent of sandalwood incense, mingling with the faint sweetness of lotus blossoms arranged in ornate porcelain vases. The walls were adorned with intricate scrolls of calligraphy, their elegant strokes illuminated by the flickering glow of countless candles. Every corner seemed steeped in temptation, every detail carefully crafted to blur the lines between reality and indulgence.

Jing Yuan sat alone in a private room; a sanctuary veiled by velvet curtains. The plush cushions beneath him did little to ease the tension coiled in his body. A lacquered tray before him held untouched tea and delicate fruit, but his golden gaze never wavered from the stage below. The brothel’s ambiance—a sultry blend of murmurs, soft music, and rustling silks—faded to nothing as you stepped into the spotlight.

Your presence commanded every eye in the room, but his was the only gaze you truly felt. You were a vision of raw, untamed allure. The outfit you wore left little to the imagination, sheer fabrics clinging to your every curve, your skin gleaming with a faint sheen of sweat under the dim, golden light. Crimson painted your lips, a bold invitation, while the smoky shadow around your eyes framed them like a weapon. Your tail swayed with each step, teasing, enticing, an extension of the sensual rhythm that seemed to pulse from your very being.

The music began, slow and sultry, and you moved with a deliberate grace, every step a calculated seduction. Your hips swayed in time with the haunting melody, and the way your hands glided over your body had the audience mesmerized. To him, however, it was something more—a torment, a fire that spread through his veins and pooled low in his stomach.

Jing Yuan’s usually serene expression was gone, replaced by a raw intensity that darkened his golden eyes. He leaned forward, his broad shoulders filling the dimly lit alcove as his focus narrowed solely on you. His fingers tightened on the armrest, his chest rising and falling in steady, heavy breaths. The soft sheen of sweat glistening on your skin, the subtle arch of your back, the sway of your hips—it was more than he could bear, yet he couldn’t look away.

The room disappeared for him; the murmured conversations, the soft laughter, the flickering candles—all of it was drowned out by you. Every slow, sensual turn, every flick of your tail, every teasing brush of your fingers across your skin seemed crafted solely for him.

When your eyes lifted and met his, just for a moment, the tension snapped taut. That fleeting connection sent a visceral thrill through him, a silent challenge in the way you quickly looked away. His lips parted as though to speak, but no words came. The denial—the way you teased and withheld even your gaze—was maddening.

You spun again, your bold crimson lips parting as though whispering secrets to the air, your hands brushing over the curve of your waist. The sheer fabric clinging to your body teased him mercilessly, every contour revealed in the flickering candlelight. His golden gaze roamed over you hungrily, his breaths deep and deliberate as if trying to anchor himself against the storm of desire you had unleashed.

The sweat glistening on your thighs, the way your hair clung to your neck, the confident arch of your body—it was intoxicating. Jing Yuan could feel the heat rising

within him, his control slipping with every second. You were temptation incarnate, and he was utterly, completely ensnared.

Jing Yuan's hand moved to rest against his thigh, but the tension in his body betrayed the calm demeanour he fought to maintain. His fingers flexed, slowly drifting, palm pressing lightly against the growing ache beneath the rich fabric of his robes. The weight of his breath was deliberate, measured, but his chest rose and fell with an intensity that mirrored the fire coursing through him.

His gaze remained locked on you, unwavering, devouring. The way you moved-every sway of your hips, every arch of your back, every tantalizing flick of your tail-was an exquisite torment.

You were more than a dancer; you were an artist, painting desire across the room with your body as the brush and the music as your canvas. The strain in his muscles was palpable, his golden eyes darkening with an unspoken hunger. Yet even amidst his rising heat, there was admiration- appreciation for the elegance and mastery of your movements. The way your body told a story, the way your presence commanded the room, it was more than alluring; it was transcendent.

But the intensity of his desire could not be denied. The hardness beneath his robes grew, a throbbing reminder of the effect you had on him. His jaw tightened as his fingers pressed harder, a fleeting attempt at control. Every step you took, every glance you spared his way, only served to unravel the restraint he so desperately clung to. Jing Yuan's breath hitched, his usually steady composure unravelling. The beauty of your art left him enraptured, the sensuality of your dance leaving his mind clouded, his body heavy with need. You were a siren, and he was helpless against your call, a prisoner to the exquisite torment you inflicted upon him.

As your performance came to its crescendo, the room seemed to hold its breath. The music faded into the background, muffled by the pulse pounding in Jing Yuan’s ears. His hand twitched against his thigh, his entire body taut with unrestrained tension as you stepped down from the platform. Each movement you made was deliberate, a purposeful seduction that left his chest heaving, his golden eyes drinking in every detail of you.

And finally, you were upstairs in the room with him.

The space between you closed, and Jing Yuan felt his pulse quicken, a rare break in his usual calm demeanour. His fingers clenched briefly before releasing, as if bracing himself for the storm that was you. You stopped just shy of his seat, your eyes meeting his, bold and teasing, yet softened by something unreadable. The flick of your tail and the slight quirk of your lips only stoked the fire inside him further.

He didn’t wait.

Rising from his seat in one fluid motion, Jing Yuan closed the distance between you in a heartbeat. His large hands found your waist, pulling you to him with a fervour that left no room for hesitation. The moment his lips met yours, it was as though the world fell away. The kiss was urgent, demanding, and possessive. It wasn’t soft or tentative—it was fire and hunger, consuming and overwhelming.

His lips pressed against yours like a man starved, tasting, exploring, memorizing every inch of you. One hand cupped the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair, while the other splayed firmly across your lower back, pulling you impossibly closer. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue sweeping across your lower lip before slipping inside to claim more of you.

The taste of you was intoxicating, a heady mix that made his restraint crumble. Every small sound you made—a whimper, a sigh—drove him further into madness. The way your soft hands gripped his robes, clutching at him like he was your anchor, only fuelled his need to devour you whole.

Jing Yuan’s mind raced; his thoughts consumed by you. The way you moved, the way you felt pressed against him, the way you yielded under his touch—it was all too much and yet not enough. His hold tightened, his fingers pressing into your skin, as if trying to etch the memory of this moment into his soul.

He wanted more.

No, he wanted everything.

The desire coursing through him wasn’t just lust—it was something far deeper, more consuming. He wanted to know every part of you, to uncover the layers of your soul as thoroughly as he wanted to explore your body. The thought of you with anyone else sent a possessive heat surging through him, and the idea of keeping you close, of having you as his, was a temptation too powerful to ignore.

He broke the kiss only when breathing became a necessity, his forehead resting against yours as he tried to steady himself. His breaths were ragged, his chest heaving, but his hands never left you, as though afraid you might vanish if he let go.

“You’re driving me mad,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, barely above a whisper. His golden eyes bore into yours, intense and filled with something that bordered on obsession. “Do you know what you do to me? How every moment I spend away from you feels like an eternity?”

You didn’t respond—not with words. Instead, your lips found his again, softer this time but no less heated, as though silently answering his unspoken question.

Jing Yuan’s grip softened, his thumb brushing along your jawline with a tenderness that contrasted the fervent need in his kiss. He pulled back just enough to study your face, his gaze tracing every feature as though committing it to memory.

“You have no idea what you mean to me,” he said, his voice quieter now but still laced with that same raw intensity. “But I’ll show you. One day, I’ll show you.”

The promise lingered in the air, heavy and unspoken, as he held you close, the room around you fading into nothingness. For now, in this moment, you were his entire world.

Jing Yuan's gaze darkened as his hands slipped to the hem of your lingerie top, his breath heavy, his movements deliberate. With a fluid motion, he pushed the delicate fabric up and off, revealing the soft curve of your breasts. His eyes lingered, golden and molten, as though the sight of you alone was enough to undo him completely.

"You're beautiful," he murmured, voice thick with reverence and desire.

Before you could reply, his lips descended, capturing one pert nipple between them, his tongue swirling feverishly. He suckled with an intensity that left no doubt of his hunger, his large hand cupping your other breast, kneading, and teasing. Every soft moan and gasp that escaped your lips only seemed to spur him on, his groans vibrating against your skin as he lavished attention upon you.

His kisses trailed down, wet and open-mouthed, over the curve of your stomach, lingering at your navel before he retraced his path back up. His lips found yours again, searing and demanding, his hands never leaving your body, holding you as if you were a treasure he refused to let go.

Without a word, Jing Yuan sank down into his chair, his strong form commanding even in the act of sitting. His hands gripped your waist, lifting you effortlessly to place you astride his thick thigh.

The moment your clothed pussy settled against him; his sharp inhale betrayed just how much he could feel. The thin fabric separating your body from his was soaked with your arousal, a warm, damp heat that sent a pulse of need through him.

"You’re already so wet for me," he rumbled, his voice a deep, velvety growl. His hands gripped your hips firmly, guiding you to grind against his thigh. "Go on. Show me how much you want this."

The friction was delicious, the firmness of his thigh pressing against your most sensitive spot. Your hands clung to his broad shoulders for balance, your body moving instinctively to his rhythm.

Jing Yuan’s eyes never left you, his intense gaze locked on your face, drinking in every expression of pleasure. His lips quirked into a sinful smirk as he watched you lose yourself, your breath hitching, your movements growing more desperate.

"Good girl," he murmured, his words a heady mix of praise and possession. His fingers dug into your hips, guiding you faster, harder, his own breath growing heavier as he watched you unravel. "Let me see everything. Don’t hold back."

You trembled in his lap, your soft, perky nipples pebbled from the cool air and the intensity of his gaze. Jing Yuan’s large hands skimmed down your sides, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. His golden eyes flicked lower, settling on the thin scrap of fabric that barely covered your most intimate place.

The sight made his breath hitch—a damp patch spreading across the delicate fabric, clinging to the shape of your pussy lips, leaving absolutely nothing to his imagination. The thin barrier split against the firm muscle of his thigh, framing you in a way that sent his thoughts spiralling.

Jing Yuan's jaw tightened, his head tilting back for a moment as he groaned low and deep. The image of your leaking cunt pulled taut around his thick cock flashed unbidden in his mind, the mere thought causing his grip on your plush hips to tighten.

"Not yet," he muttered under his breath, his voice rough, his restraint hanging by a thread. His arousal throbbed painfully beneath his robes, but he refused to let the tension break—refused to give in until he had you entirely, in the only way he could truly claim you.

His hands flexed against your flesh, fingers sinking into the soft curves as he guided you to move against his thigh again. His golden eyes burned with raw want, but there was something deeper there—something possessive, primal, and utterly consuming.

"You’ll have me, but not like this," he rasped, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, his breath warm and heavy. "The only way I’ll give you my seed is when I’m inside you. Completely. Do you understand?"

The words sent a shiver through you, your body trembling even more as his intent settled over you like a tangible weight. You nodded, unable to form words, lost in the way his hands and his voice claimed every part of you.

Tears welled in your eyes as Jing Yuan’s strong hands gripped your hips, roughly guiding you against the firm muscle of his thigh. Each drag of your soaked core over the thick fabric sent shockwaves through your body, your clit throbbing with an ache so overwhelming it made your head spin. You clung to his broad shoulders, gasping for air, your cries a mix of pleasure and desperation.

Jing Yuan’s mouth found the delicate curve of your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin before he sucked hard, determined to leave a mark—a vivid bloom that declared you his. The sting only heightened the sensations coursing through you, and your moans spurred him on, his movements growing fiercer, more relentless.

“Good girl,” he murmured against your skin, his deep voice sending a tremor down your spine. His golden eyes, darkened with unrestrained hunger, never left your face, drinking in every reaction, every sound, every shudder of your body.

Your back arched, a broken cry spilling from your lips as the tension in your core snapped. Waves of pleasure crashed over you, your thighs trembling uncontrollably as your release soaked through the flimsy fabric barely clinging on you. Jing Yuan’s large hand splayed across your lower back, holding you steady, his grip firm yet comforting as he guided you through your climax.

You collapsed against his chest, your body spent and trembling. Your underwear, a soaking mess as Jing Yuan’s arms enveloped you, his large hands moving gently now, one rubbing soothing circles along your back.

“There we go,” he murmured, his voice low and tender, a stark contrast to the possessive fire that had consumed him moments before. “I’ve got you.”

His lips brushed against your temple, the touch grounding you as you nestled into his embrace, your breaths coming in shallow, uneven gasps.

Jing Yuan’s hand glided gently along the soft, velvety fur of your tail; his touch light yet deliberate. A small, breathless whine escaped your parted lips, your cheeks warming as you instinctively nuzzled into the solid warmth of his chest. His scent, calming yet intoxicating, filled your senses, easing the tension in your body while making your heart race.

“M-My tail... it’s sensitive, Jing Yuan,” you murmured, your voice barely audible, shy and muffled against him.

He paused, his golden eyes glinting with curiosity as a faint smirk curved his lips. “I see,” he replied simply, his tone smooth, holding an edge of playfulness. Instead of lingering, his hand shifted to rest on your back, his large palm moving in slow, soothing circles. Though his touch remained comforting, the knowing look in his gaze hinted that he had filed away this discovery for some other time.

All Jing Yuan wanted, with every fibre of his being, was to bury himself deep into the irresistible warmth of your slick, aching pussy, to lose himself entirely in the pleasure you could give him. But he could not—not yet. Not when he knew you deserved more than just raw passion. He wanted to show you his devotion; to prove he was a man worthy of claiming you fully.

His chest rose and fell with effort as he reined in the primal urges clawing at his restraint. The soft tremble of your body against his own pulled him back to the present, grounding him in the tender moment.

Jing Yuan’s large hand moved to thread gently through your hair, his fingers combing through the strands with a soothing rhythm. “You did so well,” he murmured, his voice low and comforting. His other hand continued to rub light circles on your back, coaxing you to relax as your breathing slowly evened out.

When he finally pulled back slightly, his golden eyes softened, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Would you like to go to dinner with me?” he asked, the question tender, yet filled with an underlying intensity that promised this was not a mere casual invitation.

The warmth of his gaze and the sincerity in his voice made your heart flutter. You blinked up at him, dazed and blushing, but managed a shy nod, your voice barely above a whisper as you replied, “I’d like that.”

His smile widened, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. ��Good,” he murmured, already envisioning how he would make the evening one you would never forget.

Author’s Note:

Part 2 ? Dinner turns into a full-on session of raw fucking cause reader got her heat ? :3

reblogs, likes, comments, and follows are highly appreciated <3

also check out my masterlist if u are interested in any of my other works <3

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dumb-ster-fire · 5 months ago

Text

Azriel x fem!reader - Just a dress

Summary: While shopping with Mor, Y/N is asked to model a beautiful wedding dress for a bridal shop in need of a last-minute replacement. She agrees, enjoying the fun of it—until Azriel, her mate, sees her. His shadows tighten, his gaze dark and intense. It’s just a dress… so why does it feel like something deeper?

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Y/N glanced at Mor, who was already grinning like she had won the lottery. “Oh, you have to do it,” Mor urged, practically bouncing on her heels.

The shop attendant clasped her hands together. “It’s a simple favor—just try on the dress, walk around a little, and in return, we’ll compensate you.” Her gaze swept over Y/N’s tall, elegant frame. “You’re perfect for it.”

Y/N tilted her head, considering. It did sound fun. And it wasn’t every day she got to play dress-up in a gown fit for royalty.

“Alright,” she said with a smirk. “Let’s do it.”

The attendant beamed and led them inside, where Y/N was soon whisked into a dressing room. The gown was decadent—intricate embroidery shimmering in the light, a full, sweeping skirt, and delicate lace detailing. When they placed the diadem on her head and finished her makeup, she barely recognized herself in the mirror. She looked… ethereal. Regal.

Mor’s gasp as she stepped out confirmed it. “Holy shit, Y/N.” Her eyes widened with something between awe and mischief. “Azriel is going to pass out when he sees you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the little flutter in her stomach at the thought.

She had agreed to walk around the boutique and outside for a bit, letting potential customers see the dress in motion. And of course, Mor was already plotting.

Y/N smirked. “Just don’t let Az see it.”

Mor’s wicked grin only widened. “Oh, no promises.”

Y/N gracefully walked alongside the shop representative as they guided her to the designated path where she’d be showcasing the dress. The streets of Velaris, always lively, now had curious onlookers pausing in their steps as she passed. Some whispered, some openly admired, and more than a few stopped in their tracks entirely.

Mor strolled beside her, looking far too pleased with herself, hands clasped behind her back like she was completely innocent.

Unbeknownst to Y/N, she had already reached out to Rhys through their mind link.

You need to get your asses down here. Now.

Rhys’s response was immediate. What did you do?

Mor barely contained her excitement as she side-eyed Y/N, who was completely unaware of the unfolding scheme. Not what I did. What Y/N did. She’s walking through Velaris in a wedding dress.

There was a moment of stunned silence before multiple voices chimed in at once.

Cassian: YOU’RE JOKING. WE’RE ON OUR WAY.

Rhysand: This I have to see.

Amren: Hah. Poor Azriel.

Azriel: …What?

Mor grinned but kept her expression neutral as she turned to Y/N, who was still elegantly making her way through the street, oblivious to the storm about to descend.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

Y/N, completely unaware of the chaos she’d just unleashed, continued walking with effortless grace, the luxurious wedding gown flowing around her like stardust. The diadem atop her head caught the light, making her look every bit the ethereal, untouchable bride. People on the street kept stopping to watch, whispering amongst themselves. Some even clapped in admiration.

Mor, biting her lip to keep from outright laughing, linked arms with her as they neared the end of the walk. “You know, you look obscenely good in that dress.”

Y/N smirked. “Of course I do.” Then, with mock seriousness, “It’s a shame no one I know is here to see it.”

Mor nearly snorted. If only Y/N knew.

Because right at that moment, Cassian, Rhys, Amren, and—most importantly—Azriel appeared at the edge of the street, blending into the crowd.

Rhys, hands in his pockets, took one look at Y/N and let out a low whistle. Damn.

Cassian, on the other hand, was losing his mind. “OH. MY. GODS.” He practically bounced on his feet. “I knew this was gonna be good, but this—this is better than I ever could have imagined.”

Amren crossed her arms, eyes flicking between Azriel and Y/N with amusement. “He’s going to combust.”

And Azriel—Azriel was frozen.

The moment his eyes landed on Y/N, everything else blurred into insignificance. The gown, the diadem, the way she moved with such natural confidence—it was lethal. She was breathtaking on any given day, but like this? Like this?

It took everything in him to school his expression, to keep himself from storming over, yanking her against him, and demanding when exactly she was planning to tell him she looked like that in a wedding dress.

Mor, watching all of this unfold, casually said through the mind link, Enjoying the view, Az?

His shadows curled tighter around him. You knew about this.

Obviously.

Cassian, watching Azriel’s battle for control, leaned over and whispered, “So, when’s the wedding?”

Azriel shot him a look so sharp it could have gutted a man. Cassian only grinned wider.

And then—Y/N finally noticed them.

Y/N, still blissfully unaware, turned her head slightly, about to make some offhand comment to Mor—when she spotted them.

Her steps faltered for a split second as her pale green eyes locked onto the group of familiar faces. And then—she saw him.

Azriel stood slightly apart from the others, his wings half-flared, shadows coiling around him in a way that told her everything. His expression was unreadable, but the intensity in his hazel eyes burned hotter than the sun.

“Oh, fuck,” Y/N muttered under her breath.

Mor cackled.

Cassian was barely holding in his laughter, whispering something to Rhys, who was just standing there, smug as all hell. Amren, as usual, looked more entertained than anything.

And Azriel?

He stalked toward her.

Y/N straightened automatically, an instinctive reaction to the sheer force of his gaze. As he closed the distance, she could practically feel the possessiveness rolling off him in waves, feel the weight of it in the way his jaw clenched, in the way his shadows swirled around his boots like they, too, were ready to drag her close and never let go.

She tilted her head, offering a smirk despite the sudden racing of her heart. “Well, hello there, shadowsinger.”

Azriel stopped right in front of her, his gaze sweeping over everything—the gown, the diadem, the way the silk hugged her curves just right.

“You didn’t think to mention this?” His voice was low, edged with something dark, something claiming.

Y/N’s smirk widened. “I didn’t think I needed to.”

Azriel let out a slow breath, his wings twitching slightly before he reached out, fingers brushing along the delicate embroidery on her sleeve. His touch was light, reverent—dangerous.

“This,” he murmured, eyes flicking up to hers, “is unfair.”

Y/N hummed, enjoying the heat in his gaze far too much. “Oh? Why’s that?”

Azriel’s lips parted like he was about to answer, but Cassian—because of course he did—ruined the moment.

“So,” the general called, grinning like a madman, “should we just start planning the wedding now or—”

Y/N turned sharply. “Cassian.”

Cassian held up his hands. “I’m just saying! You’re already in the dress—”

“I will fight you.”

“I’d like to see you try in that gown.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, you absolute menace—”

But before she could launch herself at him—before she could even move—Azriel’s hand curled around her wrist, tugging her back toward him, his chest brushing against hers.

“You do look stunning,” he murmured, quiet enough that only she could hear.

Y/N blinked up at him, momentarily thrown off by the softness in his voice, by the intensity in his eyes.

Her breath hitched.

For once, she didn’t have a clever response.

Azriel’s fingers skimmed up her arm, a featherlight touch that sent a shiver through her. His eyes were still locked onto hers, intense, unreadable, drinking her in like she was something rare, something his.

Y/N swallowed. “You—” She cleared her throat, grasping for something smug to say, something to lighten the heat pooling in her stomach. “You keep looking at me like that, and I might think you’re planning something.”

Azriel’s lips barely twitched, his only response a slow, deliberate glance down the length of her. “I’m definitely planning something.”

Mother above.

Mor, meanwhile, was enjoying this way too much. “I have never seen you look so—” she wiggled her fingers dramatically in Azriel’s direction “—feral.”

Azriel didn’t even acknowledge her.

Rhys was still grinning, arms crossed, looking like he was storing this entire moment away for blackmail later. “I have to say, I didn’t expect this today.”

Y/N scoffed. “Neither did I, to be fair.” She gestured to the decadent gown. “It was supposed to be fun, not—” She flicked her eyes back to Azriel, whose expression hadn’t softened in the slightest. “—whatever this is.”

“This,” Azriel echoed, voice quieter now, though no less intense.

Y/N arched a brow. “You don’t like it?”

Azriel huffed a breath, stepping even closer, until she could feel his warmth, until his wings partially wrapped behind her like he was shielding her from everyone. His fingers skimmed the side of her waist, grazing the delicate fabric.

“I love it,” he admitted, so quiet only she could hear. “And I hate that everyone else can see you in it.”

Oh.

Y/N’s breath caught.

Azriel’s lips tilted up slightly. “You knew this would drive me insane.”

She grinned, regaining some of her composure. “Did I?”

His fingers flexed on her waist. “You did.”

Cassian clapped his hands. “Alright, lovebirds, before you two start making out in the middle of the street—”

Y/N threw him a glare, but he only smirked.

Amren, ever the voice of reason, just sighed. “Can we go now?”

Y/N huffed, shooting one last glance at Azriel before stepping back. He let her go—reluctantly—but his shadows still curled around her ankle as if refusing to let her slip too far away.

She smirked. “If you behave, shadowsinger, maybe I’ll wear this just for you later.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened.

Cassian whistled.

Mor lost it.

And as Y/N strode past them, chin held high, she could feel Azriel’s eyes still burning into her, still tracking her every movement, still plotting ways to make her pay for this little tease.

Maybe I should keep the dress.

Y/N felt the weight of Azriel’s gaze long after she had passed him, heat crawling up her spine as she tried—tried—to keep her composure. The gown, the diadem, the makeup… it was all just supposed to be fun, something ridiculous and lighthearted. But now?

Now she was very aware of the fact that she had just paraded down the street looking like a bride, while her mate—her dangerously possessive mate—stood there looking like he was barely restraining himself from throwing her over his shoulder and flying them straight home.

Mor, still at her side, was cackling. “You’re evil for that.”

Y/N grinned. “I know.”

Cassian strolled up beside them, shaking his head. “You do realize you just gave him about a hundred new fantasies, right?”

Y/N snorted. “As if he didn’t already have them.”

Mor hummed. “True, but now? Now it’s personal.”

A shiver trailed down her spine, but before she could hink too much about it, the bridal shop representative rushed over, delighted by all the attention Y/N had drawn. “Oh, this was perfect!” The woman beamed. “You looked exquisite—so poised, so regal. And your mate—Mother above, his reaction was exactly the kind of passion we want associated with our dresses.”

Y/N barely held in a laugh. If only they knew.

The woman clapped her hands. “Would you consider modeling for us again in the future?”

Mor lost it, clutching her stomach as she doubled over in laughter.

Y/N smirked. “I’ll… think about it.”

She could feel Azriel’s shadows still lingering near her, like they refused to let her out of their sight. Good. Let him suffer a bit.

Still, as she walked back to the shop to change, she sent a whisper through the bond.

Did you enjoy the show, shadowsinger?

A pause. Then, a voice like a dark promise.

You’ll pay for that, starlight.

Y/N’s stomach flipped.

Maybe she would keep the dress.

Y/N grinned wickedly as she stepped back into the bridal shop, Mor still laughing beside her. The moment the door shut behind them, she pressed a hand to her chest, her heart hammering as Azriel’s words lingered in her mind. You’ll pay for that, starlight.

Oh, she knew that tone.

And she absolutely planned to drag it out for as long as possible.

“Did you see his face?” Mor wheezed, wiping at her eyes. “Y/N, I swear to the Mother, I have never seen him like that before. He looked like he was this close to starting a public riot.”

Y/N smirked. “I was hoping for a reaction.” She turned, admiring herself in the massive mirror. “Didn’t expect to look this good, though.”

