#and between that and them barely posting on set so far i feel like i don't even care or realize the show is back soon??

[mayasdeluca]

Oh to be a fly on the wall on the Station 19 set because wow they are cliquey and not even trying to hide it lol 

#i really wonder how the environment on set is because it seems so awkward and not fun #even if they try to sell the 'we all love each other' BS #its def not true and its like half of them act like children of divorced parents who have shared custody #it seems so divided and its sad #and between that and them barely posting on set so far i feel like i don't even care or realize the show is back soon?? #idk maybe its just me but the vibes are not great

[kashilascorner]

my conclusion after finishing the witcher season 2 is that they had a very clear storyline which is overall ok but the writing (especially on an episode basis) is weak at best

#props to the actors for working with what they had (esp yennefer fringila and triss) #yennefe's arc was..... i mean i know plenty of ppl don't like her s1 arc because of the whole motherhood thing #but i actually liked how it was focused and that it wasn't so much about motherhood itself but more about body autonomy #and the desperatr need of having someone to unconditionally love you and depend on you (at least that's how i saw it) #and her arc here had sooooo much potential but ultimately it was botchy in it's development #also jaskier. a beloved character. much needed comic relief but did nothing after geralt saved him #don't get me started on how fringila was far too naive at first and the moment she snaps out of it it's shown during a murderous spree #only to have her character dragged down AGAIN for being too naive. similar butchering to what happened to cahir's character in the end #only it's far far worse with fringila and hmmm cannot shake the feeling it's uh. racist writing actually! #idk. the dialogues weren't too good. ciri went through some good character development but she was very much the only one to do so #i mean geralt kinda did too but he's so stiff....... also tons of witchers around and they were all pretty useless for writing's sake #vesemir and geralt's relationship was good but felt underdeveloped. ciri and yen was good but rushed... ah #speciaf effects costumes sets & scenery lighting (the lighting!!!) were all very good #i think in the more technical department everything was pretty solid. can't judge the sound really because in dub it's a bit different #anyways at least i got to see 8 hours of very pretty ppl on my screen #laura watches stuff #also! you know those joke posts going around abt how shows actually need more s*x? yeah? well this is one of them lol #spicing it up a bit was not difficult wouldn't necessarily get in the way of the story and would actually help disipate the #storytelling tension given there is barely any comic relief at all for the most part (or any relief at all lmao all the calming acenes are #repetitive pseudo deep conversations between two characters lmao)

[sanemisstalker]

NSFW /// KNY characters who I think cum particularly hard/ a lot. This could have a part two, I'm eepy, srry.

CW/ Non specific gendered/genitalia reader / Cum... like an insane amount of cum / BDSM Dynamic (ENMU)/ Light Gore (ENMU)/ tbh, Enmu. / Cum-swapping (AKAZA)

Sanemi Shinazugawa

-Cums hards AND a lot.

-Sanemi isn't quite sure why is body is the way it is, maybe it's his breath control mixed with the insane amount of testosterone and panic pumping through his veins on the daily, but Sanemi doesn't struggle to get it up.

-he struggles to stay flaccid. He's far more likely to be hard at any given moment. Not that he's excited, his dick is just permanently stuck at half mast. It takes an insane, highly emotional amount to get him entirely flaccid.

-I think Sanemi's orgasm absolutely shreds him everytime, unanimously. Does that stop him from getting it up in another ten minutes? Absolutely not. I just truly think he's a medical anomaly.

-He cums prematurely, but what does it matter? It literally didn't go down, he's still fucking going, now he's just like, in tears about it.

-I think Sanemi's eyes get really wide and he gets lock jaw, and he seethes and he tries to hold back any noise, but it just shreds the poor guys throat, and now he's sore, and it hurts him to moan, but he just can't help it, you feel so fucking good- and all for him? It's all for him?

-Shakes. Sobs. Sounds incredibly desperate, don't let the facade fool you. If he loves you, he's a crier.

-Also physically cums a lot. Not just by how many orgasms, but by how much each time is. I think he's got an obnoxiously low set of balls. He's made to breed, the poor bastard. If he can't let go in you, both of you are covered in it by the end of the night.

-Sanemi has yet to tap out before you.

Kyōjurō Rengoku

-Cums a lot.

-Rengoku has good stamina, but once he cums, he's done for, no more. He can keep going if he really wants to, or if you look like you really need him, but chances are the first round wad more than enough.

-vocal, but in a fatherly way. Sex with Rengoku is probably very... comfortable.

-Until he cums and now you're sticky from your chest to your upper thigh. The range of his shot is insane. He cums buckets, and he barely blinks. His breathing gets a little ragged, and his chest a little shakey, but that's it.

-He needs to go night night after, though. Feeling any amount of joy that doesn't come from stuffing his face does a number on him emotionally and physically. He needs a cuddle and a conversation about... idk, taxes after.

-Won't beg to cum in you, but really, really wants to.

-He always pulls out like a gentleman (if you can be much of a gentleman when you're balls deep), but you can always tell that he wants to see your face so bad when he pumps you full.

-Will not ask. That'd be rude.

-Talks you through your orgasm, but that's another post for another day.

Enmu

-Fuck, I just know he's a screamer. He cums so hard.

-This guy's a fucking mess, but it takes work.

-Enmu is such a good submissive that you're always shocked when he decides to mouth off to you, or when he forgets a command. Not too shocked, though. It's very clearly intentional. It always is.

-He gives himself a bit in between each 'screw up' to make sure he's edged himself mentally properly (very hard, he's almost always some kind of aroused, and he's prone to cumming untouched, so that build up is a little diificult.)

-While he doesn't struggle to ask for things, and his dignity is subzero, Enmu still appreciates a stray chase here and there. After all, it's the only thing mentally stimulating enough for him to cum.

-In any normal dynamic with Enmu, he isn't often left using his dick. So when you've got a spear through his wrists, locking them behind his back, one hand pulling his hair, the other jerking his cock with thoughtless speed-

-Enmu can never cum harder than when he's recieving borderline abuse. His dick looks irritated, going untouched for months previous, and now it's receiving all this attention. Can you blame him for being this loud?

-His legs shake, his whole body recoils. He drools and screams- laughs and wails. He cries with the brightest smile you've ever seen. His hips buck up. You're not being gentle, and he's so, so happy. The orgasm is ripping through every nerve in his body.

-He feels like he's in the sun again.

-He's hoping Muzan can see him look so pathetic. You're just hoping the demon lord stays out of your man's head.

Akaza

-cums like a horse.

-a lover, truly. That's the only word encompassing enough to describe Akaza's efforts sexually. He's a fantastic lover.

-... who can go for hours... days even and never get tired. Every orgasm blows off his shoulders- It's all about you. It always has been, it always will be.

-You've made him cum hard before, it's a rarity, but it's possible... Its just nothing feels as good to him as watching you cum, so he'll do whatever must be done-

-and if that means pumping you full again and again, until you're leaking from every accessible orifice, so be it.

-He'll lick your hole clean, reveling in the way you twitch after your.... you lost count after the fifth one. That won't stop him from tongue fucking you.

-His cum tastes... shockingly good. You like to give him head, and then come up to give him a kiss. He'll pull your tongue down, wanting to see it in your mouth just before you swallow. You always look so proud of yourself. He can't help but reward you with a kiss before you even get it down.

-there's way to much for one swallow. You can barely manage to keep all of it in your mouth while showing him. Your effort is precious, though.

-Akaza looks really good with cum on his lips. It's one of the only times you see him really flustered.

#sanemi x you #sanemi x y/n #demon slayer x reader #sanemi smut #sanemi x reader #demon slayer smut #hashira x reader #rengoku smut #enmu x reader #enmu x y/n #enmu x you #enmu smut #akaza x reader #akaza smut #akaza x y/n #rengoku x reader #rengoku x y/n #kny x reader #kny smut

[slutforalastor]

"Ah, he's got this problem." Your friend Mimzy waved her hand. "You know how animal demons get. I'd take care of him myself but I wouldn't want to spoil our working relationship. We go way back, you know."

Slowly, you nodded. "You'd consider it a personal favour?" That was how things worked in Hell. A consideration for a consideration. And dealing with the Radio Demon in rut was hardly a small favour, even if it did play well to your preferences.

"To me, yeah." Mimzy smiled broadly. "Just take him to a private room in the back and see that he's calmed down before it's time for the show. If he's cranky he's gonna start eating people, ugh." She fluttered her hand again. "Don't worry, though, he's an absolute sweetheart."

Seeing the Radio Demon turn sideways to get through the door, eyes glowing red and his huge rack of antlers festooned with cables, you were starting to doubt Mimzy's definition of sweetheart.

THIS POST CONTAINS MATERIAL NOT SUITABLE FOR MINORS. 18+

Content: Rutting, antlerplay, role reversal, give and take, banter, mutual masturbation, light femdom, biting, marking, a lot of flowery language for smut

You'd heard the stories and rumors, saw the occasional report on VNN, but you'd yet to encounter the Radio Demon for yourself. Even pushed to the edge where something resembling humanity plunges into dark depths of depravity, he's maintaining a grip on decorum, his wavering smile barely forming the syllables when he introduces himself as Alastor, his voice impossibly mimicking the sound of a mono recording from a bygone time. Mimzy is going to owe you big-time.

"I'm doing well, sir. I have to say, you look like you've had an awful day."

"It is... most inconvenient," he stammers, shaking his head like a beached animal trying to throw off water. Just as Mimzy had requested, you'd waited for him in the private room, and you're still laying in the bed, your body draped across the two rows of firm pillows, down to your lingerie for his ease. With wobbling steps, he begins to close the distance, loosening his bowtie.

"I really must insist that this matter... stay between us." The restraint he's displaying seems as though it's taking every bit of faculties he can spare; his breathing, his sight, his ability to stand, all seem to be sustained with the minimum amount of effort possible. Even glazed in electric red, you can tell his eyes are focused intently on you.

"Who would believe me, anyhow?"

"... Too true, no one would dream of calling me a liar," he agrees, pulling his waistcoat off and leaving it in a heap on the bureau. His undershirt is the same deep red, intersecting black stripes making a cross across the center of his chest. He rolls his sleeves up, then sets his cane on top of his waistcoat. "Any... sensitivities I should know about?"

"I like being kissed on the neck," you venture, playing it safe for opening bids.

He laughs wickedly, the glow casting light further than it could reach before, his antlers growing another section in size, branching out that much closer to the ceiling. "Oh, Mimzy didn't tell me you'd be so pure. Surely you have something more entertaining than that?"

"You think I do this sort of thing often enough to have an itemized list?"

He tuts at your attempt at banter, removing his shoes and leaving them in the gap under the bed. "I don't have time for experimentation, my dear. I'm asking if you think you can handle what I have to give."

"I've handled everything so far," you smirk.

"Let's see how you handle the best, then," he mutters. With a wave of his hand, a black tentacle rises to wrap around your midsection, pinning you in place. He's climbing onto the bed, teeth bared like an animal seconds from pouncing. There's hunger in his eyes, desperation in his motion, a frantic bent to the way he's starting to falter, his kayfabe crumbling with every push of his knees. He's got your legs open, mounting you, and you can feel something alive and thrashing, barely contained by the slacks tenting away from his midsection. His eyes are narrowed in ravenous anticipation, his hips pressing him into you, etching his longing lengthwise against the fabric of your underwear. You feel your upper teeth against your lip, knowing that despite all your talk, you can't hide how appreciative you are of his straightforward approach.

With a hoarse exhale, he fumbles with his belt, the restraining tentacle slipping southward to yank your panties down. Your eyes catch a glimpse of how prepared you are for what's coming next, the evidence staining a dark spot in the light fabric. The Radio Demon hikes his slacks down to the midsection of his thighs, the tip of his firmness kissing against your entrance, his erratic movements keeping him from slipping in. You take it in your hands, which makes him rear up in ecstasy, a hissing growl punctuating the reaction, and align it directly where it needs to go. With a thrust motivated by nothing more than primal need, he forces himself deep into you, grunting in satisfaction at your breathy gasps when it settles into your apex. He gives you little time to adjust, burying himself into you with harsh, crushing strokes, the red in his eyes leaving a tracer every time you shut your eyes against the force of it. His hands are against your forearms, pinning the both of them on either side, and when your head goes back, he finds the crook of your neck with his teeth, his tongue, his lips, seasoning you with scratches, leaving welts from kisses and bites. They sting like fire, they excite like aphrodisiac.

"Is that what you mean, my dear? Is that what you're looking for?"

You whimper something that sounds close enough to assent for him to grow bolder, making a map of your body, marking a trail, carving canyons, raising landmarks that stand red and pulsing against the canvas of your skin. All this in the throes of his rutting deep into you. It drives you mad, your legs wrapping around his waist, bidding him to see just how much of his mind he can lose.

"God, your fucking taste. It'd be such a shame to just devour you, though. So many uses for the whole." Or maybe you're using the homophone of that word to make him seem kinder.

A flailing hand finds your throat, freeing your arms by necessity. You catch onto the rack of black antlers nearly driving themselves into the headboard, using them for leverage to arch your back. You can't tell if you've irritated or excited him with your little move, but the result is the same; he's pressing you with enough force that you can feel the force of it in your midsection. You're seeing red, the sound of him making a mess of you ringing in your ears, two organs vying for sensations yet to be experienced, every other part of you a mere pretense, a chorus playing ensemble to the true performance. And he's reaching the climax of it, his bucking hips shaking your entire frame. You can feel every shift of his disposition in the bone of his antlers, and you hold on for dear life as his urge rushes into your lower half, filling you with thick heat. You're moaning unconsciously, letting him keep you impaled for as long as it pulses with diminishing vigor, feeling every twitch in his shaft as it empties itself. Finally spent, he releases you, the tentacle unwinding from around your waist. Your fingers, knuckles sore from strain, release his antlers, and you extricate yourselves from one another. You can feel his seed weep from between your legs, your breathing rapid, your skin slick with sweat. He collapses onto his back, his legs still entangled with yours, the fabric of his slacks a strange texture on your drenched skin. Straining, you lift your head up, seeing that despite his exhaustion, his cock hasn't calmed one bit.

"Still... not satisfied?"

"This damnable rut..."

You pull yourself up, your lower half numb and leaving a trail of translucence as you crawl to the space between his legs. You wrap a hand around him, and he breathes a hissing inhale that tapers into a low, long groan.

"I didn't ask you..."

"You look like you're in misery, you really don't want the help?"

"I am in no position to keep going..."

"So let me handle it."

You can see the conflict playing out in his expression, but his hips gently bucking against your hand tell a different tale. "Not a soul can know about this."

You nod your assent, giving the part that needs it more of your attention. It's as lively as when he was frotting it against you, throbbing with want, coated with spend. It makes a marvelous lubricant, the wet sound of skin against slick skin nearly obscuring his quiet moans.

"I couldn't help but notice that you have sensitivities of your own, sir."

"Surely you can't mean..."

Your free hand dances like a bird across the branches in his horns, his vocalizations and submissive thrusts suggesting that you have stricken quite the nerve. He's already oozing pre into your palm, a searching hand walking a blind path between your legs, caressing you in kind. You've got a wild idea, just crazy enough to sound worth doing. There's a real chance you'll never cross each other's path again, might as well indulge. You spot a path that ends in a blunt point in his rack, and take it into your mouth, flitting your tongue against the rough material, firm and tasteless, but eliciting such a response from him that you'd not dare release it. His fingers are stroking you with all the effort they can muster, his thrusts weak but sincere.

"Cannot believe... you're getting away with this," he whines, his voice so submissive compared to the one you first heard that it threatens to send you over the edge. Why not press your luck? You straddle his waist, inching him into you margin by maddening margin. He's got no more clever quips for you, his curled claws clutching fistfuls of ruined bedsheets. The view from on high is a pleasant one. A few more motions, and you feel that sensation alighting in him once again; you're ready to join him. His whimpers go up an octave, the crackling filter in his voice thickening, distorting. For the second time, he climaxes inside of you, your own orgasm arriving in tandem. The both of you cry out, his subdued and sweet, yours unrestrained and carnal. You fold into him, his initial reaction wanting to pull away, but he grants you this favor, letting you find the crook in his neck in parallel. He speaks unfiltered, more as Alastor than as the Radio Demon.

"You know, it can be so hard to find willing assistants for these difficult times. Perhaps I could call on you again, my dear."

Maybe it should be you that owes Mimzy.

#alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor x you #radio demon x reader #the radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel

[ddejavvu]

criminal minds request:

Hotch and reader have a some tension between them ever since reader joined the team. They never acted upon it knowing that the relationship would be the hr nightmare.

They live in the same complex and reader is spending the night with someone from the bar and Aaron interrupts with the news of a case.

I love your writing btw

thanks! <3

this post is 18+, minors dni.

Aaron's been inside of your apartment only a few times before, but he could walk there in his sleep. That's almost what he wishes he was doing, instead of marching towards your door at one thirty-six in the morning, but duty calls, and though he'd tried to do the same, you hadn't answered your phone.

When he reaches your door Aaron can hear faint noise inside, and something like annoyance prickles at his chest at the thought that you'd ignored his phone call to watch television. But he finds himself seldom able to feel anything but secretly fond of you, so he tries to give you the benefit of the doubt.

What the door opens to is far worse than television. Instead of the faint glow of a screen lighting the couch, Aaron is met with the sight of a man, mostly naked and only draped in a sheet. Your sheet.

This man was in your bed.

"Yeah?" He asks, rather rudely, "It's the middle of the night, man. What do you want?"

He suspects you've asked the man to answer the door because you don't want to do it yourself, appearing alone at night in most likely very little clothing. Aaron commends you on your survival skills, but can't shake the feeling that he suddenly wants to try his hand at murder.

"I'm Y/N's boss," Aaron mutters, eyes set in a sharp glare, "She's needed at the office."

"Man, fuck off," Your houseguest scoffs, "That's not gonna work on me. Leave her alone, you creep, or at least come back with a better lie next time."

The man tries swinging the door shut, but before Aaron can wedge the freshly polished toe of his shoe into the gap, you squeal from down the hallway.

"Hotch?"

"We have a case," Aaron barks, voice still rough at the presence of the other man present, "You didn't answer your phone."

"I'm sorry!" You come running down the hallway while wrestling with the waistband of sweatpants Aaron hopes are your own, fully clothed in those and a tank top as you reach the door.

"Uh, Dominic, this is- he's my boss," You pat the man's bare back apologetically where you sidle up beside him, "I have to go."

Dominic doesn't seem to be particularly kind to anyone, Aaron muses. The man rounds on you with a furrow in his brow that Aaron doesn't like one bit, "Seriously? Some suited-up fuck comes to your door in the middle of the night and you just run off with him?"

"It's my job," You plead earnestly, "I'm sorry! It's just bad timing."

"Whatever." Dominic grumbles, turning to stalk off down the hallway to retrieve his clothes, "Bad timing my ass."

Neither you nor Hotch decide to tell him that you can see the very thing he speaks of. He's only holding the towel over his front half, and the back half being completely exposed doesn't help the tough-guy persona he's trying to put on as he storms off.

"I'm sorry," You breathe, sounding truly apologetic as Aaron stands in your doorway, "I didn't hear my phone ring, I was- we were... well. I'll be dressed and ready in, like, ten minutes." You vow, "I just need to get him out of here."

Aaron's not sure he can manage to speak after your admission, because up until now he'd been trying to pretend there was somehow some other reason for there to be a naked man crawling out of your bed at two in the morning.

All he can muster is a terse nod, and you take it as disapproval rather than a bruised heart. You rush off to get changed, and Aaron hears Dominic bicker with you before he storms his way out of the hallway and through the door. Aaron doesn't move as he passes through, and Dominic runs into his broad shoulders. Aaron keeps his balance steady, not sparing Dominic a glance as the man makes a fool of himself on the way out.

"She's not even worth it, man," Dominic sneers at Hotch from down the hall, "She must be some kinda whore. Called me the wrong fucking name, like she does this every night. Aaron must have been the last guy."

Hotch is stuck. If he hadn't heard his own name escape Dominic's mouth he'd have used what he's learned as a serial killer specialist to dispose of Dominic's remains without ever being caught. He doesn't like the way that the man spoke of you one bit, but when he hears you've been speaking of him, his spine stiffens and his legs lock into place.

"Tell her I hope Aaron likes her mediocre tits more than I did!" Dominic shouts as a sendoff, and Aaron knows for a fact that he does. Mediocre is the last word he'd use to describe them, but he respects you and won't dwell on what term would be best.

Aaron almost regrets seeing Dominic leave, because he'd have liked to grill the man on exactly what went down in there. How did you say his name? When did you say his name? Did you say his name when glancing over at your ringing phone, and ultimately deciding to ignore it? Or did you say his name through an open-mouthed moan, sweat beading on your hairline and certainly-not-mediocre tits bouncing wildly with each thrust?

Aaron's head is so clouded with thoughts of your fucked-out, sex-hazy state that he's startled to feel your hand on his arm, and he tugs it out of your grasp, jerking away like he's been burned. Sure, his skin is on fire where you've touched him, but only because he wishes you'd do it more, especially in other places.

You take his reluctance to be touched as a bad sign, and your face dims into a hesitant frown as you stand at the ready by Hotch's side.

"I'm sorry, Hotch," You murmur, tucking your hand into the jacket that you're clutching now that you feel you've made a fool out of yourself, "Um- it won't happen again, sir."

He wants to kiss you. He wants to duck inside, slam your door shut, and press you against the inside, demanding a detailed account of why his name had fallen from your lips earlier in the heat of the moment. But he can't, he knows he can't, and he has to blink at your forlorn expression instead, feet heavy as he drags them away from your door, like magnets trying to pull him to your bedroom.

"No need for apologies, Agent." He grits his teeth, "What you do in your free time-" like moan my name "-is your business. Let's go, we're briefing on the plane; wheels up in thirty."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction #aaron hotchner smut

[softsturn]

the beach - m.s

⩩ pairing: matt x fem!reader

⩩ summary: matt is caught jerking off to his best friend (inspired by @heartstreet !! full creds to them for this idea)

⩩ warnings: masturbation, handjob, p-in-v, half assed writing at the end.

⩩ a/n: sorry i haven’t posted much, its been so hard to think of ideas. i wanted to make a part two of what i last posted but i literally don’t know how to continue it😭 thank you for all the likes and follows!! pls leave me requests :)

Describing the bond between you and Matt exceeds the simplicity a mere friendship. Growing up, you lived only a few houses away from his, you shared the same schools, and practically every experience was a joint venture. It wasn't just common knowledge; it was an undeniable truth that wherever you went, a blue-eyed boy with brown hair was sure to follow, mirroring your every step like a lost puppy. The invisible tie binding you two seemed unbreakable, preventing you from straying far apart.

Now, at Cape Cod, a destination woven into the fabric of your cherished summer memories, you eagerly await Matt and his family’s arrival. Setting up foldable chairs and towels on the sandy shores, you can hardly contain your anticipation, eager to continue the tradition of shared moments under the sun.

As if on cue, his family strolled towards the beach, carrying an assortment of towels, bags, chairs, and a cooler. Your face lit up with a vibrant smile upon spotting the three identical boys approaching with palpable excitement. They placed their belongings on the sand, and you greeted them eagerly.

Matt's eyes widened noticeably, practically popping out of his sockets as he unabashedly drank in the sight of you. While you maintained your usual level of beauty, his gaze lingered on your figure. Stepping out of your comfort zone, you had chosen a two-piece bikini opposed to a one piece like you normally wore, showcasing newfound confidence in your evolving body. The swimsuit hugged you in all the right places, baring your torso and clinging snugly to your curves. Matt found himself caught in a momentary, lustful gaze, slightly zoning out as Nick and Chris enthusiastically hyped you up in the background.

"You look so good girl!" exclaimed Nick, with Chris joining in laughter, while you, feeling a bit shy, crossed your arms over your stomach.