The gown was decadent—pure white with intricate silver embroidery that shimmered under the light. It clung to her curves, cascading in elegant folds, and the diadem in her long hair only added to the illusion of royalty. She looked like she belonged in an ancient, otherworldly court, a queen stepping out of legend.

And Azriel had seen it.

Y/N felt the heat of his gaze even now, the intensity that had burned through the crowd. Her smirk deepened.

Mor nudged her. “You have to keep this dress. I mean, come on. You look like some celestial queen.”

Y/N hummed. “You just want to see Azriel suffer more.”

“Absolutely.” Mor grinned. “And so do you.”

She didn’t even bother denying it.

After a few more minutes, Y/N reluctantly stepped back into the dressing room to change. The moment she pulled the heavy gown off, she exhaled, shaking her head at herself. She had just been playing along with the whole thing, but now, a deeper thought crept in.

Marriage.

She and Azriel hadn’t talked about it, not really. But standing out there, with the entire Inner Circle watching, with him watching, the thought had settled in a way it hadn’t before.

Would she marry him?

The answer struck her as effortlessly as breathing. Of course. She was his, just as he was hers. There was no question about it.

But still, the idea of it—the reality of a ceremony, of wearing a dress like this with intention—sent an unfamiliar feeling curling in her chest.

Excitement.

A little bit of fear.

And a lot of amusement, because she knew Azriel was still reeling.

By the time she stepped out in her normal clothes again, Mor had already sent another message through the bond link. Y/N raised a brow.

Mor just winked. “You’ll see.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but when they finally stepped out of the shop, she did see.

Or rather—she felt it.

Azriel.

Leaning against the wall just outside, shadows curling around his frame, golden skin taut with restrained tension. His hazel eyes—burning—traced over her, head to toe, like he was still seeing her in that gown.

Y/N’s breath caught, but she smirked. “Came to pick me up, shadowsinger?”

His voice was dark silk. “Had to make sure you weren’t planning to run off and get married without me.”

Y/N let out a soft laugh, stepping close, just enough to taunt him with her presence. “Now, where’s the fun in that?”

Azriel’s eyes flickered with something dangerous. He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear as he murmured,

“You will pay for that, starlight.”

Y/N’s stomach flipped. Again.

Mor stifled a laugh behind them.

Y/N just tilted her chin up, meeting his smoldering gaze with a challenge. “Looking forward to it.”

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applejuicinator · 1 month ago

Text

The LADS men and your jealousy.

TW: Angst that is very easily resolved, misunderstanding, Zayne fucking up just a teeny bit.Our baby is only human. Also my first fic in years so it’s probably garbage. Tumblr is now my fic dumping ground.

****************************************************

Green isn’t your best colour

Whilst jealousy isn’t something completely unknown to you, the situation in front of you seemed to stir an unbridled fury deep within your gut.

❄️ Zayne ❄️

Your beautiful and caring partner in crime was a literal angel when it came to your needs, whims and wants. He had never given you any reason to doubt him or his faith in your relationship, it was something entirely foreign in your mind, as though your brain couldn’t even compute a possibility of him cheating.

But when you walked into his office, well into the night mind you, to see a beautiful young doctor shoulder to shoulder with your boyfriend as they sifted through papers… something horrible and cold came to rest on your shoulders.

You knew nothing had happened, even with the surprising contact Zayne was sharing with another person. He normally didn’t tolerate people in his presence for very long never mind them touching him. He looked up from the report in hand, a look of surprise skimmed his sculpted features, but the sparkle of joy in his expression was hard to miss.

The young woman next to him rolled her chair away from him slightly, as though she had been caught red handed. Zayne, you trusted with your whole heart, your entire physical and mental being.

But this woman, this gorgeous, tall modelesque doctor who tracked your partners movements subtly with her body, was a different story. She probably didn’t realise you saw through her easily, the nervous ramrod straight posture was evidence enough. You had spent years fighting wanderers, watching closely and intensely to shifts in the world around you meant you were very adept at picking up on the small things.

You walked over to his desk with a perfect practised grin, learned through your many undercover missions. Zayne’s small smile disappeared however when he noticed the stiffness to your lips, the unusual tightness in your gaze. He was attuned to your every emotion, knowing perfectly how you felt even if it was a quiet exhale. In fact he was oblivious to pretty much everything except you and his patients, so a hot woman trying to hit on him probably flew straight over his head. .

This was both a blessing and a curse.

“Darling I was just checking up on you before I headed home” He leant into your touch as you delicately kissed his cheek, cooing internally at the red tint to his ears.

Your gaze now shifted to the doctor next to him, who had rolled a few more inches away, papers clutched tightly between her fingers. She didn’t look at you though, instead focusing on the words in front of her, willing you out of existence.

“This is Lillian, a new junior doctor from Skyhaven” Zayne introduced you both matter of factly, unaware of the silent battle ensuing. Lillian smiled at you kindly but it didn’t quite reach her eyes which irritated you even more. If you’re going to be so clear with your fascination for someone else’s boyfriend at least have the decency to look a little shameful.

“I didn’t realise the time; I’ll finish looking through these reports with Lillian quickly. Do you want to wait for me?”

For some reason the way he said her name rubbed you the wrong way, as though they were old friends. His other colleagues simply received a title or their surname, but she had somehow received the privilege of being on first name basis.

Had Zayne ever witnessed you being outwardly jealous before? You think back through your loving five year relationship, filled with some ups and down like any other, but never had you experienced an intense pang of jealously like this. There were times when women had hit on him but… look at the man! He was ethereal, heaven sent. Zayne never spared them even a single glance, barely registering their existence. You were so confident in him that the jealousy never reached more than surface level.

But this felt different, she wasn’t just a random woman who blipped by. This was a woman who held his gaze even if it was just a professional one; he was aware of her.

It didn’t help that Zayne was one of the most beautiful and kind hearted people you had ever laid eyes on. It caused people to flock to him despite his icy atmosphere, because they knew he genuinely cared.

“Darling?” You’re startled from your thoughts by a gentle hand taking yours, Zayne fixing you with a concerned look. “Why don’t you head home without me?”

You subconsciously pulled your hand from his grip, the interaction leaving him more confused.

It was only reports, he was only looking through reports with a fellow colleague. Nothing more you told yourself. The thought of leaving him alone with this woman made your stomach church.

Just colleagues. Heck, even if they were friends, it’s not in your right to tell him who he can and can’t mingle with. You’re not so old fashioned that you don’t think that men and women can’t be friends.

But you could see the gleam in Lillian’s eyes, from the way she angled her whole body to hang on every word he said all the way to her tongue coming to nervously dampen her lips whenever he spoke.

You trusted Zayne. And you couldn’t really find any excuse to stay behind to wait for him.

“Yeah I think I’m just tired. Please don’t stay too late” you clipped, giving him a rushed goodbye kiss and hightailing it out of there without sparing Lillian a second glance. He’s just showing her the ropes whilst she gets used to Asko.

If Yvonne noticed your grimace as you hurried from the building, she doesn’t mention it.

However, you should have known things never go that smoothly.

Lillian continued to rear her ugly head for the next few weeks, subtly at first but then more and more you saw her almost glued to Zayne’s side whenever you visited. You were biting your tongue the whole time, wondering when and if you should even say something. After all they weren’t crossing any boundaries and Zayne was still enamoured with every breath you made.

You scoured forums and advice columns about what to do – how to handle jealousy. Nothing of note ever came back, mostly just people venting how they felt and never really any solutions. You felt too ashamed to talk to your friends; it was such a new feeling and what if they confirmed your fears that you were being vindictive? A horrible nasty woman green with envy.

So you bottled it all up and pushed your complaints into the pit of your stomach. Even when Zayne mentioned her in passing at home, even when he told you not to come give him lunch because he needed to show Lillian some things.

But things came to a head, all things snap and break under pressure eventually.

You blinked down at the Asko hospital official account on Linksta, the page opened to their most recent picture which was a glimpse of the ‘Esteemed Medicine Gala’ which aimed to give due credit to hardworking doctors and allowed them to share tips and stories. The picture was a snapshot of golden hues and ornate declarations, with a group of well dressed people gathered in the middle posing elegantly. There you could see Zayne’s solemn figure, his face impassive aside from the slight upturn of his lips in the ghost of a smile. Lillian, hair professionally tousled and dripping with decadent jewels stood beside him. She wasn’t touching him, in fact she was stood quite far from him but it made your blood boil nonetheless.

You had debated bringing this up with your boyfriend for the past week, ever since you had stumbled across it. This Gala was something you attended with him every year but the event was delayed and you had ended up being at a conference in Skyhaven when it was finally reorganised. Absolutely typical timing when your emotions were a fraught storm of unease and jealousy.

You very much know that a junior doctor like Lillian wasn’t privy to the gala, unless she had attended as a plus one. Zayne’s plus one.

He confirmed it when you first mentioned the photo, just in passing so it seemed casual enough. He was upset it wasn’t you beside him, he said as much, but that was it. And it felt like a punch to the gut. Why had he even brought her in the first place? Surely Zayne, who was incredibly emotionally intelligent under normal circumstances, must understand how bringing another woman to a public event like that would look to your significant other.

Or did he notice and he just… didn’t care? Had he grown tired of you? You were at war with yourself, with your own thoughts pushing you further and further into this spiral of negativity and suspicion.

What did ring true is that you couldn’t keep this to yourself anymore.

When Zayne entered through the door close to midnight to find you staring blankly at the tv which was off, he immediately knew something was wrong. He had noticed your shift in mood and demeanour for the past few weeks, but when questioned you had waved him off with it being due to the back and forth hunters conferences. With your new promotion at work… he believed it without question.

But this was new.

“Darling?” He questioned gently, he placed his keys in the entry way bowl, cringing as the metallic clinking echoed through the quiet apartment. You hummed to confirm you heard him but didn’t move to greet him, your eyes remained glued to the empty tv screen. Zayne came and sat beside you, he shrugged off his coat and laid it on the arm of the plush setae. The silence stretched on for a few moments before Zayne shuffled closer, resting his hand on your thigh in quiet comfort.

“What’s the matter? Has something happened?” Had it been work again? Were they pushing you above and beyond your boundaries, you often did overtime to help out others. Your caring nature was something he adored about you, but not when it came to the detriment of your health. He supposed you were both a pair of workaholics.

You bit your lip, inner turmoil obviously painting your features. Zayne waited patiently, calmly and lovingly as he always did.

“Something has been bothering me lately and it isn’t work” you glanced at him from the corner of your eyes, his face beautifully bathed in the orange glow of the side table lamp. “I really don’t know how to even… say this” you inhaled, then exhaled.

“I’m uncomfortable with how close you’ve gotten to Lillian, and I probably should have told you earlier but I didn’t want to come off as possessive” You rambled, your voice hitched with nervousness but you kept your gaze trained on a spot in the corner above the cute potted plant he bought you recently. You couldn’t look at him. Your voice tapered off quietly, and when Zayne didn’t respond immediately you felt your hear beat stacatto, the thumping loud in your ears.

“My relationship with Lillian is entirely professional, I don’t believe I would even qualify us as friends” Zayne sounded confused, if you turned to look at him you bet he’d have that cute scrunch to his brow that always appeared when something baffled him. Which you did. Often.

His statement was composed and matter of fact, that should have made you feel better. But it didn’t. It was evident this man didn’t feel a shred of anything for the bright eyed, bushy tailed junior. But his statement was dismissive, even though you know he wasn’t trying to be. It sorta fucking hurt.

“I know I know, and I trust you wholeheartedly but there are just some things that don’t sit well with me” You expected Zayne to maybe ask what made you uncomfortable and how you could both try to come to a solution, or at least comfort you but instead your boyfriend did the opposite.

“She’s a fellow doctor, someone I have to work with for the care of my patients. I can’t just ignore her” Your head snapped to him so fast, as though it was on a swivel. First of all you hadn’t even suggested such a thing, second of all he didn’t even ask what was making you uncomfortable in the first place. You questioned yourself for a moment; intensely staring into his eyes. You pushed his hand off your thigh, jumping from the couch like a coiled up spring as unease jittered beneath your skin.

“I’m not asking you to ignore her Zayne!” His name left your mouth with more force than necessary. You two didn’t argue often, once in a blue moon and usually about smaller things like your similar habits of staying out at work late but this felt very different. You felt your hands shaking, you were angry, footfalls heavy as you paced in front of him.

“Well, what would you have me do?” Zayne’s voice was level just like normal but this aggravated you like nothing else. It made you feel as though you were blowing things out of proportion.

The two of you continued to swap passive arguments for what felt like hours but in reality was only minutes. Your pitch continued to get louder and louder, you weren’t aware you were shouting until Zayne told you that screeching wasn’t a way to get your point across.

Screeching? Screeching?

Your mouth snapped shut. You looked down at yourself, chest heaving with anger and anxiety, frustrated tears threatening to gush forth like a dam. The two of you stood apart from one another, the distance seemed like an unbridgeable gap. The man you loved more than anything stood the other side.

For Zayne’s part he didn’t really understand what was happening. He had told you that he didn’t even consider the woman a friend, which he didn’t, he couldn’t even remember her face once he stepped past the hospital threshold. Bubbling indigence spilled from him in waves. It felt as though you were questioning his motives, his love and loyalty to you. He gave all he had, everything was for you and you only.

“Zayne.” The cold frost that seeped from your tone made whatever he was about to say die on the tip of his tongue. The name you usually spoke so lovingly, dripped in honey and happiness, was instead replaced with cold venom. “I repeatedly walk in on you alone, with another woman late at night.” Zayne’s eyes widened slightly, as though he didn’t even realise.

You held up your hand, urging him to let you continue.

“Like you said, you’re both doctors and I understand that you can’t just ignore her. I wouldn’t ever ask you to. But the overtime you’re sharing with her, the missed lunches…” you tried to maintain composure, words coming out coherently to communicate your thoughts and feelings, he is right in the fact that raising your voice isn’t helping either of you.

You fought back tears instead, the reality of this argument stifling the atmosphere of your usually warm apartment and pressing down on your chest.

You know that if you started crying, Zayne would panic and fold immediately, his anger dissipating like a summer breeze in winter. But you didn’t want him to feel bad. You just wanted him to understand what was going through your mind. To work to a solution.

“And the final straw.” You looked him in the eyes, and hurt seemed to reflect back, it almost made you pause, give up on this whole tirade entirely. But this wasn’t something that could be buried deep in the recesses of your mind anymore. “You took her to the Esteemed Medicine Gala” You choked on the last word, your hands coming up to wipe at the stray few tears that slipped over your cheeks. You had tried, but saying it out loud that your boyfriend had gone to that gala without you, another woman grasping his arm, made bile rise in your throat.

“Just think how you would have felt if I had taken Xavier to the Hunters’ Ball. Of if you had even told me beforehand so it didn’t blindside me”

Zayne opened his mouth, but nothing seemed to come out. He looked panicked, a look that was rare on him.

You should have told him how you felt earlier, about how uncomfortable their closeness made you feel, Zayne isn’t a mind reader. You had become so accustomed to him putting your every need first, you relied on him unfairly, Zayne was only human.

And you expected so much from him, too much

At the same time, you were also only human. Someone flawed who loved the man in front of you so deeply it hurt.

“I don’t want to do this anymore” your words came out quietly, you had meant it in the way that you didn’t want to fight anymore but to Zayne, the words implicated something horrendous, something he couldn’t contemplate. You flinched as he grasped your hands, his palms which were normally cool and dry felt clammy with nerves.

“Please- I didn’t -…” Zayne stuttered, but words died when he saw your crumpled expression.

“Just forget… just forget I said anything” you mumbled lowly before hastily retreating to your bedroom, and once the door had clicked shut, everything hit you all at once. It started off as silent flow of billowy tears but it wasn’t long before you were hiccuping and groaning into your pillow. Your heart hurt.

Regret began to replace anger and sorrow.

It was pointless now, why had you even mentioned it. Was your trust in him so brittle? No wonder he looked so wounded, that beautiful face that gazed at you with adoration normally, looked so distraught.

He didn’t come after you either, you had truly fucked it.

You woke to a cold hand cupping your cheek, the touch so gentle and tender that it made your heart quiver. The grogginess made you slur as you reached out for his other hand to clasp within your own. The skin around your eyes itched from dry tears, you bet that they’d look like two baseballs stuck to your face at this moment in time.

“Whatsh the time” you shifted towards him, head resting beneath his chin as arms came to pull you in even closer to him.

“Early, go back to sleep and we’ll talk in the morning” His voice seemed far away and distorted, the throws of sleep and the comforting embrace lulling you back to deep needed slumber.

You blinked clearly as warm rays of sun filtered through the blinds you’d forgotten to shut. The memories of last night seemed to rush back to you like a hurtling freight train with no brakes.

You always said never to go to bed angry with each other. What a hypocrite.

Ugh.

You patted the bed beside you, wondering if you had imagined Zayne’s presence last night, but the tell tale twisted sheets were definitely him all over. The muffled sound of the tv playing reached your ears at the same time the earthy scent of roasting coffee graced your nostrils.

You sat up, the sheets pooling at your waist. You needed to apologise, at the very least for raising your voice at him. Shouting never solved anything.

At this point you just wanted to forget this ever happened, forget about Lillian and just fall into his embrace.

You left the warm bed and freshened up in the bathroom, splashing your face with some cold water and brushing your teeth to feel less like the living dead. Your reflection looked haggard, eyes bulging and red.

You headed to the living room with soft footfalls, the chill of the laminate raising goosebumps on the backs of your arms. And there he was, your ethereal boyfriend busying himself in the kitchen as the news channel garbled on about stocks and wanderers. He glanced over his shoulder at you, the skin around his eyes was blotchy and puffy.

“Sit down and I’ll bring you some coffee”

You swallowed the guilt and did as he said, nestling yourself in the confines of the blankets and pillows like you were in a cocoon. You felt a dip in the couch moments later as a steaming coffee made in your favourite plush mug was handed to you.

Your hands grasped the mug tightly, the nerves didn’t fade even with the kind gesture.

You didn’t want him to break up with you.

“Darling” Zayne spoke first, shattering the barrier. “Can you please look at me?”

You did as he said, shifting to face him. He looked tired, more haggard than when he’d worked a 24 hour shift. He put his coffee to the side, elegant fingers brushing against your knee featherlight. It was as if he was coaxing a small and frightened animal.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry”

“No Zayn-“ you began, placing your coffee cup next to his on the table. You needed to touch him, feel his warmth.

“Please let me continue” he moved closer, taking your face in his hands. You felt each ripple and ridge of his scarred palms against your cheek, even the subtle tremble to his hands. “I reflected on what you said, how my actions and attitude must have come across.” He held your face tighter.

“You came to me with legitimate concerns and I just brushed them aside without even thinking.” He inhaled shakily. “I love you so much, the world for me spins only because you’re by my side”

“Oh Zayne..” you sniffled, vision beginning to blur once again with tears.

“It is no excuse, however I only took Lillian at the directors request so she could network with other doctors. But I should have told you this, rather than just expecting you to be okay with it.” You knew there would be a story behind her attendance, but jealously picks at the threads, pulling at them until everything is coming apart.

“And the lunches and late nights… I’m such a fool.” He looked ashamed. “Even if I didn’t see it that way I should have realised that it wasn’t appropriate”

You placed your hands over his, exhaling a deep breath of relief that had been stewing for weeks.

“I love you, more than words can describe. More than I thought was possible” He repeated again.

Your heart clenched, the sincerity and adoration in his cadence made everything feel right.

“Will you forgive me? For being so so stupid”

You nodded as you flung your arms around his neck, nuzzling your cheek against his, his scent immediately calming your frayed nerves. Like a sailor coming home to dock.

He pulled you into his lap, grip ironclad as he nosed against your neck, peppering light kisses to the soft skin.

“I’m sorry too” he pulled back to look at you, confusion painting his features. “I should have told you earlier about my concerns and I should never ever have shouted at you.” Zayne shook his head, not dismissively, but in disagreement.

“Sweetheart, you were not in the wrong for sharing your concerns with me.”

“But I could have handled it better and for that I’m sorry.” Zayne didn’t think you needed to apologise at all. Your partner postponing lunch dates to spend time with another woman? What sort of fool was he. How could he have made you cry, the woman who loved him to his flawed core.

“I love you” You kissed him, his body slotting against yours like the perfect puzzle piece. You peppered his face in loving pecks, murmuring words of adoration in between each one. He received each touch, each statement happily, responding to every single one with his own declaration of love

You stayed glued to each other for a while, head resting on his shoulder. This closeness you both craved settled into pure bliss on a lazy Sunday morning. His rough hands brushed up your sides softly, the touch making your legs quiver. You huffed against his neck, the gasp and shiver not going unnoticed.

“Why don’t we go take a shower and I’ll show you how sorry I am…”

You looked up at him, pure reverence in his gaze as you brushed your thumb against his lips, a dark red flush blooming across his pale neck.

“I want a long, hard apology” You watched him shudder.

“Anything for you” He kissed you hard, grasping at you like you were his only reason for living.

❄️

A good old short fic to get me back into writing, so please be aware that this won’t be a masterpiece. I’m probably going to place all the fics that don’t make it to AO3 on here.

Also I’m going to do one for each of the boys. I picked Zayne first for this because why not, and whilst I recognise he’s incredibly emotionally intelligent I think that sometimes he forgets to make his internal thoughts known. Do I think he’d be as oblivious as I portray him… probably not. He is a man infatuated after all.

This was way longer than I expected - also probably filled with errors and waffling. Feels nice to finally write again tho.

#lads zayne #lads mc #lads #lads reactions #zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace #dr zayne #zayne x mc #lnds zayne #l&ds zayne #zayne x reader #zayne x you #doctor zayne

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mononijikayu · 4 months ago

Text

guess!? — geto suguru x reader x gojo satoru.

Satoru couldn’t help but blink, glancing down, then grinned. "Well, aren’t you a little minx." Suguru took a sip of his drink, amused. "That better not be a fake number, doll." You simply gave them a look, one that promised nothing and everything all at once. "Guess you'll just have to find out." The white haired model laughed, shaking his head. "Oh, I like you." The dark haired singer could only smirk, something unreadable flickering behind his dark lilac eyes. “Intriguing, doll.”

GENRE: alternate universe - celebrity!au;

WARNING/S: afab! reader, nsfw, r-18, sexual content, poly relationship, threesome, double penetration, explicit smut, consensual sex, sexual intercourse, making out, bodily fluids, nipple play, kissing(fm+mm), rough sex, p-i-v sex, anal sex, creampie, fingering, fingerfucking (female receiving, vaginal/anal), sexual overstimulation, asphyxiation, biting, scratching, pet names (sweetheart, doll, good girl, etc....), flirting, friendship, gender themes, falling in love, secret relationship, fluff, getting together, idiots in love, drama, happy ending, use of she/her pronouns, crack, humour, profanity, lgbtqia themes, depiction of sexual content, depiction of sexual intercourse, depiction of sexual positions, depiction of body parts, mention of sexual themes, depiction of alcohol, mention of body parts, mention of sexual acts, mention of alcohol, soloist! geto suguru, model! gojo satoru, actress! reader;

WORD COUNT: 12k words

NOTE: it took a while to write this and i swear, i will not take much more stuff like this until i have more time. but the idea was too good to pass on. i couldn't help myself. also the first time i've written a poly relationship and a threesome. like, this is really a new thing for me. so if its not up to the same standards as what i usually write or its too much for you, then its fine not read it. i am thankful anyway. in any case, if there are people who will enjoy it, thank you. and im glad you enjoy it with it. i love you all so much <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip!

kayu's playlist, side 2500;

USUALLY THE APPLAUSE ENDS WHEN YOU GET OFF THE STAGE. But somehow, it does not stop even as you get down the steps of the stage. Your name had just echoed through the speakers, immortalized in the annals of cinematic history. You will forever be someone, something. You will always have this.

You have to admit that the applause was deafening, a symphony of claps and cheers that reverberated through the grand hall. Yaga Masamichi was right when he told you all about the magic of winning. You will never forget that high, it was almost like a drug. You get addicted to the feeling. And you probably always will.

As you made your way down backstage, you could still feel the warmth of the stage lights against your skin, your pulse pounding as you clutched the golden statuette in your hands.

Everything about this moment, you knew that it was real—this moment, this win. You had never expected it. Not because you weren’t good, not because you didn’t believe in yourself. But because it just felt out of this world.

Yet, now it was not out of this world anymore. If anything, it was as it was. It was real. It was your moment. It was now well lived. Your name on this statuette, with the title Best Actress on it. It was all you had ever wanted. It was all you had ever worked for.

And yet, you think that wasn’t the most life-altering thing that has happened to you. If anything, what made the moment even more surreal was the man standing beside you, the one who had presented you with the award just moments earlier. You just didn’t know it yet.

Gojo Satoru.

A name that carried its own weight, synonymous with an ethereal kind of beauty that was almost otherworldly. The super model who graced the covers of international magazines, whose sharp yet delicate features seemed sculpted by the gods themselves.

His white hair gleamed under the lights, his signature tinted glasses pushed up just enough to reveal strikingly blue eyes. You think that it was so vibrant they almost seemed to glow.

You had always known he was beautiful.

Anyone with working eyesight would agree.

But it wasn’t just his looks that held your attention.

It was the way the charisma blew into magic when he spoke.

Even amidst the deafening applause, his dazzling voice had a way of cutting through the noise, a melodic timbre that was both smooth and deliberate. Each word was laced with that one of a kind subtle charm, effortlessly poetic in a way that made people want to listen.

He was almost like a siren, capturing people’s And when he turned to you, flashing that lazy, lopsided grin, his congratulations had felt far more intimate than the formalities exchanged on stage.

Backstage, you barely had time to process what had just happened to you. You were just stunned into silence. You absentmindedly accepted the congratulations from the staff and thanked them.

You were on cloud nine with this win. It wasn’t until you felt a hand brush against your shoulders did you find yourself turning around and meeting those dashing blue eyes of his.

"Congratulations." he murmured, standing close enough that you could catch the faintest hint of his cologne. It was something clean, fresh, and just a little bit sweet. "You deserved that win. Though, between us, I already knew you’d take it."

His sweetened voice was lighter now, teasing, yet beneath it lay something that felt sincere. You found yourself truly turning to him, meeting his gaze fully, and for a moment, it felt as if the chaos of the evening had melted away. Your chaos lay now with him, in this face to face.

"You’re awfully confident in me, Mr. Gojo." you mused, still catching your breath.

"Shouldn’t I be?" His lips curved slightly, a knowing look in his eyes. "I’ve seen your work. You don’t just act in that. I think you truly became her, that spanky witful comedian. It was never a question of if you’d win, only when."

A rush of warmth spread through you, different from the exhilaration of winning, softer in a way that made your heart stutter. Gojo Satoru had just complimented your craft. You knew that it was genuine, real. It was not words echoed out of politeness, not as part of some scripted pleasantry, but as someone who had truly seen you.

And somehow, in the midst of all the flashing cameras and roaring applause from before, that felt like the biggest victory of the night. Because if you were being honest, you were much too certain that not a lot of people understood your craft, how you took it so seriously.

How you lived and breathed it. He understands. You could see that look in his eyes. He breathed his work as much as you did. Your fingers tightened around the trophy in your hands, its cool weight grounding you amid the dizzying realization that Gojo Satoru had just seen you in a way so few ever had.

You turned to him, studying the way his signature blindfold had been abandoned for the night, allowing you to meet his gaze fully. Those striking blue eyes filled with mischief, but something else too. Something that felt dangerously close to admiration.

“You… really think so, huh?” Your voice came out quieter than you expected, almost uncertain.

Gojo’s lips quivered into that signature grin of his, but there was no teasing in it this time. Only sincerity remained. “Would I lie to you?”

You huffed a small laugh, shaking your head. “Yes. You absolutely would.”

He placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “Ouch. And here I was, being all nice and supportive. Maybe I should just take it back—”

“Don’t you dare now, Mr. Gojo.” you cut in, pointing a finger at him.

His grin widened, but then, as if something shifted in him, he tilted his head slightly. “But I do mean it, sweetheart.” he said, softer this time. “You didn’t just play the part—you embodied it. That’s rare.”

The rush of warmth in your chest deepened, turning into something else entirely, something you weren’t ready to name. You swallowed, gripping your trophy tighter. “Thank you, Mr. Gojo. Really.”

For a moment, he just looked at you, and it was unsettling how quiet he became, how he almost seemed to be considering something. Then, his lips twitched again. “Don’t thank me yet, sweetheart.” he said, stepping closer. “You do know this means I’m expecting even greater things from you next time, right?”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “So you’re saying I just won an award, and you’re already raising the bar on me?”

Gojo clicked his tongue. “Come on, you wouldn’t want me to go easy on you, would you?”

And just like that, the weight of the night, the exhaustion, the pressure. Somehow, all of it felt lighter. Because if Gojo Satoru, of all people, saw your passion, then maybe, just maybe—you were exactly where you were meant to be. You were meant for this. Your obsession with your work will pay off.

“Oh, by the way, sweetheart?”

“Hm?”

“You don’t have to call me Mr. Gojo all the damn time.” He says to you, a sly smile on his lips. “You can just call me Satoru.”

You raised a curious brow, a small snicker leaves your lips. “While you call me sweetheart?”

“Precisely that, sweetheart. You’re so good at keeping up with me.”

You laugh. “Well, I do try.”

The after-party of the awards ceremony was in full swing by the time you arrived. You would have arrived sooner had you decided to go directly to the party. But you didn’t pay thousands on a custom dress for it not to be used.

So, you went back to your hotel and got ready again in order to get dressed. And you had to say, it was worth it. This dress was more comfortable than the one you wore on stage.

You walked in rather carefully, letting your ears jam through the outgoing echoes of music playing in the background. The entire venue was just exorbitantly bathed in the afterglow of warm, golden light with glasses clinking and laughter humming through the air like a soft melody.

This was a lovely little celebration from the management team, which was usually an invite only event. This was only for the best and brightest in the industry, where directors, actors, and producers mingled effortlessly, champagne in hand. And now you can only suppose you were one of them.

You had barely taken a sip from your own glass when you felt a familiar presence approaching. You immediately found yourself looking up as you heard the footsteps grow louder towards you. You couldn’t help but find yourself paying attention to it more than ever, more than the music in the background.

“Enjoying your victory, superstar?”

You turned, already knowing who it was before you even laid eyes on him.

Once again, standing there in all his wonder and might, dazzling.

It was a bright and beautiful Gojo Satoru standing before you.

He looked just as effortlessly stunning as he had on stage earlier, only now he had shed the formal pretense. His tie was loosened, the top buttons of his crisp white shirt undone, revealing a sliver of collarbone. His dark rimmed glasses were nowhere to be seen, leaving his piercing blue eyes completely unobscured—unfairly bright under the party lights.

“I was genuinely enjoying it.” you said smoothly, lifting your glass to your lips. “But I think it just got a little more interesting.”

His grin widened at that. “Oh? I do have that effect on people.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him. Yet, you couldn’t deny the way his presence filled the space around you. His grin widened as he leaned in just slightly, just enough to make you aware of how close he was without crossing the line.

“So, tell me, sweetheart.” he mused, swirling the drink in his hand. “What’s it like? You can be honest now, right? How was winning Best Actress? Holding that little golden trophy and knowing you’re officially the best in the business?”

You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Mmm… I suppose it feels a little surreal. Like I’m in a dream.”

“A dream, huh?” He smirked. “Guess that makes me your charming co-star then.”

You arched a brow. “What makes you think you’re part of my dream?”

“Because, sweetheart,” he said smoothly, his voice dipping just enough to send a shiver down your spine, “I think a dream means looking up. And you haven’t stopped looking at me all night.”

You scoffed, but he wasn’t entirely wrong.

Satoru was hard not to look at, after all.

He was a very, very pretty being to you.

“Big words for a man who’s been following me since I stepped off that stage, isn’t it?”

His laughter was rich, genuine. “Can you blame me? I have excellent taste.”

“You mean you like collecting award winners?” you teased, taking another sip of your drink.

“Nah, not that.” he leaned in, voice lower now, more intimate. “Just the ones who can keep up with me, sweetheart.”

Your heart did something strange in your chest, but you refused to let him win so easily. “Is that so?”

“Yes, so, truly.”

“Then I hope you don’t get tired too quickly.” you murmured, stepping just a little closer. “Because I don’t plan on making it easy for you.”

His gaze darkened just slightly, intrigue flashing And just like that, the night had only just begun. Drink after drink was served to both you and him, the glasses never empty for long. The air was thick with laughter, the hum of conversation, and the clinking of glass against glass. The afterparty was in full swing, but somehow, it felt like the world had shrunk down to just the two of you.

Supermodel icon Gojo Satoru was an enigma. You had seen him on stage at fashion shows, commanding attention without so much as trying. He had that effortless allure, the kind that made people lean in, wanting to know more, yet never quite getting close enough to unravel the mystery of him.

Yet, you realized something. Drawing you in wasn’t the same as keeping you. Like the siren that he was, he lured you in with his charm, his easy smile, his teasing words. And just when you thought you had a grasp on him, he’d slip right through your fingers, leaving you yearning for more. It wasn’t just attraction; it was something else entirely. A hypnotic pull that made his presence almost intoxicating.

Satoru and you had quite a fair bit in common. The relentless passion for your work, the thrill of being on stage. Whether it was acting or modeling, the way you both lived for the art of performance.

You had spent years perfecting your craft, slipping into different roles with the ease of someone who had learned how to exist in multiple worlds at once. And him? He wore his confidence like a second skin, dazzling, untouchable.

But here, now, in the low light of the afterparty, with the remnants of celebration still hanging in the air, he felt different. Less like the untouchable figure everyone admired from afar, and more like someone real—someone sitting across from you with a half-finished drink, his eyes glinting with something unreadable.

“You’re thinking too much, aren’t you, sweetheart?” he mused, swirling the amber liquid in his glass before taking a slow sip.

You raised a brow. “And you can tell that how?”

Gojo smirked. “Because you always get this look when you’re analyzing something. It’s like you’re trying to pick it apart piece by piece.” He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering just enough to make your breath hitch. “So, tell me—what exactly are you trying to figure out?”

You hummed against your glass, looking at it studiously, before looking up back at him with an enticing smile. “Guess.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at that. And that had made you feel something deep inside, something you were not sure how to describe. This was the first time you’ve ever experienced that. It was new, it was fast approaching. You don’t know how to dodge.

“Oh, sweetheart.” he chuckled, tilting his glass toward you in a mock toast. “I’m counting on figuring it out.”

You laughed. “Then I look forward to the challenge.”

For a moment, you watched him return that laugh. Before finding that his eyes were wandering elsewhere. You were curious, trying to follow where his beautiful eyes would land. Yet you could not tell how congested the crowd of celebrities were through the vestiges of the room. Before long, you found him getting closer to you.

Gojo Satoru leaned in with that playful smirk and said, “Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet, sweetheart.”

You knew things were about to get even more interesting. You nodded at him before you followed him through the sea of guests, past industry elites and fellow actors basking in their victories, until he finally stopped near the stage where the evening’s performances were set to take place.

And that’s when you saw him.

You couldn’t help but let your mouth go agape.

It was him. It was truly him. It was Geto Suguru.

That name alone carried weight—one of the biggest soloists in the industry, a voice that had dominated the charts and hearts alike. Unlike Gojo Satoru, who was all radiant charm and untamed confidence, Geto Suguru simply exuded something deeper, something more rugged. Something rougher, less polished but just as mesmerizing.

His long, wavy dark hair was tied back loosely, a few strands falling over sharp features that looked carved with intention. Where Gojo Satoru’s presence was blinding, Geto Suguru’s existence was rather similar to smoldering. It was an ember that burned slowly but left its mark permanently for forever all the same.

“Suguru, meet our Best Actress.” Satoru introduced his tone light but edged with something you couldn’t quite place. “And lucky for her, she gets an exclusive front-row seat to your performance.”

Suguru couldn’t help but turn to you then, his gaze steady, dark lilac eyes deep and assessing in a way that sent an unexpected thrill down your spine. He gave you a slow, knowing smile. One you could not decipher as easily as Satoru's smile. Suguru’s smile was not as flashy as Satoru;s own but no less captivating. If anything, it was wrapped layers you could not understand.

“I saw your speech earlier.” he said, voice smooth, rich, and deep like a song before the first note hit. “You carry yourself well, don’t you? But I get the feeling you’re even more interesting when you’re not under the spotlight.”

You arched a brow, matching his energy. “Funny. I was just thinking the same about you.”

Satoru couldn’t help but let out an exaggerated groan beside you. “You two are already doing the mysterious, brooding thing, aren’t you?”

Suguru shot him a look, amused. “And you’re not?”

Satoru dramatically placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “I am the light of this party, thank you very much.”

You laughed, and a mysterious gaze flickered to you again. It lasted more than just a second longer. Yet, that was all that was necessary. It was just enough to make you feel it hit home hard. Then the stage lights shifted, and the room quieted as the host took the mic.

“And now, we have a special treat tonight. Performing his newest song, please welcome the one and only—Geto Suguru!”

The applause swelled, and Suguru gave you one last glance, something unreadable in his expression. Then he stepped forward, took the stage, and the moment he started singing. It was sultry, it was smooth, It was all the while suave and low, and all the same honest and raw, and most of all, devastatingly beautiful.

In that moment, you like to think you finally understood. If Gojo Satoru was the kind of man who captured attention like a supernova, then Geto Suguru was the kind that pulled you in slowly with an unshakable gravity, steady and impossible to ignore.

And right now, you were falling for the charm of both.

Right now you were captured by both of the siren calls.

Yet you were not running the other direction for help.

If anything, you were letting them drown you to the tune of their voices.

You could tell that the more Geto Suguru’s voice filled the venue with milk and honey, the air shifted in a way that would change the world forever. The once lively chatter quieted, replaced by the hypnotic pull of his music. Everything about what he was echoing through that voice, you could tell that there was something that crawled under your skin and settled there, leaving a slow burn in its wake. And he knew it, the moment your eyes met.

You had heard his songs before, of course. You weren’t living under a rock. But it was just so different hearing it live. It was different when you find yourself under his beck and call. His voice was a magic that drags you back in, it was a very heavy feeling. It was the kind that lingered even after the music stopped. You barely registered Satoru watching you, his grin turning knowing.

He leaned down and murmured, “Careful, sweetheart. He has that effect on people.”

You scoffed but didn’t look away from the stage. “And you don’t?”

The white haired man couldn’t help but chuckle. “Oh, I definitely do. But Suguru? He’s got that slow-burn kind of charm. The kind that sneaks up on you slowly but surely.”

You could see what he meant. If Gojo Satoru was a flash of lightning—brilliant, impossible to ignore. Then you were certain that Geto Suguru was his opposite. Suguru was the slow, rolling thunder that followed. Something deep, resonant, that stayed long after the strike.

As the final notes of the song faded, the applause erupted. Suguru’s gaze flickered over the crowd before landing on you. He held it for just a moment longer than necessary, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips before he dipped his head in thanks and left the stage.

A moment later, he was back, stepping up beside you as if he hadn’t just held the entire room captive. As if he didn’t hold you captive. You swallowed the bile down back into your throat, gathering yourself. He looks quite amused.

“So?” he asked, his voice still carrying the remnants of his performance. “Did I live up to the hype?”

You tilted your head, pretending to consider it. “Hmm. You were alright.”

Satoru snorted, nearly choking on his drink. Suguru just couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his dark velvet eyes. You looked at him almost like you were quite the proud cat.

“Just alright?” he mused, voice smooth as silk. “That’s a shame. I was hoping to impress the Best Actress of the night.”

You met his gaze, feeling the way his words coiled around you, slow and deliberate. But you weren’t going to let him win that easily.

“You’ll have to try harder than that, then.”

Something in Suguru’s eager smirk deepened, like he enjoyed the challenge. Beside you, Gojo Satoru let out a dramatic sigh. You raised a brow at him, as though trying to ascertain why he had even looked at you.

“Great. Now there are two of you.” he lamented, shaking his head. “I swear, it’s like watching a slow-burning movie where the main characters refuse to admit they’re into each other.”

You rolled your eyes. “And what does that make you?”

Satoru had grinned, throwing an arm around both you and Suguru, pulling you in effortlessly. “Oh, I’m the fan-favorite all day everyday pretty man that everyone secretly loves. Obviously.I thought we already had this in the bag, hm?”

You blinked at him and then started laughing. All the sudden, it was three of you laughing, the tension breaking just enough to feel effortless joy about it. But as the night stretched on into the dark flutterings under the moon-light. Everything was filled with drinks, laughter, and glances that lasted a little too long. You knew one thing for certain.

Between Gojo Satoru’’s playful, magnetic pull and Geto Suguru’s slow, smoldering intensity, you were caught somewhere in between. And you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to be freed. If anything, you wanted for this to go on.

The night surely and happily pressed on, glittering and intoxicating, the kind of night that felt like it belonged in a movie, it felt ever so much like the classics. Like the one where the lighting was just right, the music was just loud enough, and the energy in the air made everything feel a little too good to be real.

The two of them seemed to be happy to be striking close, even more so orbiting around you like the world had narrowed down to a world where you were the sun and they were the planets that danced all about you. It was like a universe made for three. The blundering conversations blended together, champagne glasses clinked, but their attention never really strayed.

Then, sometime between the second drink and the third, Gojo Satoru slowly leaned in, a lazy, knowing smirk curling on his lips. "So, are we just going to let you disappear after tonight? Or are you going to give us your number?"

You raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Oh? Are you asking for my number, Satoru? Or my agent’s number? You gotta be certain if you wanna hear the ring, hm?"

He clicked his tongue. "Obviously. I need a way to annoy you outside of events like these. Of course you know who’s number I want.”

Suguru, standing just behind him, chuckled, the sound low and amused. "What he means to say is—it'd be a shame if this was the last time we talked." His gaze flickered down to you, warm but unreadable. "Don't you think? Of course, without the heap of professional lines ringing."

You could feel the weight of their attention, the way Gojo Satoru’s was playful but insistent, while Geto Suguru’s was steady, deliberate. But if they thought you were going to make it easy? No, you weren’t born to be easy. They were just simply mistaken.

You smiled, tilting your head. "Hmm. My number, huh? You boys must not be used to working for things."

Satoru let out a sharp laugh. "Oh, sweetheart, it’s not that. If anything, it’s just the fact that I love a challenge."

Suguru laughed and then let his lips settle into a mere smirk. "And you must not be used to people willing to chase you down too, don’t you think?"

Oh. You think to yourself absent-mindedly. I’ve been caught.

Your languid fingers curled around the stem of your glass, hiding the way their words sent a slow, creeping heat up your spine. You could feel the heat permeate through your skin as you purse your lips into a rather tight line.

Satoru leaned in even closer, his voice dipping lower, just for you. "So? Are you going to make us work for it? Or make it even more….fun?"

You let yourself hum about, pretending to think. But you were sure to settle with the world you were already willing to live in. You know it yourself even with this sly attitude you were portraying before them.

Then, with a slow smile, you reached for a napkin, plucked a pen for that prop pen in Suguru’s pocket. He didn’t even flinch, just watched you with lazy interest and scribbled something down. Then, just as smoothly, you tucked it into Satoru’s pocket instead of handing it over.

Satoru couldn’t help but blink, glancing down, then grinned. "Well, aren’t you a little minx."

Suguru took a sip of his drink, amused. "That better not be a fake number, doll."

You simply gave them a look, one that promised nothing and everything all at once. "Guess you'll just have to find out."

The white haired model laughed, shaking his head. "Oh, I like you."

The dark haired singer could only smirk, something unreadable flickering behind his dark lilac eyes. “Intriguing, doll.”

The night had already stretched long and far by then, the energy still thrumming through the air, but exhaustion was beginning to creep in. You were surely in need of the rest now, you were sure. The weight of the evening, of winning, of celebrating, of whatever game you were playing with the two most dangerously charismatic men in the room. It was all finally settling over you.

You stifled a yawn behind your hand, the warmth of the drinks making your limbs pleasantly heavy. The music pulsed in the background, the chatter of the party still alive and buzzing, but your focus had narrowed to just the two of them. Gojo Satoru, with his sharp, knowing grin, and Geto Suguru, watching you with that quiet, unreadable amusement.

The blue eyed model leaned back in his seat, stretching his arms behind his head. “Tapping out already? That’s a shame,isn’t it?” he drawled, tilting his head at you. “I was just starting to have fun with you, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes, pushing yourself up from your seat. “Some of us have limits, Satoru.”

Suguru chuckled, setting his drink down with a soft clink. “Smart girl, isn’t she, Satoru? We can’t have her play with hyenas for too long.” His gaze flickered over you, thoughtful. “Wouldn’t want you pushing yourself too hard, doll. Big night and all.”

You hummed noncommittally, grabbing your phone off the table. “And yet, somehow, I get the feeling you two are going to keep going until sunrise.”

Satoru gasped dramatically. “You wound me. What kind of degenerates do you take us for?”

Suguru gave him a side-eye. “Don’t answer that.”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. There was something so easy about this, about them. It wasn’t lost on you that they were both dangerous in their own way. It was one that was dazzling and reckless, the other being composed and calculating. And yet, here you were, caught between the two worlds, happy to want to see more.

“Well, it’s been fun, distinguished gentlemen, but your lady needs beauty rest.” you announced, stepping back. “Can’t have this Best Actress haggard on the screens.”

Suguru raised a brow. “Need someone to walk you back?”

You smirked. “What, you think I can’t handle myself?”

Satoru grinned, his tone teasing. “Oh, we know you can handle yourself. But I’d feel bad if someone else tried to steal our star of the night before the morning came.”

You shook your head at them, amused. “I think I’ll manage. Try not to get into too much trouble without me.”

Suguru lifted his glass in a silent toast, and Satoru shot you a wink. You snickered at their partings.

“No promises, sweetheart.”

YOU WERE SURE THAT EVERYONE DIDN’T LIKE YOU AT THIS MOMENT. But you think it got worse when everything was announced. Needless to say, it was something that came with fame. Now more so with the interweb. People like to go crazy with everything and anything they see, like a flock of crows pestering for that new shiny thing.

The internet absolutely had a meltdown. Not because you were a bad person or that you were a bad actress. To be honest, not because of anything you did. But because of something you had to do (and particularly, wanted to do for yourself). They just could not help themselves. How could they?

The announcement alone in bright big bold letters—GETO SUGURU CASTING BEST ACTRESS AS HIS ONE AND ONLY LOVER IN HIS UPCOMING MUSIC VIDEO DROP—was truly enough to send fans into a wild frenzy. But then came the real bombshell.

There were intimacy scenes.

The teaser dropped with a single frame: you and Suguru, standing very close under the vibrant echo of those dim hitting neon lights as they glowed for you somberly, tenderly.

His muscular hand resting at the small of your back, your tender fingers curled into the front of his shirt. His face was mere inches from yours, his dark lilac eyes locked onto your plump lips like he was moments away from closing the distance. From doing what was forbidden.

As you can tell, the internet imploded.

“WE WON. I REPEAT, WE WON.”

“This isn’t even a rumor anymore. It’s evidence.”

“Nah cause all the men in this world have to be somewhere LOSING THEIR MINDS.”

“Geto Suguru’s so smooth with it. This is insane behavior.”

“Nah, cause at this point, how can any other fanboy survive this?”

But of course, nothing sent people spiraling harder than the behind-the-scenes clips that started surfacing a few days later.

Behind the Scenes Footage – Interview Clip

The camera carefully pans to you, as you seated comfortably into your own cast chair, the set glowing in the background. You were still dressed in your costume after all this time. It was hours and hours into the set filming and yet your makeup remained blinding, your outfit continued to be carefully styled to match the aesthetic of the video. You were just drop–dead gorgeous.

"So, how does it feel working on a music video with Geto Suguru?" the interviewer asked. “Is it different from all your other works before?”

You smiled. "Oh, it's been great. Suguru's an incredible artist, and getting to bring his vision to life has been such a cool experience. In some ways, yes, it is different. I don’t think I’ve ever had such a fun, exciting vibe on set before."

From off-camera, a voice interrupted—smooth, teasing. "Suguru? You only call me that when you're being professional, don’t you?"

The camera turned just in time to catch Geto Suguru walking over, his usual lazy smirk in place, a cup of hot coffee in one hand. He carefully extended it to you wordlessly, like this was routine. You took it without hesitation, muttering a quiet thanks.

"We are on set, aren't we?" you shot back playfully.

Suguru chuckled, shaking his head. "She’s acting like we haven’t been friends. I am wounded, you guys. Really!"

The interviewer jumped on that. "So you’d say you’re just good friends?"

"Absolutely." you replied smoothly, giving the camera an easy smile.

Suguru grinned at the camera. “One hundred percent.”

That would’ve been enough to cool down the firestorm.

Behind the Scenes Footage – Scene Rehearsal

The video opened with you and Suguru standing in the middle of the set, the director adjusting the lighting. You were supposed to be blocking a moment from the music video—a near-kiss scene, the tension at its peak. The director gave his cue.

You took a step forward, Suguru’s hand instinctively finding your waist. Your breath hitched just slightly at his action, though you were not from nerves. It just felt natural. You just know it was because he was good at this. The way he looked at you, the way his fingers barely pressed against your skin, the way his head tilted just enough to make it look too real.

Then—"CUT!"

The director reset the scene, and the moment was broken. But before the cameras stopped rolling, Geto Suguru leaned down, voice low but very much caught on the mic. "You good?"

You nodded, stepping back with a teasing grin. "What, you nervous? Didn’t take you for a rookie now."

He huffed a laugh. "Not even a little. Just making sure you don’t fall for me on set."

You rolled your eyes. "Please. You wish."

And just like that, the internet broke again.

"Just good friends BUT YOU SEE HOW HE LOOKS AT HER???"

"I know acting when I see it, and THAT was NOT acting."

"I bet her significant is somewhere watching this like 👁️👄👁️."

"WHY is there more chemistry in this behind-the-scenes clip than in some actual romance films???"

"They are making me insane. Just date already."

But despite the theories, the conspiracies, the undeniable fire in every interaction, you never said anything else. You were too good at that. You were too good at hiding away and never revealing more than what you wanted anyone and everyone to know.

After all, you were an actress. And you wouldn’t be good at your job if you weren’t this good at keeping things underwraps. When asked in another interview about the rumors?

You just smiled. "Spoilers."

And when Geto Suguru was asked later on?

He just smirked. "She said it best."

The mystery continues on and on.

THIS WAS NOT AN EXPECTED ROUTE. People thought that things would remain as they were after you broke the world. But the moment the casting announcement dropped, the internet lost once again its mind. You just couldn’t help it. You just liked making the headlines once and a little while. You wanted to make the mundane a little bit more interesting. Well, in the right times.

SUPER MODEL GOJO SATORU TO DEBUT IN ACTING—ROM COM FILM WITH OSCAR WINNING ACTRESS [YOUR NAME] THIS UPCOMING FALL!