Coming back to reality from his fleeting thoughts, Matt nodded and offered you a small, genuine smile. "You look..." he hesitated, carefully choosing his words to avoid any discomfort for you. "Pretty," he mumbled sheepishly, prompting a soft blush to grace your face. Matt's compliments held a unique significance, seeming to carry more weight than others, his opinion reigning supreme in your mind.

"Thank you," you replied with a shy giggle, while Nick and Chris exchanged amused glances, furrowing their brows at the subtle dynamics unfolding between the two of you. The unspoken connection, the palpable undercurrent of something more than friendship, was evident to everyone around. Jokes from your parents about an impending marriage and teasing from Matt's brothers were constant reminders of the unspoken truth – you and Matt shared a love that transcended platonic feelings, even if the explicit words hadn't been uttered.

After a few hours under the warm sun, the faint emergence of sunburn and light freckles adorned your face, telling tales of days spent soaking up the heat. Meanwhile, Matt wrestled with his thoughts, a delicate balance between loyalty to your friendship and the desire that threatened to breach inappropriate territories. He harbored a profound fear of jeopardizing the trust you shared or causing any discomfort, acutely aware that losing you was a risk he couldn't fathom.

As you stood, engrossed in gathering your belongings and bending over slightly, Matt couldn't suppress the way his gaze involuntarily traced the curves of your figure, particularly fixating on your ass. His mind danced with forbidden scenarios, imagining actions he both longed for and felt conflicted about. Sensing a warmth spreading through him, he nervously looked away, trying to prevent any telltale signs of his internal struggle.

You straightened up, holding your possessions with a toothy grin, completely oblivious to the subtle turmoil in Matt's mind. "I'll see you back at the house," you said softly. Matt offered a slight nod and joined his brothers in packing up their belongings. As you made your way to your car, your parents loading up the trunk, you settled into the back seat, succumbing slowly to sleep, the exhaustion of the day catching up with you.

Waking up with a groan, you found your parents' car parked by the side of the road in front of the triplets' house, just a few doors down from your own. The plan was to spend the night at their place, a routine that had become usual given your inclination to seek comfort in their home over your own. Extracting yourself from the car, you grabbed your overnight bag, bidding farewells to your parents as you watched them drive away.

Your bathing suit clung persistently to your body, your hair still damp, and the weariness in your limbs yearning for the promise of relaxation. Shuffling into Matt's home without bothering to knock, the unspoken familiarity of years spent together allowed you the privilege of simply letting yourself in. Passing through the kitchen, Matt's parents greeted you with warm smiles as you entered the living room.

There, Matt, Nick, and Chris were sprawled on the couch, engrossed in a movie that you were sure they had seen at least a thousand times. When Matt's eyes met yours, a soft expression played on his face, evident in the effort to maintain eye contact with your face rather than letting his gaze wander.

"Hey," he murmured, and you returned the greeting with a gentle smile, playfully ruffling his hair as you stood over him. "Hey, I'm gonna go shower. I'll join you guys if you're still out here when I'm done." With that, you ventured down the hall, heading toward the guest bedroom.

In the midst of a hot shower, as you washed away the residue of salty water and sand, Matt and his brothers grew disinterested in the movie, dispersing to their separate bedrooms. Collapsing onto his bed with a weary sigh, exhaustion permeated Matt's body. Turning to his phone, he absentmindedly scrolled through various social media apps. Refreshing his Instagram feed, he stumbled upon a recent post you had shared before stepping into the shower.

The post featured a series of photos taken by Nick during your beach outing. One image captured you from the side, accentuating your ass and curves, while another showcased the contours of your cleavage and perky boobs from the front. Although the intention behind the pictures was innocent, Matt's mind became inundated with impure thoughts. Consumed by a sense of guilt, he recognized the inappropriateness of his desires, grappling with conflicting emotions. You were his best friend, and he was acutely aware that such lascivious thoughts were unwarranted. It was more than mere lust; he harbored genuine love for you and a desire to be a person deserving of your affection.

As Matt stared at his screen, a warmth enveloped his body, and he found himself unable to suppress the physical reaction, a boner forming in his pants. He felt conflicted, but it wasn’t like you knew what he was thinking, or doing. Succumbing to the intensity of his desire, he pulled his pants down enough to free himself, his cock springing out of his boxers. He took his cock into his right hand, phone in his left hand, and he began to stroke himself, allowing his imagination to run wild with scenarios that had occupied his dreams. The room echoed with subtle grunts and whimpers as he finally started to release the pent-up feelings that had plagued him throughout the day.

You emerged from the invigorating shower, enveloped in a towel, the sensation of cleanliness and renewal coursing through you. Exiting the bathroom, you ventured into the guest bedroom designated for your night's rest, shutting the door behind you. As you delved into your bag, extracting essentials like panties, shorts, and a tank top, the soft fabrics embraced you once you shed the towel. Nighttime rituals of hair brushing, skincare, and teeth cleaning completed, you settled into the guest bedroom, a sanctuary that had become almost like your own.

The tranquility was fleeting, interrupted by a shiver that prompted a quest for warmth. Rummaging through your bag, you discovered the absence of a hoodie – an oversight that led you down the hall to Matt's bedroom. Assuming he'd still be awake, you envisioned a simple request to borrow one of his hoodies. Little did you anticipate the unexpected scene awaiting you.

Without bothering to knock, a habit formed over years of friendship, you barged into Matt's room, focused on your hoodie mission. "I need to borrow a hoodie; it's freezing—" your words trailed off as your gaze absorbed the shocking sight. Matt, in his bed, his hand pumping up and down his cock, his phone displaying pictures of you. A gasp escaped him as your presence registered, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of surprise and guilt. "Y/N..." he uttered, his phone slipping from his hand onto the bed, his hand movements abruptly halted in the realization of the awkward situation.

"Oh my god, I'm sorry; I didn't think—I should've knocked. I'll just go get one from Nick," you mumbled nervously, ready to retreat. The air hung heavy with the unspoken tension, both of you grappling with the potential ramifications on your friendship. Before you could exit, Matt called to you, conflicted between wanting you to stay and the desire to erase this awkward moment.

"Don't go," he uttered, wincing at his own words, attempting to clarify that he wasn't making advances or asking for anything. You stood there, caught in a surreal tableau, uncertain about how to navigate this unexpected revelation. Blinking in an attempt to regain composure, you voiced a question laden with curiosity and awkwardness.

"Do you... do this often?" your brows furrowed, your gaze drifting toward his needy cock. Matt sighed, grappling with shame, attempting to rein in his emotions. "Jerk off? Or jerk off to you..." he replied, injecting a hint of humor to alleviate the palpable tension.

"Jerk off to me," you clarified, offering a sheepish smile, grateful for his attempt to inject some levity. Matt, in a vulnerable admission, stumbled through an explanation, striving to avoid sounding like a creep. The guilt weighed heavily on him, sensing that he had betrayed the sanctity of your friendship.

"This is the first time—I'm sorry. You just looked so pretty all day, and I couldn't... I don't know," he rambled, his remorse evident. Expecting you to recoil, Matt braced for the consequences of his impure thoughts. Yet, to his surprise, you stepped closer, the bed dipping as you sat on the edge near his legs. Your eyes danced everywhere but on his throbbing cock.

"It's okay; I'm not mad," you reassured, the tension easing with your understanding words. In that moment, you appreciated the side of Matt that could inject humor even into the most awkward situations, and despite the strangeness of the circumstance, a reassuring smile graced your lips.

"You're not?" he asked, confusion etching his face as his gaze reached the end of the bed where you were. The bewilderment stemmed from the expectation of your anger; he believed he deserved your fury. You shook your head, dispelling any doubts that lingered in his mind. "I'm not mad," you affirmed, inhaling deeply before contemplating the weight of your next words. The undeniable truth of their mutual feelings lay bare, an unignorable reality that both had been evading.

"Do you want me to help you?" you inquired, addressing the underlying tension. Matt hesitated, shaking his head in a refusal. Your offer, though tempting, made him reluctant, not wanting you to feel obliged, and questioning his own worthiness of such an intimate gesture. “Y/N… you don’t have to.”

Sighing, you crawled to sit on his knees, his cock twitching right before you, aching for release. It wasn't about obligation; it was about love. You wanted to be the one to bring him pleasure. "I know, I want to," you reassured, meeting his gaze as he deliberated. "Please," he whimpered, desperation evident on his face. Taking it as a signal, you palmed him, your hand trembling slightly as you sought confirmation in his eyes, ensuring every move was met with consent.

As you encountered nothing but longing in his gaze, your hand tentatively began to move, gliding up and down his length. The unspoken revelation that you were not very experienced was apparent to him, and a twinge of guilt crept in as he allowed you to pleasure him. Determined not to make this solely about his satisfaction, he seized the moment, grasping your wrist and redirecting your hand away from his arousal, prompting you to lean forward.

In an impulsive move, he pressed his lips forcefully against yours, his tongue seeking entry, savoring the taste of your chapstick. The kiss bore neither aggression nor softness; instead, it carried the weight of years filled with tension, prolonged gazes, and lingering touches, finally unfurling in this shared moment. Pulling back slightly, he noticed your lips chasing after his, seeking more contact with his lips.

"I want to make you feel good too," he murmured against your lips, his words flushing your face with heat, a wetness growing between your legs. The dynamics shifted, and now it was you yearning for him. His hands found your hips, drawing you closer until you straddled his waist, your clothed pussy pressing against his cock. His fingers hooked into the waistband of your pajama shorts and panties, seeking consent as he looked up at you.

"Can I take these off, baby?" he asked, and in response, you nodded, lifting yourself to allow him to slide them down your legs before resuming the straddled position, anticipation hanging thick in the air.

You took a sharp breath, nerves tingling as you ventured into unfamiliar territory with Matt. As he ran a finger through your wet folds, he licked his lips, captivated by the sight of your pretty pussy. In that moment, Matt would have done anything and everything you asked, he was completely at your mercy. Firmly holding your hips, he allowed your wet cunt to hover over his cock. While his desires tempted him to force you down and make you take it, his deep care for you held him back, especially given the significance of this being your first time.

"Go slow, okay? It's going to hurt a little, but I'm right here," he said. Nodding, you began the descent, wincing as his tip slipped into your enterance. "Oh my god, Matt," you moaned, your words interrupted as Matt leaned up, pressing his lips to yours to stifle your sweet sounds, mindful of his brothers sleeping down the hall.

Gradually, you took more of him in, whimpering at the initial stinging sensation as his cock stretched your tight walls. Eventually, you lowered yourself completely onto him, pausing to adjust to the sensation of him buried deep inside you. "Such a good girl, taking me so well," he cooed.

“Feels so good,” you murmured, the words escaping on a breath as you began to move your hips against him, keeping a steady rhythm. He gripped your hips firmly, and you were sure there would be red marks left behind. His kisses trailed down your neck, lips brushing over your collarbones and shoulders, marking you with purposeful hickeys that finally declared you as his, even though you had always belonged to him.

Slowly, he lifted your tank top over your head, tossing it aside in the room's shadows. "So fucking pretty," he mumbled, his gaze lingering on you through half-lidded eyes. His mouth descended, lavishing much-needed attention on your boobs, kissing and licking your sensitive nipples with devotion. In his eyes, your body was a masterpiece, and he aimed to ensure you knew just how perfect you were. Every gesture was a testament to his worship, eliciting small moans of pleasure as you succumbed to the sensations he bestowed upon you.

"Faster, please," he choked out, a desperate need cracking his voice as he trailed kisses down the valley of your breasts. Swiftly obeying, you quickened the pace, moaning as you rocked back and forth on his cock. Yet, the soreness lingering from your day at the beach made it challenging. Matt noticed, his hands helping to move your hips, orchestrating a rhythm that heightened the pleasure. He began to thrust into you, hips meeting yours, intensifying the sensation.

Throwing your head back, eyes rolling, pleasure consumed you, a knot tightening in your stomach. One of his hands left your hip, moving downward, his thumb expertly circling your swollen clit. Overwhelmed, words escaped you, your mind consumed by him. "Fuck, Matt," you managed to whimper in your love-drunk state, a proud smirk gracing his lips as he witnessed you lost in pleasure, knowing he was the only one to evoke such a response.

"Cum for me, princess," he urged in a whiny, broken voice, his own release imminent. His words triggered your climax, a stream of mumbled curses and whines escaping you as pleasure saturated every inch of your being. Surrendering to the intensity, you abandoned your movements, letting him guide and sway you through the waves of orgasmic ecstasy. His release followed suit, white streams of cum shooting into you, accompanied by his whimpering and grunting.

As the movements ceased, he lay beneath you, both of you attempting to catch your breath. Gingerly lifting yourself off him, a wince accompanied the sensitivity as his cock withdrew from your cunt. Rolling over, you nestled next to him, curling into his side, a lazy hand draped over his waist. His hand found its way to your head, tenderly stroking your hair as you rested against his chest, syncing your breathing with his.

"Get some rest; I'm taking you on a date tomorrow," he grinned mischievously, planting light kisses on your forehead. Raising your head, curiosity piqued, you questioned, "A date?" He nodded, gently pushing your head back to his chest, his fingers continuing to stroke your hair in a soothing rhythm.

"A date. So I can ask you to be my girlfriend," he chuckled, of course Matt wanted to do things right despite having just fucked you dumb. You chuckled in response, appreciating Matt's intent. "Okay, I can't wait to say yes," you declared, both of you closing your eyes, eager for the embrace of sleep and the beginning of this new chapter in your relationship.

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo fluff #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #fluff #smut #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo oneshot

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Hold Me, Carry Me Slowly; My Sunlight

Description: With the warmth of the afterglow fading, Tav manages to coax Astarion into a bath, to show him all the ways she loves him and to hold him close until the water grows cold.

Warnings: Suggestive content, implied sex, mentions of blood, mentions of other bodily fluids

Notes: Hello!!! This is my very first attempt at writing Astarion. Saw him once, fell in love, went insane, now i'm writing fic about him and I cannot stop. I want to just squish his cheeks and tell him how lovely he is. This is set post-everything that happens in game, and he's unascended

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Heavy curtains drawn across the windows stifled any hope of light sneaking in between the threads. It did not even bleed through the leaden fabric, staining the room in a strange glow the way wispy, gossamer curtains often did. But she did not need the curtains drawn to know that night had descended. The hazy burn of dusk across the sky had long since faded, a chill hanging in the air that bit at her bare skin that could only belong to the fathomless night.

Pulling blankets tighter around herself did little to stave off the sting of the air, siphoning away the last of the heat from her skin. And nestling closer to the body beside her was not the improvement she’d been looking for, the press of her skin against his bringing discomfort from everything that had spilled onto her skin into stark awareness.

There was blood; her blood, dried and caked on the inside of her thighs and her throat from where she’d let his fangs sink into her flesh. There was sweat of course, still drying on her skin, making her feel itchy, like a second, ill-fitting skin had been plastered across her. And she could feel where his release leaked out of her, where it had been smeared on the inside of her thighs, where it was congealing on the sheets beneath her.

So not only was she cold, but she felt very gross. And very much in need of a bath.

But she was wrapped up in her lover’s arms, and he seemed intent on holding her close, his soft breaths ghosting across her collarbone.

“Astarion,” she whispered, running a hand through his hair. It was softer than silk, and still cool to the touch despite how she had run her fingers through it, twisted them into his curls at every chance she got. He sighed against her, his lashes fluttering as he shifted.

“Astarion.” She slid her hand down to the nape of his neck, playing with the wispy baby hairs that curled there. “I know you’re awake.”

“So what if I am?” His response was muffled, rumbling through her bones from where he pressed his face against her bare chest.

She traced her finger over the curve of his ear, biting the inside of her cheek as he shivered. “I want to take a bath.”

His only response was a groan, clutching her tighter.

“I feel sticky.”

“I’m far too comfortable to move, love.”

She huffed, resting her cheek on the top of his head. “I’m covered in dried blood! And other things.”

Now he did lift his head, his crimson eyes bright in the shadows of the room. She caught the glimmer of his teeth as he smiled, his canines looking especially deadly in the dark. “You could know I could help if there’s something you’d like inside of you.”

A few hours ago his words might have made her blush, might have made her flustered enough to try and look away before he inevitably caught her to tease her some more. But his voice was heavy with sleep, his words more of a quiet murmur than anything seductive. It just sounded a little silly, and she snorted, a smile spreading across her lips.

“You could help by letting me go and letting me bathe.”

Now he was the one huffing, shifting until they were eye-to-eye, his arms never leaving her sides. “And why would I want to do that when I’m so comfortable right here?”

“Because you love me?” She cupped his face in her hands, squishing his cheeks just the tiniest bit. He was always giving her odd looks when she did it, squishing his face or showering his head in kisses or hugging him as tight as she dared. But even if one brow was arched in question, he always smiled softly, his eyes warm with contentment. As if perhaps he liked the sudden onslaught of affection, even if it seemed a little strange.

He chuckled, idly stroking her side. “I do love you. More than anything.”

She leaned closer, until their noses practically bumped together. “So you’ll come bathe with me?”

His brows rose, one arm releasing her as he trailed his hand up her arm. “Are you sure there’s nothing else you’d rather be doing?”

She didn’t bother to respond with words this time, simply whining, putting on her best pout and hoping it would be enough to sway him.

A snort. “Nice try, darling. But I like having you here in my arms.”

Not nice enough, clearly. She whined again, louder this time, leaning her head against his shoulder.

“Please, my love?” She went so far as to whimper, peeking up at him through her lashes, fingers still toying with his hair. “Please? You could come with me and then it would be so much nicer.”

He hummed, smirking as she wiggled closer, ignoring the stickiness between her thighs and the dull ache radiating through her nerves.

“Please?”

His eyes closed, and she knew she had won before he even started to sigh. But he did sigh, long and dramatic and very drawn out.

“Fine,” he finally conceded, fixing a glare on her that was entirely undercut by the smile still playing at his lips. “If you must. But you had better make sure to use those new oils I bought us. I don’t want to be smelling like cheap bar soap you found at a farmer’s market.”

“That’s not fair! It had smelled so pretty when I’d bought it.” She frowned, ducking her head. “I don’t know what happened that made it so plain.”

He tucked her hair back behind her ear, slowly dragging his knuckles down the side of her neck, his eyes softening. “It was probably enchanted to smell that way until it had been purchased. Or perhaps they simply tricked you and only the display one was perfumed.” He smirked. “Which is why you need me to help select the best perfumes and soaps.”

Rolling her eyes, she nuzzled her nose against his neck. “What would I do without you, my love?”

“You would be lost.”

“And I’d smell bad.” She smiled as he laughed, warmth blooming like a new flower in the spring.

“Thank goodness you do have me,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “And you’ll have me forever.”

If not for the chill in the air and the discomfort clinging to her skin, she probably could have stayed there for an eternity. He’d teased her mercilessly for how much she’d loved to curl up in his arms, but he’d always seemed just as keen to cuddle with her, his arms fitting perfectly around her, his breath tangling in her hair or tickling her neck, his hands stroking her sides or her back.

But she was cold, and she was uncomfortable, and as perfect as his arms and his body were, she felt desperate enough to peel her skin off if she did not bathe soon.

It was with a pathetic whine that she coaxed him from the bed, hands clasping his as she dragged him from the bedroom. He grumbled wordlessly, even as he let himself get tugged into the bathroom, eyes narrowed as they adjusted to the darkness.

She could hardly see in the dark, and it was only with Astarion’s help that she was able to light the candles that lined the counter in the bathroom, illuminating everything in a soft glow.

It was an effort to keep her eyes averted, to pretend like she didn’t think he looked beautiful, the edges of his body blurred by the candlelight, his face softened by the golden glow. He looked a little like his namesake, like a star given form, blessing her with his light.

Although if she told him that she would certainly never hear the end of it. Even now she could feel his eyes burning into her back as she filled the tub, tracking the steam as it curled towards the ceiling and melted out of sight.

“My love.” She felt his hand at her hip, soft as a whisper. She knew this game, knew he wanted her to turn around, to focus her attention on him. She could hear it in the lilt of his voice, the laughter she could hear in it though neither of them had made a joke. “Why won’t you look at me?”

“What do you mean?” She was careful to avoid meeting his gaze, gently brushing her hand over his. “I’m getting the bath ready. Alone, might I add.”

“Well, I’m here for moral support. And you’re doing such a good job I’d hate to get in your way.”

Against her better judgement she turned to glare at him over her shoulder. It earned her a bout of warm laughter that seeped into her veins like sun-warmed honey, heat blossoming in her belly. It was immediately followed by his hands taking her face, his lips stretching into a wide smile, the knife-sharp points of his canines glinting in the candlelight.

“That’s better.” He tipped his head to the side, his eyes softening. “I was worried you had grown tired of looking at me.”

She covered his hands with hers. “I’ll never grow tired of you for as long as I live.”

Lines appeared on his forehead as his brows drew together. So she stood on her toes, gently pressing her lips to each line until they were smoothed away and she could feel his smile against her skin. His hands slid away from her face, but she kept her fingers tangled with his, not wanting to let go just yet.

“My love…” He trailed off, humming as he lowered his head, the coolness of his teeth scraping over her skin making her shiver. “Wasn’t there something else you were doing?”

“You distracted me.” His answering laughter tickled her neck as he hovered above the marks leftover from where he had bitten her.

“You were preparing a bath, I believe?”

She took hold of his face this time as she rocked back on her heels, pulling his head back just enough to meet his eyes, to see the mischief shining in them. “You know, I think this is the exact opposite of getting in my way.”

“I have no idea what you mean.” He was awfully good at feigning innocence; his eyes were wide and sorrowful, a small pout pulling at his lips. Had she not known him she would have fallen for it entirely, believing him utterly innocent of any wrong-doing.

But she did know him, and she knew exactly how not innocent he could be.

She clicked her tongue. “Nice try. Maybe I’ll just bathe on my own.”

She spun around quickly, biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing as he began to whine, trying to get her attention all over again.”

“My love.”

She went searching for his precious oils, finding them lined up in the corner of the small cabinet above the counter. They seemed to shimmer as she held them up to the light, as she uncorked them to smell them each and make sure she was grabbing the right ones. He was so particular about such things and she wanted to make sure she got it right.

“My darling.” His voice pitched up, cracking a bit as she began adding the oils to the bath. “I thought you wanted me to come with you!”

Much as she wanted to pretend she had a strong resolve, it crumbled to dust with just the slightest of provocation from him. How she was supposed to ignore his desperate whining, even when she knew it was a trap, was beyond her. So when he reached for her hand, drawing her closer, she didn’t resist, instead letting herself be gathered against his chest, his smug smirk illuminated in the glow of the candles.

“Well? Do you truly still plan to leave me and bathe all on your own?” One of his hands slipped down her side, leaving gooseflesh in the wake of his featherlight touch. “I could be of help, you know. I’ve become quite intimate with your body, I’m sure I could help in some way.”

She frowned. “Don’t get any funny ideas.”

His answering laughter was bright, like summertime sunshine was bathing them in its golden light. It made her smile, giggles bubbling up in her throat as he laughed, pale cheeks flushing with just a hint of colour, the same pink that promised the coming dawn and the warmth that would follow.

His expression was soft again as his laughter passed, as he waited for her own bout of giggles to melt away, that soft colour still clinging to his skin. It took her a moment to identify the look in his eyes, the gentleness with which he held her gaze, with how he rested his hands at her sides. And when the realization hit her, she felt like her breath was stolen away, yanked from her lungs with a gasp.

He looked happy. He looked so genuinely happy that her eyes began to burn, her heart aching from how it pressed against the cage of her ribs.

Lines appeared on his brow once more, the corners of his lips turning down. “What’s wrong? My darling, why are you crying?”

She shook her head, wiping her eyes quickly. “I’m not.”

“Just because I can’t go out into the sun doesn’t mean I’m blind, you know.” He huffed, mouth curling into a half-smile, something like sadness hanging at the edges. “Have I done something wrong?”

She sniffed, shaking her head furiously. “No! No, not at all. I just have something caught in my eye, that’s all.”

Nothing in his expression said he believed her, but he didn’t push the issue. “Well then, should we get in before the water gets cold?” He leaned close, his voice dipping to a sultry tenor. “Or is there something else you would rather do?”

She didn’t even have to respond before he was laughing again, grinning broadly as he drew back. “My darling, you make this far too easy. Your face is all flushed and I’ve hardly done a thing.”

He’d actually done quite a lot of things today, but her tongue was suddenly too heavy to properly articulate anything sharp and witty she could say in response. And she didn’t have anything sharp and witty to say in response either, a pleasant fog settling over her mind as fatigue tugged at her.

Instead she just climbed into the tub, sinking as far beneath the water as she could, only her nose and eyes still above water as he followed behind, still looking far too pleased with himself.

He reached for the little shelf of bottles that lined the wall next to the tub, the soft light of the flickering candles casting a golden glow around the room. If she hadn’t known him she would have thought he was an angel with how the light gilded his features, twined with the strands of his hair and made it glow. Even that infuriating, devilish smile looked soft in the light, still clinging to his lips as he tilted one of the bottles up to the light.

Her eyes were burning again, her chest aching, too small for her heart, for all of the emotion tearing it apart at the seams. Had there ever been such a beautiful smile? Had there ever been such a precious person ever before?

No, she was certain that there had not been.

He was watching her, and she realized it with a start, her breath catching as she met his eyes.

“What’s the matter, pet? You look like you’ve had a spell cast over you.”

She bit down on her tongue hard enough to taste blood, although the fuzzy feeling around her mind and the warmth in her chest did not dissipate against the sharp pain. She had drunk no wine and yet she felt a little drunk all the same, a little like she was hovering just beyond her body, her edges blurry, everything warm.

He moved closer, taking her hand. “What’s on your mind?”

She opened her mouth, closed it again, like a fish gasping for breath on dry land. She really could not say, not unless she wanted to be teased mercilessly, caught gawking at him like a child with a crush.

“Well?” He tipped his head to the side, reminding her of a predator.

Her voice would not come to her, and so she decided that she would express how she felt in a different way, her heart wishing terribly to be able to keep his heart warm, to keep that smile bright on his lips, to keep his eyes soft but never sorrowful again.

“What are you doing?” He blinked at her as she plucked the small bottle of shampoo from his hand, the sensual countenance falling away.

“Let me help you clean up,” she said, rolling the bottle between her palms. “I can wash your hair for you.”

He continued to blink, his brow creasing. Her heart constricted, fear sluicing through her veins, making her fear she had overstepped, that this was something unwanted. She’d already coaxed him from sleep, perhaps she was pushing against his boundaries.

“Only if you want to,” she amended. “If you’re comfortable with it. I don’t want to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

When he tipped his head to the side it was less predatory this time, reminding her more of the curious head tilt small animals often did when you were speaking to them with a cadence they liked. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “You just can’t keep your hands off me, can you, darling?”

She muttered under her breath about how much of a menace he was, even as she squeezed out the shampoo into her palm. He was smirking, watching her intently.

“You have to turn around,” she instructed, earning nothing but a rebellious smirk. 

“Now why would I do that when it means I can’t see your adorable face?” He twirled a hand in the air, gesturing to her face. “I wouldn’t want to miss out on the pretty flush on your cheeks.”

She tried spinning him around, water sloshing over the lip of the tub. “Turn around! How else am I supposed to wash your hair?!”

“Just like this, darling.” He cupped her face, water sluicing down his arms, falling back into the tub with a quiet plinking.

“I feel like you’re trying to embarrass me.”

He clicked his tongue. “I would never dare.”

“I think you would dare.” She couldn’t bring herself to push his arms away, deciding she would have to yield. “I think you would just to see me squirm.”

“Well…” Unable to come up with an appropriate excuse, he merely shrugged. “I like that colour on your cheeks.”

“I didn’t realize you were an artist,” she deadpanned, lathering the shampoo between her palms. “And that you had such a nuanced appreciation of colours.”

“Only when it comes to you, love.”

She sighed, no clever rejoinder coming to mind. She liked getting the last word in, but Astarion so rarely gave her such an opportunity. He always had something else to say, something sharp and clever if not something that would make her blush so fiercely she thought she would burst into flame.

“Fine.” She rolled her eyes. “But you have to lower your head for me.”

He had no smart comment for that, instead quietly acquiescing, ducking his head enough so that she could run her fingers through his hair, dragging the shampoo through the silken strands.

She hummed, smiling as the gentle, moonlit ivory waves were smushed beneath the shampoo. She might have gathered it all up into a point, making him look a little silly while he trusted her to wash his hair. But he was always trying to make himself look perfect, and she didn’t mind when he looked less than perfect, when he looked silly or disheveled. He didn’t have to pretend with her, and she didn’t want him to.

“You’re doing something ridiculous to my hair, aren’t you?” He seemed to read her thoughts, peeking up at her from beneath his ivory lashes.

“Nooo.” She shook her head, massaging his scalp. “I would never dare.”

“So you are.”

She huffed, pouting as she ran her fingers down the back of his scalp, pressing gently against the back of his neck, making sure to catch the soft baby hairs that curled there.

“I trust it won’t look like that forever?” The corners of his lips quirked up, his voice dipping to a dangerous octave. “Right?”

She didn’t respond, fixing her gaze elsewhere, trying to ignore the way his eyes bored into her skin.

Another click of his tongue. She nearly leapt out of her skin when she felt his hand on her face, the pad of his thumb running across her bottom lip. “Why are you pouting? I thought this is what you wanted.”

“And I thought you were too tired to tease me like this.”

He tapped his thumb against her lip in time with her heartbeat. “I never said that.”

“I kind of assumed.”

“My love, I’m never too tired to tease you.” His hand fell back into the water with a quiet splash. “But please continue.”

“I’m just about done with your hair,” she admitted, dunking her hands into the water. “You’ll have to lean forward more or tilt your head back so I can rinse it.”

He straightened, shifting awkwardly so he could tip his head back, the sharp points of his ears grazing the surface of the water, sending out little ripples.

She scooted to the side, careful to keep the water from spilling into his eyes as she began scooping it up and pouring handfuls of water into his hair. “You know this would have been easier if you’d just turned around.”

He splashed her, rolling his eyes. “I have my reasons.”

“Would you care to divulge them?” She splashed him right back, not bothering to show the same care this time as water and suds sluiced over his face.

He sputtered, wiping his eyes. “Well not anymore, you wicked thing.”

“I think I’m quite nice.”

He flicked water at her as he sat up. “You’re not being particularly nice right now.”

She splashed him again, harder this time. Water rolled over the lip of the tub like ocean waves, puddling across the floor. “I am SO nice! I’m the nicest! I let you pick out the shampoos and soaps we use! I let you pick out the curtains! I let you be the little spoon!”

The more reasons she was, theoretically, “nice,” the more she laughed. Small giggles at first, bubbling into a laughter that gripped her lungs, shook her body until she was snorting with every breath. Her hands trembled as she tried to cover her face in a vain effort to staunch the flow, but it was of no avail. She felt like a fool, she felt dizzy, almost drunk although she’d had no alcohol.

Astarion snorted alongside her, eyes crinkling in bemusement. “I can let you be the little spoon if you want, my love. I had no idea you were sacrificing so much for my comfort.” Another snort, another flick of the water, sending her into another fit of hysterics. His lips stretched wide, a crescent moon smile that made her heart glow. “I didn’t realize falling asleep in my arms was something of such importance. Although I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Backing up until her back hit the edge of the tub, she covered her face, shoulder shuddering with laughter. “It’s not even that funny, I don’t know why I’m laughing.”

“I’m not sure either.” He moved closer, just enough to find her hand and run his thumb across her knuckles. “But I like the sound.”

“I was snorting!”

“But they were such cute snorts.” He was tracing the lines of her palm now, watching her with such warmth in his eyes she thought she would melt into the water and turn to suds and foam.

“You can’t possibly mean that.”

His bottom lip popped out; an adorable, impossible to resist pout that could make her to cave to almost anything he asked. To stay in bed for a little while longer, to buy him that pretty shirt they’d seen at a night market, to wear the glittering circlet he had mysteriously procured because it matched one that he owned.

“Don’t you trust me?” His eyes were wide as a doe’s, his voice soft as feather down. She was lost to him already, to that sorrowful, beseeching look. Lost to that quiet, almost whiny tone.

She knew she was being played, but there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.

It was with gritted teeth that she managed a quiet. “I trust you.”

His expression morphed almost immediately, his eyes bright once more, his teeth bared from the brightness of his smile. “Marvelous! I’m glad we’re in agreement that you’re adorable.”

“You’re awful.”

He kissed the back of her hand, his laughter rumbling into her bones. “And I’m all yours, my darling.”

Gentle warmth spread from her heart, beating steadily, spurred on by the sudden sweetness of his words. Her arms grew warm next, her belly, her fingertips, everything tingling as if she were caught in a warm haze. He was all hers, he was hers to love and care for and cherish. To hold close when they slept, to share the quiet moments with, to share the loud moments with too. Of course. There would always be loud moments with him, the unexpected always rearing its head as they searched for a cure for him, a way for him to stand free in the sunlight.

“You are,” she agreed. He was hers, and he had given his heart to her willingly. It had been his choice, and she would make sure to treasure it, to treasure him, for as long as she drew breath. And as long as her heart beat, it beat for him. “And I’m yours.”

A strange look came upon his face then, something between sadness and elation, something she could not name. It was gone far too quickly for her to dissect it, his lips brushing against her hand once more before he drew away, a smile plastered on his face once more.

“You most certainly are, my darling.” He gave her hand one final squeeze before letting it go, twirling a hand through the air as he gestured to his hair. “Now about whatever you’ve done here.”

“Will you turn around now?” Whatever had snagged her attention briefly flitted away. Suds were streaking down the sides of his face, his hair half matted, pure ivory with the shampoo still caked into his scalp.

It was only with a long, petulant sigh that he turned around, laying back so his head was nearly in her lap so she could finish rinsing his hair.

“Now was that so hard?” She teased, supporting his head with one hand while she used the other to pour palmfuls of water onto his hair.

“It was torturous. I couldn’t see you for a whole minute.”

“Oh please.” She ran her fingers through his hair, trying to comb out the rest of the shampoo. “You’re such a baby.”

His brow furrowed. “I am not! I’ll have you know I’m over two hundred years old-”

She sighed, rolling her eyes as she cut him off. “Yes yes, you’re an over two hundred year old vampire, you’re terrifying and powerful and someone to be feared. But you’re still a baby.”

His eyes narrowed, his mouth opening as if to retort.

“And you’re my baby,” she finished, cutting him off once again.

She swore colour flared in his cheeks, at the tips of his ears. He looked away quickly, whatever sharp comment he’d been about to make dying before it made it to his lips. “I suppose it’s acceptable when you say it like that.”

Curling forward she brushed her lips to his brow, listening as he sighed. 

He started to lift his head as she drew away, chasing after her in search of another kiss, but she gently coaxed him back down, cradling the back of his head once more. “Just relax, love.”

At first he did not relax, his eyes flickering to her face and along the shadowed ceiling of the room. But after a while she felt as he settled himself more comfortably against her. His upper back was cushioned atop her legs, his head cradled in her palm, just above her thighs, his legs drawn up so his knees cut through the water like mountains on the other side of an ocean.

“Let me know if anything is uncomfortable, okay?” She ran her hand around the sides of his ears, making sure she caught the last of the suds, making sure to rinse his hair fully so that when it dried it would be fluffy and soft just as it always was. She combed her fingers across his scalp, massaging gently, smiling as he gave a quiet hum of assent. The lines in his brow were smoothed away, his face softened in the light. He looked peaceful, serene as she rinsed the last of the shampoo away.

She could have told him to move then, that she was done and he had to sit up, but she found she did not want to, could not bring herself to be pried from this position. His weight against her was a comfort, the tranquil look on his face a balm to her heart, his even breaths lulling her into her own state of peace.

He looked calm, he looked happy, and she was loath to end the moment, for that gentle stillness to melt into the suds and bathwater.

So instead she reached for his preferred soaps, lathering it between her palms and running her hands over his shoulders, massaging the soap into his skin.

He shifted, a brow arching. “What are you doing now, my love?”

“Cleaning you up,” she said, pausing as worry flitted through her mind. “I’m sorry, I should have asked.”

His eyes opened, and where she had expected accusation she saw only the softness that accompanied a flower just beginning to bloom, petals not yet the brilliant crimson of blood. “You don’t need to apologize. It’s nice.” He sighed, eyes falling closed once more. “And I trust you.”

She was thankful to be sitting, because she was certain her legs would have given out on her from hearing such words from his lips.

She carried on, moving her hands over his arms and hands, sliding them back up to wash his chest, his torso. Eventually she did have to ask him to sit up, water sluicing down his back as she fetched a cloth to wash his back, careful to ensure her touch was light as she ran it over the lines of his scar. Her stomach still roiled when she saw it, remembering the sharp pain in his voice when he’d told her of its history, and when she remembered the scarlet light that he had been bathed in, that had set the scar aglow.

She bit down on her tongue until she tasted blood, forcing herself back into the present. That was behind them, it was behind him, and he would never have to fear his old vampire master agait. There was no more ritual, no more control, no more sacrifice. The scars would never glow again, they would never be anything more than scars. Fading reminders of a shadowed life and misery she would do everything she could to make sure he never felt ever again.

Suds spilled down his back, and she brought cupped hands of water to the nape of his neck, letting the water spill down his back as she began wiping up the suds. “Let me know if you feel uncomfortable at all, okay?” She scooped up more water and watched as it spilled down his back, washing away the last of the suds.

He gave a quiet hum of assent, seeming content to let her do as she wished for the moment. He was turned away from her, but she imagined the peaceful expression that must have been on his face. The dreamy smile, the pale pink of his cheeks, the same expression he often had when he first awoke, serene and blissful like he were caught in a beautiful dream.”

“I love you.” She murmured the words as she brought her lips to the back of his neck. “I love you so much.”

The quietness of the moment should have concerned her, but she’d written it off as him still being sleepy as she continued. She alternated between washing him up and scattering stray kisses along his skin. His shoulders, his sides, his arms. She made sure to catch all the little crooks of his body, fingers tangling together with his for half a heartbeat as she trailed soap and suds over his arms again before she rinsed him off.

“Alright.” She’d only just dunked the cloth back into the sudsy water, eying the lineup of pretty, colourful bottles along the shelf next to the tub, trying to figure out which ones were his favourites. They were unlabelled, but she knew what scents he liked best. “Don’t tell me which one is your favourite, okay? I think I know.”

She rested her cheek against his shoulder as she reached for the closest one, the one she was pretty sure smelled of bergamot. It was only then, as her fingers closed around the little bottle, did she notice the slight tremble of his shoulders, the soft sniffling sound that was quickly drowned out by the splash of water.

She drew back at once, the bottle slipping from her fingers and plunging into the water. For such a dramatic moment, as her breath caught in her lungs, she would have thought it would have made a louder sound as it crashed from her hand. But no, the bottle made little more than a quiet plink as it slipped beneath the surface of the water, the silence hanging in the air heavy, deafening in comparison.

“Astarion?” Her heart constricted, her lungs shuddering as they tried and failed to draw in breath. She hesitated before settling her hands on his shoulders, not knowing what else to do. “My love? Is something the matter?”

A beat. It was little more than half a moment but it could have been a century for how the time stretched between her question and his response.

“Nothing, darling.” His voice was much softer than usual, so soft she would have missed the tremor in it had she not been so close, had she not felt as it vibrated through him, resonating between them in the place where she had laid her palms.

“It’s not nothing.” She wanted to see his face, wanted to see what he was hiding. But when she leaned forward he turned his head away, nothing but his damp curls filling her sight.

“Astarion.” She settled one hand on his arm, the other brushing his hair back from his ear. “My love, why won’t you look at me?”

He cleared his throat, one hand coming up to rub at the side of his face. “It’s nothing. I think there’s some soap in my eye.”

“Let me see,” she insisted, reaching for his face. She cupped the cheek furthest from her, gently drawing his face towards her. “If there’s soap in your eye let me help get it out.”

He did not put up any resistance, although when he finally faced her fully he did not meet her eyes. Instead he just stared down into the water, his hands awkwardly clenched together in his lap. Red rimmed his eyes, his cheeks a splotchy red that spoke of tears, not the gentle flush of contentment or love. His face was wet, although that was most certainly from the bath as much as it was from his quiet tears.

Her hand slipped from his cheek along the curve of his neck, pausing only to rest on his chest, feeling its steady rise and fall as he took slow, measured breaths. “Oh my love, why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

His hand covered hers, an empty smile shuddering at the edges of his lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, darling. I just got something stuck in my eye, probably from being distracted by your hands.” His voice dropped an octave, was sweet as syrup, warm as the buzz of alcohol when she’d drank too much wine. “I was thinking about all of the other things they could do.”

The smile at his lips grew wider, the sharp points of his canines peaking out. He flicked his eyes up to meet hers, but they fell just as quickly, no smile in them.

“Is it me?” Her voice trembled as she spoke, drawing her hand from him and pressing it against her own chest. She slid backwards, worry an oily creature squeezing her belly until she thought she might retch. “Have I done something wrong? Something to hurt you?”

Ruby eyes flared wide, the water moving like ocean waves, spilling over the lip of the tub as he closed the small amount of distance between them. He cupped her face with such tenderness she thought she would be the one to cry now.

His voice was a dry rasp, his brow lined. “You have done nothing wrong, I swear. I promise, you are…” His eyes softened. “You are perfect.”

Some of the tightness in her belly eased. She wanted to reach out to him, but she held back, still fearing that perhaps her touch had been too much. Perhaps she had pushed him beyond the bounds of his comfort. She sounded small, like a child, when she finally asked “then what’s wrong? Why will you not tell me what’s wrong?”

A long sigh fell from his lips, his hands finding hers in the water, fingers threading together. He seemed to hesitate, his eyes scanning her face for a long moment, his brow drawn. 

“It’s not that something is wrong…” He tipped his head to the side, a humourless laugh ringing hollowly in the air.

She chewed on the corner of her lip, unsure whether to press him for details or to give him space to speak. Maybe he just needed to think through what he was going to say.

The corner of his lip twitched. “Don’t bite your lip like that, my sweet. I can smell the blood from here.”

She froze, frowning. “I haven’t even bit it that hard-” The coppery taste of blood spread across her tongue and she frowned even more, watching as his smile grew wider. “Hey! Don’t change the subject.”

“I can’t help it when all I can think about is sinking my teeth into your lips.”

He seemed quite proud of that line, and she wasted no time in splashing his face, washing it away. He sputtered, wiping his face, his smug little grin replaced by a pout.

“My eyes are up here,” she motioned to her face, earning the return of a small smirk. “Astarion, please. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine, but if there’s something I did wrong, or something I could do to help.”

It was another beat before he responded, his eyes creasing at the corners. “You haven’t done anything wrong, my love. And I’m not upset, I promise.”

She elected to remain quiet this time, fluttering her fingers along the surface of the water as opposed to worrying her bottom lip with her teeth lest she distract him yet again.

The tenor of his voice softened, warm and low, reaching into her mind and easing away the last of her anxieties. “It’s quite the opposite, actually. It’s just…” He trailed off, holding her gaze steady as he searched for the right words. When finally they came to him, the corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled, soft as feather down, as morning sunshine in the air. “You were being so gentle. You weren’t trying to seduce me, or manipulate me. You just…”

Again he trailed off. He reached for the hand still skimming across the top of the water, holding it tight. “I didn’t want to say anything because it felt absurd to be crying over such a thing. I know you love me. And yet.” He shrugged. “I was overwhelmed. I felt so loved.”

His words hung, suspended in the air between them like spider’s silk. Delicate and gauzy, shimmering with the silver of moonlight as it was spun. She wasn’t thinking as she reached out to him, as she crawled into his lap with her hands on either side of his face. Her fingers slid into his hair, tangling in the wet curls.

“My love,” she breathed. She could not find her voice, her words little more than a flutter of gossamer wings, butterflies caught in a storm, a lone songbird taking flight in morning mists. Her heart was aching, her ribs cracking, splintering beneath it, the power of her voice stolen as the feeling drowned her veins.

His brows lifted, confusion and yearning twined together in his eyes. “Yes?”

“I love you.” It was all she could think of to say, the only words that would form in her mind for the longest of times. She ought to be better with her words, but in this moment, her fingers wrinkled and the water tepid, there was nothing else. “I love you entirely.”

“And I love you, darling,” he chuckled, his hands falling to her hips.

She shook her head. “No, you don’t understand. I love you.” She pressed her lips to his cheek, saying the words over and over again like a prayer. “I love you. I adore you. My chest aches from how much I love you.”

A breathy laugh escaped him as she passed her lips over his, as she scattered kisses across his cheeks and brow and the sharp tips of his ears. “I don’t want you to be in pain.”

“I want you to feel loved everyday, always.” A kiss to the side of his neck, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. “I love you, I’ll always love you.”

His arms came around her sides, hands resting on her back. “My love…”

She couldn’t stop now, smiling as his eyes flicked skyward in an eye-roll. “I love you!”

He held her tighter, drawing her in closer. “I love you too.”

“I love you with all my heart.” A brush of her lips against the bridge of his nose, the space between his brows, the hollow of his throat. His hands tightened, fingers pressing into her skin. “I’ll find a way to live forever so I can love you forever.”

A garbled sound escaped from his lips and she froze, her grip loosening in his hair. She hadn’t realized how tightly she’d been gripping it until she loosed her hold, her hands aching.

“No,” he said, his voice rough as sandpaper. “No, don’t stop.”

Silver pooled in the corners of his eyes when she pulled away, lines tracking down his cheeks and gathering at the edges of his jaw. Little droplets tumbled silently down, little ripples spreading across the surface of the water.

“Are you sure?”

A small nod, one hand sliding up her back, resting at the nape of her neck. “I am sure. Don’t stop.” He offered her a small smile, even as tears streaked down his face. “Please?”

She brushed the tears away with the pads of her thumbs, cupping his face as she brought her lips to his again. She grinned as he sighed, his lips parting against hers. It was so incredibly gentle, so tender and soft that she almost burst into tears too, feeling like she might melt into a puddle and be washed away with the soap and the suds.

“I love you,” she murmured as she broke away, breathless even as she drew breath. Shadows clung to the walls, stretched out from the corners and puddled along the floor, the flickering candlelight never quite reaching fully into the cracks and corners of the room. Yet for all that shadow everything seemed to burn bright, everything awash in technicolour. It was like an artist had come in and painted over a sketch done in grey, bringing it to life with colours she could not even name, made of crushed gemstones and sunlight and sugar.

Another sob bubbled to the surface, but it was chased by a soft laugh. The hand at her neck twisted into her hair, his free hand stroking her side gently, reverently. He looked away from her, lips pressed into a thin line as if he were embarrassed from the sound.

“You’re safe, you know,” she promised, stroking his cheek. “It’s okay to cry.”

He snorted, chuckling softly as he slowly looked back at her. “For being told I’m loved?”

She brushed away another tear. “Yes, exactly.”

He looked incredulous. “Really.” It wasn’t a question so much as a comment, one brow quirking up. “You don’t mind?”

“I’m just glad you trust me.” She traced the line of his jaw. “That you feel safe with me.”

He looked on the verge of saying something smart, so she kissed him quickly, fighting against her smile as he let out a choked sound, all that remained of whatever his snarky little comment would have been.

“That was unfair,” he whined, trying and failing to glower at her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She kissed the corner of one eye, then the other, the shudder that wracked through him echoing in the hollows of her bones. “I just love you, I couldn’t help it.”

He chuckled again, running his fingers through her hair now. “Well if you’re that determined to shower me with affection, I suppose I shouldn’t stop you.”

She frowned. “Unless you want me to stop.”

“It’s a good thing I don’t want you to stop.”