Your name and his were plastered across every headline, every social media platform buzzing with excitement and speculation. It was damn crazy, perhaps just as crazy as what happened with Suguru. You were already a household name, but Gojo Satoru? Satoru was on a whole other level. He was more than a phenomenon. He was a lifestyle. He was a life.

The runway darling, the face of every luxury campaign, the man who could sell out a designer collection just by breathing near it. And now? He was stepping into your world. And he was doing it right beside you. He knew you were the one who called the shots here.

After all, you were the mystique of the world. You were the wonder that kept on dazzling. It’s not likely for you to stop. If anything, he wanted to help you with that. You just had to lead the way. He’s going to follow you, happily so.

Behind the Scenes – Press Conference

The first time you and Gojo Satoru appeared together for promotions, the energy in the room was undeniable. It was addicting. It was almost palpable, almost too unbearably dazzling. Satoru was dressed in an effortlessly tailored suit, leaned lazily into his mic, smirking like he already knew what was coming.

The moderator smiled. "So, Mr. Gojo, this is your first film. What was it like acting alongside Oscar winning actress [Your Name], who’s already such an established star?"

Satoru turned to you immediately, tilting his head with a teasing grin. "Honestly? Kinda unfair."

You raised an intrigued eyebrow. "Unfair? Do tell why so, Mr. Gojo. Your senpai would like to know more about it."

He nodded, sighing dramatically. "Yeah. Like, here I am, my first time on a film set, and I’m acting with someone who already has awards and critical acclaim. Obviously, people are going to compare us. It’s like trying to learn how to swim next to an Olympic gold medalist."

The audience laughed. You fought the urge to roll your eyes. "You do realize people have been calling you the cinematic face of the decade right?"

Satoru gasped, placing a hand over his heart. "Aww, were you keeping up with my press, sweetheart? That’s absolutely making my heart jump right now."

You scoffed. "It was kind of hard to avoid."

The reporters were eating up your chemistry. Cameras continued to flash brightly, fingers typed furiously on keyboards, trying to get every bit of your words in for this hot headliner. Then, of course, someone asked the question everyone had been waiting for.

"You two seem really comfortable together. There have been a lot of rumors about your closeness. Can you comment on that?"

Gojo Satoru didn't even hesitate. He turned to you, grinning. "Well, if I say we’re just good friends, will you tell me I have to try harder?"

You blinked, thrown off for exactly half a second before regaining your composure. Then, with a slow, knowing smile, you responded. "I think you already know the answer to that. You’re well too aware of what I have to say. In depth too, kouhai."

The white haired man couldn’t help but light up, throwing his head back with a laugh brightly at your words. Almost as though he was just lost into the world of your comebacks. It was like each word you breathed was something he giggled for, like it was worth losing composure for. The audience went insane.

The headlines that followed? Even worse.

"Oh, this movie promo tour is about to be SO unserious."

"We’re never getting a straight answer out of them, are we?"

"Not Gojo openly flirting in front of an entire press panel HELP."

"Geto is 100% watching this like 👁️👄👁️."

"This is Geto's villain origin story."

“Bro is literally kicking his feet and giggling so bad like hes down BADDDDDD”

On Set

The chemistry was even worse when the cameras started rolling. It didn’t matter if it was a simple dialogue scene or a moment dripping with tension. Gojo Satoru was just quite natural in front of the camera, and the way he played off you? It was magic. One they had never seen before. One that was just too good to deny.

One particular scene had the entire crew buzzing, though.

The lighting was soft, intimate. You were standing close, your character meant to be arguing with him, but somehow, the space between you kept shrinking and shrinking. Little by little, nothing was left but the flesh was nearly touching. Like you were just longing to be close. Like you were longing to blend into one.

You could feel your breath hitching as you looked at him. The dialogue called for intense tension, but the way Satoru’s own voice dropped just slightly, the way his fingers brushed the bare skin of your wrist like it was an accident—it felt real. Way too real.

"Cut!"

The director sounded thrilled. His vision was coming to life. He patted Satoru’s back before smiling down at you. He moved away, walking towards the camera director to check the footage. You stepped back, shaking off the lingering heat, but Satoru? He couldn’t help but just smirk.

Leaning down, he murmured. "Careful, sweetheart. People might think you actually like me."

You scoffed with amusement, shoving his shoulder. "I should be saying that to you."

Satoru chuckled, the sound low and teasing as he straightened up. “Oh, but I do like you.” he said smoothly, tilting his head. “I think that’s the problem.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your cheeks betrayed you. It wasn’t your fault. The way he played his roles, the way he blurred the line between acting and reality. The way everything was just as it was.

It was real, it was so tangible, so within the reach of your hands. You just couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by him. He had a presence that was impossible to ignore, and the worst part? He knew it.

“Lucky for you, I’m a professional.” you shot back, crossing your arms. “I don’t fall for co-stars.”

His smirk widened, bright blue eyes glinting with mischief. “Mm, that so, sweetheart?” He took a step closer, just enough to toe the line between playful and dangerous. “Because I gotta say, you looked pretty into it just now.”

You scoffed, brushing past him, ignoring the way your pulse skipped slightly. “That’s called acting, Satoru. Maybe try it sometime.”

His laughter brightly followed you as you walked off, but you didn’t have to turn around to know he was still watching. From the corner of the set, a familiar voice cut in. You could tell the tenor was smooth and dangerously amused.

"Funny. I was just about to say the same thing."

You turned around, your ears almost perking.

Standing there, arms crossed, expression unreadable—Geto Suguru.

The internet?

It was going crazy.

Your breath hitched for just a second before you masked it with a slow blink, shifting your gaze from Satoru to Suguru. He stood there, arms crossed, his dark lilac eyes sharp, unreadable. You were in quite the predicament.

"Didn't realize you were watching." you said smoothly, though the sudden shift in energy between the three of you was impossible to ignore.

Suguru tilted his head slightly, his expression giving nothing away. "Didn't realize I had to announce myself, doll.

Satoru let out a low whistle, stepping back just slightly, as if enjoying the scene from the sidelines. "Ooooh, this just got interesting."

OF COURSE, THIS OPENED THE WORLD TO SOMETHING NEW WHEN IT CAME TO YOU. It was just a fun little thing, trying to play a guessing game when it came to you, Geto Suguru and Gojo Satoru. And it didn’t help that you were all helping play the games by fanning the flames to the rumors that came one after the other.

Not when you were spotted at that Paris fashion show sitting between Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru, whispering things that made them laugh while cameras flashed like crazy. Not when some mysterious hand appeared in your Instagram stories. Those fingers being decked out in rings that fans quickly identified as Suguru’s own.

Not even when Satoru posted a very blurry photo of you and Suguru sitting in a hotel room, the caption reading: “Multi Oscar winner, chart-topping Grammy winner, and me, a humble model. What a trio.”

Every year, the internet collects all the evidence about the three of you. And every year, you three gave them more and more to have fun with.

The Timeline of Chaos

1. The Infamous Concert Incident

The world lost it when you and Satoru randomly showed up at Suguru’s sold-out stadium concert, in one of those VIP boxes. The fans were certain that Suguru made sure you had a spot just for the two of you, and quite close to him too. It was really obvious.

It wasn’t the fact that you attended. It was the fact that, mid-performance, Geto Suguru went ahead and walked straight to where you two were sitting, smirked, and sang directly to you. And Satoru? Instead of looking jealous, he just threw an arm around you, grinning like he had front-row seats to the greatest show on earth.

"No, because what are we supposed to DO with this information?"

"Is Satoru just watching Suguru serenade [Your Name] like he's a proud husband???"

"I fear we are witnessing a love story unfold in real time."

2. The Vacation Photos That Weren’t Meant to Be Seen

One summer, paparazzi caught the three of you on vacation. It was not out of the ordinary for you. You always went on various trips everywhere with your friends, whether celebrity or not. But there was something different when you were with Suguru and Satoru. This particularly was a different trip from the rest.

You, Suguru, and Satoru, were on a private beach. Satoru eagerly grinned in the morning sunrise in sunglasses and swim trunks, carrying you over his shoulder while you screamed in protest, dressed in your bikini. Suguru was in the background, laughing, sipping a drink like this was an everyday occurrence. The photos hit the tabloids immediately.

"HOLLYWOOD’S FRIENDLIEST TRIO OR IS IT SOMETHING MORE?"

You? You just posted a blurry selfie of the three of you later that night, captioned: “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Satoru, sulking, commented: “They’re bullying me.”

Suguru smugly replied: “You deserve it.”

3. The Red Carpet Moment That Ended Everyone

The biggest nail in the coffin to the public however was that one awards show in England. You were presenting an award, Satoru was invited as a guest and Suguru was nominated. The camera panned to you on the red carpet, glowing, stunning, an absolute vision. And then—Enter Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru.

Satoru was striding up behind you with the confidence of someone who knew he was about to make headlines. Suguru was walking just a step behind, looking way too pleased with himself. And the way they flanked you? Like it was meant to be.

The interviewer looked at you, and then the boys. "You three are always spotted together. Should we be expecting a project soon?"

You smiled slyly. "Spoilers."

Satoru grinned. "You should know by now we don’t just give answers that easily."

Suguru just chuckled, shaking his head. "It’s more fun watching you all guess, after all."

And just like that, the internet once again erupted.

"THEY KNOW WHAT THEY’RE DOING."

"I CANNOT handle this trio anymore."

"Are they dating? Are they best friends? Are they just trying to send us into cardiac arrest???"

But no matter how many times people asked, no matter how much speculation spread—the only answer any of you ever gave was a smirk. And your boys on the leash? They were just as willing to play the game with you. The night ended with that infamous maddening vague tweet from you.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

THIS WAS THE WORLD ONLY THE THREE OF YOU KNOW. The room was dimly lit, the air thick with anticipation. You, Geto Suguru, and Gojo Satoru stood in a triangle, passionate eyes locked onto each other. Suguru’s smirk was devilish and excited, his lilac eyes gleaming with mischief. Satoru’s blue gaze was intense, a silent challenge passing between the three of you. The tension was palpable, electricity crackling in the air.

Suddenly, Suguru seamlessly reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek. Satoru’s hand found your waist, pulling you closer to him.Their touches sent shivers down your spine, your heart racing with excitement and nerves. Even after so many times, it keeps bringing you the fire you wanted to burn in.

Suguru’s touch was gentle yet firm, his fingers tracing the contours of your face. Satoru’s grip on your waist tightened, his thumb brushing against the small of your back. The contrast between their touches was intoxicating, sending conflicting signals to your brain. Geto leaned in, his breath hot against your ear.

"You look delicious, doll." he whispered, his voice low and husky. The white haired man’s lips curled into a smirk, his blue eyes never leaving yours.

"Let's see how much you can handle tonight, though. You’ve been overworked, haven’t you, our poor baby?" Satoru cooes, his hand slowly sliding up your side. The air grew thicker, the tension almost unbearable

“Yes….” You mewled as you drew your body closer to his. “Need something good right now, ‘toru. Please.”

The blue eyed man smirk widened as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. His lips were firm yet soft, moving against yours with expert precision. His tongue danced with yours, exploring every inch of your mouth. Meanwhile, Suguru’s lips tenderly found your neck, his kisses starting at your collarbone and trailing up.

His teeth grazed your skin, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. Satoru’s soft hands tangled in your brazen hair, deepening the kiss. Meanwhile, you could feel Suguru’s fingers dug into your hips, pulling you flush against him.

The sensations you were feeling were just overwhelming, when you three are in need of relief like this. Everything from start to finish finds your mind fogging with desire. There was nothing that could stop you when you’ve begun.

You pulled away from Satoru’s searing kiss, your breath coming in short gasps. Suguru’s dark lilac eyes darkened even more with desire as you turned to him, pressing your lips against his and leaned in eagerly for a deep wanton kiss.

His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer as his tongue tangled with yours. You could feel the tickle of Satoru’s lips trailed down your neck, his peppering kisses becoming more fervent as he reached your chest.

Satoru expertly unhooked your bra with ease. He looked at your breasts for a moment, basking in the wonder of such marvel before him. He smiles to himself as he leans forward, his bruising lips wrapping around one of your nipples.

You moan as his tongue circled the hardened peak, sending waves of pleasure through your body. Suguru’s hands roamed your back, his fingers digging into your skin as you both kissed over and over.

Suguru’s hands roamed your body, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake.You could only groan in pleasure as Satoru’s lips continued their assault on your chest, his tongue teasing your nipples even further as he passionately moved deeper and deeper into the depths of you.

The sensations were overwhelming, your mind fogging with desire. Suguru’s calloused fingers hooked into the waistband of your pants, slowly pulling them down. Satoru’s hands followed suit, his touch grazing your thighs. Soon enough, you too needed air and parted from your lover. You looked at him with lust-ridden eyes.

They worked in sync, almost too well as they continued removing your clothing piece by piece until you stood bare before them. Suguru’s eyes raked over your body, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. Satoru’s gaze was equally intense, his pupils dilated with arousal. You whimper as Satoru releases your nipple. You looked at it, finding it quite the little red thing as he smiles at you.

“Lovely little red.” He whispers to you, pressing a kiss on your forehead. “I’ll be a good boy tonight. Saved the other one for ‘guru.”

Suguru snickered. “Only right for me to have some claim, don’t I?”

“It’s time for you two to kiss like good boys then.” You whispered to your lovers, slowly laying down upon the bed. Your elbows are still propping you up. “You would do it, won’t you?”

They looked at each other, before snickering as they got closer. You stepped back, watching as Geto and Gojo's lips met in a fierce kiss. Their tongues clashed, hands gripping each other tightly, passionately, eagerly. The bed creaked slightly as you lowered down onto the pillow and enjoyed their desire for one another.

The sight was incredibly arousing, their lust for one another was too obvious and palpable. You were sure to get it going too as you kept your legs together, your arousal echoing down below. You bit your lip as Satoru’s hands slid down to Suguru’s chest, his tender fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt. Suguru then broke the kiss, panting heavily. He grabbed Satoru’s wrist, stopping his movements.

"Not yet, Satoru." The dark haired man said, his voice husky with desire. He turned to you, his eyes burning with lust. “Need to do something first, don’t you think?”

Satoru looked at him and then to you. He slyly grinned. “Of course. Lady’s first.”

"Come here, doll." he commanded, pulling you back into the circle. Satoru’s lips quickly found your neck again, his kisses trailing down to your chest. “Need to love you first.”

Suguru’s hands roamed your body, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Satoru’s tender lips continued their assault on your chest, his tongue teasing his claimed nipple. The sensations were overwhelming, your mind fogging with desire.

You could feel Suguru’s hands gripping your hips, lifting you effortlessly closer to his side of the bed. Satoru crawled in after you, his body pressing against your side. Suguru carefully climbed on top, his knees on either side of your hips. He leaned down, his lips hovering over yours.

"Tell us what you want, doll." he whispered, his breath ghosting over your lips.

Satoru’s hand slid up your thigh, his fingers brushing against your core. "We'll give you anything you want. Just ask with your words, sweetheart." he murmured, his lips trailing kisses along your neck.

The air was thick with never ending tension, the anticipation to get closer and rougher was almost unbearable. You felt Suguru’s lips crash against yours once again, his kiss brutally demanding another passionate liaison with your bruising lips.

Satoru’s fingers parted your folds, his touch gentle yet firm. You groan against Suguru’s lips as Satoru slowly circled your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you gasp over and over again. Suguru’s warm hands roamed your body, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

He broke the kiss, his bruising lips trailing down your neck and chest. Satoru’s fingers slipped inside you rather easily, pumping slowly, in and out, watching your face pleasured with his touch. Suguru’s mouth then closed around his claimed nipple, his tongue swirling around the hardened peak. The sensations were overwhelming, your body arching off the bed.

"Fuck, you're so wet, sweetheart." Gojo groaned, his fingers curling inside you.

Suguru’s lips popped off your nipple, a string of saliva connecting his mouth to your skin. "You like that, don't you?" he murmured, his breath hot against your chest.

“Uh, uh—” You mewled as you tried to push your hips closer, deep into their fingers. “Please….”

"You like having both of us touch you like this, huh?" His own hand slid down, his fingers eagerly joining Satoru’s in pleasuring you.

“She’s so wet, ‘guru. It’s making me hard, what the fuck…..”

"Tell us what you want, doll. Use your words." Suguru demanded, his lilac eyes locked onto yours.

"Tell us how you want us to fuck you, sweetheart." You felt the pressure of Satoru’s thumb pressed against your clit, his fingers pumping faster.

“I….I… I want….”

"We'll do anything you ask." he promised, his voice husky with desire.

"Please." you gasped, your hips bucking against their hands. "I want you both inside me. I want to feel you stretching me, filling me completely."

Suguru’s eyes darkened at your words, a feral grin spreading across his face. “But be patient first, doll. Need to make sure you cum first.”

You suddenly felt Suguru’s calloused fingers pick up speed, rubbing your clit in tight circles. Satoru’s fingers pumped in and out of you alongside Suguru’s, his touch firm and steady.

Their movements synchronized, pushing you closer to the edge with each passing second. Suguru leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. You groaned hard, feeling the pressure mount down below.

"Come on, doll." he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "Show us how much you want it."

Satoru pressed against your clit, his fingers curling inside you. The double stimulation was overwhelming, your body tensing as your orgasm approached. You incoherently mewl against their arms, feeling your body move against their touch to continue the friction.

"That's it, good job." Satoru encouraged, his voice husky." Let go for us."

Their fingers moved faster, pushing you over the precipice. Your body soon convulsed, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. Suguru’s massive fingers continued their relentless pace, drawing out your pleasure. Satoru’s own fingers pumped slowly, his touch gentler now. You could feel pleasure build and built within you, like a dam ready to burst.

“I…I–I’m…. c–coming, ‘guru, ‘toru!”

“You’re doing a good job, doll. Come for us, come for us.”

Suguru’s fingers moved faster, his touch relentless. Satoru’s fingers pumped slowly, his touch gentler. Your body tensed, pleasure building to an overwhelming crescendo. Your sounds harmonized so beautifully to the sound of that slick that draws from within your crevices.

"That's it, doll." Suguru encouraged, his voice low and husky. "Come for us."

Satoru’sthumb pressed against your clit, his fingers curling inside you. The added stimulation pushed you over the edge. Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing with the force of it.

"Fuck, yes!" Suguru growled, his fingers continuing their relentless pace.

Satoru’s fingers continued to pump slowly and then soon enough getting in the pace the dark haired man was, drawing out your pleasure until it hit the crescendo.

It goes on and on until you find yourself breaking into overstimulation and growing limp in their touch, the mess of your pleasure soaking you and their fingers.

"You're so beautiful when you come." he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. As your orgasm subsided, you felt their fingers withdraw slowly. “So so beautiful.”

Satoru withdrew his fingers, bringing them to his mouth to suck clean. "Delicious." he murmured, his gaze never leaving yours. “Just delicious.”

"Beautiful." Suguru whispers as he too cleans your slick from his fingertips. Suguru’s free hand then slid up your body, his fingers tracing your collarbone. "You're so responsive, aren’t you, doll? Good job." he praised, his voice low and satisfied.

“So good….” You all but say. “I’m…I need…”

“You need what, sweetheart?”

“I….I need more.” You finally catch yourself saying. “Need…need you, need you so badly. Please.”

Suguru’s eyes darkened at your words, a smirk playing on his lips. "More, huh?" he murmured, his hand sliding up your thigh.

Satoru’s gaze was equally intense, his pupils dilated with desire. "What do you need more of, exactly?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

Their touches were gentle yet firm, igniting your skin wherever they landed. Suguru’s lips brushed against your ear. You could feel your sweat fall as he moved closer, his breath bellowing hotly against you.

Then your lover bit the side of your ear affectionately, whispering sweet nothings to you, before pressing a kiss. You cry in pleasure as he proceeds to nibble on the side of your neck, readily leaving hickeys to the side.

Satoru watches on the side, letting his hand touch the growing imprint of his member in front of him. He could feel it hurt as he watched you combust in the touch of your other lover. He mewls as he lets his palm brush against the cloth which separates the pleasure and pain growing inside of him.

"Tell us what you want." Satoru whispered, moving closer as his breath hot against your skin. "We'll give you anything."

You felt the white haired man’s hand slide up your stomach, his delicate fingers tracing your ribs and then your sides. It was as if he was memorizing them, to let them burn into his memory for until the next time. He lets the perfectness of your body pleasure his eyes as he wallows in the thought of wanting to be inside of you.

"Everything, sweetheart." he added, his voice dripping with promise. "Just say the word."

The anticipation was palpable, the air thick with tension. You felt your eyes turn to the growing members against their clothes, wanting to be free. You don’t think you’ve ever been this hungry in your entire life. You don’t think you’ve wanted anything more than to be fucked into a doozy.

You then turned to meet their gaze. "I want you both so bad. Want you both inside me."

Your dark haired lover couldn’t help but feel his smirk widen his hand gripping your hip possessively. "Is that so?" he murmured, his thumb tracing circles on your skin.

Satoru’s blue eyes flashed with desire, his hand sliding down to palm his own length through his pants. "We can tell, sweetheart." he said, his voice low and husky. "The way you're looking at us, like you want to devour us whole into your cunny, into your backhole."

“Want you….want you to use me.” You whimper, almost pathetically. “Want you both inside….”

Suguru felt his eyes darkened at your words, a wicked grin blossoming on his lips. "Use you, huh?" he repeated, his voice low and amused.

Satoru’s gaze was equally intense, his pupils dilated with desire."In what way, exactly?" he asked, his tone dripping with promise. Suguru’s hand slid down your stomach, his fingers tracing your hips

"Want us to fuck you senseless?" he suggested, his touch firm. Satoru’s warm hand gripped your thigh, his nails digging into the skin.

"Or maybe you want us to mark you, claim you as ours?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck.

“Everything.” You cried out. “Everything and more. Please. Just….”

Suguru’s massive length pressed against your entrance, the tip already glistening with pre-cum. He gripped your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your flesh.

Satoru’s hands spread your legs wider, his own hips positioning himself at your backside. You could feel the heat radiating off their bodies, the anticipation building to an unbearable level.

Your dark haired lover’s voice was strained as he asked. "Are you sure about this, doll? We're not exactly in the mood to be... gentle."

Satoru’s fingers teased your back entrance with his fingers, earning moans from you as he was applying gentle pressure with each and every push. "Last chance to back out." he murmured, his breath hot against your neck.

Their gazes were intense, filled with lust and dominance. It mirrored your own too well as you wrapped your arms around Suguru’s neck, as you leaned closer to Satoru from behind. You mewl as you feel your behind slowly loosen up.

“I want it.” You whisper to them eagerly. “Please, just go inside of me….I want to feel full of you.”

"As you wish, doll." he growled, shifting his position. He gripped your hips, positioning himself at your entrance. "Ready?" he asked, his voice strained with anticipation.

Satoru smiles slyly, his hands spreading your legs wider to give himself room. Adding his own fingers aligns with the tender slope of your backside, pushing in with the ones he had already slicked and kept inside. “Already been here, ‘guru.”

Suguru pushed into you slowly little by little, his thickness stretching you deliciously. A low guttural moan escaped your lips, your back arching off the bed. You whimper as you adjust to being full front and back.

"Fuck, you're so tight, doll." he groaned, his hips settling against yours.

"Relax." Satoru murmured, his other hand caressing your side as he goes deeper in your back. "We'll go slow like we always do."

He pushed a finger inside you, moving it in tandem with Suguru’s thrusts. You could feel everything and anything. It was like they were on your throat. The sensation of being filled in both holes was overwhelming, your mind spinning with pleasure. Suguru began to move, his pace finally steady and deep. Satoru carefully added another finger, stretching you further.

"You're doing so well, sweetheart." he praised, his breath hot against your ear. "Taking us both like this."

You keen as you felt the depth of Suguru’s hips slammed against yours one after the other, his thick angry cock plunging deep into your soaked pussy deeper than the last.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with your moans and gasps. Satoru’s fingers continued pumping in and out relentlessly of your ass, the stretch burning pleasantly.

"Look at you." Satoru growled, his lips brushing against your ear. "Taking us up like a good little sweetheart, just for me. Just for us.”

Suguru’s hand snaked around, his fingers finding your clit. He rubbed it roughly, his touch sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. Your back arches once again, your body shaking against the hit of wave after wave of pleasure. The push of his cock, his fingers

"Fuck, I can feel you squeezing me, doll. So, so much. God." he choked, the movements of his thrusts becoming erratic. “Your pussy is divine. It's a church down here. I’m being….blessed. Oh fuck, fuck…. So good, so so—”

Satoru’s fingers curled inside you, pressing against your prostate. "Come for us." he demanded, his voice low and commanding. "Come all over us like the good girl you are.”

Your body tensed, your orgasm building rapidly. The sweat on your body blending against Suguru’s in a symphonic harmony. You could feel like you were on another planet.

Suguru’s cock inside you and his fingers on your clit and Satoru’s fingers your ass pushed you over the edge. Your tears poured down your face as you felt the bed creak against the wall, in the same pace along with your movements.

"Fuck! Fuck! Goddddddd…… I'm coming!" you screamed, your pussy clamping down on Suguru’s cock. Your asshole tightened around Satoru’s fingers, pulsing with each wave of pleasure. You choked on your spit. “Oh my godddddd—”

Suguru groaned loudly, his hips stuttering as he spilled his hot seed deep inside you."Shit, fuck! Fuck! Yes, yeesssssss! Take it all, doll. Take it alllllll……" he panted, his cock twitching with each spurt.

Satoru’s fingers kept moving, drawing out your orgasm. "That's it, milk me with these fingers." he murmured, his breath hot against your neck. “Yesssssss…..”