“Even if it makes you cry?”

His pale brows rose higher, the corner of his lip twitching. “Only if you promise to kiss them away.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, nestling as close as she could to the coolness of his body. Tepid water sloshed around her hips, but she did not care, did not even notice as the bath grew colder. It could have been made of ice and snow and still she would have felt nothing but the warmth of her heart, burning as hot as a star set to explode and spread fire and stardust through her veins. She could feel his heartbeat against her chest, feel it beat in time with her own, a harmony only they could create.

“I promise,” she murmured, lips against the curve of his jaw, trailing kisses up his face, tasting salt on her tongue.

“Then I definitely don’t want you to stop.”

She could have said something smart then. About how he was ridiculous, how he was being awfully needy and demanding. But in truth she didn’t have it in her to say something sharp, to come up with some witty rejoinder. Any smart comments she made were like training swords to the sharp-edged daggers he could create with only his tongue anyways. But more than that, she just didn’t want to. Why would she cut through the delicate gossamer of this moment? Why would she tear apart the diaphanous veil that clung to them?

All she wanted to do most days was hold him to her chest and press her face into his hair as she breathed in the rosemary and bergamot that he was so fond of. She wanted to cup his cheeks and kiss his face until he blushed, until he laughed, until he was so full of love he would never doubt his worth again. To run her hands down his back, to tangle her fingers in his hair and comb them through his curls, to soothe him so he felt safe as he slept. 

She was not about to pass up an opportunity to do exactly that, and she was not about to tease him when she was nearly fracturing from the effort it took to keep everything she felt contained in her veins and her bones.

She had been struck dumb with love, but she had never been happier, never been so glad to sit in a cold bath with wrinkled fingers. There were not even any words to describe it, so she repeated the same words over and over. That she loved him, oh how she loved him, her precious Astarion.

Eventually his tears began to slow, his quiet sobs no longer echoing through the room. She didn’t pull away, at least not right away, wanting to stay tangled with him for just a little while longer. She murmured one more “I love you,” pressed one more kiss to the corner of his lips, before she pulled away.

Astarion’s eyes were filled with stars when she found them, the smile on his lips adoring. “Where are you going?”

“Nowhere.” She brushed a damp curl behind his ear. “But you’re not crying any longer.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to stop, darling.” He sighed, mischief in his eyes once more. “And just when I was enjoying it, too.”

She splashed water at him, snickering as he shouted. “Come on! The water is getting cold!”

He wrapped his arms around her waist, their chests pressing together, holding her fast. “I’m not the one who started kissing me, darling.”

“I was trying to make you feel loved,” she whined, wiggling in his grasp but finding she was unable to escape.

“And you very much succeeded.” He spoke languidly, drawing out each word slowly, the sharp points of his teeth catching the buttery light. “I’ve never felt so loved before, in all my long, depraved existence.”

She looped her arms around his neck once more, running her fingers through his hair. “Well I’m very glad for that.”

He inclined his head, an approving smile on his lips. “But that doesn’t mean I want to let go of you just yet.”

“Astarion,” she hissed. “I wanted to take a bath.”

He was all wickedness now, tilting his head back, holding her fast with his eyes as much as with his arms. “And I wanted to stay curled up in my lover’s arms.”

A shiver ran down her spine, her body momentarily out of her control as she shook. She pressed closer against her better judgement, searching for the scraps of warmth his body offered.

He dropped a kiss to the top of her head, reminding her of a lazy cat from the way he watched her with half-lidded eyes. “So doesn’t this seem like an answer to what we both want?”

“We’re not exactly doing any bathing.” She shivered again, gooseflesh rushing across her arms.

The way he smirked made it seem like he had won a prize, all satisfaction and smug delight. “It looks to me like you’d be better off staying in my arms, darling. If you don’t, you might catch a chill.”

Frowning, she planned to push away from him and crawl out of the bath, but she was shivering again, harder this time, her teeth clacking together. For all the warmth stored within the cage of her ribs, beating endlessly in time with his heart, clearly it was not enough to keep the chills away when she was waist-deep in a cold bath.

Astarion grimaced, taking note of the gooseflesh prickling her skin, the way her teeth clattered together, the unending shivers she could not seem to control. He pried one hand from his hair, inspecting her palm, before sighing dramatically. “Why didn’t you tell me you were this cold?”

She pressed her lips into a thin line, looking away at the line of candles, watching as wax pooled at their bases.

A click of his tongue drew her attention back, although she wished she had not looked back as she was met with a look of reproach, his mouth a thin line, the corners of his eyes creased as they narrowed.

It was so bizarre, so utterly absurd to see such an expression on his face, when usually there was mirth or mischief or plain wickedness, that she couldn’t help but giggle.

He cocked his head to the side, the gesture of a predator having cornered its prey. “I’m not really sure what you find so funny,” he said leaning close. “But please, do enlighten me.”

“Nothing!” She shook her head quickly as she squeaked out her response. “There’s nothing that’s funny.”

“Hmm,” was his only response, although he looked like he didn’t believe her for even a second.

She tried to draw her hand away, to press it safely to her chest, but he held it tightly, his eyes boring into hers for a long, long while.

“I’m only a little cold,” she said, finally conceding. “I hardly noticed it.”

He sighed, loosening his hold. “Well I think it probably is a good idea to get out of the bath.”

She was not afforded a moment to consider his words as he stood, capturing her in his arms as he stepped from the tub.

“Hey! I haven’t washed up yet.” She wriggled in his arms, trying to get free.

“Relax.” He smirked, setting her down. “You’re not bathing in freezing water.”

“It wasn’t freezing.” She pretended she didn’t see the way his eyes flicked to the goosebumps still crawling across her arms and her legs now, too. Or the way she shivered again.

He sighed. “It’s a good thing I don’t love you for your intelligence.”

“Excuse me?!”

His hands hovered on either side of her face, his nose bumping against hers as he kissed her lightly. “I adore you, my dear.”

She glared at him as he drew back. “That is not what you said.”

“Isn’t it?” He shrugged, moving away to begin draining the bath. “I adore you, and I will always love you, no matter what silly things you say.”

“I’m going to pretend you’re not implying I’m dumb.”

He held a hand to his chest, looking stricken. “On my honour! I would never say such a thing.”

She considered turning around and stomping back to bed. But there had been a reason she had wanted to bathe, beyond lavishing Astarion in love, and she still itched to wash her body of the sweat and blood and other things that still clung to her.

“Don’t look at me like that, darling.” He looked on the verge of pouting again, reaching for her hands. “You’ll have some cuddles again in just a few minutes.”

“What are you plotting?”

“Don’t look so suspicious, I’m only drawing you a new bath.” He huffed, making a grand show of refilling the tub with steaming water.

Warmth like a newly kindled fire bloomed in her chest, velvet softness wrapping itself around her heart. It was a small gesture, and yet it set her alight, made her feel as though she were glowing a little from gratefulness, from the love that had her in its thrall.

Still, she had to argue, curious why he would do such a thing when he’d only wanted to stay snug in bed in the first place. “I can do it, it’s okay. I know you’d only wanted to remain in bed.”

Another click of his tongue as he reached for some of his oils, sniffing them delicately before sprinkling them across the water. “I never said that.”

She groaned. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Oh yes, I know.” He set the bottles to the side, offering her his hand, a teasing smile on his lips. “It’s allowed me to get away with much in the past. I’m hoping it will let me get away with much more in our future.”

She took his hand, letting him draw her back into the now steaming water. The heat of the bath seeped into her bones, relaxing her muscles as she sank into the fragrant water, tipping her head back so her hair streamed out behind her.

“How’s that?” Astarion asked, settling into the tub once more. He drew her legs into his lap, running his hands over them beneath the surface of the water. “Better, right?”

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “Yes, you’re right, it is much better.”

He flicked water her way, smug. “Now where were we?”

“Well I think I was almost done washing you,” she said, her memory hazy. Most of what she remembered was kissing his face, the desire to do so once more like a creature curling in the spaces between her cells, coiled tight, willing to wrap herself in his arms once more if he bid her to.

“That’s right,” he breathed. Something softened in his gaze, his countenance turning gentle, almost reverent. “But you’ve made me feel so loved. I’d like to do the same for you.”

A flush creeped across her face, reaching down her neck and across her chest as he took her hand. “You don’t have, I didn’t do it because I wanted you to reciprocate. I just-”

He kissed her hand, cutting her off, and for a moment he could have been an angel, the soft light gilding his features, his ivory hair glowing like moonlight.

“I know,” he murmured against her skin, eyes opening to find hers. “But I’d like to do it all the same. If you’ll allow me.”

There was nothing hidden in his voice, no double meaning to his words. Nor was his smile sly, or his eyes sharp as daggers. Nothing but earnestness lay in his countenance, a determined sincerity that had her caving at once. 

How could ever say no to such a display? Even now that his enslavement was behind him and his sire long dead, he was still guarded. Less so with her, but guarded all the same. It would take many years to coax him fully from his habits, from his attempts to shield himself and his true emotions. But he was not shielding himself now, he was not hiding anything. So how could she ever say no when his heart had unfurled like a flower in bloom, unveiling how he truly felt?

She leaned forward to cup his cheek with her free hand, unable to pry herself away from touching him gently, from stroking his face with light fingers. “Nothing would make me happier, love.”

He leaned into her touch, a sigh feathering across her skin as his eyes closed. “Are you sure there is nothing that has ever made you happier?”

“Astarion.”

He lifted both hands, palms out in surrender. His eyes fluttered open, his lashes tickling the tips of her fingers. “I was only teasing, love. Although.” His voice turned smooth as warmed butter. “I hope that everything I do makes you happy.”

“You make me happiest,” she breathed.

He sighed again, one hand circling around her wrist, his shoulders sagging. He looked like he was on the verge of melting, of falling apart and slumping into her arms. But he straightened, pressing a kiss to her palm before pulling away. “Then let me show you how much I love you.”

True to his word he did his best to wash her in kind, and the feeling of the warm water and the soap and his scattered kisses were so heavenly she nearly cried, too. They stayed together until the water grew cold once more, and then they wrapped themselves in soft towels, water puddling beneath their feet as they returned to their bedroom, as they perched on the bed while she carefully toweled off his hair, biting back a grin at how it stood up at funny angles.

And when water no longer beaded on their skin they curled up in bed once more, tangled together beneath the layers of blankets. Astarion’s head was pillowed against her chest, and she idly ran her fingers through his still-damp curls, listening to the even tempo of his breaths, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beating in his chest.

“I love you,” she murmured into his hair, stifling a yawn as she rested her cheek against the top of his head.

He mumbled something she couldn’t quite hear, a sleepy response that she felt in her bones more than heard quivering in the air. It made her smile, her arms tightening around him as she tried to hold him closer. She was happy, happier than she’d ever thought was possible, and she would do her best to make sure he was happy every day too, until the end of her days.

#astarion bg3 #astarion ancunin #astarion baldur's gate 3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x oc #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #honey the sweeter the sun

[3d-wifey]

toxic (yandere) baseball player eren and the girl he'd kill for? 👁🫦👁

You Say I'm in Love (I Say You're A Fool)

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x tutor!reader Synopsis: There are many things Eren loves. Word Count: 1.3k Warning: smut, an argument could be made for manipulation, eren is in denial, riding, car sex, overstimulation (reader and eren receiving) A/N: I wrote this in 30 minutes and it shows.

Tag list: @scoven

There are many things Eren loves.

The way his calves burn and lungs heave as he runs from base to base. The resounding cracking noise the bat makes as it hits the baseball. Even the way the infield dirt stains his pants as he slides in to touch the base before a tag out.

But if there's one thing Eren can confidently say he's in love with, it's being between your legs.

It's a known fact that Eren isn't looking for a relationship. He's far too focused on getting scouted. His brother is in the major leagues, after all. So renowned that he has a pitch named after him. It only makes sense that he'd follow in his footsteps.

So, despite the dozens of girls who throw themselves at him and crowd the stands at every game just to get a glimpse of him, he isn't looking for anything serious.

And that fact doesn't change when he starts failing a few classes and his coach makes him take up tutoring with you, his daughter.

It doesn't change the first time he fingers you in his jeep as he drives you to your dorm. It doesn't change whenever he makes you read from a textbook as he eats you out under one of the rickety library tables.

It definitely doesn't change whenever he drags you to the dugout after practice and fucks you so hard that an imprint of the gates is left against your cheek. But you don't mind. His good girl, always so eager to please him.

But when did you become his?

Maybe it was when he warned all his teammates that you were off limits and told them in no uncertain terms that he'd break their fucking fingers they'd have to deal with him if he saw any of them sniffing around you. Or when he didn't see you in the crowd cheering him on at one of his games, and he found himself sending you a few concerned texts.

Ren💚: r u comin?

Ren💚: hello??????

Ren💚: did something happen?

Ren💚: y aren't u answering ur phone???

Ren💚: where the fuck are u?

Ren💚: r u with some1?

Ren💚: I swear to God I'll kill them.

Ren💚: You have till the second inning to be in the stands before I come to you.

Turns out you just overslept with your phone on silent.

Regardless, it's becoming a problem. He can't even get off to porn unless the girl looks like you and even that stops working after a while. Sleeping with anyone else is out of the question. So maybe he has to resort to scrolling through your Instagram when he finds himself in need of inspiration.

Eren's room is pitch black other than the bright light from his phone reflecting off his bare chest. His left-hand holds his phone as he scrolls your page from a burner account while his right hand palms his dick through his sweat pants.

His breath hitches as he stumbles upon the perfect post. It's from last summer when you and your family went to the beach. You were clad in a baby blue bathing suit with little white clouds. He's quick to push his sweatpants down his thighs and take himself in hand.

You had just gotten out of the ocean when you had someone take the photo for you. His pace speeds up as his eyes trace the salty drops of water that dripped down your skin, dipping between your cleavage and between your thighs. He imagines what it would be like to fuck you in that cute, little swimsuit, pushing the crotch of your bottoms aside to go down on you and his hips buck into his hand.

He swipes to the next picture of the set, you on your hands and knees, presumably, playing in the sand as you smile up at the camera, and Eren feels his orgasm ripping through him.

All things considered, his problem with you could be worse.

At least that's what he thinks until he realizes you're eager to please everyone, not just him. Always happy to help, always jumping at the opportunity to be praised, and under normal circumstances, maybe Eren would find it cute or funny, but now it's just fucking annoying.

The team is up for an away game against their rivals and your schedule has finally opened up enough to hang out with Eren after his game. Both of you had been pretty busy, you with midterms and him with practice. He'd never admit this to anyone but you even with a gun to his head, but he's been missing you more than he's missed anything in his entire life. So when you tell him you have to cancel because Jean apparently told your dad he needed some tutoring, he's rightfully pissed off.

Not at you, of course. You're practically in tears when you tell him. It's obvious you don't want to do this, which only fuels his anger.

That piece of shit. Jean is the last fucking person to need help with his homework. Hell, he graduated salutatorian in high school—second only to Armin.

This isn't about grades. He's doing this shit to get under his skin. Is he really this desperate for Eren's sloppy seconds?

He can't stop you from going, but he can send you off with a message.

He has fifteen minutes before he needs to be in the locker room, but you showed up wearing one of his old jerseys and he's already half-hard at the idea of you being in the stands cheering him on with 'Jaeger' printed on your back in big, bold, white letters. Making it known to everyone who you belong to.

And Jean overstepping his bounds pisses him the fuck off. Two birds, one stone. Besides, he doesn't need to be there when the team goes over the play, he's the one who made it.

His pants are pulled down to his thighs and you're bare from the waist down, wearing nothing but his jersey. He grips your hips tight, fucking little gasps out of you. One of your hands claps his shoulder while the other holds the car handle for dear life. Your cheeks are wet, almost as wet as you've made his lap.

He's overstimulated you both, a ring of white, frothy cum grows at the base of his shaft with each downward swing of your hips. That painful pleasure tightens his balls every time your sensitive walls spasm around his equally sensitive cock.

"E-Eren, I—fuck, fuck, fuck, ahhh—” You cut yourself off with a moan that slithers around his spine, pushing him to go faster, harder, deeper. This position is perfect, you're practically boneless over him as the head of his dick punches your g-spot.

"One more, baby. Just, hah, give me one more." And you nod your head from where you're crying into his neck. You leave his skin wet with tears and spit as you bite at him to muffle yourself. He doesn't have the heart to tell you each twinging bite is only making him harder, the grind of your canines that'll surely leave blotches and maybe even thin pricks of blood only makes him feel like he could fuck you for hours—days even! It feels too good, your pussy is too good to leave alone. A fact that Jean will never know.

"Mhm, okay, Ren." Despite your fatigue, your hips shift towards him, rutting your clit against his happy trail like you can't help yourself. "One more. One, uh, uh, uh, more for you." You agree, pulling his hair out of its messy bun in your haze. His good girl, not even thinking about the fact that he asked for one more the last three times, you're too full of his dick to think for yourself now. He would have cooed at you if it weren't for the tears blurring his own vision, toes curling in his shoes. By the time he finishes, you'll be full of his cum too. The game be damned.

After all, Eren Jaeger isn't known for his impulse control.

#3d wifey answers #eren jeager x reader #eren jeager smut #eren jeager #eren x reader #eren yeager #eren jaeger #aot smut #aot eren #attack on titan smut #attack on titan

[bardic-inspo]

Blood in the Mortar

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Vampire Bride Tav

Rating: Explicit (Smut!!)

Key Tags: Vampire/Blood Bride Lore, Service Dom Astarion, Sexy Use of Telepathic Bond, Evil Power Couple, Torturing a Captive, Choking, Biting/Blood, Masquerade, PIV, Cunnilingus

Summary:

“I wanted to see you right where you belong,” Astarion whispers, the sound as sheer as the lace he wrecked. “So beautiful on your throne.” It started on Naomi’s knees, this new life of passion and pleasure unbridled. Astarion didn’t know he’d be hers, just as much as she’d be his, when he bit her thrice, bled her dry, and gave her just one drop of his ascended blood.

Cross-posting from my AO3 account. This is my first BG3 smut fic. If you like it, I'd love to know! Click here if you'd prefer to read on AO3.

“To whom can a vampire bare its soul and admit its fears? From whom can it receive consolation for the past, comfort for the present, and hope for the future?...The vampire is drawn emotionally to a mortal and decides, because of the strength of this emotion, to make her his bride…The happiness of the vampire becomes tied up with the prospective bride, and its well-being depends on hers.”

-Van Richten’s Monster Hunter’s Compendium, Vol 1

Astarion twists the stem of his wine glass, idly tilting the contents within. His assorted guests warp in the bulb of it, swaying between rosy red and clear crystal.

A gravelly voice interrupts his game. “Quite the menagerie you’ve gathered here, Lord Ancunín.”

Astarion doesn’t bother to stifle his sigh. There’s no mistaking him as the lord of the house, even masked as he is. Astarion’s ensemble this evening is pitch dark velvet swirled in crimson thread and snaking silver. His mask glimmers in the same shade of scaled metal, set to complement the curve of his cheekbones, with only miniscule, twinkling rubies encrusting the edges. Nothing meant to outshine the searing color of his eyes. The mask might be silver, but it’s a red dragon Astarion embodies for this particular masquerade.

This party’s for more monstrous company, after all.

No expense was spared for the ‘menagerie’. A grand piano, polished to an opalescent white, plays under spectral hands at the heart of the ballroom alongside a string quartet. A starlit Baldur’s Gate glistens outside the windowed east wall, framed in gold drapery to match the shimmering flecks in the white marble floor. Lavish wine and better blood pour freely; his guests have only to lift their empty glasses to have them brimming again.

Even with all the ornate masks, in the shapes of creatures exotic or fierce, none of the fangs in the room are fake. All the titles are, save for his and his consort’s. Astarion’s lip curls with distaste.

This masquerade was meant for nobility of a supernatural stature. Vampires, warlocks, lycanthropes. Those who lead them. But what his doors received were lowly spawn. Servants sent in their masters’ stead to get just a glimpse of the one and only vampire ascendant, and then to scurry back and tell tale of him. Cowards.

There’s only one human here who’s just human.

Astarion offers him a well-practiced shrug of a laugh. “I do hope you don’t feel out of place among us more…colorful sorts. Lord…? Forgive me, what was it again?”

“Isn’t the point of a masquerade not to bother with such trivialities?” The stranger chuckles hastily. “In any case, I am not lord. Only a humble apprentice to the most renowned wizard Waterdeep has to offer.”

Ah, yes. The invitation was sent for the newly named archmage, filling the god-shaped hole Gale left behind in the wake of his own ascension. Astarion’s eyes flit over the lanky, unkempt apprentice who addresses him instead.

His hair hangs in honey blonde waves past his shoulders, like the mane of the beast he seeks to imitate. It’s a lion’s mask the apprentice wears. Perhaps a poor attempt at humor. The effort would’ve been better paid towards penance, and a sheep’s head would’ve suited him far better than the guise of a predator. Anything would’ve been more fitting than the baggy business he calls a shirt.

Astarion clicks his tongue. “That still doesn’t give me a thing to call you.”

“I am Enrik, if it pleases you.”

“No surname?” Astarion asks with an arched brow.

“None of consequence, my lord,” he replies with the uneasy edge Astarion’s entitled to.

“Well, Enrik, I hope you find our masquerade pleasing.”

“It has certainly been enlightening thus far.”

“And how’s that?” Astarion asks brusquely. He never did like wizards.

He doesn’t like the look on this one’s face, either. The lion that should be a sheep surveys the room with a pitying expression, like he’s watching some petty amusement. A zoo. Gods, or a circus. And what would that make him, Astarion the Ascended, if not a clown? Astarion’s fingers tighten on the stem of his glass, an imperceptible change to any eyes not keen enough to catch it.

“Why, it’s been only a year since your ascension,” Enrik says. “You’ve accomplished much in short order. It’s quite remarkable.”

Astarion’s nose twitches. Praise. From cattle. How quaint, and ill-fitting.

His expression abruptly eases. A refined, familiar scent carries to him from across the crowd. A note of lavender, twined with his favored bergamot.

“And you’ve already enthralled some truly magnificent specimens,” Enrik carries on, oblivious. “Take this fine creature, for example. What a pretty thing to have strung along on your leash.”

Astarion feels her before he sees her. She wipes a palm down the sheath of her skirt, smoothing out some infinitesimal wrinkle. The music smooths, too. With that one simple motion, it bends and blends into something deeper, fuller. All of the lesser spawn of Astarion’s making straighten their slouched shoulders.

He feels the tug of her in his head, and then the cool stroke of her hand to his back, the soothing feel of her fingers combing through his hair, and the gentle scrape of her nails against his scalp. It takes a concerted effort to suppress the pleased groan that bubbles in the back of his throat. All this from across the room, without so much as a glance, let alone a touch.

Hello, darling, he thinks, and she hears it just as if he’d spoken aloud. Aren’t you ravishing?

Her skirt is snow-white crepe that clings taut to her shapely hips before fanning out at her feet. It’s the same lovely shade of ivory as her hair, twisted in a braid like a crown around her head, with the rest falling sleek down her back. A black lace bodice sets just off her lilac shoulders, with gloves to match. Floral stitching vees down from her waistline. The same embellishments decorate the skirt’s edges.

His dark consort, his Naomi once-Tavriel-now-Ancunín, weaves leisurely through the partygoers. The thorny prickle of Astarion’s irritation inspires a little lift at the corner of her mouth.

I’ve been called so much worse, she thinks. It sounds suspiciously like a laugh. I think you called me ‘creature’ just yesterday. Should I not have taken it as a compliment?

Astarion’s scowls. He should be grateful to have your name in his mouth. To even set foot in our home. Let alone speak to me like that. Or at all.

But think of how much fun he’s started, she answers, chipper. You were so bored before.

She’s not wrong.

If they’re not the guests you wanted, Naomi continues, cool and calm, then they’re intruders, aren’t they? Whatever should we do with them?

A slow smile steals its way onto his lips. Just when I thought I couldn’t love you more. Miracles never cease.

“Do you know what they call her?” Astarion says aloud, to worse company. “Other than mine, of course.”

“She was the hero of Baldur’s Gate.”

Astarion waves a manicured hand irritably, as if swatting away a stray fly. “One of them, true, but isn’t there another name that comes to mind?”

The man swallows thickly. “The Siren of the Sword Coast.”

"And yet here you are," Astarion sneers, "ready to dash yourself upon the rocks like a little ship blown astray. I can hardly blame you."

His eyes soften, just past the shoulder of Enrik’s gaudy doublet. In the low flutter of candlelight, he spies the sheen of amethysts set among delicate feathers wrought from silver. He'd had the mask made for Naomi with the likeness of a swan in mind.

Still, as pretty as it is, his favorite gleam is those eyes. She still kept the kiss of violet in them, even in death. It mingles with the red in her irises, like a rich, dark wine.

"She is captivating, isn’t she?" Astarion sighs, a faint smile grazing his lips. "My beautiful bride."

“Forgive me my lord, I meant no offense,” Enrik says, eyes down with deference. “I’m merely an admirer of fine things. And a messenger for my fine master.”

“Do your duty, then,” Astarion says tersely, his smile evaporating.

“My master understands that power is the only currency that holds any weight for men of your making. He has much of it to share, if you're likewise inclined.”

Astarion laughs coldly. “And what does your master wish for me to share with him, exactly? I don’t bite just anyone, after all.”

A swallow bobs in Enrik’s throat. “He only means to make mutual use of your shared arsenal. Like you mean to make of his, my lord. He could work wonders with even just one scream. He could bottle it--”

Astarion clenches the wine glass in a chokehold. He could kill this wretched cretin here, now, bare-handed. Or have him drawn and quartered. Or--

No one knows their manners these days, Naomi sighs inside his head. But if you want to play along and see what this archmage would pay, I’ll--

Astarion’s jaw clenches. You won’t be screaming for him, little love.

It earns him an eyeroll. It wouldn’t be like that--

It won’t be at all. Astarions sends his answer with the weight of a stone.

He sips his wine, boring into Enrik with a hard stare. “Don’t you know swans make the most achingly beautiful music?”

Enrik’s eyes dart anxiously over Astarion’s burning ones. “Only just before they die, so the stories go.”

“Before someone does,” Astarion drawls, as the vintage seeps sweetly down his throat. “You see, my beloved, oh, she’s a monster, too. She so does love the taste of blood in her mouth, now that she’s supped of mine.”

Enrik edges back, shoulders hunched small like the prey he is. “I-I’m just a messenger my lord. Killing me after you’ve so graciously offered your hospitality would be the same as breaking a mirror. It would only cast ill luck on you and your house.”

A gloved hand wraps Enrik’s shoulder. He shirks from that delicate grip like it's scalding. At long last, he finds the decency to shut up.

Naomi’s fangs gleam like the bottle in her hand. “More wine?”

The white marble of the ballroom shimmers like freshly fallen snow. All the curtains are drawn back, cinched aside for good measure. Shadow and sunlight slice the floor in slanted strips. Gritty ash piles where the light lies, coils of rope strewn among the gray dust of guests gone for good.

Only one remains.

Sprawled motionless across the floor, Enrik lies nose-to-nose with the knife edge of day and darkness. It’s only a silhouette that keeps him from being swallowed by the glow. Only Astarion’s grace shades him.

The vampire ascendant cuts a sharp shadow before the arched windowpane. Brightness clings, soft as clouds, to his curls, his lean edges, and his jaw. His velvet coat crumples at his heels as if it were nothing more precious than the ash heaped around him. He’s blessedly bare from the waist-up, resplendent in the sunlight while he surveys his domain awash with it.

It calls to mind the man who took Naomi out into the woods all those months and nights ago. What he looked like when she woke and found his back arched, chin tilted skyward. What she’d do, and what little she wouldn’t, to see Astarion slip into bliss every day as easily as slipping out of a coat.

It’s Naomi’s grace that finally rouses their disheveled company. A rolling melody, played on piano, pours from her fingertips and crests with the morning birdsong drifting in. Enrik groans against the grain of it.

At once, the music cuts to quiet. Naomi’s hands hover over the keys, knuckles twitching in faint longing. Then, she turns on the bench and turns her attention towards her restless audience.

“Good morning,” she says brightly.

Enrik squints up at her. His brown eyes leak with the light, even though he’s sheltered from it. They dart across the room, skimming like stones over water, before they sear into Naomi.

“You.”

“Who else were you expecting? You’re in my home.”

Rope binds Enrik’s hands and heels. He tugs at the ties, or tries to. He hasn’t yet figured out it’s all for not.

Naomi stands, her heels clicking staccato to the tile. As she goes, she paints a palm over the piano keys, stroking each octave from root to rise. Music flows freely again all on its own, even when her hand falls away.

She comes to loom over her captive, lips pursed. “I hear you said some very rude things to my husband.”

Enrik folds against the floor, panting for breath.

“You should be so grateful for our hospitality,” she says. “Should have been. That’s all behind us now, isn’t it?”

Feral noise rips from his throat. Like a dog, he lunges, snapping for her ankles. She side-steps into the light, not bothering to flee any farther than an inch. He freezes, ogling the shiny toe of her shoe now parallel to his nose.

“You don’t fear the sun?” he gasps, quivering.

“I need not fear anything.”

Naomi lifts her head, meeting a scarlet stare brimming in equal measures affection and amusement. Sunlights melts over the bare of Astarion’s chest, spurring her tongue to wet her lips. He leans against the glass, head angled back, eyes slitted in satisfaction. A slow smile unfurls on his face.

“You should be grateful, too,” Naomi says with a sneer, “to lay here and not just a little to the left.”

“W-What do you mean? What did you do to me?!” Enrik’s eyes bulge. He squirms in a sudden panic, to no avail.

Naomi tilts her neck to the side and taps at the scar Astarion’s teeth marked her with. Her fingers fan down on her own throat, savoring the shape of that succulent memory. Of the last bite he gave her in life. Of his lips swirling comfort into her skin before sucking her down to the last drop. Of the look on his face, the awe he had, when she next woke.

The faintest leak of breath, soft as down, passes from Astarion’s mouth.

“You--you--! You turned me!” Her hostage sputters. Naomi frowns darkly.

“Oh not me,” Naomi snaps, incredulous. “I’m only a weak little spawn puppet, according to you. According to you, the only good thing I can do is scream. How could I manage to turn you without choking on my own leash?”

She gags for good measure. He doesn’t get the joke. He hasn’t caught on to the other joke yet. Which means she’s safe as can be, even this close. So long as she stands on the other edge of Astarion’s shadow.

Astarion turns. His silhouette twists with his movement. Enrik shrieks like a swine.

“Oh, that wasn’t good at all. You can do better.” Naomi presses out a strained sigh, crouching down to fist a hand in his hair and yank his head upright.

Enrik bares his teeth as if they aren’t dull and flat. “Filthy bitch!”

The insult doesn’t so much as chip Naomi’s serene composure, but it puts a twang in her head, along the invisible string that links her and Astarion. His anger lashes in her mind like a restless tail.

“What a vile little ingrate,” Astarion snarls.

She lets her hostage’s head roll from her palm, cheek smacking the tile. Enrik writhes against his restraints. Naomi clicks her tongue in reproach. I’ve barely even touched you yet.

Green magic threads between her gloved fingers, glittering. She snaps them and says, “Scream.”

And he does. Loud enough to drown out the crescendo coursing from the grand piano. Inside of Enrik’s skull, the song isn’t nearly so sweet. His back jerks up and away from the floor, head bent back, eyes torn wide in terror.

His cries pitch with the slink of Astarion’s shadow stretching nearer. Sunlight clings close behind his heels. Naomi’s fingers flex and the spell recedes.

Her magic leaves Enrik sniveling, inching like a worm away from the slice of light between Astarion’s legs. Astarion huffs softly. With a wave of his hand, a ghostly one apparates behind him and snags the curtains closed.

Astarion’s scent sweeps with his sleeve -- the sweetness of brandy, mingled with the woodsy smell of rosemary. His knuckles gently brush the side of Naomi’s cheek. Instinctively, she leans towards the touch.

“Precious thing,” Astarion chides with a pout. “You’re being far too sweet to him. Here I thought you only had room in your heart for me.”

Naomi inclines her head, eyes narrowing by a hair. “My sire would see me be crueler?”

Astarion’s thumb grazes her lips. At once, she parts for him, teasing the pad of it with her tongue while he toys with the tip of a fang. He presses in, watching his skin bend to near-breaking, as if to test her sharpness. Before any blood’s drawn, he draws his hand down to cradle her chin. His voice is smooth as satin, though his stare is a hardened one.

“Your sire would see you spoken to with the respect you’re owed. And he needs you to kneel, dear one.”

The words are a weight to her shoulder, easing her down. But the heft is a comfort, not a compulsion. He could compel her, if he wanted to.

He hasn’t yet.

One day, she thinks, he will. And he’ll feel the weight of whatever chains he’d wrap her in through the bond that binds them tighter than the tadpole did. He won’t do it without good reason. Naomi doesn’t need a reason to kneel for her lover. That he wishes it is enough.

When her knees meet the ground, she feels the shape of Astarion’s smile pressed against their bond like it’s pressed, wet and wanting, against her mouth. She feels the dainty tug of his teeth coax her lips apart. Tastes the coppery tang of her own blood and the velvet undercurrent of his within her veins. The heat of him, still such a novel thing in his ascended body, bleeds from his skin to hers, fanning the newfound ache between her thighs.

In her mind, and his, his lips pour down her bare shoulders. His fingers fist in the fine fabric of her dress, ripping it to ruin. He leaves none of her untouched. To anyone else’s eye, they’re not even touching.

Naomi’s eyelids flutter. She downs a hard swallow. Good girl, he says, just for her.

To their captive audience, he spares no such kindness. Astarion raises his foot above Enrik’s ankles, letting it dangle for a moment. It drops like a hammer to an anvil. Enrik bucks with a fresh scream and a sickening crack.

“I’d never give a miserable little wretch like you the gift of immortality,” Astarion spits. “You wouldn’t know how to appreciate it.”

Confusion flits between the pain and panic in Enrik’s eyes.

“That’s right,” Astarion seethes. “You’re not a vampire. You aren’t worth my consort’s teeth. Or mine.”

Crunch. Another ankle shatters. Another shriek claws the air. Astarion strolls, leisurely, to Enrik's hands next. He grounds his heel into the pop of fingers breaking beneath his boots. Their hostage heaves a broken sob.

“Sh, sh, sh, oh, it’s all right,” Astarion croons. “I happen to have just the knife for you.”

Astarion crosses back to his coat piled near the window and draws a dagger from its folds. Rhapsody. Cazador’s blade. Naomi hasn’t seen it since they claimed the Crimson Palace for themselves.

Brightness glints off the twined edge, a match for the harsh and singular focus gleaming in Astarion’s gaze.

So that’s what Astarion was smiling about, as he basked by the window. What had him so peacefully quiet and content. Murder was on his mind, even then.

Not the only thing on my mind, little love. She feels the slant of his smirk in her head, as if it ghosted past the hinge of her jaw. There’s no trace of it on Astarion’s stony exterior.

He plucks the crystal wine glass from the sill while he’s there, rotating the stem as he saunters back over. Blood flecks the fine leather of Astarion’s shoes. He plants them on either side of Enrik’s torso. He seizes Enrik’s collar, yanking harshly until he’s kneeling, too.

“Fuck you,” Enrik spits. “Fuck you both! My master will--”

“Darling,” Astarion trills, grip unwavering, “Would you..?”

Magic swirls sticky across Naomi’s tongue. “Ad Lapidē.”

Violet runes blaze to life beneath their captive’s knees, capturing him in perfect stillness. His mouth hangs agape with unspent vitriol. Astarion’s hands recoil, twisting the dagger in one, and the glass in the other.

“Your master,” Astarion sneers with a dark laugh. “Too much of a coward to show his face, so he sends you. His sacrificial lamb, sent to speak to me about sharing my dearest treasure, like he isn’t the scum beneath her shoes. He had to know I wouldn’t hear of it. But he didn’t care enough about you to even taint your blood. That’s right. My lesser spawn sampled you just like they would any cattle. But my beautiful bride hasn’t had one bite, not yet. Not until I was sure you were sweet enough for her palate.”

Astarion strokes Rhapsody down the man’s outstretched neck. The barest streak of blood leaks from the scrape. Astarion’s eyes skate over the ash piles around the room, wistful.

“All it took was a sleeping potion,” he muses. “Just a few drops. Now all of the spawnlings sent by all of my lessers are dust. You’ll wish to join them, before this is done. And you will. When I decide we’re done.”

Naomi’s eyes fasten to the blood beading down Enrik’s pallid throat. Astarion digs in ever-so-gently with Rhapsody’s tip, just enough to start a stream running. He presses the cup beneath it. Slowly, the crystal fills red to the brim. Her mouth waters.

Astarion looks up abruptly, eyes wide and soft as his malice dissolves to fondness. “Darling, you do look famished. Open up for me, dear.”

Naomi’s chin lifts, lips parted. Astarion tilts the glass to meet her with the utmost care.

“I won’t have your grime and sweat on her lips,” Astarion hisses in Enrik’s ear. “Only your blood. You don’t deserve that…” He sucks a sharp breath in. Naomi watches with rapt attention as it stutters through his chest. “...pretty little mouth.”

Blood, rich and smooth as cream, slips across her tongue. Her eyes slip shut with it. With each swallow, syrupy warmth spreads slowly through her chest, down her legs, through arms, to her every inch. Too soon, it’s taken from her. Naomi’s eyes flutter open. She’s taken all of it, already.

“More, my love?” Astarion hums happily. “You only have to ask.”

“More,” she says at once, lips still wet.

Astarion carves. The insolent apprentice bleeds without a sound. Again and again, the cup fills. He tips it to her lips, and Naomi drinks until her eyelids grow heavy.

Her body thrums like it remembers the pulse that used to play through her veins. She’s warmer than a dead woman should be. Even the air itself feels like the kiss of steam tingling against her skin.

It’s then that Naomi feels Astarion’s lips in her head again, sucking little marks down her throat that match the rosy flush heating her cheeks. She pants out of habit, out of instinct, and not of need. Out of want for him to watch what he does to her. As if he doesn’t already know.

One twist of Astarion’s wrist turns the little leak of blood from Enrik’s throat into a fountain. Naomi’s spell dissipates in violet sparks. His body slumps over, lifeless. Blood runs from him in little rivers, rushing to fill the grout lines between the tiles.

Astarion cradles one last glassful in a delicate grip. His face clears of any clouded rage as he gives the glass an experimental swirl. Wordlessly, he tilts the cup to her mouth once more.

Naomi gasps. Wetness paints her chin. It streams down her neck, drips down her sternum and between her breasts, still bound in lace. Astarion drips with it, down to his knees in fluid motion. Somewhere behind him, the wine glass shatters. In her periphery, she sees the shards glitter like frost.

“Oops,” he says, low and shameless.

Barely any blood made it to Naomi’s mouth this time, but she doesn’t mind one bit. Astarion crawls to her, catlike. She’s only spared a moment to admire the lithe muscle flexing through his naked chest before he leans into the hollow of her throat. Silver curls brush soft beneath her chin. And then, she feels the tip of that devilish tongue take a tentative lick of the mess he’s made.

And gods, what a mess she must be. Blood smears from her neck to her navel, near-black on her blue-gray skin. Dark like Astarion’s eyes, with pupils blown wide and hungry. A flare of heat twists low in Naomi’s stomach. Her thighs shift, wet with it.

Thread rips in her ears. Rhapsody drags delicately down her side, scratching faint like a quill. The lace of her gown splits without resistance. There's none to be had against that mouth of his, just as busy as his nimble hands.

Astarion laps, dainty, down the path of her swallow. His coy smile curves with a petal-soft laugh against her collar bone. Naomi laughs, too, breathless as his tongue chases lazily after the spill. Breathless as the day he took the last breath she needed.

Ever since, Astarion’s given her everything she could want, without leaving her wanting for more than a moment. Now, her knees will never grow numb, no matter how long they bend against the marble. The chill of it can’t phase her, either. Even if it could, Astarion’s drawn the curtains wide. When she kneels for him, it’s only ever on sun-soaked stone.

Astarion treasures her. Cherishes her. Lavishes her with love and pleasure and wealth and power. Preserves her like prized silver, polished with such devotion so she’ll never know the tarnish of time. She’s his spawn. His wife.

But above all else, she’s his pride. The very thing that rules him. The only thing that still does.

Naomi wants to be in ruins with him. To be the last pillars of a broken world already so far beyond repair before they were dragged through it. Aeterna amantes. Until the fall of everything.

Until then, this, the low groan he gives her while her fingers stroke red through the plush white of his hair, the heady hum in her blood, the bloom of someone else’s waking color in her cheeks, the way Astarion looks at her like there’s nothing else at all, the way he tears into a dress he paid a fortune for, the hand he knots through her braids to wreck them -- this is everything.

Astarion tosses Rhapsody over his shoulder to join the broken wine glass, just like any other worthless trinket. His deft hands curl into the tears in her bodice and tug. At once, it gives way to his grip. She would, too, were it not so binding. Naomi grounds out a gasp. Her skirt pools at her knees, leaving her bare but for the warmth of Astarion’s roaming hands and the daylight pouring over them both.

“Do you know why I wanted you down here, pet?” He asks softly.

Astarion’s eyes latch to hers while his teeth toy at the curve of her breast. His tongue slicks over to soothe where his fangs grazed her, and then it melts against a pert nipple, taking it in with a lewd suck.

Naomi paws for a coherent thought, but all she finds is a pleading hum. He nips her again, just enough to see her tit tremble from the pull when he draws away. He leaves her nipple glistening and the underside of her breast peppered in pink before moving on to the other.

“To torture me, clearly,” Naomi pants. Her hands still tangle in his hair. Amusement glimmers in his gaze as he plants a chaste kiss to the inside of one of her wrists and sets them both back at her sides.

“Oh no, my sweet. I would never,” he says, chin resting flat against her navel. He looks up at her with wide, doey eyes, full of faux innocence.

He slinks lower, laying a line with his tongue that ends in a kiss just above where her skirts still shield her. He shifts them aside, ripping where he needs, until it’s only one little piece of black lace covering her cunt. Astarion growls against it, nosing at its edges, his back bowed, stomach brushing the floor. His teeth find the waistband and tear that, too.

Hot breath fans across the other mess he made. Naomi wavers on her knees. From that minute motion alone, she can hear how he’s soaked her.

But Astarion doesn’t disprove her theory; he leans back abruptly, straightening up to his knees again. An arm loops slack around her waist as he circles around to her bare back. Naomi’s lips twitch. If this is the game he wants, it’s too soon to beg. The thought inspires another needy flex through her cunt. His other hand slides to cup the heat of it, and Naomi whines. Reflexively, her back arches. Astarion pulls her still.

He catches the side of her jaw, angling her back into a biting kiss. It’s over before she wants it to be, his lips red and glistening with what he stole from her. Without him, her mouth burns from the cut.

“I wanted to see you right where you belong,” he whispers, the sound as sheer as the lace he wrecked. “So beautiful on your throne.”

For a brief moment, he draws away entirely, leaving her with nothing but a lonely chill. And then, his back comes flush to the floor beneath her. His body splays behind her. The heat of his mouth crests against the heat of her cunt, his face fitted between her thighs, his lips hovering so close, but not close enough. His breath alone snags the one halfway through her throat.

“Oh,” her realization comes out quivering.

The tip of his nose nudges, just barely, against her clit, spurring her hips to roll. But all she gets from that mouth is mischief and a quiet snicker. He shifts his cheek, laving a long stroke of his tongue to the tender crux of her inner thigh before sealing it over with a tight suck. When he bites down, he draws out her blood with a rough moan.

Astarion pulls back, his smirk glazed in her, his eyes aflame. “Oh, darling, I’ve barely even touched you yet. And you’re so very wet for me.”

“Touch me, then,” she hisses between her teeth, raking her hands through his perfect curls and fisting them there.

His eyes spear into hers, hard like the way he clenches her ass and pulls her hips down. Even as it sets her on fire, his mouth gives her mercy. Astarion’s tongue melts hot across her cunt, swiping slow and dexterous. Not for the first time, Naomi thinks she might like to die like this.

It’s not so different from how she died. It started on her knees, this new life of passion and pleasure unbridled. Even then, Astarion already knew the shape of her body like he knew his own hands. Every curve, every intimate bend, how to make her speak in noise instead of words. The hidden language behind every whimper she makes, every shiver.

So he knows exactly what he’s doing while his tongue teases gentle circles around her clit. He knows, by the time his timid little laps blend into a needy suck, that she’s so, so sensitive. Astarion’s hungry groan seeps into her slickness. She feels him like a current and clenches again, just as hungry.

Every feeling he gives her gives him an echo back just as strong. Every thought in her head is in his head, too. He eats her cunt and feels fed by her pleasure curling in the tips of his toes. He didn’t know he’d be hers, just as much as she’d be his, when he bit her thrice, bled her dry, and gave her just one drop of blood back.

But Astarion knew her body before she was his bride. Now, he knows her mind. A part of him lives there, as she does in his. As he drags his pale, elegant fingers between her folds, he drags her head through a dozen depravities. Filling her with nothing but thoughts of how he’ll fill her properly.

He could have her against the arched windows lining the east wall, body pressed so pretty to the glass so he can see the imprint of it even after she peels away. She could feel the heat brimming off the sun outside, washing over their empire. He could taste her sunbathed shoulder while he fucks her senseless. His little love, dipped in honey. So what if someone else sees. Later, he’ll see to them not seeing anything ever again.

He could take her here, on the ballroom floor. Pull her down just as she surfaces from the pleasure he’s paid her, and roll her beneath him to bury her in it all over again. Make love on the marble streaked with the blood of their enemies, where hundreds of dignitaries have danced and dined on countless evenings before. But none of them were ever blessed with such a fine feast as he. The stone would be hard and unyielding against her back, and he would be just the same, driving into her, relentless. At least it’s far prettier than the dirt they used to fuck in.

Or--

A new picture snaps from Naomi’s mind to his, with the dip of his tongue to her entrance, a staggering spike of pleasure, and an unbidden whimper.

The piano. Pearly white with jet black keys, so pristine, so gorgeous with blood spilt red down the sides. Naomi poured over the side, ivory hair tinged with crimson, cascading over her bare, bent back. Astarion’s fingers buried in her hips, planting the promise of bruises, his body bucking wildly into her as he finally--

Naomi’s moan hits the high pitch of the ceiling. She grinds, needy, against the pair of fingers he crooks inside of her. His thumb spreads her slickness back and presses to the pucker of her ass.

So eager for me to fill you up. His voice in her head is a caress. Her hips roll with the sound. His thumb dips inside her ass with the motion, and Naomi gasps as she eases into that delicious stretch.

But darling, I haven’t fed all night, Astarion pouts, mouth moving with agonizing slowness as his eyes flutter shut beneath long black lashes. Naomi’s eyelids grow heavy, too, as she’s lost to that lovely, slick click of his lips. A meal like you is meant to be savored.

He fucks her holes leisurely, with the air of someone who knows he’ll be back for more before long. It brings to mind those long, lithe fingers, folded between the pages of a book to mark his place. All it takes is an effortless flex of them to keep her coaxed open like this. Her body draws taut as he leans her over the precipice of her own pleasure.

If you need more, my dear, by all means. Take it.

He growls into their bond like he’s the one devoured. Like he can plead ignorance to how he’s taking her apart with his hands, his mouth. Naomi catches a whine between her teeth. Astarion’s free hand cups her ass, urging her into the thrust her body bends towards. She parts a hand from his hair to brace flat to the floor beside his face, the other knotting anew in his silver curls.