As your orgasm subsided, Suguru refused to leave from within your crevices, small thrusts bringing in his cum inside of you. Soon enough, you felt Satoru remove his fingers from inside of you and started to lick himself clean once again. He smiled at you as you watched him clean himself of you once again as you took your breath.

A little while later, Suguru moves slightly in order to accommodate your other lover. You felt Satoru’s hard length pressing against your stretched backhole. You purse your dry lips into a line as you collect yourself.

"Ready for more?" he asked, his voice dripping with desire.

“Need you, ‘toru. Bring it on me….”

He smiles at you. Just as you asked, Satoru pushes his thick cock pushed into your sensitive asshole, stretching you even further. The feeling of being filled in both holes was overwhelming, the pleasure bordering on pain.

"Too much, too…..tooo full…." you gasped, your body trembling. Suguru hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing gently. “Fuck….can feel you….can feel you on my throat. Both of you….fuckkkkkk….”

"Never too much, doll." he growled, his hips starting to move again.

His cock slid easily through your dripping pussy once again, coated in his own cum and your juices. Satoru from behind began to thrust, his pace slow but deep, bottoming little by little as he too gained his own speed.

"You can take it, sweetheart. You always have." he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck."You can take us both."

Their movements synchronized, one pushing in as the other pulled out. The sensation of being used, of being a toy for their pleasure, sent your mind spinning. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, the overstimulation too intense.

Suguru’s grip on your throat only tightened as he pushed deeper into you, cutting off your air supply. Black spots danced in your vision, the lack of oxygen heightening every sensation.

Gojo Satoru’s thrusts became faster and faster, harshly brushing against you as his cock continued to mercilessly piston in and out of your ass.

"Look at you, doll." he panted, his voice strained by pleasure. "Taking us so well, even like this. I knew you could. You always do good.”

Suguru’s free hand gripped your hip, his fingers digging into your flesh. He leaned down, his teeth sinking into the junction of your neck and shoulder. The pain mixed with the overwhelming pleasure, brushing into sweet moans and pulsing sweat, flesh against flesh, juices dancing through the crevices of your pleasures.

You knew everything was pushing you closer to the edge. Satoru’s hand snaked around, his fingers finding your clit once more, causing you to tear up from the overwhelming feeling. He pushed deeper into you, groaning as he rubbed just as roughly, his touch demanding your release.

"Come for us, sweet doll." Geto commanded, his voice muffled against your skin. "Come one last time like the good girl you are."

Your body grew limp as you convulsed, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. You scream and scream in pleasure as you felt everything come crashing down on you, burying you in the endless echo in this pandemonium of pleasure.

As your orgasm peaked and pushed, Satoru and Suguru’s movements inside of you became even more erratic. They were so close, so damn close. It just felt good. Too good to be deep in the heat of you. You held tightly onto Suguru, who pushed you closer to Satoru’s back, the echo of Satoru’s thrust pushing you forward to Suguru. And vice versa.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck….I’m going to cum again, doll. Fuckkkkkkkk—” Suguru choked on his words as he let his cock push hard one last time before coming inside of you once again. His new burst of hot piping cum pushed out the first one. “Fuck, fuck….so good, so good….”

Satoru soon followed suit, his fingers digging into your hips as he buried himself deep in your ass. "Fuck! shit, shitttttt, you’re too tight. I can’t hold on anymore, sweetheart. Fuckkk, shittttttttt—"

Your lover roared, his hot seed filling your back up endlessly. Their combined releases painted your skin with afterglow permeating under the sweat of the pressing skin, dirty little secrets, scratching and clawing and marks and blood whispering to the world that you are theirs.

You go limp in the middle of them, heaving and shaking from the pleasure. Soon enough, Suguru came down from his high and realized he was about to crush you. Suguru pulled out, earning a groan from you. Your dark haired lover carefully collapsed onto the bed beside you, his chest heaving.

Satoru pulled out slowly, a stream of his cum dripping from your well-used back hole. He heaved and shook as he tried to still his body. He lets his fingers push the dripping cum back onto your hole, making you mewl against him.

“Shhhh, don’t wanna see it to waste, don’t you?”

"Beautiful. You are so so beautiful, doll." Suguru murmured,looking at your fucked out expression as he laid beside you, his fingers tracing the mess on your skin. “Everything we love and more.

The room was silent except for your ragged breathing and the sound of your hearts pounding. Soon enough, exhaustion becomes of you. You first fell asleep, then Suguru and then Satoru. All three are enveloped into the confines of the love that only belongs to you. And in the whispers of the dark morrow, you would do it again and again, until nothing is left of you to give.

epilogue

Late Afternoon, the next day;

The world was burning with speculation with everything and anything that is happening over the past few hours. But you? This was not your concern. It never was, not when you had such a fun time last night. After all, you were waking up in a tangle of limbs, warm sheets, and the scent of expensive cologne mixed with the remnants of last night.

Sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting golden lines across the bed. Your body still very much ached in a way that made heat curl in your stomach at the memories. And when you stretched, a low chuckle sounded beside you.

“Well, well….” Satoru’s voice was still husky from sleep, his lips curling against your shoulder. “Sleeping Beauty awakens.”

Before you could roll your eyes, a lazy, calloused hand trailed down your back—Geto Suguru. His touch was deliberate, teasing. “You caused quite the scene last night, doll.” he murmured, voice like silk.

Your brows furrowed for a split second. Until you saw the phone on the bedside table, the screen was still open to the post. The post that had the world on its knees. Your notifications were on fire. Your phone was on Do Not Disturb, but even then, you could see the flood of missed calls, text messages, and thousands—no, millions—of reactions online.

Your name. Their names. Trending in every possible country.

And then there was your Instagram story.

That one, simple sweet dreams had single handedly ended people’s sanity.

You bit back a laugh, running a hand through your hair.

“Oh?” you mused, “And what exactly did I do?”

Satoru turned you on your back with obscene ease, his blue eyes glinting mischievously. “Sweetheart, you knew what you were doing when you reposted that before passing out for the actual time.”

Suguru hummed in agreement, brushing his fingers over your collarbone. “It’s cute how they think they’ll ever get an answer.”

You smirked, stretching out between them. “Well, they’re the ones who keep looking for one.”

"They are EVIL. Absolute MENACES."

"No bc they’re just playing with us at this point."

"Why did she repost it like that? WHY."

"‘Sweet dreams’ WHERE ARE WE SUPPOSED TO GO FROM HERE???"

"No bc this is Gojo, Geto, and [Your Name]’s world and we are merely struggling to exist in it."

"I fear the love triangle trope is not a love triangle but a polycule and that’s so real and it’s happening in front of us."

Fan edits? Immediate.

Discourse? Relentless.

Your names? Trending for 48 HOURS STRAIGHT.

People scrambled for theories. Some swore it was a joke. Some were convinced it was confirmation of the slowest-burning relationship reveal of the decade. And when you, Satoru, and Suguru resurfaced at an event later that week? Dressed to kill, standing way too close, sharing way too many inside jokes?

You all just smiled all together in front of everyone.

The interviewer tried again. "So, can we talk about that photo?"

Satoru leaned into the mic first, grinning like the devil. "What photo?"

Suguru smirked, tipping his glass in silent mockery. "You’re going to have to be more specific."

And you?

You just sighed, tilting your head with a teasing smile before repeating the words that had haunted everyone and everyone and their mothers and fathers and anyone else they had known for many more years, just like before.

You slyly smiled. “Guess.”

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pinkslipxox · 3 months ago

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Fitting Room Fling:

Summary: Billie eats you out in a fitting room 🥵❤️

Warnings: smut 🙈🥰😘

——————————————————————————

As you stroll through the mall, the air buzzes with excitement, filled with the chatter of fellow shoppers and the enticing aroma of fresh coffee wafting from a nearby café. Your hand intertwines with Billie’s, the warmth of her grasp grounding you as you move in and out from store to store. Shopping is your passion, and today, with Billie by your side, every moment feels like a little slice of heaven.

So far, you are quite happy with your purchases— new makeup from Sephora, a purse from Coach, two sunglasses from Prada, and four pairs of shoes from Louis Voiutton. Although you’ve insisted that you pay yourself, Billie, ever the gentleman, ensures that your material needs are paid for before you can even protest.

“Please, Bills… one more store,” you plead, pulling her arm as you walk towards the boutique.

Billie gently tugs back, her brows knitting in concern. “Babe, we really need to keep an eye on the time,” she says firmly but she keeps her voice soft. “I have to be at the studio soon.”

You pout slightly, feeling a mix of disappointment and determination. “Just one more store, please? I promise it won’t take long!”

With a sigh, Billie pulls her phone out and checks the time. “Alright, alright, but we’re leaving in fifteen minutes,” she concedes, much to your delight, and a grin spreads across your face, and your heart warms at her concession.

The two of you head inside the next boutique, decorated with soft hues and high-end threads. You browse the racks, inspired by each gorgeous piece of clothing. As you look through the clothing, you can feel Billie’s presence behind you. You can’t help but feel a little guilty, knowing that time is not entirely on your side.

Finally, you find a stunning dress—a flowing, ethereal piece that seems to shine under the boutique lights. “Billie! Look at this!” You hold it up, your excitement unmistakable. Her gaze travels from the dress to your beaming face, and for a moment, her impatience fades, replaced by a softness that is unmistakably hers.

“It’s beautiful, Y/N,” she praises, and there’s a spark in her voice that tells you how much she loves seeing you happy. “But we really should—”

“Just a quick try-on? Please, Billie?” you plead, already making your way to the fitting room before she can finish her sentence.

You slip into the dress, the material sliding against your skin. It feels luxurious and you admire your reflection, twirling slightly to catch the way it flows. The dress clings to your curves perfectly and it accentuates a delicate hint of cleavage. You love it. And you’re positive that Billie will love it as well.

“Y/N!” Billie’s voice echoes inside the fitting room, and there is a hint of urgency mixed with her usually affectionate tone in her voice. You hear her footsteps walk towards the room that you’re in, and she knocks on the door. “Come on, we have to go! Finneas will kick my ass if I’m late.”

Taking a deep breath, you unlock the door, and you find yourself standing face to face with your girlfriend. Billie’s breath hitches and she looks at you up and down, her eyes filled with admiration and desire.

“What do you think?” you purr, loving the reaction from your girlfriend.

“Damn,” she murmurs, biting her lip. “You look incredible.” Billie’s voice is husky, practically making your heart skip a beat. She moves closer, her hands resting on your waist as she leans in, planting soft kisses along your neck and collarbone, making you melt against her.

You sigh softly, reveling in her touch and the warmth that courses through you. Certain thoughts begin to cloud your judgement. Then you remember where you are.

“Billie…” you whimper, “not here, my love. We’re in public…”

Billie only groans in response, and she takes a another step forward. You take the hint and go back inside the fitting room. The door is closed and locked behind you, leaving the two of you alone in the privacy of the small space. You find yourself pressed up against the wall, Billie’s hold on your waist tighter, and her touches more bold and deliberate.

“We’ve got time,” Billie murmurs, her voice low and warm that sends a shiver down your spine. “Bet I can make you cum in five minutes.”

Oh, you know she can.

“Can you really?” you can’t help but tease her, and Billie growls.

“Hell yeah I can, mama,” she counters, determination laced in her voice. Your heart races as her lips graze your neck, sending delightful shivers down your spine. Her kisses are soft yet possessive, trailing across your collarbone, leaving a path of warmth that makes you yearn for more.

“Then do it,” you hum, tilting your head back for access, and Billie chuckles.

“Then you’re going to have to be quiet,” she whispers in your ear, and she gently takes your earlobe between her teeth, nipping at it.

Her eyes never leave your as she sinks down to her knees. Your breath hitches in your throat as she leans in, her warm mouth exploring you with a delicious intensity. Billie grips your hips, anchoring you as she skillfully works her magic, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

“Billie, yes…” you breathe out, losing yourself in the bliss of her ministrations. She smirks against your skin, savoring each reaction, each sound that escapes you. Her tongue dances on your skin with exquisite precision, every flick and caress driving you over the edge.

You bite down on your lower lip as Billie continues to pleasure you, her mouth devouring your core oh-so-heavenly. It takes everything in you not to scream as Billie plunges her tongue deeper, exploring the softness of your folds, reveling in the taste of your intoxicating sweetness. You grip the back of her neck, urging her on, and she responds in kind, her tongue swirling deliciously on your throbbing clit.

You feel yourself nearing that sweet release, a thrill igniting deep within you. “Billie, I can’t hold on much longer,” you gasp, and she responds with a devoted intensity, pushing you completely over the edge. Billie hums in acknowledgment, the vibrations sending a jolt of ecstasy through you.

The pleasure crashes over you in waves, a beautiful symphony of bliss that fills the room, leaving you in a blissful haze. You’re breathless, your body trembling as you feel her smile against your skin, still lavishing you with tender kisses.

Once the waves of pleasure subside, Billie rises from her knees, and she molds her lips with your in a gentle yet passionate kiss. You moan softly into her mouth, tasting the lingering arousal, and she pulls back with a satisfied look on her face. God, you love this woman.

“You drive me crazy, pretty girl,” she murmurs, adoration and love evident in her voice. “But I wouldn’t trade you for the world.”

You giggle, her words making your heart flutter. Then you remember— the time! Realization hits you like a ton of bricks and you begin to panic.

“Billie… we’re late!” you gasp, but to your surprise, Billie shrugs nonchalantly.

“Fuck the studio,” she murmurs, her voice returning to a husky whisper. Then, with a smirk curling on her lips, she says, “I’d rather fuck you.”

Before you can say anything, Billie turns you around, your chest pressed against the wall. You whimper as you feel the bulge of her strap press up against your ass. All you can do is surrender, and you can’t wait for what happens next.

#billie eilish x female reader #billie eilish fic #billie eilish x you #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish smut #billie eilish fanfic #billie eilish imagine #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish blurb #billie eilish #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish x smut #smut #wlw smut

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itsswritten · 1 year ago

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wings

Pairing: Azriel x fem reader, IC (platonic) x reader

Word Count: 3.1K

Warnings: 18+, smut, P in V, lots of fluff

Summary: Who would've thought that your found family would be so captivated by your hidden wings? As they reminisce about their first glimpses of your ethereal secret, you realise just how cherished and adored you truly are.

Wings Universe - More from this world.

"I distinctly remember," Mor began, her voice filled with excitement, drawing not only your attention from the comforting cocoon of Azriel's arms, but also the rooms. She sat opposite you, a slight mischief twinkling in her eyes as she leaned forward.

You were all nestled in one of the many living rooms at the House of Wind.

Under the flickering faelight, you sat beside Azriel– your mate. His large presence ever the comfort, as he enveloped you in his arms. His fingers, tracing intricate patterns through your hair, each touch sending ripples of relaxation through your body.

If it weren't for the loudness of your friends and family, their remarks not failing to echo through the room, Azriel’s touch alone could have lulled you into a blissful slumber.

"It was a surprise for sure," Feyre chimed in, a playful smirk dancing across her lips as she glanced over at your slightly confused expression. Sensing your distraction, Azriel reluctantly released his hold on you, joining the conversation with a gentle touch of his hand settling on the small of your back.

"My experience was quite a shock," Cassian added with a grin.

“Mine, I have to say is one I’d like to forget” Rhys grimaced as Feyre gave him an annoyed knowing look.

Amren, rolled her eyes at her family's theatrics. "You all make such a big deal out of everything," she remarked, her tone dry.

Your brows furrowed as you pieced together the fragments of the conversation, realisation dawning as Mor's words began to paint a vivid picture.

The topic of discussion? The first time they laid eyes on your beautiful wings.

𓇢𓆸

Mor, Feyre and Nesta.

It was one of Feyre’s first nights out since welcoming Nyx into the world; she’d been dying for a night off. Craving the simple joys of the company of her girlfriends. Sensing her desperation for a night to let loose, you, Mor, and Nesta had taken it upon yourselves to orchestrate the perfect girls night out for your High Lady.

The night quickly unfolded into a flurry of laughter and dancing. Drinks were spilled, songs were sung. Rita’s being your chosen sanctuary for the night. You all let yourselves get lost in the music and infectious energy of the bar. Drinks were flowing freely, and the hours quickly slipped away like grains of sand in an hourglass.

It wasn’t until the sun had started to rise again that you all quickly realised you needed to get home. You’re not sure how in their drunken states, but Mor and Feyre had successfully managed to winnow you all back to River House, all collapsing in a giggling heap in the foyer.

A fit of laughter overtook the group as you stumbled and pushed, trying to untangle yourselves from one another. You managed to push yourself onto unsteady feet, only to trip over Nesta’s dress and stumble back onto Mor. With your balance faltering, a shimmer of magic danced through the air as your wings burst forth, a kaleidoscope of iridescent pink hues unfurling into the air. Your wings, delicate and light, burst with specs of fairy dust that glowed around you.

The room fell silent, the trio frozen in awe at the sight before them. Then, like a spell breaking, laughter bubbled forth, filling the space with joyous echoes. Mor's eyes sparkled with delight as she pulled you into an embrace, Feyre's lips curled into a grin, and even Nesta couldn't help but crack a smile.

"You sneaky thing," Mor teased, reaching out to brush her fingers against the delicate wings "Keeping such beauty hidden away."

“I bet Azriel loves keeping this side of you to himself,” Nesta purred, her voice laced with mischief as something provocative glinted in her eyes.

You responded with a playful stick-out of your tongue at Nesta, before turning your attention to Mor and Feyre, who were now a pair of mesmerised females, giggling like children as they reached out to touch this new part of their friend they had never seen before.

They had always known you had wings, from the type of fae you were, but you had always kept them hidden and they never dared to ask for you to reveal them.

"Hands off!" you exclaimed, your voice a blend of amusement and mock outrage as you swatted and smacked at their approaching fingers, the sound of laughter echoing through the halls.

Of course, they respectfully obeyed your wishes, but there was a warmth that filled their chests as you all stumbled arms wrapped around one another through the house, enjoying a new part of their friend that had been revealed.

𓇢𓆸

Cassian.

Cassian's mischievous streak knew no bounds, especially when it came to playing pranks on you. He found something undeniably endearing about your reactions, and there was a certain satisfaction when he knew these teasing antics could also annoy Azriel too.

On this particular day, you were busy in the kitchen, practising a cake recipe that Elain had shared with you. Determined to make the perfect cake for Azriel's upcoming birthday, you meticulously measured ingredients, oblivious to the looming presence of your giant friend.

Cassian's eyes twinkled with mischief as he saw his chance to play. With careful grace, he approached, holding his breath before unleashing his voice.

"BOO!" His voice boomed across the room, his figure looming over you with a triumphant grin.

Startled, you spun around in a flurry of flour, heart racing in your chest at the sudden noise. And then, in a moment of surprise, your magic wavered, and your wings unfurled in a burst of ethereal light.

The room fell silent as Cassian's eyes widened in disbelief, laughter fading into awe at the sight before him. "What in the Cauldron," he breathed, barely a whisper, his finger pointing at the delicate appendage. "What are those?"

You fluttered your wings away, annoyance evident in your voice as you retaliated with a playful toss of flour in his direction. "Cassian!" you exclaimed.

"YOU HAVE WINGS!" Cassian's excitement was palpable, his grin spreading from ear to ear.

"Of course I have wings, I'm a fairy," you retorted, arms outstretched in exasperation.

“AZRIEL…YOUR MATE HAS WINGS” he screamed knowing his vibrating voice would find his brother.

Azriel materialised from the shadows, concern evident in his eyes as he approached, brushing away the flour that had settled on your face. His expression shifted to admiration as he took in the sight of your wings shimmering behind you.

"Stop tormenting my mate, Cass," Azriel scolded gently, his protective instincts kicking in as he pulled you into a soft embrace, his lips pressing to the top of your head.

"She has wings!" Cassian exclaimed once more, disbelief colouring his tone. There was a touch of annoyance, as he realised he may have been the only one to not know this about you.

Cassian, like a moth attracted to a light, reached his giant hand out again wanting to get close to the wings that were so unlike his own.

"No touching" Azriel growled, his tone leaving no room for argument. Cassian withdrew his hand, a hint of disappointment flickering across his features as he chewed his lip in an attempt to avoid pouting.

"So does this mean... we can go flying together?" Cassian asked as the revelation came to his mind, excitement bubbling in his voice.

Your brow quirked slightly, a playful glint dancing in your eyes as a small smirk tugged at your lips. Cassian watched you carefully, anticipation written across his features, while Azriel pulled away knowingly.

You nodded slowly, a challenge evident in your gaze. "I’ll race ya," you declared, a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins.

With that, you pushed past Cassian and darted out of the room, your wings fluttering gracefully as you made your way to the nearest balcony. Without hesitation, you leaped off the edge and into the open air, the wind rushing past you as you soared into the night sky.

Cassian was quick to follow, a grin spreading across his face as he embraced the exhilarating freedom of flight. And not far behind him, Azriel joined the fray, his own wings beating with a steady rhythm as he soared through the air.

Together, you three took to the skies, weaving and darting through the night sky.

𓇢𓆸

Rhys and Nyx.

“And stretch them out…That’s it my boy” Rhys spoke proudly as he watched his son in front of him stretch and extend his wings.

You had found yourself in the company of one of Rhys’ flying lessons, nestled on one of the chaise lounges on the balcony, a book in hand as you half-read, half-watched your High Lord teaching his son how to use his wings.

Nyx, though perhaps still a little too young to fly, was eager to learn. So desperate to be like his father and uncles. With Rhys' guidance, he tentatively stretched out his wings, mimicking his father's movements under the watchful gaze of the night sky.

Rhys, a picture of fatherly pride, stood by Nyx's side, his attention unwavering—until a sudden commotion from inside drew his focus for just a fleeting moment. In that brief lapse of attention, the sudden gust of wind caught Nyx and his perfectly poised wings off guard, sending him teetering towards the edge, a gasp escaping his lips.

Instinct surged through you like a bolt of lightning as your wings burst forth in a flurry of motion, carrying you across the expanse with a grace honed over centuries. With swift precision, you swooped in, catching Nyx in your embrace just as he hovered on the brink of danger.

Wide-eyed and breathless, Nyx looked up at you in awe, his innocent admiration pulling at the strings of your heart. "Pwetty," he murmured, his wonder mirrored in the glow of your own wings, illuminated by the moonlight.

You wasted no time in safely landing back onto the balcony, Rhys rushing to your side with bewilderment and shock etched on his features as a torrent of thank-yous spilled from his lips.

As Nyx pawed at your wings, you carefully fluttered them away from his reach, mindful of their delicate nature. Rhys, after the scare of what had just happened, or almost happened. Took a moment to truly appreciate the sight of your wings— beautiful and light, shimmering a pink glow that was a stark contrast to his own.

His relief was short-lived, however, as it became apparent that Feyre had witnessed the entire ordeal. With a swift scolding, she whisked Nyx from your arms, sending you a silent 'thank you' before retreating inside, cradling her son protectively.

"No flying lessons with Daddy from now on," Feyre scolded directly at her mate before she cooed at her son again. "What would we have done if Auntie Y/N hadn't been here?" she mused aloud, her words lingering in the night air.

Rhys glanced over at you, questions swirling in his head at how you had so quickly been there to rescue their son from danger.

"They may be more delicate than your wings, but I am quicker, swifter, and more agile than you big Illyrian babies will ever be," you teased lightly, your words carrying a hint of playfulness.

"Thank the Cauldron you are," Rhys breathed with a soft smile, his eyes reflecting the depths of his gratitude. You gently patted his shoulder before ushering him inside.

𓇢𓆸

Azriel.

“Gods you are beautiful” Azriel groaned, sweat beading down his temple as he looked at you. Your own eyes fluttering shut in pleasure as you continued to ride your mate.

You had both finally and officially accepted the mating bond, preparing Azriel’s favourite meal as a gesture of your acceptance. He had eagerly devoured the food, the golden thread connecting you both deeper and stronger than you ever thought possible.

You had felt his emotion rippling towards you that night. There was a sense of overwhelming gratitude, a deep-seated appreciation for finally having someone who understood him in ways no one else ever could. There was a feeling of relief, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, knowing that he had found someone who truly accepted him for who he was.

But above all, there was a profound sense of belonging—a feeling of being chosen, not just as a lover, but as a partner, a confidant, a soulmate.

As the night progressed, things escalated quickly. Your bodies entwined in a passionate frenzy. Finally, after months of yearning and longing, you found yourselves in each other's arms.

You straddled him, your breasts flushed against his hard chest, in an unbreakable embrace as his hands tightly gripped your lower back, moving with you as you rode out a dance of pleasure. His large wings stretched behind him, twitching slightly as a sign of his impending release.

"You feel so perfect, angel," he purred against your neck, peppering it with soft kisses before pulling away to watch your face.

Your features were contorted in a mix of pleasure and desire, moans escaping from your lips as you steadily climbed towards climax. His rhythm became deeper and more intense, bringing you closer to the edge.

"Azriel..." you moaned out his name, throwing your head back and arching your body as ecstasy coursed through you.

“That’s it my love, that’s it…”

Azriel’s words got stuck in this throat as he watched you reach the peak of bliss, the air around you suddenly seemed to shimmer and a soft ethereal light enveloped your beings. Azriel's eyes widened in awe at the magnificent sight before him. Glowing iridescent wings sprouted from your back, their delicate pink hues dancing in the dim light of your chamber. They fluttered gently, casting a mesmerising glow that bathed both of you in a radiant aura of magic.

Filled with wonder and awe, he was sent over the edge, his own release filling you as he held the most ethereal being in his arms.

"So beautiful..." Azriel breathed out, almost in disbelief as he couldn't fathom how you could be any more breathtaking than you already were.