Desperately, she rides against the flat of his tongue, against that long, refined nose, fucking herself back into the curve of his fingers. Every pull of them pulls her under, deeper into her own ecstasy. Her body grips him back like she means to drown him, too. The tip of his tongue flicks her clit in relentless rhythm, starting off a shudder she can’t stop.

“Don’t stop,” she begs within and without, the jerk of her hips growing frantic.

His mouth is mercy. When she comes for him, she’s wreathed in heat, slick with sweat, every nerve in her body alight with the most blissful burn. A strangled cry breaks in her chest. It buries the song now trembling from the piano. Naomi shivers out a sigh, and the keys shiver with her.

Astarion wraps his arms tight to her thighs, anchoring her through the aftershocks. When she stills again, her body throbs with a heady rush of blood, pleasure, want. Every part of her is limp with it, save the pulsing, rigid press in her mind and in his trousers. She’s putty in his hands even as his fingers leave her. Naomi twitches back towards the touch he takes away, body aching with his absence.

Naomi’s knuckles unfurl, stroking soft through the tangles she wrought. What a sight he is, his hair in utter disarray, his mouth a mess of blood and lust and her. An ease settles into his graceful features, not so different from that quiet contentment he wore while leaning into the light by the window. His eyes simmer with it, lips drawn in a soft smile.

Without warning, his grip tightens. Naomi stifles a huff of surprise as she’s taken down, marble kissing smooth to her spine. A pale hand cradles her head, cushioning her fall. In a blink, he’s hovering over her bare body and dipping down to catch her in a fever of a kiss. It’s a needy, sweltering latch of lips, tangy with her own sweetness as much as his.

“Here?” She purrs to the seal of his mouth.

She lets him feel the way the word alone makes her body tense. Waiting. Wanting. Their bond curls with it, crooked and beckoning in his head. The way his fingers bent a few moments before, buried in the heat of her.

A long breath passes out through his nose, his eyes sliding half shut. A smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth. But his cheek turns by just the barest hair, and Naomi’s attention follows after his.

Music flutters, breathy, off the black and white keys. The piano stays a pretty picture of perfection, among the deaths little and large they’ve littered throughout the ballroom.

His teeth trace the angled edge of her ear. Naomi keens with the sting of it as she’s swept from the floor.

“There.”

She’s caught in his kiss again as he carries her. One swipe of his tongue to where he bit her lip before has her quivering. Has her a world away from the one still around them. Vaguely, she’s aware he’s somehow rid her of her gloves and shoes. She hears a dull, wooden clatter, and then a resounding thud. The piano plays on, but it's muted.

Astarion doesn’t bend her over the way she mused. Instead, he seats her on the polished wood of the piano’s closed lid. His hands leave her back to push her knees apart, scoop beneath them, and pull her spread legs to the strain trapped in his trousers.

Naomi grins, her fangs snagging his lower lip as he tries to part from her. Astarion’s answering groan is rough like a scrape of sandpaper. It leaves her mouth raw, tingling, alive with a pulse that plays to the tune of his pleasure. She wants more of that noise. More of the happy purr it pours into her head from his. One drink of that sloppy, slap happy look on his face sates her more than blood ever could.

You’ve given me everything, he told her, once. But now, all she can think is more. Take more. Take everything.

Astarion grinds his hard length against her in answer. The sweet friction makes sweeter music in their mouths as Naomi moans with the motion, too. Still, there’s far too much fabric for her liking.

Astarion’s fingers make fast work of it. He unlaces his pants only enough to free his cock, parts from her only enough to push her back and clamber up after her. Then, he’s on her again like a second skin. Her cunt throbs with the press of his cock, the tip of it wet and seeping against her thigh. She tries to fit a hand between them, to wrap her palm around his girth and feel with her hands, not just her head, how badly he has to have her. Astarion doesn’t leave her space for it.

It’s not his hands that put her flat on her back, against the body of the piano. It’s the sudden swell of his adoration ballooning from his brain to hers. The weight of his affection pins her there beneath him, utterly paralyzed, as the music flows on under both of them. He’s brimming with it, and it washes over her in a wave, a cup overflowing.

His curls hang down in his eyes, wild with the look of a man starved. “You’re going to scream for me, little love,” he says with the slightest slur. The thought smears from him to her, burning in the back of her mind like a pull of liquor. He brushes her snarled hair back until it tumbles over the piano’s edge, white over white. “I’m going to make you. And I want to see that beautiful face when I do.”

“Please,” she starts to say.

But barely any of it makes it past her lips. Astarion never leaves her wanting for more than a moment.

“O-Oh,” she stammers instead, as her soaked cunt splays to his cock sliding home. Astarion pushes out a moan as he pushes into her. He hooks her legs with his arms, folding them up and back.

“That’s my girl,” he pants, forehead heavy against her own. His thumb circles her cheek, a feather-light counterweight to the thickness he seats inside her. He watches her intently, fixated. Hypnotized. “My good, good girl.”

Kisses and praise tumble from between his teeth, down her cheek, to her throat. Naomi’s head rolls back while she relishes the wet, smacking mantra that’s the mess of them. He’s not tender with his tempo. He doesn’t have to be. You could ruin me. I’d let you ruin me, she thinks again.

And how beautiful he is, in ruins with her. No more composure. No more restraint. Sweat streaks his brow as it bends beneath his focus. All there is is the blend of them, the slow rock of the piano underneath them, and the scattered, stranded pieces of a melody left in their wake.

It could break. The thought cracks through her, through them, with the wooden whine of the piano legs taking the shift of their weight. Astarion crushes her worry beneath the thrust of his hips, any notion of it lost to the head of his cock pressing just where it needs to make her see stars.

Naomi bites down on her own lip, grounding herself in fleeting pain and the tang of blood. He’s not even touching her clit; he doesn’t have to. He floods her with how it felt when he did, when his tongue rolled against the swell of it, just the tip of it teasing that sensitive little bud. How she felt to him, so silky and slick in his mouth. How amazing it feels to finally fuck her, to take what’s his and have her take him so, so tightly.

He could ruin her. Snap her like the creaking legs of this instrument, not long for this world. It would be almost as effortless as the way she spreads for him. But instead, Astarion fills her. Every shift prods the crown of his cock against the sweetest spot inside her cunt.

Naomi’s fingers claw into Astarion’s back as he bucks wildly. Tears sear in her eyes. The tell-tale pressure in her pelvis builds near-blinding.

“Scream for me, darling,” he growls against her neck, out loud this time.

Her cunt throbs with his command. But she doesn’t heed it. Astarion lets out a low, steaming hiss.

“I said scream, dear,” Astarion says, his velvet voice edged in warning. The sparks of his indignation spit flinty in her head alongside a flicker of excitement at her defiance.

He wants to feel the rush of her own power with the spasm of her cunt as she comes undone. He wants her magic to spill into him as he spills his seed inside of her. Wants to taste it with the rest of her. If Naomi was nothing to him, she’d still be the siren; it’s not a power Astarion gifted to her. It was hers without him. It is her. And she’s his.

“I might break the glass,” she whispers, wary of anything louder.

“Oh, my love,” Astarion says tenderly, a husk in his throat as his hand wraps loose around her neck. “You can break everything.”

Astarion kills her hesitation. She’s never felt more whole. She feels holy, feeling her own perfect squeeze around his cock, feeling herself fucked in his body and her own. Feeling what she does to the man who already has everything, but will never have enough of her.

When Naomi screams Astarion's name, it’s everything else in the room that shatters.

Glass crashes from the windows. They burst one after another in quick-fire succession. Astarion buckles against her body with the sudden, decisive snap beneath them. His hips jerk, rutting erratically. Warmth spurts into her with every shudder down his spine, every pulse of his cock.

He cuts her cry with his teeth buried in the crook of her neck. Naomi clings to him as her cunt convulses. It’s the bite that takes her apart, knowing he tastes his own name in her throat and thinks--

Mine, mine, mine.

Naomi’s head drops limp. Astarion’s grip on her neck gives way to soft circles stroked against her cheek again. Mine, she thinks, as his ruby eyes watch her keenly, awash in the soft glow only she knows.

Even after Astarion stills, the room spins dizzy from her upside-down view. She blinks it all back into place, but some pieces won’t fit together again so easily. They’re far closer to the floor than when he slipped inside of her. The piano legs splay at odd, splintered angles. The floor glitters with glass like crystalline teeth, ready to bite the heels of any who dare tread their hall.

Astarion slides out, and she shivers with the fade of his warmth. He sits up, his gaze sweeping the shattered windows, his smirk smug and wet with her. “Perhaps all of the Gate heard you. The gardener did for certain.”

Naomi sits up, too, leaning forward and letting his shoulder take her weight. Her forehead comes to rest against his collarbone. She finds an easy smile while relishing the way his heart still hammers his chest. She did that, in multiple senses. Absently, he tucks the hair sticking to her cheeks back behind her ears.

“I guess I’ll have to kill her,” he adds, chipper. “I suppose, for now, we can spare all the others.”

“She’s already dead enough, dear,” Naomi sighs.

A tiny, discordant note of sadness plucks in her chest, among the pleasant haze settling over her. Astarion stiffens against it, as if she reached out and pinched him. She doubts he’d be so eager to slay one of his spawn for the same crime of hearing her come for him.

The gardener is hers, of a sort. Not a vampire -- Naomi can’t make those. Before Naomi sang her awake again, the gardener was just a sad stack of bones collecting dust in a closet. Now, she rattles along to Naomi’s tune, keeping the flowers trimmed to her liking.

“I suppose you’re right,” Astarion murmurs. His expression softens with fondness, the sort that’s rare to surface unless they’re alone, but never fails to make her chest light and fluttery. “Are you tired now, pet?”

“We stayed up all night,” Naomi laughs faintly.

“Hm,” he nods with a pitying frown. “Let me see to you, my treasure. Don’t you move.” His lips curve, coy, as his eyes flicker back to the wrecked windows. “I wouldn’t want you to strain yourself.”

He saunters back to where his coat lays, now tattered. He returns to settle it around her shoulders, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead.

“You’re such a staunch defender of my honor,” Naomi says dryly, even as the leftovers of their lovemaking start to seep down her thigh.

“Ha,” Astarion shakes with a rolling laugh. “I rather think I’m the thief of it. You were quite the heist. It wouldn’t do to have some debaucherous upstart happen by and think they can make off with what’s mine.”

“I wouldn’t let them live through it.”

“Aw,” he clicks his tongue, “you’re such a romantic.”

Astarion leaves her with her legs strewn over the broken piano, relacing his trousers as he goes. Glass crunches beneath his heels. He stops to ring the bell near the door. A few seconds later, it creaks open a hair. She catches his curt commands to the servant she can’t see on the other side.

“...yes, here, in the ballroom. My consort and I wish to take in the view, and see none of you.”

His lesser spawn are quick to make good on their orders. The door swings open once more a short time later, and in floats a claw-foot tub without another soul to be seen. Magic clings, cloudy, beneath the porcelain belly of it. A pleasant, floral scent curls with the steam from the water within. The tub drifts to the heart of the ballroom and settles with a soft thud before the yawning window panes.

Astarion returns to her as her toes touch the ground again. He frowns tightly, eyes narrowing.

“There’s debris scattered everywhere, my sweet,” he says, saccharine even in reproach. “I wouldn’t want to see you hurt.”

Naomi sniffs a laugh, picking her path carefully. “If I can’t handle a little sharpness here and there, it’s a wonder how I’ve managed to handle you.”

“Oh, it’s simple,” Astarion says, catching her wrist with an effortless flourish. “We were made for each other. By each other, really.”

And Astarion’s made up his stubborn mind that she’s not to take another step, it seems. With a soft huff, he sweeps her off her feet all over again, strides to the tub with her legs dangling over his arm, and delicately deposits her there.

Water laps at the tub’s edges, splashing as she situates herself. She shrugs from Astarion’s coat, shucking it away to join all the other debris they don’t have use for. Heat tingles across her skin, like little, loving nips of Astarion’s teeth. Naomi eases back into the burn of it as the sting settles sweetly.

Astarion rids himself of his shoes and trousers. He dips a foot into the tub, bidding her to make way for him with a gentle nudge. The water ripples as he settles in behind her. With a satisfied sigh, she sinks back against his chest and deeper into the furling warmth.

The ballroom overlooks the well-kept gardens behind the estate. The hedges are high enough, only a spyglass might have hope of spotting them both bare. Under Cazador’s reign, the garden was little more than a sprawl of weeds and webbed ivy. Now, fountains babble between the blooms of pink and blue and violet. If she strains, she can catch the weave of music in the trickling flow, like tinkling wind chimes.

A soft breeze tickles her ears, sending gritty glass and ash scattering over their floor. Astarion clenches a soft sponge in his grip, wrings it out, and starts to scrub her skin in slow, deliberate strokes. Naomi’s head tilts back beneath his tender care, every rub taking the tension from shoulders.

She turns after a time, and he starts to wash blood from her front, while she wets her hands and works the redness from the white of his hair. Her fingers linger along the slants of his ears, rubbing delicately, until she catches that satisfied hum in his throat that leaves her lifted, floating on the buoy of his happiness.

The water never cools or clouds; magic still swirls in the steam, even long after they’re free of blood and grime. Astarion rakes hand through her hair, his fingernails digging pleasantly against her scalp.

“You are divine as ever,” he rumbles. “Rest now, pet.”

And she does, slipping soundly into a trance, soaked in sunlight and lavender oil with her lover wrapped around her. Only Astarion sends her to the sort of rest that reaches her soul. His presence is sanctuary.

It’s his disquiet that wakes her suddenly. He still strokes her hair just as gently, but he levels a hard-cut stare out over the garden, his lips set with the same stoniness.

“No one will ever take you from me,” he murmurs, as if to himself.

“As if they ever could,” Naomi whispers back, reaching up to graze the edge of his jaw.

Heavens help the fool who tries. Any who dare to hatch such plots, to harbor such ill will in their Crimson Palace, will find themselves laid to rest with all the others. Their enemies’ gravestones are just bricks in their empire, every one of them laid with blood in the mortar.

Astarion dips his head down, the hint of a smile curling at the corner of his mouth. “I suppose it might be fun to see them try. In the meantime, my love, I’m of a mind to keep you spread for me for the next tenday.”

Naomi laughs. The sound echoes around the otherwise vacant room.

Astarion’s grin only grows, the tips of his fangs sharpening his smile. “Did I say something funny, dear?”

His lips crush down against hers in a kiss consuming.

#ascended astarion #astarion #astarion ancunin #tav x astarion #astarion x tav #tavstarion #vampire ascendant #vampire lord astarion #bg3 #astarion smut #astarion fanfic #bg3 fanfic #my writing #naomi tavriel

[ghostkennedy]

I abso-fuckin-lutely loved In the Middle! Like, it was chefs kiss.

I would like to request somethin similar to that if you don't mind. It's like a Leon x Ada x fem! reader. I know I'm a genius, right?

Also, I frickin love you're work like it's more than chefs kiss, it's total perfection😍😍😍

Fine Line

~Leon Kennedy x fem! Reader x Ada Wong~

Word count: 6239

Content warnings: fluff, angst, smut, sexual content, MFF threesome, established relationship, they're both with reader but not each other, confessions of feelings, kissing, sub reader, dom leon, dom ada, breeding kink, mommy kink, mentions of impregnating reader, minor arguing, p in v sex, unprotected sex, multiple creampies, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, strap on, pussy eating, oral (f recieving), squirting for first time, praising

Thanks for your patience anon <3

!!!!!MINORS DNI! THIS BLOG AND POST ARE 18+ ONLY!!!!!

It’s already three am when you’re finally returning home from a work trip. It was only supposed to last a weekend, but due to your boss’s fuck up, it lasted over two god forsaken weeks. 

You figure everyone will be asleep considering it’s so late, so you quietly let yourself in the back door and lock up behind you. 

You’re silently unlacing your boots when you hear voices coming from the kitchen. Your hands instantly freeze up as you try to hear who is up at this hour. 

You’re too far away to make out anything, so you finish unlacing your boots, quietly setting them down and tiptoeing towards the kitchen.

You sit quietly in the dark dining room. You’re barely breathing in your attempt to remain hidden. You don’t know why you have the urge to eavesdrop, but here you are being suspicious as hell. 

You hear a loud sigh. “How long have you felt this way?” You recognize Leon’s voice immediately. 

You can tell already this is a heavy conversation. Usually the house was filled with laughter and teasing and happiness, but tonight it was darker. 

“Since the day I met her, probably.” 

So it’s Ada and Leon talking. Your two roommates and best friends.

Leon huffs out a laugh and you’re not sure what to make of their tone. Who are they talking about? How are they feeling? What’s going on?

“How’d we manage to both catch feelings for our roommate? What’s wrong with us?” 

Your heart drops and feels like it might fall out of your ass. They’re talking about you? They have feelings for you? Both of them?

Feelings of guilt start to creep in without permission. Are you going to come between their friendship? What if they ask you to choose? Please don’t make you choose, please.

You’d never forgive yourself. You could turn around now and pretend you never heard anything. Maybe they’d drop it and never bring the subject up to you. All three of you could repress your feelings in peace.

You know it’d be fucking painful, but it could be worth it to preserve the friendships you’ve fought to maintain over the years. 

“I don’t know. I think it’s just her.” 

“What, how she’s absolutely perfect in every sense of the word? She doesn’t even have to try to get me wrapped around her finger. She says jump, I say how high. Makes me feel like a fucking schoolboy.” 

Ada laughs at Leon’s explanation and you can’t hold back your smile. 

“That about sums it up.” Ada agrees with him.

They think you’re perfect? No one knows you better than they do and they still believe that load of shit? Maybe they really are in over their heads. Leon, you can see being a hopelessly devoted lover. But you never thought you’d see the day Ada was in just as deep. And all for the same girl who’s never viewed herself as anything more than mediocre at best? It’s a hard thought to process, that’s for sure. 

“Did you ever plan on telling her? I’ve wanted to so many times, but I’ve always chickened out.” 

“Oh Leon. It’s more complicated than boy meets girl and pursues her. That’s a given basically; it’s what’s expected. But I’m a woman who doesn’t even know if she’s into women.” Ada takes a long swig of her drink and lets out a heavy sigh. 

Leon hums as he ponders Ada’s words. 

Ada’s been pining over you even though there’s a chance you might be straight? She still admired you so much to catch feelings regardless. 

It just adds to that gross guilty feeling growing inside of you.

You’d never intentionally been evasive about expressing your sexuality. You’ve always thought your sexuality and gender expression was just fluid, not wanting to put yourself into a box. Labels made things official and you’ve always been noncommittal. And somehow that has leaked over into how you identify as well.

What do these idiots see in you? 

“Maybe she’s not into men and I’m shit out of luck. If she isn’t open about it, maybe it’s because she doesn’t identify with the norm?” Leon’s voice is shaky, almost as if he’s nervous. Is he nervous? God, you wish you could comfort him and tell him everything is your fault and not his. He always blames himself, always. 

They sit in silence for a minute. It’s not an awkward silence. They’re expressing their feelings and helping each other process, so it’s a respectful silence as they try to correlate together the best words. 

Leon speaks up again, “I don’t want to come between you two. You should pursue her and I’ll back off.” 

“Don’t do that to yourself, Leon. Don’t sell yourself short like that.” 

“What are the chances she’s into both of us?” Leon speaks before he thinks, “I mean, obviously everyone would have to agree to that and I’m just spitballing ideas here-“

Ada cuts him off, “Maybe she could be. It’s not like she’s expressed her desire for a strictly monogamous relationship either.” 

Leon’s voice is so quiet you barely hear it, “Do you love her?”

His voice is so vulnerable and it feels as if that alone has split your heart in half. Is he hurting over this? How long has he been hurting?

“I do.” Ada states without hesitation. She’s so sure of her feelings for you. A single tear streaks down your cheek as the emotional turmoil tears you apart inside. 

“I think I do too.” 

You have to cover your mouth with both hands to fight back any sounds. Your body aches with the need to sob, but you won’t allow yourself to. No, you have to be strong for both of them.

“What are the chances one of us gets our heart broken?” Leon’s voice is still so small. 

“There’s always a chance. But if you love her as you say you do, you must believe the risk is worth it? For the chance that your love will be reciprocated?” 

“Fuck. She could break my heart a thousand times and I’d probably ask her to do it again.” 

They both burst out laughing at Leon’s confession. 

“I mean, what do we do, Ada? Do we talk to her about this? Do we do it separately or together? How do we even go about it? When does someone even bring something like that up?”

You can’t take it anymore. You can’t stand the thought of your best friends hurting—your favorite people in the entire world. So you abandon your hiding spot and enter the dimly lit kitchen.

“How about now?”

Leon and Ada’s heads both whip in your direction as you nervously rub your sweaty palms on your pants in the doorway. 

Once the shock wears off, Leon’s face lights up as he stands up from his stool. He takes long strides toward you before pulling you into a tight hug. 

His lips place gentle kisses in your hair as he mumbles, “I missed you so damn much.”

All you can do is nod into his chest as you pull him to you even tighter. You grip each other like the other might disappear into thin air if your grasp waivers even the tiniest bit. 

Leon’s smell and presence fully wraps around you and it’s the most comfortable you’ve felt in weeks. Has his embrace always felt like this? Has he always felt like home?

He pulls away just enough so that he can look down at you. “Did you hear all of that?”

Your cheeks flame with your embarrassment as you nod at him once again. His attention on you alone has stolen your ability to speak. As if his mere presence has you in a chokehold.

“And?” He asks, pleading with his eyes. 

All you can do is stare up at him as you try to find any words at all. Your brain feels like mush as you meet his stare and feel Ada’s burning into you.

You close your eyes and inhale deeply, forcing yourself to get out what needs to be said. Your eyes open up and you speak quickly before you can talk yourself out of it.

“I feel like the luckiest girl in the world to have both of my favorite people ever love me as much as I love them.”

Your eyes leave Leon’s and connect with Ada’s, “Nothing else has ever made this much sense to me.”

You bring your eyes back to Leon. His jaw has dropped and his eyes wide. He looks at you like he can’t believe those words actually left your mouth. You can’t stop the smile that grows on your face at his reaction. 

“So… Are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna kiss me?”

Leon blinks once before he’s crashing his lips into yours. His hands are immediately cupping your jaw as his body pushes your back against the doorframe. 

Your body instantly melts at the way he handles you. The way his hands hold you to him so firmly. His soft lips dominate yours like a starved man. His firm body perfectly fits against yours. His erection jerks to life against your belly. 

You whimper as he nibbles on your lip impatiently. Your body instinctively arches into him as your head lols back, silently egging him on.

You force yourself to pull away from him, remembering the other person you desperately need as well.

“Ada,” you turn your head so your eyes lock on hers. “Please, I need you.”

Leon’s lips trail from your mouth, across your jaw, and down to your throat.

Ada stands from her stool and slowly makes her way over to you. She stops when she’s a mere inches away from you.

“I could never say no to you.”

“Promise?” Your prompting causes Ada to smirk before leaning forward and capturing your lips with hers. 

Leon pulls himself away from you so that Ada can be fully engrossed with you. Her body is instantly pressed up against yours as her lips force yours apart. She ravishes them like she’s searching for something and you hope to god she finds it. 

Neither of their kisses are gentle and it drives you crazy. Both of their lips have sent smoke signals straight to your pussy and it has you soaked within a few minutes. You want to be embarrassed, but you can’t bring yourself to feel that way. You can’t feel anything besides the throbbing in your chest, nipples, and pussy. 

Ada pulls back and stands next to Leon a few feet away from you. They devour your body with their eyes as you lick your lips and allow yourself to eat them alive with your eyes as well. 

It’s still hard to believe that was almost two years ago. Not many people understood what you were talking about when you mentioned your boyfriend and girlfriend. It bothered you for a long time but not so much anymore. Your happiness is just that, your own, so no one else’s opinion really matters. 

You daydream of that night anytime you go away, whether it be for work or pleasure. 

This time, you were scheduled to go on a work trip for three weeks and you dreaded being away from your partners for that long, but you were also excited for the project you were helping with. Both of them had offered to accompany you, but you wouldn’t allow it. You knew their jobs could require them in an instance at any given moment, so you knew that they really did need to be home and on call. 

It was a long three weeks. 

You had finally made it home again. You were exhausted from the flights and airport bullshit. All you wanted to do was crawl into any bed at all and pass out for three days.

But the second your cab driver is pulling up in front of your house, Leon is throwing open the front door and hurrying down to meet you. 

You’re pulling your suitcases out of the trunk when he comes to a halt beside you. He gently grabs the bags from your hands, shaking his head in disapproval of you doing the heavy lifting yourself.

You thank the driver, giving him a large tip for leaving you alone the whole ride. You always hated cab drivers who tried to make small talk. Like just drive the car, step on it actually.

The second Leon passes through the threshold of the house, he’s tossing your bags to the side and pulling you into his chest. You allow yourself to fall into his embrace, too tired for much else.

“I’ve missed you so much.” He whispers into your ear, “Never torture me like this again. I’ll roll over and die next time I swear. I’m gonna have to put a ring on that finger and a baby in that belly so I can keep you safe in the house forever.”

You giggle into his chest and shake your head, “You’ve really gone crazy, huh?”

“Never been more clear headed in my life.”

“Sounds like something a crazy person would say.”

He cups your chin between his fingers, “The first thing you do when you finally get home is call me crazy? How dare you?” Then he’s pulling your lips into his with a searing kiss. 

He’s the definition of a golden retriever boyfriend. 

Always wants to be next to you when you’re around. Needs to protect you and cherish you. When you’re gone, he mopes around waiting for you to get back. When you’re both home, he can’t stay away for long. Always ending up searching you out and demanding your undivided attention. Surely if he had ears and a tail, they’d be perked up and wagging whenever you’re near him. 

And you absolutely love it.

You pull your lips from his, smiling up at him. He smiles, or more like beams, right back at you. 

A throat clears from the hallway. “How was your flight?”

Your heart rate immediately picks up at the sound of Ada’s voice. 

Before you even realize it, you’re rushing over to her. You nearly trip over your own feet in your haste to get to her.

The second you’re within reach, you’re throwing your arms around her body and nuzzling your face into her neck. She chuckles and shakes her head at you in response, but doesn’t do anything to stop you. Oh no, she pulls you even tighter against her. 

If Leon’s a puppy, Ada is a cat. 

She’ll miss you while you’re gone, but never admit the words aloud. But her eyes and purrs say it all when you’re back in her arms. She won’t come barking at the door upon your arrival, but she will make her presence known. She’ll quietly demand attention, but she’ll still make you come and get her. 

Both of their devotion runs just as deep, but they each express it in such different ways. 

You hear Leon’s footsteps approach you from behind. 

“You’re mine tonight, right? I won’t make it through the night without you.”

“Fat chance, Leon.” Ada states firmly.

“I’m not letting her go tonight. Cannot, will not.”

“No.”

“Yes!”

“I’m keeping her tonight.”

“Like fuck you are. I’m fucking taking her and I’m gonna fuck her so loud there won’t be anywhere in this house you could go where you won’t hear it.”

You cut into their little dispute, “This isn’t a fucking pissing contest. It’s not up to you two. I can decide where I want to stay tonight.”

“With me, obviously.” Leon says, crossing his arms with an attitude.

“Maybe I’ll just sleep alone in my room tonight.”

“NO!” They both shout at the same time. You try to fight back the smile creeping up your face, but fail miserably. You can’t help it, they really are your sweet little pets.

“Then we compromise.”

“How? What do you need?” Ada asks, cupping your cheek and making you look her right in the eyes.

“You’ll both just refuse my idea anyways.”

“Try me.” Leon says. He’s brought himself much closer to you than he was previously. His words are spoken right into your ear and you can’t help the chills that sneak up your spine.

“Can you both stay with me tonight? I missed you both so much. I’ll lay in the middle. You guys won’t have to touch or anything. I just want you both right now. I know we usually keep things separate, but maybe just this one time? For me? Then we can go back to how things usually are.” Your voice is pleading, but you don’t really care. You are pleading with them.

Silence follows for what feels like minutes, but in reality is probably just a few seconds. 

“Anything for you. I need to be with you so much too.” Leon is the first to speak. He tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear and you almost lean into his hand. 

You stare into Ada’s eyes again. You can tell she wants to refuse, but she also misses you so much. She might not say it aloud, but her whole body aches with the need to stay close to you. Is she willing to cross her boundaries just to stay with you tonight? Yes, absolutely yes.

“Okay.” She finally agrees and you pull her into a kiss. You could thank her, tell her how much you appreciate it, but you know she doesn’t care much for words. She’d rather you kiss her and show her how you feel.

You pull back and look between the two. “Alright. Okay. Right. I’m beat, you guys ready to come to bed with me?”

They agree easily and it’s not long before everyone is changed into their comfy clothes and tucked underneath the covers.

You lay in the middle of the bed, Ada on your left and Leon on your right. You lay facing Ada, your arm and leg thrown over her while Leon spoons you from behind. They make sure neither of them is crossing over the other, only touching you. 

Of course you’ve laid between them before, but never for the whole night. Once it’s time for bed, you usually go to sleep with one of them for one on one time. It’s always been the best way to maneuver the relationship and everyone is usually happy with that arrangement.

Tonight is a bit weird, but you’re happy to be with both of them. You’ve always liked the idea of something like this, but they’ve always wanted their alone time at night. It’s not like that’s the only time you can be alone with one of them. You’re alone with each of them often, but they’ll never have enough. Neither will you honestly.

Leon shifts his body slightly and you suddenly feel his full erection pressed against your ass.

“Leon,” you scold him, but he just chuckles.

“I’m sorry. I can’t help it. I’m not the only one who missed you, you know?”

“I know, I can feel it.”

He laughs again before the room falls back into comfortable silence.

But of course it’s not long before Leon is grinding his dick into you slowly. He’s trying to be discreet, but it’s obvious to everyone in the bed what he’s doing.

“Leon.”

This time it’s Ada who speaks up and scolds him. Her voice is stern and even has you going completely still.

“Oh please, Ada. You really gonna act like you’re not as desperate for her as I am? As if.”

“I’m not the one acting like a dog in heat right now.”

“First of all-“

You cut Leon off, “Guys seriously? That’s enough. There are three sexually frustrated people in one bed right now and I don’t think the best solution is tearing each other's heads off. Knock it off.”

Leon grinds his dick into you even harder.

“So you admit it too? You need this just as much as me. Come on baby, let me fix all of your problems. Let me fuck you to sleep.”

“For fucks sake.” Ada huffs out.

“Ada,” you whisper to her shyly. She turns her head towards you, your faces a mere inches apart. “I want you both so bad. I’ve been trying to sleep and just ignore it, but he’s teasing me and I can’t take it anymore.”

She whispers back, “Do you want me to go?”

“No, fuck no. I want you to stay. I want you both to stay. I’m desperate for you and him.”

Leon speaks up, “We can make it work. Take turns, whatever you’re comfortable with. I’ll stay out of your way when you need me to and you’ll stay out of mine. It’s been a long three weeks. Whatever the princess wants, she should get. Don’t you agree?” 

Leon’s hand grips your hip, pulling your ass back against his dick. You both make pathetic noises at such deep contact.

“Is that what you want? Both of us to share you right now?” Ada asks, her hand reaching out and cupping your cheek.

“Yes. I need it.”

That’s all it takes for Ada to press her lips into yours and slide her tongue along the seam of your mouth, asking for entrance. You oblige gladly and slip your tongue against hers, whining into the kiss as Leon continues to grind into you. 

You reach back in an attempt to touch Leon, but he swats your hand away. 

“Tonight is all about you, baby doll. Just focus on feeling good, we’ll take care of you.”

You whimper into Ada’s mouth at Leon’s words. You never considered yourself to be a strictly submissive person before the two of them, but now it’s undeniable—inevitable. You can’t manage to keep yourself from following their every command. You’ll fall to your knees for them before either even has to ask. 

Giving yourself over to them is easy. It’s what they’ll put your body through, the limits both of them are obsessed with pushing, that’s… not so easy. 

Every thrust of Leon’s hips against your ass pushes your pussy into Ada. Your body feels like it’s being teased from both sides and it’s driving you crazy. This little bit of friction already isn’t enough. You need more. More what? You’re not sure, but given the circumstances, you’re not at all feeling picky. 

Leon’s mouth is directly against your ear. “You want me to fuck you just like this? Wanna scream into your girlfriend's mouth while I pound you with my cock?”

You arch your back, pushing your ass firmly into his cock. “Please. Want it so bad.”

You’re already soaked. It’s been a long, miserable three weeks without being touched. Sure, you’d touch yourself when you needed it, but you won’t even attempt to convince yourself it’s at all the same thing. Nothing compares to their hands on you.

You’re so desperate, so lost in the attention you’re receiving that you don’t realize how you’ve been sucking on Ada’s tongue consistently until she laughs. 

Your eyes widen as a blush grows across your face. You try to pull your head back, but Ada is quick to pull your mouth back to hers. She kisses you deeply before her lips start to trail across your jaw, slowly approaching your neck.

Leon’s thumbs slip underneath the waistband of your pants. Your position is too awkward for you to lift your hips to help him. But Ada picks up on what he wants and helps lift your hips as he frees you of your pants and panties, all in one quick swipe. 

His fingers are instantly circling your clit and slipping between your folds.

“Fuck, you’re so wet for us.” He groans into your hair. “Ada, feel how wet our sweet girl is.”

Ada doesn’t hesitate as her fingers toy with you right alongside Leon’s. She bites into your shoulder at the feeling of your arousal coating her fingers, a quiet moan escaping her lips.

Leon grabs your leg and drapes it over Ada’s hips, opening up and exposing your cunt for him. Ada is quick to grip your hip and hold you in place for him.

Your clit is firmly pressed against her leg. The position is emphasizing the throbbing of your needy pussy and it has you whining out your wordless pleas. 

Ada and Leon are both very familiar with your noises. They know what you’re asking for without you having to speak it out loud.

“You want me to fuck you now? So impatient. Do you need it that bad? Need me to split you in half?”

You nod frantically, the seductive tone of his voice driving you mad. Neither one of them moves or makes an attempt to pleasure you.

“Yes. I want you to fuck me.” You finally find the words, them coming out more abrasive than intended. But they don’t mind, oh no, Ada smirks as Leon chuckles at your neediness.

“You heard her,” Ada finally speaks. She pulls her mouth away from your skin so she can get a good look at your face as Leon positions his cock at your entrance.

You’re desperately clinging to Ada, bracing yourself in anticipation of his thrusts. It’s been so long, you’re all in dire need of each other. You know he’s not going to hold back; you know his pace will be brutal and punishing and holy shit do you need it so bad. So fucking bad.

Your eyes roll back into your head as he pushes his cock slowly into you until he’s completely bottomed out. His balls are rubbing against Ada’s leg, but she makes no protests. She’s too focused and absolutely enthralled with the look on your fucked out face.

Leon only holds still for a few moments before he does exactly what you expected him to. He’s pounding your pussy like he’s trying to resuscitate you with his cock. Which is very contradicting to the way his thrusts are taking your breath away. 

You stare into Ada’s dark lust blown eyes as you struggle to keep yours open. Your eyelids flutter with each shock of pleasure coursing through your body.

The harder Leon fucks you into Ada, the more friction you gain on your clit from her thigh. You’re already so close, feeling your pussy clenching around Leon’s fat cock. 

“I can feel how close you are, baby. This tight little pussy is squeezing my cock so tight. You gonna milk me dry? Gonna let me fill this pussy with my come?”

With Leon’s words, Ada is instantly sliding her hand between your thighs and rubbing her fingers against your clit so fast you can barely stand the overwhelming feeling. It’s too much, way too fucking much, but it’s so fucking good. So good in fact-

“I’m coming! Oh fuck,” you whine out as pathetic moans pour from your mouth nonstop. Your nails are digging into Ada’s shoulders and you can’t stop it. You need something to hold onto as you shake and fall apart between them. 

Leon pulls out of you as Ada lays you on your back. You’re panting, head foggy from your orgasm.

Leon climbs back on top of you and thrusts is cock into your sloppy and sticky pussy. 

Your fingers cling to the sheets beneath you as your eyes search for Ada. You notice her back to you as she heads for the door.

“W-where are you going?” you squeak out, body overstimulated as Leon continues shoving his cock deep into your pussy. 

“Be right back,” Ada turns and looks at you, seeing the unsure look on your face. “I promise.” You nod at her and she exits the room.

You look up at Leon, finally looking at his face for the first time since he’s been inside you. 

“Hi,” he smiles at you.

“Hi.”

And he finally kisses you, way too softly compared to his aggressive thrusts. You wrap your arms around him, gripping him tightly. 

You get lost in the kiss, blissfully unaware of how much time has passed. Maybe 10 seconds, maybe 3 hours. All you know is you’ll never get enough of this. You could literally climb inside his body and live there and it still wouldn’t be enough.

“I’m gonna cream this pussy. Gonna stuff you full with my come. You’re gonna feel it as your girlfriend fucks you, knowing you belong to both of us. Got us both fucking pussy whipped. God, I could stay inside you forever, fuck. I’m coming, holy shit, I’m coming.”

Leon lets out a loud whine as he comes hard. You feel his come filling you up, just the way you like it. His cock is kicking and throbbing inside of you and you feel it all. You feel it against every sensitive spot inside of you. 

Leon finally pulls out of you and his come is instantly rushing out of you, pooling on the sheets beneath your ass cheeks.

“I knew you were gonna milk me dry. Now be a good girl for Ada and take everything she gives you, yeah?”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, before he lays down next to you. Behind him stands a naked Ada with a lubed up strap-on secured tightly to her hips.

You whine just looking at how big the toy is. It’s thicker and longer than Leon’s cock, which is already fucking huge. They’re trying to kill you and they’re going to succeed. They’re going to kill you.

“Come here, princess,” Leon pulls your back into his sweaty chest. He pulls your shirt over your head, exposing your braless chest for both of them to ogle at. 

He slowly eases your legs open, wrapping them around his. Every private piece of you is all on display for Ada and she couldn’t look more hypnotized if she tried. She’s good at keeping a stone face as she dominates you, but you love when she can’t hold back her amazement with you. When it consumes her and there’s no hiding it.

She snaps back to reality and makes her way between your legs. Your hands shoot to Leon’s hips, bracing yourself again to be fucked raw. 

“Tell her you want it, princess. Be a good girl and tell her exactly what you want.” Leon instructs you as Ada rubs the lube around on the toy. 

“I… I want you to fuck me with your cock, mommy. I wanna be a good girl and come all over it for you. Can I please take mommy’s cock?” you plead and feel Leon’s cock go semi hard at your words.

“Fuck, you’re making me hard again. Look at what you do to us. You're goddamn perfect.”

You look up at Ada and she nods in agreement with Leon’s words before lining the toy up with your hole.

“Take a deep breath for me,” Ada instructs and you comply immediately. You suck in a large breath of air and hold it for a few seconds before releasing it. And as you breathe out, Ada shoves her cock all the way into you.

You scream out as your back arches into her body. Your hands leave Leon and immediately cling to Ada’s hips as she slowly, but deeply fucks you.

“Mommy, fuck. That feels so good. Oh god, I’m already close,” you whine out, holding back tears. 

“Hold it. Don’t come until I tell you to.” 

She knows what telling you to wait does to you. You fight it hard, not letting her words push you over the edge. You’ll be a good girl. You’ll let her fuck you until she’s satisfied and then she’ll let you come all over her. But fuck, it’s so hard. Your pussy is instinctively clenching around her, trying to keep her cock as deep inside of you as it can go.

You throw your head back and pathetically whine into Leon’s neck. He rubs soothing circles into your belly as Ada presses her forehead into yours. Your whole body is shaking with the need to come, threatening to combust and erase you from existence completely. 

Ada picks up the pace slowly at first, easing you into it, but it doesn’t last long. She can’t hold herself back anymore and soon she’s fucking into you brutally. 

You can’t hold back the noises constantly leaving your mouth. Between whining, moaning, panting, and incoherently babbling, you at some point start crying. Tears are streaming down your face as every muscle in your body trembles.

“Doing such a good job,” Leon praises you, lips against your hair.

“Mmm-mommy,” your voice is pleading.

“I think you deserve your reward. What do you think, Leon?” Ada questions. 

He doesn’t respond with words, but rather brings his fingers to your swollen, dripping clit. He doesn’t have to move them. All he does is apply firm pressure and your clit throbbing against his fingers sends you over the edge.

You’re screaming and shaking and quivering and crying and you can’t stop. Your body has imploded into a supernova of pure pleasure. You never want to come down, but at the same time, the ecstasy is teetering on a fine line of pain and pleasure.

Ada’s thrusts finally stop and Leon takes his fingers off of you. Your vision is blurry and your body is numb.

It takes a few minutes for you to come back down to earth, but when you do, you realize Ada and Leon are just staring at you. Almost in awe–almost in complete wonder.

“Has she ever done that for you?” Leon asks Ada.

“Nope.”

“Me either.”

You cut in breathlessly, “What?”

Leon grips your chin and forces you to look between your legs at the absolute mess on your thighs and sheets. Even Ada and Leon’s thighs are soaked and it dawns on you what happened.

“Oh god,” you gasp in embarrassment. You try to shut your legs, but the two of them work together to keep them open. 

“Are you embarrassed?” Leon teases and you refuse to look either of them in the eyes.

“You’re so perfect,” Ada praises as she massages your thighs, causing you to whine at the contact. 

Squirting, something you believed you weren’t capable of doing, didn’t just happen in front of one of them, but both of them. You’ll never live this down. 

“Fuck, I need you again. Get on your hands and knees for me.” Leon demands, but no one moves. You’re too embarrassed and Ada’s still too shocked to respond. 

“Ada,” Leon gets her attention. “A little help here?”

She nods as she removes the toy from her hips, tossing it somewhere to the side. She gets out from between your legs and sits up against the headboard. She pulls and Leon pushes you towards her, positioning you with your face between her thighs and ass up in the air for Leon.

“You wanna eat mommy’s pussy while he breeds your pussy again, sweet girl?” Ada speaks and her filthy words have you whimpering. Ada doesn’t always participate in dirty talk, so when she does it’s a special occasion. You could never say no to her when she asks so nicely.

You nod frantically before bringing your face to her wet cunt. You gently stroke her with the tip of your tongue and she bites her lip, holding eye contact with you. 

You continue to tease her, but your face falls fully against her as Leon presses into you again. Your thighs are already quivering and you have no idea how you’ll survive taking him again.

Ada runs her fingers through your hair, “Just focus on me, love. You’re doing so well.”

The praise has you sucking her harshly and squeezing your eyes tightly. You wanted to be used and fucked like this and you’ll be damned if you tap out now. You can take, you know you can, so you fucking will. Even if it does kill you.

But after a few minutes of Leon’s thrusts and the taste of Ada on your tongue, your brain turns to mush again. All you can do is lol your tongue out of your mouth as Ada grinds against it, chasing her long awaited high. 

With the way Ada’s thighs tremble and Leon’s thrusts become sloppy, you know they’re both close and you’re desperate for them to come.

You somehow find the strength to suck on Ada again as she grinds into your face and clench around Leon at the same time. When they both cry out at the same time, you know you’ve done it.

Ada’s thighs squeeze around your head, holding you tightly in place as you feel Leon fill you with his come again. You’re exhausted and once Ada releases your head, you fall face first into the sheets.

Ada and Leon share a look, before Leon raises both his hands for a high five. Ada cocks her eyebrow before shaking her head, actually giving him high fives. Leon smiles like an idiot at successfully getting Ada to go along with his antics.

Leon pulls out of you and you immediately collapse, curling yourself into a fetal position on your side. Soft snores leave your lips and they both hold back their laughs. 

“I guess I don’t mind sharing as much as I used to,” Leon whispers to Ada.

“Me too.” 

~masterlist~

#leon kennedy #ada wong #ada wong fanfic #ada wong fanfiction #leon kennedy smut #ada wong smut #leon kennedy fanfiction #leon kennedy fanfic #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x you #leon x reader #leon s kennedy x y/n #resident evil #smut #resident evil 2 #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil smut #resident evil 4 #resident evil 6 #ada wong x y/n #ada x reader #ada wong x reader #ada wong x you #ghostkennedy

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Sex on The Beach (What a Treat)

Robert 'Bob' Floyd x Reader

Description: You love being a part of the Dagger Squad, but you're well aware there isn't a lot going for you as a woman. You go out on dates - often. But none of those men every meet the mark. Can one drunken night on the beach and one gorgeously bespectacled WSO change your mind? Only the ocean and its waves and your own beating heart can say.

Themes: Virginity, First time, Dirty Talk, Jake has a surprisingly terrible sex story (it's right in the beginning)

Warnings: Bob Fucks!

Word Count: 3291

A/N: This fic is wholly self-indulgent and came to me in an ovulating daydream right in time for @attapullman's International Bob Floyd Fucks Month! I hope you all enjoy it! I'm proud enough to say that yes indeed, Bob Floyd fucks!

Thanks to @horseshoegirl for beta reading this fic for me and telling me that I wasn't writing Bob terribly.

My Masterlist

AO3: Cross-posted Here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted Here!

The night is cool and clear. A salty breeze rifles through your hair and dampens your face in soft gusts. It’s late, but on the other side of the bonfire, the other Daggers are continuing the party. A part of you is sure the party will still be going when the sun rises. You’re drunk, inhabiting that state of being between tipsy and drunk off your ass. Your cheeks feel hot, and your tongue is uncooperative. You’re not sure when the conversation veered right into a discussion of sex, but it did. You’re also not sure why you’re helplessly giggling about sex with Phoenix and Hangman, of all people.

“And then she bit me!”

You and Nat take one look at each other and cackle. You inhale a little and giggle out, “D-did she really bite your…?” 

Jake nods ruefully, a blush rising on his chest as Nat falls back with another delighted peal of laughter. You’re not sure you can look at the man when he looks like he’s still in pain just at the memory of what happened. His blush seems to intensify the more your delighted laughter rings out, and every time you look at Nat, it sets you off again and again. You feel like you can barely breathe; you’re laughing so hard. 

When you gasp for breath and sip your drink, your cheeks feel hot, and you can feel the sweat on your temples. You hold the frosty bottle up to your face in a futile attempt to cool off a little. It’s not like you’re wearing too many clothes, choosing to sling on an unbuttoned shirt and a pair of cutoffs over your bikini when the night cooled.

“You know, you’re laughing awfully hard for a girl who hasn’t said a word. We’ve heard from Tash. You’ve obviously heard from me. It’s your turn.” 

All of a sudden, your mirth dies off, instead turning into a cold sweat prickling across your exposed skin. You’re trapped in their gazes, Nat’s whiskey eyes staring you down coolly amused while Jake’s absinthe-colored orbs seem to glare right through you.

“Come on, Artemis.” 

When Nat begins to plead along with Jake, you cover your face with your fingers and collapse until you can hide your face in your knees. 

“Seriously, Artie. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. After all, I’d love to know if you can top getting bitten on the dick mid-blowjob!”

“Seeing as how I don’t have a dick, that would be kind of hard, Bagman!” You deadpan.

But neither of them is pleased with your only input to the conversation so far. They keep needling you, poking and prying. Jake keeps calling you Artie, too, like only he ever has. Ultimately, that’s what has you lifting your head and glaring right at him.

“Don’t call me Artie!” You point at the grinning blond and wag your index finger.

“There she is!” When your glare narrows, he mimes, zipping his lips closed.

You can’t make eye contact as you spit out in a low hiss barely audible over the hissing fire, “I-I’ve never had sex before. I’m a virgin.”

But they heard you, if the wide-eyed glances they share are any indication.

“How is that possible?” 