Your wings twitched and fluttered as you rode out the waves of pleasure, the intensity of the moment slowly subsiding as you rested your forehead against Azriel's, your breaths mingling in the intimate space between you. A blush crept across your cheeks as you realised what you had just revealed to him in your most vulnerable and intimate moment. The soft glow of your wings gradually settled, the dust they had created floating gently around the room like stardust.

"Azriel... I..." you began, your voice barely a whisper, emotions swirling within you like a tempest.

But before you could find the words to express the depth of your feelings, Azriel's firm yet gentle voice cut through the air, his eyes flickering with warmth and adoration as he spoke.

"Let me say it first," he insisted, his arms tightening around you in a comforting embrace. "You are my guiding light in the darkness, my entire soul's devotion...I..- I love you."

Your wings, now settled and slightly slumped with the weight of the moment, trembled at his words, the warmth in your chest swelling with each syllable he uttered. Tears welled in your eyes, reflecting the tear that had already spilled from Azriel's.

"I love you, Azriel," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "I am yours forever, in this life and the next."

Your lips found one another again, bodies and souls intertwining under the soft glow of your wings.

𓇢𓆸

As your friends reminisced about the first time they saw your wings, Azriel, ever the gentleman, only vaguely danced around his recollection. He shared that it had been when you accepted the mating bond for him. The vague blush that covered your cheeks was enough to dissuade further inquiry from your friends.

"Am I the only one who didn't realise you had wings?" Cassian asked incredulously, only to be met with a pillow thrown by Mor.

"You really need to brush up on your Fae race history and anatomy if you didn’t know she had wings" she teased, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

"I can’t believe it all had to be so dramatic though," Amren remarked. "I simply asked her to show me the first week we met, and she obliged."

You smiled nervously at Amren's confession, feeling the weight of your friends' stares.

"So you're saying we could have just asked all this time?" Feyre exclaimed.

You chuckled sheepishly. "I only hide them because they’re delicate... and you guys can be, well…"

"We can be what?" Mor's gaze teased as she leaned in closer.

Instinctively, you moved closer to Azriel for protection, but he seemed to find humour in the situation.

"Clumsy... not always spatially aware," you admitted with a sheepish grin.

"Is that so?" Cassian drawled, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he glanced at Mor.

"Show us your wings then," Nesta declared bluntly, slightly frustrated that Amren had gotten one up on her by simply asking you.

"No," you replied firmly, not wanting to suddenly bend to their will.

Cassian and Mor exchanged a knowing look, a mischievous plan forming between them. Without warning, they both lunged at you, their playful attack catching you off guard.

You cried out for Azriel's help, but to your dismay, he seemed to be thoroughly entertained by the spectacle unfolding before him. Cassian's firm grip on your wrists pulled you closer to him, while Mor's embrace from behind left you feeling both trapped and ticklish.

"Not spatially aware, huh?" Mor teased, her fingers jabbing playfully at your waist, eliciting a cascade of laughter from you.

Your please for assistance only seemed to amuse Azriel further, his smirk betraying the mischief dancing in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, my love,” he chuckled, his voice laced with mirth. “But the outcome of this is one you know I love seeing.”

Your friends playful assault only continued, your giggles filling the room. And in the midst of it all, your wings unfurled, revealing the delicate, pink membranes that had been the topic of conversation for the past hour.

They fluttered from your back, casting a glowing aura across the room and around you. They resembled delicate petals kissed by the soft hues of dawn, shimmering an iridescent pink that mesmerised anyone who laid eyes on them.

“There she is…” Azriel murmered under his breath. A fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He could feel the pride filling his chest as he watched you, gazing at your beautiful wings in all their ethereal glory.

But it wasn’t just your mate gazing at your with love.

No, your family found themselves grinning ear to ear, looking at you with admiration as they watched you glow.

A glow they were forever grateful for.

a/n: not really my best work, but just some loveliness for you all to read! It was an idea I came up with that I instantly dumped on @illyrianbitch (as I always do) and she thought it was a sweet enough idea to write, so here it isssss!! Enjoy my loves <3

Hopefully will resume series writing soon - Lottie x

#acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #acotar azriel #acotar fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #feyre cursebreaker #feyre archeron #rhys acotar #cassian #nesta acosf #mor acotar #amren acotar #nyx archeron #acotar series #inner circle

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couldeatthatgirlforlunch · 4 months ago

Text

Something About Curly Hair and Any Character You Have in Mind

I've always had a fantasy of someone playing with my curls. Delicately pulling on them, like a kid pulling on a string. Playfully and adoringly watching the curl bounce back. Maybe the person could even praise it, saying it's cute, or beautiful, or mesmerising. Especially if they don't have curly hair.

A few minutes ago, my girl friend did it to me, exactly how I've always dreamed, even if inside I wanted to pull away, afraid that she would mess it up, I didn't, and she didn't, and even if she did, I wouldn't care, because I'm starved. So here's this little scenario that I finally felt courage and inspiration to write.

This was written based on my own experience having 123B hair, that has some volume on it (how do you even measure that??), with definition, so you must imagine it was very indulgent.

Also works for Readers of any race!!!! I just specify they have natural curls, didn't even mention the colour.

Gn!Reader and Gn!Character so you reaaaally can imagine whoever you want. But the character probably doesn't have curly hair, and learns to do different hairstyles on you (it's different doing it on yourself and then doing on other people, so you still can imagine any gender or appearance on them). Sex is mentioned. I'm tagging this with the first characters that come to my mind while writing this, just to make it easier.

Might edit this later because it's currently 3am and I'm sleepy as fuck

Divider

They love you. That means they love everything about you. And they love your hair.

They think the volume is sexy. Think clouds can't be softer. Think the way the light reflects on it is ethereal. Think the curls smells heavenly. Think the shape is unmatched.

When you move your hair, it's like being a kid and having a first crush again. Especially if the action causes the delicate smell of it travel through the air faster than they can blink, and they're swallowed in a fog of you.

When you sleep in the same bed together for the first time, and every other time after, they like to wake up before you. Just to admire your peacefull beauty for a while. Like the rest of the world doesn't exist. That's the best way to start a day.

Sometimes, boredom doesn't get to them because tracing curl patterns in your hair with their eyes is entertainment for a lifetime. Never before have they noticed that someone can have more than one curl texture, and how unique and perfect that mixture can look.

There's moments where they get distracted by you. You, taking their attention from something supposedly more important at that moment. Either you smell too nice, or look too good, or shine too bright. And they just can't seem to find anything more interesting than looking at you and your hair.

The first time they touched it, they were surprised by how soft it was, like cotton. Almost weightless, despite it's volume and length. Other people's hair surely doesn't feel like this. They spend so much time touching it the first time, that you have to ask them to stop, or you wouldn't have a nice hair day the next day. They looked like a kicked puppy, so you taught them to gently scrunch from the bottom.

They think bonnets are funny at first, but not in a bad way. They're not laughing at you. Mostly giggling, actually. They understand you may have needed some courage to look like this with them around. And it's like a tiny, almost nonexistent, relationship goal. To be intimate enough to feel confortable wearing a bonnet in front of your partner. And they love that you have no problem doing it.

They even buy silk sheets and pillows if it might help you. It might be morte confortable and not mess with your hair. And they understands sex while having curly hair might be frustrating at times.

Speaking of, they won't pull or mess with it unless you ask for it. They took very seriously your lesson from the first time. And if you have some instructions to give them on how to do it while causing less damage, then you certainly will lift a weight off some shoulders.

Oh, and the difference of how it looks when it's wet and then dry? They can't believe their eyes for a moment. Logic seems to escape. It feels impossible. But it isn't. And they're amazed. Almost jealous for not being as gorgeous as you. They understand why someone would be jealous of you.

Actually, they partially think others should be. If someone dares to utter you are less than stunning, then oh boy. God help them.

Any styling is great. And they're so in love with you, so focused on you, eyes solely on you, that they think no hairstyle looks as good on other people, as they look on you. Even if you hate it, he thinks it looks way better than it would have on anyone else.

Also, they learn some things. They learns to curl with their fingers, how to put on clips, how to do some braids, or buns, or pigtains, or anything you wear often. Even something you never did, but they think will make you ethereal, they will do it on you. They might not even teach you, just so you'll need them for something.

They feel part of their heart breaking if you straighten it. Sure it looks good. If it makes you happy, than they're happy. But it's far from a favorite look on you. It's not the natural you. And they love you. They might love a modified version of you, but only because they love you. Just the way you are.

And if you ever feel insecure, I assure you, they're gonna fix you right up.

Like, comment and reblog 🥰

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rafecameronssl4t · 6 months ago

Text

The Wedding + Honeymoon || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: IM SO SORRY IM ONLY POSTING THIS NOW 😭😭

Warnings: angst, r smoking

Word count: 2,909

A/n: want to walk down the aisle to the instrumental of young and beautiful 🙏 ALSO I was kinda picturing Hailey Beiber's wedding dress for this but of course you don't have to imagine it like that if you don't like it :)

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

The golden sun dipped behind the verdant hills of Lake Como, casting a warm, golden glow over the shimmering water. Every detail of the wedding was pristine, carefully curated to exude opulence and elegance. Towering floral arrangements framed the ceremony site, their sweet aroma filling the cool breeze, while the gentle hum of a string quartet echoed across the villa’s courtyard.

Guests dressed in their finest murmured in hushed tones, their polite smiles hiding the intrigue and judgment bubbling beneath the surface. You stood at the edge of your suite’s balcony, your heart pounding in your chest. Your gown—an opulent creation fit for royalty—was a spectacle in itself.

The bodice was adorned with shimmering crystal embellishments that caught the light with every movement, cascading into intricate floral embroidery that wound its way down the fabric. Layers of silk and tulle fanned out into a dramatic, sweeping train that seemed endless, trailing behind you like a cloud of ivory and gold.

The weight of it wasn’t just physical—it was a burden, a reminder of the life you were stepping into. The veil, edged with delicate gold thread, framed your face like a halo, adding an ethereal quality to your reflection. The gown was breathtaking, designed to inspire awe, envy, and admiration from the guests below.

“You look stunning,” Astoria murmured, her voice soft but filled with practiced poise. She adjusted a stray piece of your veil, her eyes meeting yours in the mirror with a faint smile. “God, I feel like I’m going to be sick,” you muttered, your hand instinctively pressing against your stomach as a shaky exhale escaped your lips.“You’ll be fine,” Charlotte interjected gently, her cool hand resting on your bare shoulder.

Her tone was reassuring, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of worry. The room fell silent, the tension thick in the air. The distant hum of conversation and soft strains of music drifted in from outside, reminding you of the hundreds of eyes waiting below. You swallowed hard, your reflection blurring momentarily as tears threatened to spill, but you blinked them away.

This was your reality now, no matter how much you wished it wasn’t. “Miss de Loughrey,” Anita’s voice broke the silence, gentle but firm as always. Her tone was steady, but you could feel the hesitation behind it, as though she knew she was pulling you toward something inescapable. “It’s time.” You inhaled sharply, trying to summon the strength you didn’t have.

our hands trembled as they smoothed over the intricate beading on your bodice, a futile effort to steady yourself. “It’s really happening, isn’t it?” you whispered, barely audible over the pounding of your heart. Anita paused, her usual words of comfort failing her. For a moment, her resolve cracked, and the pity she tried to conceal flickered in her eyes.

"Yes,” she finally said, her nod small and measured. The weight of her confirmation settled over you as you turned toward the grand staircase. Each step closer to the aisle felt heavier than the last. The train of your dress, trailing behind you, seemed to anchor you to the ground, each inch of its intricate lace reminding you of the promise it bore: till death do us part.

The soft strains of a string quartet drifted up to meet you, their melodies as delicate as the tension that filled the villa. At the base of the staircase, your father waited, his face a mask of pride, but his approval was cold comfort. His beaming smile spoke of satisfaction, of accomplishment—but not of your happiness. This wasn’t about her happiness; it never had been.

It was about the de Loughrey legacy, the alliances your marriage would secure, and the image your family had cultivated for generations. The ceremony space was breathtaking, almost cruelly so. The glimmering waters of Lake Como served as the backdrop, framed by arches adorned with cascading flowers in soft whites and blush tones.

Standing at the end of the aisle was Rafe, the man who was now to be your husband. He was a vision of composure in his perfectly tailored tuxedo, his features sharp and unyielding as ever. His piercing blue eyes locked on yours, unreadable but unwavering. Was he as reluctant as you? Or was he simply enduring this as another obligation, another deal made in his father’s name?

The guests rose as the music began to play. Their eyes swept over every inch of you—the shimmer of your gown, the soft cascade of your veil, the careful control of your expression. Polite smiles were the only thing that masked their curiosity, the whispered judgments and speculations that hung in the air like an unspoken agreement. They were there to witness, not just the union, but the spectacle of it all.

Your father’s grip on your arm was unyielding, a silent command to maintain your composure. Each step you took felt like an eternity, each footfall louder in your mind than in reality. Your breaths were shallow, each step a countdown to a future you had no control over. As you neared the altar, you turned your head just slightly, your eyes scanning Rafe's family, their gazes fixed on you, expectant.

They were poised, their expressions unreadable but heavy with meaning. Then your gaze flicked to your own family. William stood tall, his presence solid and unwavering; Edward gave you a slight nod, his smile small but genuine—a flicker of something comforting in the sea of cold, calculating faces. Astoria’s gaze was sharp, her lips pressed into a thin line, but Charlotte’s eyes softened as she met yours, her silent support like a breath of fresh air in the suffocating tension.

Your mother stood at the end of the aisle, her eyes flickering with a complex blend of pride and something else—something less discernible but just as heavy. You felt their eyes on you, but it was Edward’s small, reassuring gesture that grounded you, even if only for a fleeting moment. When your father placed your hand in Rafe’s, the coolness of his touch sent a shiver through.

Rafe’s gaze locked on yours, his jaw tight. Was that regret flickering in his eyes? Or annoyance? You couldn’t tell, and it didn’t matter. You would never truly know what he felt because he never let anyone in, least of all you. The ceremony unfolded like a perfectly orchestrated performance. The officiant’s voice became a blur, the words washing over you like waves you couldn’t fight against.

Rafe’s vows were steady, precise, and detached—more like a contract than a promise. When it was your turn, your voice wavered, each word tasting bitter as it left your lips. You felt like a performer reciting lines in a play you’d never auditioned for. And then came the words you dreaded most: “You may now kiss the bride.” Rafe hesitated, a brief pause so subtle only you would notice.

He stepped closer, his hand brushing against your cheek in what should have been a tender gesture. But to you, it felt hollow, rehearsed. His lips met yours, soft but impersonal, a kiss meant to satisfy the onlookers rather than the two of you. A tear slipped down your cheek, unbidden, followed quickly by another. You tried to swallow the sob rising in your throat, but it escaped, fragile and raw.

Rafe pulled back slightly, his brows knitting together as he noticed your tears. For a moment, something flickered in his eyes—regret? Guilt? Confusion? He didn’t say anything, though. What could he say? This was the life they had both been forced into. The applause erupted, deafening and hollow, as you turned to face the guests. The petals they tossed felt like a cruel mockery, their smiles oblivious to the turmoil roiling inside you.

Rafe’s arm was linked with yours as you walked back down the aisle together, his grip steady but impersonal. When you reached the edge of the courtyard, away from the prying eyes and flashing cameras, Rafe finally spoke, his voice low and tentative. “Are you okay?” You turned to him, your eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Does it matter?” For a fleeting moment, his composure faltered.

He opened his mouth as if to respond, something unspoken lingering on his tongue. But then his jaw tightened, and he looked away. “No,” he muttered. “I suppose it doesn’t.” And with that, you both stepped into the waiting car, leaving behind the applause, the guests, and the illusion of a perfect day. But the tension between you remained, a reminder of the life you had been thrust into—a life neither of you had chosen.

The flight to Lake Como had been a quiet affair, its tension palpable in the stale air of the private jet, but the journey to your honeymoon destination on the Amalfi Coast felt even more stifling. The jet’s engines hummed softly, a sound that seemed to amplify the silence between you and Rafe. He sat across from you, his tie loosened, his gaze fixed on the landscape beyond the window.

His eyes, though seemingly focused, saw nothing—only the storm within him. He hadn’t spoken much since the wedding reception, and for you, it was impossible to tell whether that was a blessing or just another layer of silent condemnation. It felt like a judgment of your shared fate, this life that had been handed to you both, neither of you fully grasping how to navigate it.

When you arrived at the cliffside villa overlooking the Tyrrhenian Sea, it was exactly as you had imagined: stunning, otherworldly, a place that promised beauty but held no solace. The sprawling estate bathed in the soft golden light of the setting sun seemed almost unreal, its pristine white walls gleaming against the lush greenery

A private infinity pool sparkled in the courtyard, and the distant crash of waves against the cliffs below added to the ambiance of serenity—serenity that felt just out of reach. Your chest tightened at the sight, the beauty only intensifying the ache in your heart. “It’s beautiful,” you murmured, your voice barely a whisper, as much to yourself as to Rafe.

The words were hollow, a futile attempt to hold on to some semblance of normalcy. Rafe nodded curtly, his jaw clenched, as he handed his jacket to the waiting staff. “It’s what they wanted,” he replied flatly, his voice devoid of emotion. They. The families. The ones who had orchestrated every detail of this—this nightmare masquerading as a dream. You swallowed hard, forcing back the tears that threatened to spill.

You had cried enough at the wedding; you couldn’t let yourself break down here, not when the weight of this new reality pressed so heavily on your chest. Your luggage was swiftly taken away to the master suite, and your stomach twisted at the thought of sharing the room with Rafe. The villa was vast, yet you felt trapped in its grandeur.

It didn’t matter how many rooms it had; there was no escaping him, no escaping the suffocating awareness of his presence that clung to you like a second skin. It felt like a constant reminder of the life that had been chosen for you both, a life you had never asked for but were now forced to live. Dinner was served on the terrace as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, painting the sky with streaks of orange and pink.

The table was set for two, an intimate setting that only deepened the awkwardness between you. You sat with your back to the view, trying to ignore the uncomfortable tension in the air. As the waitstaff began to serve, you pulled out a cigarette and lit it, drawing in the smoke slowly. You let the warmth of the cigarette ease some of the tension in your chest, the familiar burn helping to steady your nerves, even as it made the air feel heavier between you and Rafe.

You watched the thin ribbon of smoke curl upwards, the sharp scent mixing with the salty breeze from the sea. The rich flavours of the meal were lost on you, your mind too distracted by the palpable silence and the feeling of suffocation that lingered in the villa. Every now and then, you stole a glance at Rafe, but he was focused on his plate, his jaw tight.

His eyes flicked briefly to your cigarette, but he said nothing. “You’re not eating?” he asked, his voice cutting through the silence, but his tone was neutral, almost indifferent. You took another drag, watching the smoke swirl in the fading light. “I’m not hungry,” you said softly, the words laced with an unspoken truth. It wasn’t the food you needed; it was the way the cigarette soothed the restless tightness in your chest.

Rafe leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on you now, though his expression remained unreadable. “You’ll need to eat eventually,” he said, his voice calm but insistent. “Skipping meals won’t change anything.” The words hit you harder than expected, and you looked up, a spark of frustration flaring inside. “I know that, Rafe. Believe it or not, I’m not trying to starve myself out of this situation.”

His frown deepened, and he ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “I didn’t mean it like that.” “Then how did you mean it?” Your voice was sharp, the anger you’d been holding back bubbling to the surface. “What, are you worried I’ll embarrass you by fainting in front of the staff?” “That’s not what I—” He cut himself off with a harsh exhale, frustration lacing his tone. “Forget it.”

You let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow in the quiet of the terrace. “Of course. Forget it. Just like we’re supposed to forget the fact that neither of us wants to be here.” His eyes hardened, his jaw clenching. “Do you think I don’t know that? Do you think I asked for this?” “You certainly don’t seem to be fighting it,” you shot back, your words sharp. “You’re just as complicit as everyone else in this—this arrangement.”

“I didn’t have a choice!” Rafe’s voice rose, snapping in the quiet of the evening. “Just like you didn’t. So stop acting like I’m the villain here.” You pushed back your chair, the legs scraping against the stone floor as you stood up abruptly, cigarette dangling from your fingers. “You don’t get it, do you?” Your voice trembled with barely contained fury. “You’ll always have more freedom than I ever will. You’re Rafe Cameron, the golden boy. You’ll get to live your life the way you want, no matter what. But me?”

You shook your head, the words leaving your lips in a bitter rush. “I’m just a pawn. A vessel for heirs.” For a moment, Rafe froze, his gaze hardening into something unreadable. He clenched his fists, the muscles in his jaw tightening. “If that’s what you think, then maybe you don’t know me at all,” he said quietly, his voice sharp and laced with bitterness.

Without another word, you turned on your heel and walked away, the sound of your heels clicking against the stone as you retreated into the villa, your heart pounding in your chest. You didn’t know where you were going, only that you needed distance—from him, from this place, from the suffocating reality of your new life. The master suite was dim when you entered, the moonlight casting faint shadows across the room.

You sank onto the edge of the bed, staring out at the sea beyond the open balcony doors. The cool night breeze brushed against your skin, but it did little to quell the ache gnawing at your heart. Your mind was a whirlwind, thoughts spinning in every direction, none of them providing any clarity. Minutes passed before you heard the door creak open behind you. You didn’t need to look to know it was Rafe.

His footsteps were slow, hesitant, the sound of his approach almost a whisper. He stopped a few feet away, his presence filling the room without the need for words. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low and almost uncertain. You turned to look at him, surprised by the softness in his tone, by the lack of his usual bravado. “For what?”

“For... everything,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair, his eyes searching the room as if he couldn’t quite find the right words. “I know this isn’t fair. To either of us.” You blinked, startled by his candor. For a brief moment, you saw something human behind the walls he’d carefully constructed. Something fragile, something real. “It’s not,” you agreed quietly, your voice barely a whisper.

Rafe sighed, sitting down in the armchair near the balcony, his eyes distant as if he was searching for something in the dark expanse of the sea. “I don’t know how to fix this,” he confessed, the words heavy with uncertainty. “But I don’t want us to hate each other.” You studied him, noting the tense line of his shoulders, the way his eyes avoided yours.

For the first time, you wondered if he was just as lost as you felt. “I don’t want that either,” you whispered, your words fragile, as if they might break under the weight of everything you had left unsaid. You both sat in silence, the sound of the waves below filling the space between you. It wasn’t an answer, not really. But it was something—a fragile, tentative start.

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roses-and-revolutions · 3 months ago

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Stephine is really enjoying university life.

Sure her 'night job' left her exhausted more often than not and she wished that some of her professors would just (die) get into some little accidents, leaving them unable to work for some time. But she enjoys being a university student.

And the best part of it all was her roommate, Samantha. Not because she was hot or anything! Yeah ok, it was because Samantha was hot but you couldn't blame her! She had no right being so goddamn attractive! She's smart and cool as well and... back on track!

Stephine sighed remembering the first time she ACTUALLY looked at Sam. The memory was basically etched into her mind.

They had been roomies for a few weeks but had hardly talked before that moment. Mostly because she was dealing with an extremely tricky case that time around. A case with a dead end that had left her feeling exhausted, defeated, and disgusting. And she wanted was a nice hot shower and more than a few hours of sleep. It wasn't like she had any classes the next day anyway.

But when she opened the door, she was met with Sam standing in the middle of their dorm. Gotham's sky was clear that night the power of the full moon was making itself known.

She still remembered how beautiful Sam was. Not that she wasn't always beautiful, even on her worst days she wasn't anything but ethereal. But something was different that night.

Whenever her mind wandered it always strayed to delicate pale skin, covered in strange symbols and runic tattoos she'd never seen before. Dark hair that almost blended with the night, and naked pink lips that... focus Stephanie!

Sam was tall, even without her platforms or Mary Jane's, a good 4 inches at least. And her eyes, she always thought they were black but they weren't. She still vividly remembered that deep violet glow in the near darkness that pierced through her heart straight into her soul. Stephanie knew from that moment she was smitten.

Not too long afterward she started working on getting close to the girl. Though with all the classes, cases, and general Gotham life she'd only been able to find out a few things. Sam was Goth, vegan, and from a small town that no longer exists.

Despite her constantly updating her plant blog, arguing with her parents, and doing research for her various classes (wow double major and double minor, she's ambitious), her online presence was basically zilch.

Was it a bit of a red flag? Maybe. But red was half of purple so it should be ok. She thinks. But that didn't matter now because tonight would be it. Both of them were free and currently doing 'nothing'. All she had to do was turn around and ask a question. Any question!

"Hey S-"

"Hey, Sam!"

She almost gave herself whiplash with how fast she turned her neck to face the window. Hanging halfway through it was a boy. Pale skin, dark raven hair that melded into the night and bright blue eyes that almost hurt to look at. Were they family?

"Oh, you got company! Is now a good time or..."

"Speak or leave."

She sounded mildly annoyed and God was it hot.

"Ok, if I were to, hypothetically, of course, need help hiding a-"

"Do I need to buy a shovel?"

"...Maybe."

"Let me get my purse."

As suddenly as the boy came they both left, through the same window and into the dark Gotham night. Stephanie's mind, which had short-circuited, slowly caught up with what had just happened.

She had many questions. Like how did he get up here without any equipment? It's the fourth floor! Why was Sam so calm about it? Was he just asking for help to hide a body? Why was Sam so calm about being asked to hide a body? And did she just offer to help!?

Wasn't that boy Daniel Fenton? The wanted domestic terrorist that the US Government recently asked the JL to help capture...

Red is half of purple, red is half of purple, RED IS HALF OF PURPLE!!!

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #dp dc crossover

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nightcourtnovels · 28 days ago

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Little Matchmaker

Azriel x reader (part 4.5)

Summary: reader gets a birthday gift and her friend can’t help but push her to go big or go home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

She was dreaming.

She knew it even as she felt the soft weight of a blanket draped over her bare shoulders, Azriel’s callused fingers brushed her cheek, just as his arm curled tighter around her waist. They were still wet from the pool, skin warm and tangled beneath one of her spare blankets. The sun was rising above her balcony doors, the city waking while they started to rest. His voice, low and scratchy, murmured something against her hair.

“Stay,” she whispered.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised.

But he always did…

Y/N blinked awake as the sun crept through her curtains due to the blowing wind. Her bed was cold, and empty, and her heart gave a small, traitorous ache.

She groaned, covering her face with a pillow.

“Snap out of it,” she muttered to herself.

Today was her birthday. But, she had scrolls to read, enchantments to translate, and the library wouldn’t run itself. Just because she’d spent the last few nights dreaming of Azriel’s smile or the way his fingers lingered a little too long on her back, or the kiss he left her with that still made her stomach flip, didn’t mean she had time to daydream today.

The date was two weeks ago, but it still felt like yesterday. She really needed to stop thinking about it; they lived completely different lives and it was only a one time thing.

Yet, she couldn’t help but remember how beautiful the night was, no male had ever treated her like he did.

With a sigh, Y/N got ready for work.

The library was quiet as always, the scent of old paper and ink calming her nerves. She’d settled into a rhythm, nose deep in a scroll on ancient Day Court magic, when someone cleared their throat beside her desk.

She looked up to see a young messenger, wide-eyed and clearly in awe of the massive collection around him.

“Delivery,” he said, holding out a wrapped box and a bouquet of various white flowers speckled with silver.

Y/N blinked, stunned. “Uh… for me?”

He nodded, handed them over, and quickly scurried away.

She stared at the package and bouquet wondering if the messenger perhaps got the wrong female.

No one sent her gifts. Especially not ones wrapped in delicate paper and tied with navy ribbon. Her fingers trembled slightly as she pulled the small envelope off the flowers.

In neat, precise handwriting, she read:

Happy 250th, Bright One.

For someone who claims no one would want her at this age, I thought I’d take the chance before the line forms. I haven’t forgotten that you owe me a book recommendation.

— A.

She stared at the note, cheeks warming so fast it felt like she’d swallowed sunlight.

“Oh goodness,” came her friend Selene’s voice from behind. “Who are those from?”

“Ummm no one.”

Giggling, Selene reached around her in a flash and snatched the card from her hand.

“Oooooohhhhhhh,” she sung. “Definitely not a one-time thing, then.”

“It’s not like that,” Y/N said quickly, her blush deepening. “He’s just being—nice.”

“Nice? You can’t find these flowers everywhere, babe.” Selene said.

Her friend then stared at the box in wonder. “You should definitely open the box.”

“What do you think it is?” Y/N asked.

“Probably a dagger, he seems to like those things.”

Y/N squawked, “A dagger?? Are you insane? Why would he give me one of those?”

Selene chuckled, “Umm, so you can defend yourself while he’s not here to be your knight in shining armor?”

Trying to believe her own words, Selene playfully practiced her fighting moves with a nonexistent dagger. “Yeah definitely that!”

Y/N shook her head. “As much as I love how your brain works, it can’t be dagger. There’s no way.”

Her friend only raised her brows and pointed to the box. Sighing, Y/N tentatively unwrapped the present.

Inside, nestled in black velvet, sat a delicate necklace with a deep blue stone and matching earrings, shaped like falling stars. Ethereal. Night Court craftsmanship, undoubtedly.

The two of them sat in silence for a minute. Selene wasn’t sure if Y/N was breathing.

“Sweet Mother,” Selene breathed. “These are gorgeous. How will you ever thank him? Since, you know, it was just a ‘one-time thing’.”

Snapping out of her thoughts, Y/N reminded herself to breathe and rolled her eyes at her friend. “I don’t know. Maybe next time he’s in Day.”

“You are telling me that you’ll just thank him next time he’s here?”

“What am I supposed to do? Sprout wings and fly to the Night Court immediately?”

Selene giggled, “I mean it’s not a bad idea. That way you could thank him properly.” Wiggling her eyebrows for dramatic effect.

Y/N gasped, hitting her friend playfully. “Absolutely not. You are so vulgar. I would never do that.”

The two stared at each other before falling into a fit of laughter.

“Okay mayyybe. Perhaps if the appropriate moment, you know, happened to happen. I would gracefully get on my knees…”

Before Y/N could finish her sentence, Selene slapped a hand over Y/N’s mouth. “And you say I’m vulgar! Does he know about these naughty things you say!?!”

“Of course not, he thinks I’m a perfect angel,” Y/N smirked.

“Hmm then you must have not talked very much on that date because you my friend are far from an angel.”

Y/N mockingly gasped and gestured to the jewelry that seemed to sparkle as if they too couldn’t hold in their laughter. “Then explain these gifts!”

“Wellllll hear me out,” her friend drawled, wiggling her brows. “I think I have the perfect way to thank him. There is a thing called Starfall next week in the Night Court…”

“We can’t just invite ourselves!” Y/N protested. “He probably already has a date.”

“Why not? When’s the last time we’ve been on vacation? You’re working on your birthday. Come on Y/N. You’re in desperate need of a break. I’m in desperate need of a scandal. And you—” she pointed at her with a smirk, “—have been gifted jewelry and flowers by the shadowsinger of the Night Court. I can promise you, he doesn’t already have a date.”

Y/N glanced down at the necklace again, fingers ghosting over the silver chain. “We don’t have dresses. Or a place to stay.”

“Pfft,” her friend scoffed. “Leave that to me. Dresses, done. Place to stay—handled. Not that you need one, I’m sure the Shadowsinger has a big enough bed. All you need to do is pack your bag and maybe think about what book you’re going to show him next. You know, to repay him.”

Her mouth twitched. “You're relentless.”

“It's why you love me. And besides… tell me you don't want to see him again.”

She didn’t answer. Just glanced at the card again. The way his inked scrawl curved her nickname. The way the bouquet shimmered under the library’s lights.

After a long moment, Y/N murmured, “Okay. Fine. I guess it has been a while.”

Her friend squealed, clapping. “Starfall, here we come!”

Y/N tried to fight her smile. Really, she did. But it was hopeless. The glow from the flowers mirrored the glow in her chest as she turned back to her desk—her mind already drifting far, far from the scrolls in front of her.

To the stars.

To a Night Court male who remembered her birthday.

“Okay let’s do it!”

#acotar #azriel #azriel fic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x female!reader #azriel x reader

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limerlove · 16 days ago

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limerlove presents. college!violet x comphet!reader

sum, little love is lost between you and violet vanderson. slowly, but surely, orbiting each others existence due to circumstance. but what happens when it becomes more than just mutual friends pulling you together?

content warning. eighteen+, wc 5k. internalized homophobia, comphet, mentions of reader have a boyfriend, y'all know i couldn't resist some good 'ole angst (let’s remember who is writing), smut, fingering, mentions of oral.

this fic truly got away from me. it was just supposed to be a cute little blurb. ummmm.....sorry! thanks for the request plu, you always knock it out of the park. hope y'all enjoy the build up to the smut because i'm such a little tease. but who doesn’t like a little edging? ♡ ‘nd and special thank you for the prompt @meganegatari, i had entirely too much fun with this.

“I can see you staring at my tits.” Vi teases you, the tape doing nothing to pull your gaze from her. Even with her nipples concealed, she still manages to steal your attention. Eyes lingering a beat too long, the defined line sculpted down her chest — clearly not missing a single morning at the gym.

Deep and wondrous Violet, slightly freckled, a fragment of constellations kiss her collarbones and round about the rest of her otherwise bare chest. The chiseled abs she has no qualms showing off. If you put in half the amount of time she did in her workouts, you would too.

The expanse of broad, tattooed back exposed. Defined muscles in her back contracting with her subtle movements, and it traps you, like a fish caught at the shore. No one on earth should look like this, so beautiful, a daunting kind of ethereal making you believe greek goddesses exist.

Does she even care how confused she makes you feel?

From the first moment you met, a friend of a friend, you’ve always been curious about the way she holds herself. Nothing ever seems to bother her, fearless as can be, and you’re standing here with jealousy sprouting an envious green. The truth is, you try not to look too often, but in these small moments — you inevitably slip.

Freshly showered with dripping wet hair, a pair of boxers you wished to be sweatpants instead. So much skin — muscle. You hated how natural she made it all seem. How she could make you question yourself so easily. Without even trying, she left an impression on your brain, leaving you bleeding as you try to carve out her deeply irritating smile.

A devastating feat, a beautiful expression— a crack in an otherwise delicate grin. Part of you couldn’t help but wonder if the scar on her lip felt as deep. The one she runs her tongue over when she thinks no one watches. Last Sunday, the blunt of her fingernail kept messing with it, a nervous habit — a tick. It isn’t until she glares back at you over the dining room table do you acknowledge the severity of your actions.

Vi never smirks at you like she does with the women she flirts with — or the ones who flirt with her — there’s hardly any recognition. Like a shooting star it’s fleeting. You only catch the upturn of her lips before Sevika asks her a question, her attention otherwise diverts into something of importance.

And it’s not you.

Even if only for a singular moment your brain clings onto a far out of reach fantasy. Completely unaware of how much Vi is dreaming about you in ways you deeply fantasize.

Violet — Vi — wishes to part you, a lily growing from the pavement. Pulling each petal until a makeshift bouquet is held in her calloused palms. Perfectly plucked, pressed into the weathered pages of her favorite novel. She wonders if you would enjoy the passages she highlights, the tabs she left in her favorite pages.

A secret to be hidden deep in Eve's garden, a serpent to the sinner she must watch you yield. Vi gazes on your saccharine sentimentality, head above in the clouds each time she’s like this.

You aren’t a lover she can afford. The price is too high and the river of your love could drown her with a splash.

Violet’s life has always thrived in private. It’s always been safer in a deluded light, lingering safely in the gleam of a purely white moon. It’s much more difficult to be painted in violet and blue-hued oils of admiration when you can’t see the muse. Even then, Vi can’t deny how much she enjoys you fumbling with a paintbrush, afraid to make your first stroke.

A newly born artist; trying to remember a pattern you’ve never felt before yet it warms your heart all the same. The habit still clutches onto Vi, connecting with her long line of relationships, never quite ending successfully. Going for people who don’t want her, who can’t love her, unattainable hearts sworn to love someone who looks nothing like her.

It’s easier. Better. Keeping those she loves at distance, flirting for fun, pretending like she doesn’t care. It’s what she was born to do. Love and lose. Instead of the ladder, the love impounds on her. Making the mark known, the way you keep staring at her imperfect lips, it burns her from the inside out.

Just like before, you’re doing it again. Her tattooed skin and your curious eyes gazing at her neck, her arms where the art spills — just ask — Vi thinks to herself. You’ve managed to weave yourself in her mind, vines with thorns pricking, threatening her to spill every drop of blood.

Your need to be seen causes Vi to sink into her fight or flight nature. Each time you speak with her, she never says the right thing. Each interaction she becomes tight-lipped, or she transforms herself into the player you believe her to be — the one she can’t even recognize.

Then you’re here in the confinements of her apartment, looking at her like she’s a ripe pomegranate you wish to split open. Blood fucking canines sinking into each crevice of her soul, the juncture where her spirt meets body, making her vividly survey a notion — this of all things couldn’t possibly ring cadence.

She wants to turn on her sharp edges, the ones that cut — create some distance — and she wants to be so pointed you eat the blade. Except she would cry knowing she hurt you, wounding you in any way would be Violet’s violent end.

So, she watches. She waits. She listens.

Wondering what it would feel to keep you so close. Would your heart flutter at one obscenely scandalous touch? The stray piece of hair you’re always tucking behind your ear — is it because she allows herself to get too close?

You’re off limits, unattainable— straight. Violet doesn’t know how to make friendships with beautiful women that don’t end up underneath her. She loves too much, too hard, and doesn’t let an ounce of her emotions show. Physically affectionate and emotionally walled off.

That’s Violet Vanderson.

Even if she keeps one evening secret, you seem keen to never speak of it again like you had agreed upon.

“Waiting for Mel.” It’s an effort you make but you’re still looking…shamelessly.

“Mhm, right, Mel. That’s why you’re here.”

“Of course she is. Mel and I have been best friends since grade school.” You do your best to defend her almost immediately, “My presence here has nothing to do with you.” Vi doesn’t know you’re trying to believe those words. The second you speak them, it feels much like a farce.

For a split second she believes them to be true, maybe a bit more if you weren’t so defensive. The both of you know it from the way your tone spits and slims. Immediately, your body slips into providing incite to your words. The emotion has already leaked. And you’re scrambling for plausible deniability.

Vi can’t deny how much she enjoys seeing you frazzled, grasping at straws trying to remain calm in her half-bare presence.

Over the years, Vi has always run in the same circles as you. Same friends, same groups, same monthly brunches but the two of you avoid each other at all costs. A ghost looming over you both, as if there was something to run from. You’re just…there. Vi does her best to ignore it.

Violet would never outwardly deny it, she is attracted to you. There had been no question about it, but you were caught up on your high school boyfriend, the supposed love of your life. Even a year after graduation, the highlight reels with him through the holidays made its way on her social feed. A strong couple and even adored by your friends as the relationship to have.

At times, Vi would even feel envious. The two of you seemed to be so in love, so enamored by each other’s presence. In secrecy, she always wanted the thing people always talk about. An unspoken feeling when you just know you’re with the right person.

Some search their whole life and still never find it.

But it wasn’t until three months ago when it all unfolded. A sacred evening left lurking in the shadows of a sinner’s end.

───

Your second year into college, there had been one happy hour you couldn’t make and suddenly you became the topic of conversation. Violet’s interest peaked. Powder, Mel, Jayce — even Sevika — chimed in about the catastrophic blow of your imploding relationship.

None of it made any sense really. Vi, just as everyone else in the group thought it was clear the two of you would naturally end up together — forever. High school sweethearts from freshman year, a man who actually was somewhat tolerable and loved you more than anything.

Everyone contemplated if he cheated, even though he really didn’t seem like the type, you never really did know how someone acted when no one was looking. Not a soul at the table believes you would have broken up with him unprovoked.

A month rolls by, and radio silence. Mel is the only one to have seen you, you’re safe, but not in good enough spirits to make your presence known within the group.

One night, Vi thought about reaching out. The two of you would talk in a group setting but territory together, alone, is certainly unheard of. Even if Vi couldn’t quite put her finger on it, something about the situation seemed a little unsettling to her and part of her bubbled with need to know you’re alright.

Before Vi gave herself time to wrestle with why she wants to help you, she opens the front door of her apartment and there you stood. A closed fist raised in the air as if you’re ready to knock on her door.

“How did you—” With ease, you ignore her questioning.

“Is Mel here?” There’s a certain type of anguish that ignites in your eyes, two more seconds and you might blow. It’s the one thing Vi can sympathize with.

“No, I can call her though. I really don’t—” The fear created a stench around the room, a demon's source of blood ready to feast on your distress.

“That’s alright. I actually want to speak with you.” You confess. Vi takes note of your tremors, how much they increase with every passing second.

Without thinking much of it, Vi cranes her body to the side, letting you in. Never have you been here to see her. Only her. Leaving nothing but a bile of uncertainty in the pit of her stomach.

“I have something to ask you. And I-I, well please don’t laugh at me.” Each word unraveled whispers of scribbled ink, desperate to get the sentence out. You compromise the stability of your lip as it quivers in what looks a lot like fear.

“Are you okay? Did he do something to you? Did he hurt you?” She oozes with sincerity and it makes your stomach twist in knots. “Say the word and I’ll beat his ass.”

Okay…what the fuck was that? Is she being protective? Over you?

“No, no, no — it’s actually the fucking opposite.” Vi’s powder-blue eyes are stunned watching as she takes you in, the way your eye drifts over her frame. Lingering longer than you normally would. “I—”

“You what?”

“Sevika says you sleep around a lot.” You blurt out before thinking, nearly slapping your hand over your mouth in the process. Vi is even more bewildered than before.

So, now you’re openly…slut shaming her?

“A-And, s-she says sometimes you h-help other girls, you know? The ones who are confused. The ones who aren’t sure what they like yet. The ones who break up with their sweet boyfriend because they can’t stop thinking about a girl — or girls — it’s not like it’s anyone specific….or anything.”

Violet stays silent. None of the secrets you’re spilling are about her and the best thing she can do is give you this moment to process out loud. It surprises her when words continue to tumble out of your mouth, petrified of your own mind. A new craving you might think is poison so you restrain from ingesting the smallest of bits.

It’s not something she can relate to. She’s always known it’s been women for her. Everyone’s journey is different. And you’re looking like you might blow at any given moment.

“This is crazy, right? I mean, it’s because he was going to propose and I’m freaking out about an unknown future, it isn’t because I’m—” You stop yourself, unable to say the words out loud. You can’t be. You would have known by now. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time. This is stupid. I’m being unbelievably dumb.”

“Why’d you come here?” Vi pokes the bear, watching your failed confidence crash into the floor. “You have other friends. You’re closer to them than you are with me. If it’s because you wanted to talk to someone who is gay, that’s alright too. But why me?”

For a sinking moment, Vi watches as you retract into yourself. The grey-oak floors threaten to encompass you whole. The fear is written in the way your eyebrows furrow, creating a crease between them. Vi desperately wants to smooth each line out.

“I-I’m so-sorry. I should go.” You wipe a tear fighting to get away and you try to get past her but she gently grabs your hand, holding it in hers.

“Hey hey, look at me—” A soft please is murmured from Violet’s lips and you give into the gentle slope of her honey-dew voice that drips all over you like paint on an empty canvas. “There’s nothing wrong with the way you feel. This is a safe place, alright? With me, you don’t have to be scared about not knowing. It’s okay to not know but it’s also okay if you’d rather not talk about it.”

Vi treats you like a fawn gazing at her first pair of headlights. Only it’s the first girl you’ve ever had a thing for and you’re not sure what to do with yourself. She’s been there with other girls, their confusing gaze like the sun has been split open for the first time and their seeing the center of the brightest star. The origin of a feeling they didn’t know existed.

She watches as the tension in your body dissipates, your gorgeous eyes dropping to her warm hand holding yours. Protecting your own shadow from the fear of being let go of. You’ve never felt this safe, not in a way where it’s so vividly righteous.

“What if I feel something for you?”

“That’s okay too.” Warmly and with a whole heart, Violet smiles. “Is there anything else you want?”

She’s waiting for you to ask for it. There’s a relief flowing through your body — she won’t take it — and your heart stutters in your chest. She inches forward, she places your hands on the top of her chest, forehead pressing against hers. Violet’s giving you an out, letting you leave if you need to. It’s almost too tender, too sweet for you to stomach, and your breath hitches in your throat when she opens her eyes.

Locking in with yours before she lingers on glossy lips, “You can have anything you want but only if you’re brave enough to take it.” Violet’s always been quiet with her quips, never talks too much with the group around. But you’ve never had her in an environment where clouds wouldn’t even be soft enough to lie on. “Nothing has to happen. This is your choice and no one can take it away from you.”

This is your choice.

What once felt like a burden, an unbearable weight to carry is released with such simple, soft-spoken words. Lines of firmity laced in with any self-doubts lingering in your mind. Everything evolves into what it’s supposed to. Fine lines carved in the edge of her smile. The well runs so deep, a crack in the matrix splits your world open and paints every corner with the soft-blue of her eyes.

Violet lays her lips on top of yours, her bottom lip captured in both of yours. An essence of uncertainty blooms within you, scared it’ll move too fast, scared because it’s not your ex-boyfriend you won’t know how to please her.

A million thoughts swarm through your head but not one tells you to kiss her back and you don’t. Without a moment to process, Vi’s pulling away from you, giving you necessary room to breathe. One you weren’t quite sure you even needed but she seems to.

“How are you feeling?” She’s too soft for her own good.

“Like I freaked out.”

Vi chuckles but it’s not condescending. Like she knew the thoughts swarming through your head through the wavering uncertainty in your eyes. “Do you wanna try again? I can try something else but I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

“Y-Yeah okay. I would like that.”

Not missing one beat, she surprises you. Practically jumping you with her lips provokes a knee-jerk reaction and you immediately give into her lips. A firm hand on your back pulls you closer, a knee placed in-between your thighs but Violet is careful enough to not push. Holding you like you’re a piece of glass that might shatter, stroking the edges of your jaw with a softness you melt into.

With a slight of tongue, she prys your mouth open with the velvet muscle, sinking herself into the moan you lay at the altar of her deepest needs. It feels different from the first one, her primal desire refines the ink in every love letter she’s ever been told. It’s different than what you expected, better than you knew it could be.

Vi’s the first to pull away but this time you chase her.

This is how it’s supposed to feel.

It’s more than terrifying. It’s life altering. A chill to your bones in the sweltering heat of July. Her lips jumpstart a heart you’ve been feeding with lifeless love but now have been renewed in all things named Violet.

Naturally you only have once choice, you run away. Slamming her apartment door so hard, Vi thinks all of this has been one god-awful nightmare.

───

What Violet kept to herself that night? She was just as affected by the kiss, maybe even more. Unlike you, it hadn’t been an experiment she needed to feel sure of herself. Vi knew how much she liked you and it burned twice as bad when you dashed away from her. A bloom fluttering against your ribcage when you kissed her back — she couldn’t think of it.

Not when you fled in fear.

Violet wouldn’t be the lesbian who cries over a bi-curious girl who never looks her way again, not in the way she needlessly craves. As the months wore on, Vi made it her mission to make sure any extra attention you gave her would be noted. Sometimes, she wonders how you really felt. You didn’t return to your boyfriend like Vi expected but you also didn’t date any other girls, boys — there didn’t seem to be anyone.

The past few weeks, your presence in her shared apartment with Mel seems to be increasingly frequent. Hints of your lavender and vanilla scented perfume follows her everywhere. Mel and you couldn’t be separated worth a damn. Vi would almost think it’s cute, the way you seemed to be skittish every time she was around, your eyes doing double-takes when she walked in the same room as you.

You always look like there’s something ready to drip off your tongue. The war raging on, pulling you back and forth, and you had no idea Violet knew something. A secret slipping from Sevika before she could recant it. Her patience had worn thin and she wants to ask you.

A stupid frat party. One Mel knew you would be at and happened to drop the details in Vi’s lap. It seems you had told someone about the kiss which did give her a little bit of hope. You were hiding from it, not directly, it mattered enough to tell your best friend.

And she was going to do something about it.

All night she has been waiting for you to be alone, hoping she could talk to you, and after hours of sulking with Sev — there’s an opening.

“I do have a shirt on this time so maybe you can do a better job at controlling yourself.” Vi shuts the door behind her, flipping the lock upwards.

Vi didn’t even want to come out tonight. Not before. But you, you, you.

This week has been brutal. The kink in her shoulder wouldn’t give, she missed two workouts this week, and she couldn’t get you off her mind. This needs to stop. Even if she’s rejected, at least she could have some peace in dismissal.

A bruise to her ego she could take. What she couldn’t accept is your avoidance. Three months and you still wouldn’t talk about it. So, she did something against her better intuition. Vi may have cornered you in the sorority bathroom ready to launch her incriminating information at full force.

“Violet! I could have been on the toilet. Are you kidding me—”

“Look, I waited until you flushed!” Vi scratched the back of her neck, watching you, wanting to see if you could piece the puzzle together. Shameless in the way she lets her eyes linger on your cleavage.

“You were following me?”

“I wanted to talk.” You look at her like she said the most vile statement in the world. You sound annoyed, even look a bit irritable, but you’re checking her out. Hard. “I went out drinking with Sevika. She’s always saying nonsense when she’s sipping on whiskey. Saying more than she should, some things are true, and some aren’t.”

“Okay?”

“Sevika said something — something I really want to be true.” Quietly, Vi whispers. A sincerity that leaves you shaking.

Violet presses against you, frame slipping behind you, looking at you through the mirror as you dry off your hands. Resting her chin on the slope of your shoulder, a light breath kissing your neck, “It’s really such a simple thing.”

“What is it, Violet? What couldn't wait?”

Ring clad fingers wrap around your waist, hanging loosely as her fingers ghost over the soft denim. Vi shouldn’t like the way you lean into her, the incredibly enticing sigh escaping from your lips, a soft whine of her name expelling her way. She pulls you in closer, waiting for you to crack.

“Three months is enough time. Don’t you think so?” Vi takes pleasure in how your eyes fall shut against her touch. Your weight falling slack against her, your hand gripping onto the sink in front you. In what Vi assumes is an attempt to center yourself. “You’re still checking me out, every chance you get but you could have more…so much more.”

“Weren’t you going to ask me something?”

You’re hanging on. Barely. Clinging onto the thread of a woman behind you threatening to pull until there’s nothing left, no end or beginning, there’s only her.

“Can you handle it?” A proposition to your question, lips ghosting of your neck as she meets your eyes for silent permission. With a poison she only has the antidote for, the taste of her nearly raspberry colored lips make home in the juncture of your neck. A slow and steady death is your conviction for three months of silence, one you would pay over for a singular moment of her devoted affection.

“Violet—” The whimper you release mellows her, fingers mindlessly tapping over your pelvis. “What are you—”

“Do you want me to touch you?” She already is but you know exactly what she means. The imposing question drifts from your mind and all you can focus on is the way her sultry whispers laces you in gold, melted by the excruciating heat of the sun.

“Yes— p-please.” Without realizing it, your ass grinds against Vi, your desperation leaks unknowable bounds when it comes to her greedy touch. You’re grateful she keeps reaching.

Blue-washed denim unravels with a pinch of her thumb to the bronze button, dragging the zipper down with one final drag. Vi looks in the mirror. Watching as you struggle to steady your breath — fuck — you can’t even keep your eyes open.

“I should make you wait for it. I’ve been so patient. Waiting for you to come to me—” Violet takes it slow at first, fingering over your incredibly thin black-laced panties. Even if she protrudes slightly, the fabric would pathetically rip. “I guess you’re eager to come for me now, aren’t you? Need my touch? That’s what you told Sevika.”

You’re dripping, the flimsy lace soaked through. Might as well be dripping over Vi’s nimble fingers. But the revealed secret makes you gasp, especially when she’s rubbing steady circles over your clothed clit. Fuck, she knows exactly what to do.

Vi can’t help but chuckle when let out a low groan, earthy and layered with rasp, as if it came from something so deep. A place you yourself haven’t allowed yourself to travel within. She needs to catch you off your guard, before the self-doubt crawls into your mind like a festering disease. Now, she knows you much you think about her —wishing for this — wishing for her.

Pushing the flexible material to the side, Vi runs two fingers along your slit. Her own clit throbbing as you release an even louder moan of her name.

Have you ever been touched like this? Did your boyfriend ever stop for a moment and think about your pleasure? Vi didn’t think so, not by your earthquake of a reaction from such a simple touch.

“So tell me—” Vi slips her ring finger inside, feeling you clench the second she’s giving you the slightest protrusion, “Do you think about me when touch yourself? Or is Sevika a fucking liar?”

“Y-Yeah, I do.” As if she’s into rewarding you for good behavior, Vi slips her middle finger within your warm walls, basking in how welcoming you invite her in. “Ever since we kissed I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Vi sinks her teeth into your neck, sucking slightly before her tongue soothes over the attack. It’s more than she expects you to admit. You do it so sweetly.

An angel ready to pay penance for her sins but Vi wants to give you more. Anything you want as long as she gets to have you in a way no one else does. Lighting ablaze to the deepest fantasies swarming around your mind, her fucking you at the center of them.

“Don’t be shy. Tell me more.” A command, a wish? It hardly matters. You want to give her…everything.

Vi fills you in a way you haven’t been before. Her pleasure seems to come from pulling you closer to the edge. Determination fixated in her gaze as she watches you threaten to spill. Stupidly perfect fingers knowing what you want before you do. The soft sounds of your slick entering the bathroom along with the thumping bass you hear coming from downstairs.

“I think about your head between my thighs, looking up at me with your pretty blue eyes, and me um — oh fuck—” Devious and true, a thumb returns back to your clit as you threaten to come from a touch so simple, quick and delicate. She applies more pressure, the pace in her effective thrust of your weeping cunt cries out for her. The object of all your affections fucking you into a numbness state of mine. “Violet, I’m—”

“Finish what you were telling me, sweet girl. I wanna hear you talk about how much you want my mouth while you come for me.” You can’t recall anything, not when the feeling pulls at your stomach. It’s close, as you finally bring yourself to look at her through the mirror.

Fucking hell, she’s been looking at you this whole time. Ready on a dime to split you entirely open.

“Vi please— I wanna come, please— I can’t, s’too much—” Her wrist slings forward, fucking a spot no one has reached especially not with this much precision.

“What would be too much? My mouth? My fingers? My tongue fucking your pretty little cunt? God, what I would give to feel your thighs squeezing every last breath out of me.”

The need. The want. It’s all too much.

“Isn’t that what you want? You fucking my face as you smother me with your pussy? My pretty girl can have whatever she wants.” Vi decides she’s done with being a little cruel. All she needs right now is to watch you cum as she curves her fingers into your cunt. “It’s okay baby, show me how beautiful you are who you come.”

She’s never seen anything like it. The twitching, the moans, the desperate cries of her name spilling like god’s most divine creation. Violet basks in the buck of your hips, like a wild bull she’s been tasked to tame. Falling apart, a fallen angel is placed in her lap, and Violet can’t wait to be tasked to find you a new pair of wings.

Once you’ve come down, you’re turned around lips attacking Vi’s. It’s the most confident you’ve been, unbuttoning her top so you can feel her tits, those pretty pierced nipples falling victim under your touch. Violet’s fingers sink into your hair, slightly pulling at the root as she growls with pure animosity.

A raging love, gutting and raw, you want all that it comes with.

Vi bites your bottom lip, pulling away from you as she breaks the nearly violent touch. But you seem insistent on playing with her breasts, kneading at the swell of them, tweaking her overly sensitive nipples.

“God, you….really love my tits.”

With a knowing smirk, you say nothing. For the first time, you’ve never been so sure about the future. It’s ground-breakingly bright, painted deeply in your favorite shade of Violet.

okayyyyyyyyy. hiiiiiii ♥︎ don’t know if i ate but i chewed a little bit here. every time i wrote for vi i fall a little bit more in love. she’s just so — muse type shit — yk? anyways, hope you liked it! lmk what you think!

#ᝰ . . 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 ٜ̥ .ྀི #arcane journal ◟ ྀི ♥︎#trying a new layout and kinda hate it but! at least i’m posting ♥︎#this was supposed to be a cute little baby blurb but yk me! can’t stop yapping!#vi #vi arcane #league of legends #vi x reader #violet x reader #violet arcane x reader #vi arcane x you #college au!vi #arcane au #arcane fanfic #vi league of legends #vi arcane smut #vi smut

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chrisbratt333 · 1 month ago

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°❀⋆.🫐࿔･🦢°‧ 𝜗𝜚𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐏𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐄𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧

Author’s Note: The following contains smut, oral (f and m receiving), sub Chris, fluff, & aftercare. My writing is completely my own, and no forms of copying, using as inspiration, or plagiarism is allowed!

°❀⋆.🫐࿔･🦢°‧ 𝜗𝜚

- Sloppy sloppy sloppy

- Chris knows how to use his mouth and best believe he is holding Cinnamon’s shaky thighs down with his long, slender fingers as he coaxes orgasm after orgasm from her.

- Speaking of shaky thighs, Chris has to hold himself back from cumming on the spot when Cinnamon’s soft thighs start to shake just from his delicate kisses to her inner thighs.

- Salvia coats his chin and little droplets cascade down his neck. Not even to mention Cinnamon’s sweet liquids.

- He loves circling his wet tongue along her leaking folds and especially so when Cinnamon cages his head in between her thighs. It gives him an overwhelming bliss of her smell (that’s when Chris starts to hump at the mattress).

- Cinnamon is very vocal in bed, but it’s nothing in comparison to the levels of volume emitting from Chris as he laps his tongue in between her legs. He’s so obsessed with her taste and just her in general that the ability to be able to not only taste her but to also be giving her such pleasure sends Chris brain turning into mush.

- 9 times out of 10 Chris ends up cumming in his pants just from eating his sweet girl out.

“Fuck-such a good fucking girl-letting me taste you for hours on end.”

“Oh-shit-Bon gonna make me bust all in my boxers.”

“Fuck- fuck-fuck pretty girl give it to me.”

- Chris wet dreams typically consist of Cinnamon straddling his face as she leans over his body to coax his red-tipped leaking cock into her warm mouth. Ready to give and receive pleasure from the girl of his dreams.

- Loves to smack her ass while she sits on his face. The visual mixed with the beautiful gasps falling from her plush lips is ethereal for him

°❀⋆.🫐࿔･🦢°‧ 𝜗𝜚

Dividers from @bernardsbendystraws

Taglist: @joanakaulitz @bernardsbendystraws @lovesturni0l0s @bugs-tags @sturniowhore @emely9274 @pasteldreams @oopsiedaisydeer @riasturns @courta13 @chrepsi @sturniolosymphony @tezzzzzzzz @cecesturn @jensturnss @grace-sturnz @babydollcharsie

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d3adlyromb3ar · 1 year ago

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✧'. ݁₊ ♡∘⊹ so delicate, your touch

— pairing. inexperienced!choso x fem!reader

— synopsis. you help choso adapt to the world, teaching him about many things he doesn’t quite understand. although, you didn’t know helping him adapt would take this kind of turn.

— word count. 3.7k

— contents. fluff, smut, nipple play, titty worship, dry humping, handjobs (male receiving), blowjobs (male receiving)

— notes. dividers @saradika 💕

main masterlist

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | 18+ CONTENT

Days turned into months, and soon it was a routine to wander off with Choso. Showing him the wonders of the world, while teaching him things that were unknown to him. You answered all his questions, making sure he adapted thoroughly to this world that was new to him.

There was just so much that he didn’t understand, and after your offer to help him out— he leaned on you to guide him through everything he was confused on. He felt more comfortable having you around, not letting him stumble off into this odd world without guidance.

You liked spending time with him, finding him easy to talk to. Choso felt the same way, except he’d rather listen to you talk all day. You calmed him, made him feel normal. He thought you were incredibly kind, your huge heart something he adored about you. He found himself just wanting to be near you, even on the days he didn’t feel like exploring the world.

That’s where you found yourself with Choso, relaxed on your bed together as you showed him one of your favorite movies. Tangled.

“Her hair is so long, and magical?” He wondered, genuinely curious.

You found it adorable. You giggled.

“Yup, she got her powers from a magic flower her mother had to drink when she was sick and pregnant with her.” You explained.

Choso hummed, his eyes never leaving the screen. Watching intently as the girl so called Rapunzel, healed this man’s hand with her hair.

“Intriguing.” He whispered.

You giggled again, his interest in the disney movie endearing. You didn’t expect him to be so interested. The two of you sat in silence, only occasionally answering a question he had. Otherwise the movie played on.

You leaned back against the headboard, both your hands supporting your head as a specific scene started to play. The music started up as the two characters watched the lanterns from their boat.

It was quite a beautiful scene, and you found yourself getting lost in the moment. The way the man was so gentle towards the girl, it was so sweet— you had wished you could have something such as that.

Meanwhile, Choso wasn’t paying attention to the movie anymore. He glanced over to you when he saw you adjusting yourself and caught a look at your eyes. How they were practically shining as you were trapped in the scene. He couldn’t stop himself from staring, taking in your features— how ethereal you looked from the tv’s glow. His eyes danced over your brows, looking lower to the way your lashes hovered over your eyes, looking even lower to the curve of your nose. His eyes danced down to your cupids bow, steeping lower to your plump lips— his own mouth parting as your tongue poked out the wet them.

He let out a heavy breath watching you, studying every micro expression you made— he was captivated by you.

After a wave of warmth rushed through his body, he swallowed through the dryness in his throat and let his eyes dance lower, dropping from your chin and down your neck and collarbone— his eyes locking on your chest. He stared shamelessly at the steady rise and fall, the movement almost relaxing him into a sleepy state— that was until he looked a little lower.

His eyebrows furrowed as he focused on the two pebbled indents, poking through your shirt. A lot of unknown to him, but he had known basic human anatomy— at least a good portion of it.

He was licking his own lips, his eyes unable to stray away from your nipples begging to escape from your shirt. He felt like he should look away, but he couldn’t stop himself from asking.

“(Y/n)? Why ar—” He trailed off, growing nervous when your eyes met with his, “Are you okay?”

You were confused with his sudden concern.

“What do you mean Cho? I’m fine.”

“Oh… um never mind then.” He mumbled bashfully.

Your gaze softened and the movie was suddenly forgotten in the background, despite it being one of your favorite scenes.

“Cho, hey. What’s wrong? You can ask me anything remember?”

He nodded but couldn’t seem to voice what he wanted to say in the first place, so he pointed instead towards your chest.

You were confused, following the tip of his finger and glancing down to your shirt.

“You like my shirt?” You wondered.

He shook his head.

“No…” He pointed again, this time his finger got closer and he misjudged how close he was to you, because before you could think twice— the tip of his finger had brushed against your hardened nipple through your shirt.

The action had you letting out a little gasp, warmth shooting straight to your core from it. Choso retracted his hand, but his eyes were dilated, your reaction intriguing him.

Your eyes shot down to your chest, noticing he was talking about your tits. Oh.

“Oh you mean my… boobs?” You asked, not feeling uncomfortable at all by his curiosity.

He nodded, his hand dropping to his side.

You tried your best to put the pieces together and assumed he was specifically referring to your nipples— which had your cheeks flushed.

“Uh, what about them?”

He turned his body towards you more, his eyes glancing down from time to time, but you could tell he was trying not to look. Although, you didn’t mind if he did.

“They are… hard.”

He was talking about your tits so casually, you knew you should be mature and answer his questions but you couldn’t ignore how flustered you felt.

“Yeah, I guess they are.” You laughed awkwardly, but it wasn’t that you felt uncomfortable. You were just flustered.

“Why?”

You bit your lip, Choso’s eyes followed, and you thought for a moment of how to answer.

“Well, sometimes they just get hard. Like, if I’m cold or… turned on.” You answered truthfully, although maybe you shouldn’t of added in that last part.

Choso’s eyes met with yours, breaking away from your lips as you spoke, and his eyes had darkened. Unbeknownst to him, he was turned on as well. Staring at your body so sensually had him spinning.

“Are you?” He wondered.

You tilted your head in innocent confusion, the action had Choso licking his lips.

“Am I what?”

“Are you turned on?”

His words had your core throbbing and you had to squeeze your thighs together, not missing the way his eyes shot down and caught the slight movement.

Truth was, yeah. You were turned on. Like really turned on, it was hard not to be when he was looking at you so intensely.

“Well, I wasn’t before but…” You trailed off, and Choso was hanging onto every word, “After you touched me accidentally, yeah.”

He swallowed nervously and lowered his gaze, he felt bad all of a sudden. Not meaning to make you uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry… I… I didn’t mea—”

“Cho it’s okay,” You stopped his apologies, noticing his distressed look, “It felt good actually.”

His expression switched from embarrassed to the same darkened look again. Like he was realizing now.

You couldn’t help your own curiosity.

“Have you never… touched someone like that?”

He shook his head, his mouth parted slightly— like breathing was becoming a hard task.

“Do you want to?” You asked, your voice lower.

Choso swallowed, scooting a little closer to you, his movements almost as if he was squirming a bit in his spot— like he couldn’t control himself.

He nodded, his pupils blown out.

“Go ahead.” You whispered, your eyes falling on your chest before meeting with his.

“A-are you sure?”

You smiled sweetly at him. Always trying to be so polite. You nodded.

“Yes.”

At those words, Choso let his eyes fall on your breasts. His focus on the hardened buds. His hand lifted slowly, his eyes meeting with yours one last time as if he was asking for permission again. At your nod, he focused back on your chest, his hand cupping one of your tits.

Even through your shirt, you could feel his palm warming your tit. You watched him, his eyes wide and staring at your chest. It was adorable how excited he was— no actually it was hot.

He lightly squeezed the mound before letting his thumb brush over your nipple, eliciting a gasp from you.

He eyes shot up to yours, pausing his movements as he took in your hooded eyes, the way your lips were parted. He kept his gaze on you, brushing this thumb over the bud again— this time watching your body jump, your mouth parting wider as another sweet sound escaped.

He liked the reactions from you, knowing he was the one causing it.

“It’s not the same for everyone but…” You trailed off, another brush of his thumb over your nipple making you take a deep breath in, “I’m really sensitive there.”

He licked his lips, his other hand coming up to give the other tit attention. He lightly squeezed and kept teasing the buds, until his mind wondered what they felt like without the shirt.

They already felt so soft through this material, but his mouth almost watered at how they’d feel bare.

“Go ahead Cho.” You whispered, almost like you read his mind.

His breathing was heavy, his hands dipping under the hem of your shirt, tracing his fingertips up the soft skin of your belly.

You shivered, his touch so delicate. Touching you like you were fragile and bound to break.

His fingers brushed the underside of your breast, the feeling causing you to shiver again, goosebumps covering your flesh. His cupped both tits as he had before, but this time he could finally feel your soft skin. He was right— so soft. He gently massaged your tits, before letting his thumb brush over your nipple again, this time no material in the way.

You whined at the sensation, eyes pinching shut as he played with your tits. It felt so good, and for someone who hadn’t touched anyone before like this— he was pretty damn good at it.

Choso’s eyes shot up at your noise, the sound only spurring him on as he used his pointer finger and thumb to roll the sensitive buds.

The throbbing in your core intensified, and you could feel a knot start to build up in your abdomen. If he kept playing with you like this, you might just end up coming.

“Cho… feels s’good…” You breathed out, “If you don’t stop… I might…”

Choso didn’t stop, he was hungry with desire. He was hungry for you— he needed to feel every inch of your body.

He lifted your shirt off quickly, leaving you bare and exposed to him. His mouth watered at the sit of your plump, perky tits— nipples rosy and swollen. You were one hell of a view.

“So… pretty.” Choso panted out, licking his lips before lowering himself to your chest, taking a nipple in his mouth.

Your back arched, pressing yourself further into him as he sucked on the sensitive bud, swirling his tongue around before flicking it.

“F-fuckk Cho…” Your voice was rough and scratchy, the sound making Choso growl into your skin. The vibrations on your nipple making you cry.

Choso kept his mouth locked around your bud, his hands dropping from your chest. His arms circled around you, picking you up with ease until you were straddling his lap, his hands pushing on your back so that your tits were smushed in his face.

This position had the throbbing in your core tripling, but with your core pressed over his, you relieved the ache in your center— grinding your hips down hard and slow over him.

Choso let go of your nipple with a pop, a pained whimper leaving his lips. You stopped your hips.

“What’s wrong Cho?” You cupped his jaw, tilting it up to see his glossy eyes.

“Do that again.” He begged.

You held him, stroking your thumb along his jawline as you grinding your hips over him once more. The friction was delicious to your clit, but not as satisfying as the sounds Choso was making.

One of his hands stayed pushed against the small of your back, keeping you close to him while the other shot down and gripped your hip.

“Again.” He growled.

You started up a slow and steady pace, your hips pressing down on his clothed member.

His face contorted up into a pained expression, biting his lip to try and stop the whines from escaping, but you heard every addicting sound.

“Has no one ever touched you like this?” You purred, running your fingers through his scalp.

He shook his head weakly, his own hips starting to jut up into you— needing more.

“Does it feel good?”

Choso gazed into your eyes, his own glossy with an almost drunk looking gaze.

“Feels s’good.”

You changed your pattern and started grinding little slow circles on him, his breathing getting heavier as his hand gripped your hip tighter.

“M-more, I need more please—!” He whimpered, burying his face into your chest again, licking and sucking on your already overstimulated tits.

You panted into his hairline, your nose resting there as you found the strength to speak.

“What do you want Cho?”

He flicked your nipple with his tongue, giving it a gentle kiss before releasing it once more, tilting his head up to meet your drunk gaze.

“More…” He whined, his hips jolting up into yours.

You giggled lowly, your voice strained and breathy. He was so needy and whiny, it had the throbbing in your core only getting more intense.

“I know Cho… but what do you want?” You cooed, brushing some of his fallen hairs back, “You want to keep touching me… or do you want me to touch you? Make you feel good, hm?”

His eyes were darting from eye to eye, his face scrunched up almost into a pained pout as he couldn’t answer. His facial expressions were an answer enough.

You circled harder onto him, his hands tightening around you.

“Is that it? Want me to make you feel good Cho?”

He swallowed, his eyes fluttering shut before opening back up— the sultry sound of your voice making him dizzy.

“Please.”

You smirked and leaned in, giving the tip of his nose a kiss.

“I’ll be good.” He whined.

You bit your lip, this strong massive man melting underneath you. It was incredibly sexy, and you just wanted to devour him.

You leaned forward and captured his lips in a gentle kiss, knowing he probably had never kissed anyone before. He was hesitant at first, letting you take lead while he just felt you. After you opened your mouth a bit, taking more of his lips into yours— he slowly started to move against you, he mouth parting and trapping your bottom lip in between his.

Choso was all new to this, but he really liked it. He especially liked that it was you he was doing it with.

Your hips moved in a delicious pace, one that had Choso going mad. The friction was succulent, and the mere idea of never having felt or experienced this feeling before had Choso wanting to cry. It was so good— too good.

“You’re so hard Cho,” You panted in between kisses, “So big.”

He thrusted up, the all too amazing friction not enough— he needed so much more.

One of his hands left your hip, relieving the flesh as he moved his hand up towards your breast. Your back arched into him as he squeezed the plump flesh, circling his thumb over the bud.

You lifted off of him, not missing the whine when you left him.

“Hold on Cho.” You giggled, stripping yourself of your shorts and panties. Choso watched with drunken glazed eyes, hungrily staring at your exposed center. “Is this okay?”

He swallowed hard, eyes raking up your beautiful nude body until he met your eyes.

“Yes… so beautiful.” He spoke breathlessly, never have seen someone— something so breathtaking.

You blushed from his words, crawling closer to him and sitting back on your knees in front of him. Straddling him, but careful to stay off his center. His eyes were dilated, wide with anticipation.

You rubbed your hands on his legs, running your hands over his knees and caressed his thighs through his pants. Your touch was so addicting, even the softest most innocent touches had him going wild. His skin tingled underneath his robes.

His breath hitched, his eyebrows pulling together when your hands stopped just before you could smooth a hand over his covered member.

You gazed up at him.

“Can I?”

He nodded, his own hands fisting the bedsheets below him.

You smoothed your palm over his dick, a gasp escaping his lips as his body shuttered. You bit your lip at the reaction before hooking your thumbs into his pants and sliding them down his legs.

Choso stayed still and patient. Although, he wouldn’t be able to keep that control for long.

Your core throbbed at the sight of his muscular legs, eyes trailing up from his calves and landing on his thick, bulging thighs.

Your hands ran along his exposed skin, the feeling of your fingertips scraping against his skin soothing. The burning in his skin calmed at your touch, his eyes closing at the pleasant sensation.

“(Y/n)… please…” He wasn’t even sure what he was begging for, but he just needed more of your touch. All of it.

“Patience Cho, m’gonna make you feel good.” You purred, your hand running over his tensing thigh and cupping his painfully hard member.

Choso couldn’t stop his hips from thrusting into your palm, whimpering as the touch of your skin against his most private part felt heavenly.

“F-fuck…” He whined, voice strained and breathy.

You wrapped your hand around the base of him, squeezing and sliding up his cock until you reached his rosy tip. You smoothed your thumb over his slit, smearing the precum that had built up there, taking your time to circle the pad of your thumb around his head— driving him insane.

His knuckles were white and strained as they fisted the bedsheets, his eyes clamped shut as the feeling was too much— it was too good.

He cried out, face scrunching up as you rubbed your palm over his head, collecting his juices and grabbing ahold of his cock again— this time beginning to stroke him with a delicious pace.

He felt so hard and huge in your hand, you were licking your lips and squeezing your thighs together— wanting to feel him inside your aching pussy.

“How’s that feel Cho?” You whispered, your other hand lightly scraping your fingernails all the way from his abs to his thigh.

He whined, hips thrusting up to meet your strokes.

“S’good… s’good… don’t stop… fuck…”

You smirked at his reaction, completely melting from your touch. You stroked him faster, making sure to rub your thumb all the way across his tip with every stroke.

Your other hand started playing with his balls, gently rolling them in your palm. That action had Choso growling, his eyes shooting open and gazing down at you.

His expression was dark, his eyes glazed over with some primal urge— one that had him wanting to devour you.

“You gonna cum for me Cho?”

His expression switched back to a pained, needy look. His eyebrows pulling together as his mouth hang open, panting as the sensation was building so perfectly.

He nodded lazily. “Yes… yes.”

You felt his hips thrusting into your hand quicker, a messy pace and you knew he was close. Without thinking, you lowered your mouth onto him, sucking on his tip, letting your tongue circle his head before flicking his slit. Choso watched with a drunken expression, as you sucked on his most private area. It wasn’t long before he was letting out a pained whimper, thrusting his dick into your mouth deeper and shooting his seed down your throat.

You kept playing with his balls, running your hand up and down his thigh soothingly as he lazily thrusted into your mouth, your tongue running along the underside of his dick as he worked through his high.

His vision slowly lost the black spots, his breath finally coming back to him. That sensation, it felt like he had died and had come back to life— it was indescribable.

You released him with a pop, giving the tip one last kiss, making him hiss as he was sensitive— but the gesture had him already getting hard again.

“How was that Cho?” You asked in a sweet, gentle voice.

Choso didn’t answer for awhile, pulling you up into his lap. Sitting you down in his already hard again member. It was supposed to be a sweet gesture, but the feeling of his dick throbbing against your abandoned core— god it took everything in you to not sink down onto his dick.

He hugged you close to him, just gazing at you and breathing— staring at you with a dangerously longing look in his eyes.

“That was amazing baby,” Your cheeks dusted pink at the nickname, making your pussy clench around nothing. “You’re… really good at that.”

You giggled, running your hands through his hair.

“Good Cho, I’m happy I could make you feel good.”

Choso gazed at you, his hooded eyes darkening as he realized how good your very wet pussy felt sitting on top of his dick. His hands snuck down from your back, landing on your ass and giving the flesh a squeeze— earning a jolt of your hips against his. The action made him growl.

You gasped, back arching into him as your aching clit got some relief.

“Can I return the favor?”

You were dazed, spacing out as he felt too good underneath you— and you stared at him with glossy eyes.

“W-what?” You asked breathlessly.

He smirked, his eyes soft but lust filled. He gave your ass another squeeze, addicted to the feel of them in his hands.

“Can I make you feel good?”

You grinded your wet heat over his dick, both of you letting out a hiss at the action. You gripped the back of his neck, leaning close and hovering your lips over his.

“Please.”

— ending notes. don’t be mad at that ending, i promise another part is coming 😏

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