Nat wraps an arm around your shoulders. You shrug, staring into the distance behind Jake’s head. Unconsciously, the three of you have gravitated to the spokes of a triangle, your legs tangled in the center of the blanket in a pile of sand-encrusted limbs. You’re pretty sure you’ve got Jake’s foot poking into your shin, and one of Nat’s legs is slung across yours.

“I’m always going out on dates, so that can’t possibly be true, right?” 

But, you have to snort just remembering those dates. “Those guys have always just fallen flat. They’re perfectly nice, decent guys. But we never seem to click. There’s no spark when they kiss me clumsily goodnight outside my front door.”

“Maybe you need to look a little bit closer to home for that kind of intimacy?” 

Your head snaps up at the sudden loud, obnoxious tone in Jake’s voice. 

“C’mon Tash. Our Artie is a little boring right now. What do you say we go grab a few more drinks?”

You’re too drunk for this shit, and you’re grumbling that fact as you watch Jake and Nat trip and lean over each other as they walk toward the other Daggers. In truth, it would probably make sense if something was going on between the two of them, though you wouldn’t bet on it.

“Y-you’re a virgin?” 

The words are said so quietly you half think they’re a figment of your imagination. But you know that voice too well to think you're dreaming.

“But you’re so pretty, Artemis. Those men didn’t deserve you, not at all.”

You smile and pat the blanket with your hand. Bob sits gingerly on the edge of the blanket with his back to the Daggers.

“It’s nice of you to say so, Bob.” His cheeks are pink, and his blue eyes are dark and deep as they stare into your own.

“I’m serious. If it were me, I’d have kissed you until your head was spinning, and those pretty lips were all swollen for me.” You can’t breathe for a completely different reason in comparison to all those minutes ago. You can smell whiskey on his breath, coupled with the smokey sweetness of the bonfire and the floral notes from his cologne.

“Why haven’t you, Bob?”

“I’ve seen the guys you go out with, Sweetheart.” He chuckles, and you can see stars reflect in his lenses, refracting over navy eyes, as he tips his dark blonde head back. “They’re sexy, suave, and debonaire. Why would you pick me over one of them?”

The self-deprecation in his voice has your mood sobering unexpectedly fast.

“You’re just as sexy, suave, and debonaire as they are, Bob.” He snickers gently at your phrasing.

“You don’t really believe that.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Unconsciously, you lean forward, needing to get closer to him. One of his hands rises to cup your cheek, and your eyes flutter.

“I’ve been thinking about this a lot,” you muse.

 He hums, and his big thumb swipes gently across your cheek.

“Maybe it’s because I haven’t trusted any of the men I go out with.”

“And you trust me?”

“Yes.”

The moment feels electric, like sparks skittering across your skin. Bob’s eyes keep glancing over your lips. The alcohol flowing through your veins frees your inhibitions as you stand and brush sand off of the back of your shorts. Bob blinks at your sudden movement, mouth parted sweetly as you reach for his hands. When he’s standing, he runs his hands through his hair, leaving minute grains interspersed through the golden threads. You can feel his gaze on your skin as you bunch the blanket over your forearm.

“Come here.” You take his hand in yours, gently tugging him away from the bonfire and your friends. Nobody notices your disappearance, which suits you just fine. You make for the little lifeguard shack a couple hundred feet down the beach and lay the blanket out in its shadow.

“What're we doing all the way out here?” 

Instead of responding, you fist your hands in his shirt and tug his mouth down until it meets yours. The kiss starts clumsy and bumbling, just a brush of skin to skin. It feels like Bob is trying to figure out how genuine you are, so you keep the pressure light. Already, this tender, fumbling kiss is a million times better for you than those first kisses with those other guys. When Bob gasps and his big hands curl around your hips, you moan.

That small sound leaving your mouth makes Bob wild. His hand wraps around the base of your skull as he licks into your mouth. It feels like you're burning up, skin bursting fever hot just at his touch. His hands divest you of your button-down and your shorts; his fingers are studied and quick as he whispers filth into your ears. His tongue traces hot over your pulse, sucking and nibbling and teasing. You chase after his mouth when he pulls away, whimpering as you rub your thighs together.

“You’re so beautiful for me, my lovely Ari.” His eyes are dark now, just a thin rim of blue wrapped around his pupils as he presses you down onto the blanket.

You’re keening, babbling his name as you straighten his glasses. There's a fond, tender look in Bob's eyes as he dips down to kiss you again. 

“Shhh, darling.” His mouth drags wet over your collarbones. “I’m going to make you feel so good.”

When his calloused fingers drag your bikini top away, you shiver. Your nipples are peaked and hard as he gazes down at you. It should feel weird being so exposed to a colleague and friend, but all you want is to feel the hard length in his swim shorts pressed up against you. 

It's not a choice at all as you mewl, “Please.”

You could fall in love with Bob Floyd's smile, the smirk covering his face when he's feeling confident. When he wraps his lips around the peak of your breast, licking at the swollen flesh with his hot, wet tongue, you’re sure you could fall in love with his mouth, too. You feel like you’re drowning as Bob Floyd kisses over your stomach, placing tender kisses across the stretch marks slicing silver over your skin, as he kneads at your ass with big hands before undoing the knots of your bikini bottoms with his teeth. When the fabric falls away, you exhale, unsure when you started to hold your breath when you know you will need it. You can feel the heat of his breath against that most intimate of places, making you squirm.

“I've got you, Ari.” Even the endearment he's chosen, based on your unfortunate callsign, makes you ache for him. “Mmmm, you're so wet for me.”

His fingers dip gently through your folds, the slow, languid motions making something simmer in your veins. His fingers already feel different from your own, filling your sopping cunt in ways that your own can’t. The brush of his tongue over your clit has your hands burying in his hair, tugging at the soft strands. But his mouth doesn't stay there, nipping at your hips, the tender skin between your thighs, at the soft skin where your pelvis meets your legs. You lose yourself in the feeling of his mouth, babbling his name in whispers and moans. The buildup of your orgasm is already different from when you use your fingers; it is more intense and more fulfilling. When he traces figure eights over your clit with his tongue, you come hard, thighs shaking at the effort of holding them open around his head.

“So beautiful when you come,” he rasps. His glasses are fogged, and his lips are slicked with your release as he settles in between your parted legs. You tug Bob into a kiss, sliding your arms around his neck until his weight rests on you. You can taste yourself on his tongue as he kisses you slowly and sweetly.

“Are you sure you want me to do this for you, sweetheart?” His cheeks are pink, his hair falling onto his forehead as he growls the words out. 

“All you have to do is tell me, beautiful.” When he nuzzles your breasts and lays an open-mouthed kiss over the peaks, you’re more sure than ever. “We can stop the minute you’re not comfortable anymore. This is about you, after all.”

“Come here, Bobby.” 

He looks almost startled as you pull him back into a kiss, sliding your hands under the fitted shirt he’s been wearing all day. His skin is warm and silky smooth, lean muscles flexing under your curious touch.

“You’re wearing too many clothes.” You’re whining as you drag the shirt up, and you have to moan when he finally yanks it off. His hair is standing up on end, and his glasses are askew, but right now, you're not sure there is a sexier man on the planet.

“Fuck, you’re hot, Bob.”

His blush deepens, eyes wide at your horny declaration. 

“I mean it.”

You tug at the knot of your bikini, wrestling with the strings with clumsy fingers. 

“Come here, sweetheart. I’ll get the knot for you.” 

You should feel ashamed, naked out on the beach where anyone could happen to see you. But you’re not ashamed at all. His hands gently pushing your hair over your shoulder and his mouth kissing the nape of your neck are why. When the triangles of fabric fall from your skin, you turn and kiss Bob again. You could get drunk off of the feeling of his lips against yours, off the way he licks into your mouth. Emboldened by the look in his eyes, you let your hands trail down until they dip below the waistband of his swim shorts.

“God, sweetheart. There you go.” He’s grunting and gasping against your mouth as you wrap your hands around him. For the first time since you kissed Bob, you feel a little out of your depths. He’s big, so big that you need both hands to hold him, big enough you’re not sure he’ll fit. When you voice your worries in a quiet, gasping whisper, he chuckles.

“It’ll fit in that pretty pussy, baby. Just gotta work you up good, and it’ll slide right on in.”

You squeak as he lays you down again because, for the first time, you can hear his accent as he drawls out the words. From this angle, your mouth parts in shock at the sight of him. Bob’s biting at his lip as he rolls a condom on, and that sight makes you giggle a little.

“Of course, you have a condom on you.” 

When he snickers, you know you’re going to want more of this with him. “I, um… Jake gave it to me.”

You cover your face with your hands and squeal a little more.

“He’s been trying to get me to ask you out for months now, darling. I wish I’d known a few shots of tequila and a conversation about sex would be all it would take.”

“Are you calling me easy, Bob Floyd?” You’re pouting, but it doesn’t last for long as he seems to blanche at your teasing. When you laugh, he dips down to kiss you, and you hum at how good it feels. 

“I think we’re both a little easy for each other. All we needed was a little push.”

He runs his hands up your thighs, smoothing over the flesh as he parts your legs a little more. 

“It’s your last chance to stop this, Ari. You just have to tell me.” You can feel him hard against you as he kisses you again. “We can get dressed and just walk back to the bonfire. Maybe we can try again later.”

“We’re not stopping, not now, Bob.”

Your voice isn’t exactly firm, more breathy than anything, but it makes Bob smile. He guides himself into you, and from the first press, you’re sure you’ve never felt so full. It doesn’t hurt, but it does feel uncomfortable.

“Fuck, you’re tight, sweetheart.” There’s sweat beading up on his temples, and his jaw is tight as he growls out the words. “Gonna make you feel so good.”

“Relax for me, baby.” You melt when he kisses you, shivering at the feeling of his bare skin pressing into yours. He rubs gently at your sides, calloused fingers gentle as they pluck at your nipples. It’s when he kisses you again that you relax. Inch by slow, incremental inch, Bob fills you. He kisses you when you tense around his length, a WSO’s patience and talent filling each heavy moment. 

When he bottoms out in you, you feel like a live wire. The sparks floating across your skin are back, arcing through your veins until they’re molten with lust. The first few times he pulls out of you and presses in again, it feels just as uncomfortable as that first slow slide. When his fingers find your clit and massage it in counter rhythm to the push-pull of his cock, you gasp, open-mouthed and silent. All of a sudden, it feels so good; you couldn’t describe it if you tried.

“Fuck,” Bob’s vocal in bed. You wouldn’t think it, looking at him. It’s also incredibly flattering. “You’re so tight for me, Ari. Fuck, baby girl. Your pussy’s perfect. I’m so lucky.”

You’re gasping and moaning, trying desperately to quell the feral sounds spilling out of your mouth. Each thrust has your fingers scrabbling for purchase in the beach blanket under you, knuckles whitening under the pressure. Unbidden, you can feel your orgasm cresting, stronger than the last.

“Bob,” You’re nearly sobbing because everything you feel is nearly too much to handle. “Please, Bobby. Gonna cum!”

When those talented fingers find their way to your swollen clit and massage it, you come. His hips stutter even as your legs wrap around his waist, and he roars against your chest as he comes after you. You feel like you’ve been stunned. If this is what sex feels like, you’re not sure why you waited as long as you did. Or maybe it’s not just the sex that was mind-blowing, but the man you just had sex with? He’s blushing again, sweat dripping down his chest as he helps you dress with slow deliberate motions. You steal kisses whenever you can, because, yeah, you're falling in love with his mouth and his tongue and his voice.

“Got to get you cleaned up before we head back to the bonfire. C’mon, Ari.” 

After everything you’ve done with Robert Floyd, holding hands shouldn’t make you giggle so much. But you need his helping hand in more ways than one. There’s already a dull ache at the base of your spine, but you refuse to let that feeling beat you. 

Unfortunately, Bob leads you back toward the parking lot, squeezing your fingers and smiling softly at you as you lean onto him. But everything is dark and silent the closer you get. The bonfire is glowing embers in the sand, and all of the cars are gone from the parking lot. Your bag is sitting in the tailgate of Bob’s truck, and you have text messages on the device explaining how everyone has headed out. They’re from at least an hour ago.

He better be good to you, Artie. 

Jake’s message is the only one in which your friends allude to knowing what happened between you and Bob. When you turn back around, Bob’s biting at his bottom lip, worrying the flesh with his teeth. His hands are in his pockets, and for the first time, he seems anxious.

“Can I take you home, Ari?” 

You hum, tugging his mouth down to yours for another kiss.

“Take me home, Bob.” Your voice is a whisper as you let Bob crowd you against his truck.

“I can do that, Ari. But, can I also take you to dinner sometime, sweetheart?”

“Yes, please.” You shiver as he kisses your pulse. “But only if I get your big dick again, Bobby.”

He swats your ass as he helps you into the cab of the truck. 

“Everything I am is yours, baby girl.”

This sounds like the beginning of a beautiful relationship. Though, given the chance, you’re going to avoid having sex on the beach again. Sand rubbing you raw isn't quite so fun when you'd rather have Bob do that for you.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN ON AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR ON TUMBLR BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR TUMBLR, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

@shanimallina87 @chaoticassidy @kmc1989 @desert-fern @horseshoegirl @dakotakazansky @sarahsmi13s @teacupsandtopgun @callsignspitfire @roosterforme @thedroneranger @cherrycola27 @beyondthesefourwalls @mak-32

#star writes #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun imagine #bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x reader #bob x reader #robert floyd x reader #bob fucks #international bob floyd fucks month

[nocturnesmoon]

Take a rest, you have time

A/N: Didn't know if I was gonna post this originally, as it's a bit personal, but here we go. Probably the most self-indulgent fic I've made yet. This is also taken from my own experiences, it is not going to be the same for all autistic folk.

Blurb: Ghoap x Autistic!Reader - You have an off day, and they're ready to help (Reader is also shorter than the guys but otherwise ambiguous)

You felt it as soon as you woke up.

In all honesty, you felt it the night before, a looming feeling, almost like dread for the next day to come. You had fallen asleep in the arms of your lovers anxious, despite how much they tried to keep you calm, you had to go to sleep knowing how heavy you'd feel the day after.

The little light peeking in through the closed curtains was enough to remind you of the time, and the fact you'd have to get up. Though there wasn't a single cell in your body that wanted to move, staring up into the ceiling. Staring down the weird spot you'd caught, was so much easier than leaving the bed and emerging in the living room.

Your bed was empty, the usual warmth of either Simon or Johnny next to you was gone. It wasn't unusual in the morning, they normally got up way before you, Simon would go on a run, sometimes Johnny would join him, and by the time you were up your favourite breakfast would be ready and made along with a warm beverage next to it. You didn't doubt this morning was any different for them.

You felt the guilt pool in your stomach like acid, making you squirm and roll over. You still have time to go, you still have time to get up and be better, It's what you tell yourself. Even though you know getting up won't change anything, forcing yourself to go won't change how you feel, if anything you'd risk making it much worse.

None of your thoughts helped the guilt. Knowing that you'd be skipping out on your current occupation again. You already weren't doing anything full time, you were getting supposedly reasonable accommodations, you had two loving partners who understood and helped. So why didn't it feel like you were getting any better?

You felt stuck, incapable of getting any further with yourself or your mind. So far from being better, but always one step away from falling back into old bad habits. It was humiliating, to not be able to do what others barely had to put effort into.

You'd always felt behind in everything, something that hadn't changed even with reassuring partners. The fact that they were two successful, established people and incredible soldiers, nonetheless, didn't help it. They could reassure you all they wanted, but it still wouldn't change the obvious difference between the three of you. A fault you'd have to process yourself on your own time and come to terms with.

Your eyes squeeze shut when you hear the creek of the bedroom door open, light from the hallway flooding in before disappearing once again. A deep sigh leaves you, one you almost choke on as you feel the bed dip beside you.

Your blanket being pulled aside as another body joins you under the comfortable sheets. You didn't have to open your eyes to figure out who it was. Every single little mannerism of theirs was always something you had stored away in the back of your head. You'd spent enough time with them by now that you could probably recognize them by their footsteps.

You let yourself be moved around by a set of strong arms, pressed against a familiar chest. You knew what this meant, not that anything ever escaped your partners, but you were normally out of the bedroom by now. You'd spent enough time contemplating by yourself that they'd come in.

"What's goin' on love," Johnny's soft voice whispers against your head, his lips placing a gentle kiss on the top of your head. You press yourself further against him, letting the anxiety in your shoulders relax as you remind yourself that they won't be mad. They never got mad at you over this, but it didn't make the fear of disappointment disappear.

"Don' feel good" you mumble against his chest, running your hands over the fabric of his shirt. Kneading the material between your thumb and pointer, feeling the ticklish feeling on your skin.

"Physically?" you feel a tap on your skull, "Or mentally?" It was a question you weren't sure how to answer today. Usually, you would have a more concrete answer, where it could be one or the other, but now it all blended together.

"I don't know…"

"Bit of both then?" he asks quietly, his finger filtering over your hair and smoothing it out. You nod to his question; it was easier to just agree than going on a spree in your head to find the right words to describe what you're feeling.

It was probably right anyway.

"Mh…ye have been a bit low energy recently…" it wasn't unlike them to notice, especially for an upcoming crash. They knew you were still figuring everything out, how to regulate yourself and to know and test your own limits. It was all a part of the process. "Think ye should stay home today?" he asks, in a tone that lets you know there's no strings attached, no judgement or bias.

You nod again, making him hum out again. He reaches over you to the night stand, accidentally smushing you against his chest when he retrieves your phone. He unlocks it, finds the contact for you and hands it to you, "c'mon…text 'em ye're not comin', and we'll take it slow today aye?"

Your thumbs move sluggishly over the phone screen, squinting your eyes as the light is still blinding for you. He gives you another kiss, this time pressed to your forehead when you send off the message.

"Ye think ye can take yer shower by yerself?" he asks gently, "ah can go prepare yer safe food for breakfast if ye want." You lay still for a good few seconds before you fully process his question, thinking it over and trying to figure out whether you'd be able to, or it would end up with you sitting on the floor of the bathroom for an hour.

Your attention is grabbed again when the door opens once more, Simon's bigger figure and heavier footsteps coming in. The bed dipping down as he takes a seat next to the two of you. "Maybe, Simon can take a shower with ye," Johnny offers with a smile.

You feel Simon's calloused and rough hand run up and down your thigh, he had likely already understood what was going on. He likely knew long before Johnny even went back to check on you in bed, his sense of intuition was sometimes scarily accurate, even for you.

"Mh c'mon luv, gonna feel refreshed after…you know it" you mumble something incoherent in response that that makes Simon chuckle. He gently pries you out of Johnny's grip, helping you up to stand despite your sway.

Simon takes you into the bathroom, putting on the low light setting so it wasn't too harsh on your eyes. "We'll take it slow, yeah?" he asks carefully, his hands holding a gentle grip on your arms to keep your attention on him.

"Yeah…okay" you nod, reaching down to strip yourself of your clothes as Simon does the same. The shower was a lot nicer than you had anticipated, another case of not wanting to get in, but then now that you're in, you don't want to get out.

The warm water on your skin was refreshing just as Simon had promised you, and with the little scalp massage he gave you as he rubbed the shampoo in, was just the cherry on top of it all. The sweet nothing's he whispered in your ear, his steady presence allowing you to just let your brain surf on clouds somewhere else as you took the shower.

He helped you through the steps, dried you off afterwards and got you wrapped in a big hoodie. The one you always wore when it was a bad day, to help you gain back at least a little bit of comfort.

"Better?" Simon mumbles against the hood of the hoodie that you had pulled up over your head. You hold on tight to him, inhaling the scent of his soap mix with the one you used. Letting the pleasant scent wash over you along with the feeling of being clean.

"Yeah…I'm getting hungry though" you mumble back, wiggling in his hold to look up at him. His smile is gentle, like it always is, a soft expression only reserved for you and Johnny in private. A vulnerability he only shows the ones he's closest to, one you love with all your heart.

"Good, I'm sure Johnny's got your food ready" Simon cups your cheek in one hand, leaning down to place a kiss on your lips. A gentle hand between your shoulder blades while he guides you out of the bedroom. Finally, with your eyes more adjusted, the sharper light isn't nearly as much of a bother in the rest of the apartment.

"Good, ye're done then" Johnny smiles bright from where he's standing in the living room, having just put your plate down on the coffee table, after having turned on the TV. Your favourite comfort movie already showing ready to play on the screen.

"Thank you, Johnny," you smile at him, giving him a peck on the cheek before plopping down unto the couch and assessing the meal before you. You had many reasons to love the two men in your heart, but it had always helped with how understanding they were. How easily they went to great lengths to help you out.

They always took such great care of you, assessing your needs and acting accordingly without complaint, while you did the same for them. It was a nice cycle of care and compassion, and being snuggled up on the couch between them, your comfort food near, and with your favourite movie on the TV. Well, there weren't many other places you'd rather be.

#noctmoon fics #Autistic reader #Gender neutral reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x gn!reader #john soap x reader #john soap mctavish x gn!reader #john soap mctavish x you #ghoap #ghoap x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #soap x ghost x reader #ghost x soap x reader #ghost x reader x soap #soap x reader x ghost

[trulybetty]

happy birthday.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader (no description, gif is to set the moooood) Word Count: 1,069 Warnings: 18+ this is soft smut - as is becoming standard, barely read through and posted for your thots Summary: happy birthday Joel Miller, I like to think of this as Sequins x Joel

A/N: on my bullshit again, apparently that whole Frankie situ plus the gif @rhoorl tagged me in has opened the floodgates for more smut. But this is a little softer... because remember, it's canon Joel likes it gentle, steady, nice and slow... 😏

happy birthday.

With his arms caging you in, wet kisses behind your ear, your neck and your jaw as he whispers - Joel moves slowly. The purpose isn't to race to an explosive finish - this is all about long, slow, savouring the moment. His lips explore your skin, kissing, licking and nipping. His teeth barely grazing and you feel a shudder run through you. You love his stubble, the feeling of it grazing you, the way it hurts just a little as it scrapes across your delicate skin. But it doesn't last long as his lips soon return to soothe it. 

The heat of him against you, the weight of him pressing you into the mattress, his cock grazing just–the–right–spot. His lips find yours at the same time, and you groan into his mouth as his hips rock back again, a slow drag that leaves you crying out for him to fill you again. But this is slow, this is Joel taking his time, this is a steady climb.

He kisses you, with such passion and with such pure intensity as he continues to rock into you. When you do catch his eyes on you, the appraising look as he gazes down between the valley of your breasts, where your hips connect, his deep brown eyes melting as he takes all of you in.

His hand, the one that's not cradling your head as he leans on his elbow to hold himself up, is a gentle touch. Despite them being calloused, and rough, his touch feel so soft against your skin as he runs it over you. He brushes his fingers down to your hip, across your stomach, across your breasts, all while he places kisses at your collarbone. 

“Darlin', you're the best gift I could have asked for,” his voice is husky, his breath warm against your ear as he gently nips at your ear.

You bite your lip, the delicious curl of tension between your hips is pulling at your focus, the heady feel of the room, the sound of his laboured breathing mixed with yours isn't helping either.

“But it's supposed to be your birthday,” you suck in a breath as he rocks into you again, hitting that soft spot, you try and catch your breath, “and you're doing all the work.”

You can feel his smirk against your skin, you don’t need to see it to know it comes with the added glint in his eyes, the one that you know means he has something planned, “Oh darlin',” he drawls, that smooth Texan flourish to his voice that manages to tug at something in you every time, “we're far from done here.”

And with that, without warning, he flips you over, and you're now atop him. Those strong hands, the ones that always manage to distract you, they hold your hips as he settles into the mattress and you sink onto him, both of you crying out from the pleasure it brings. You both pause for a moment as you take the other in.

He looks up at you, his eyes full of adoration and love. You lean forward and kiss him deeply, your tongue wrapping around his as the intensity of this moment overtakes you both. 

His hands grip your hips firmly as he thrusts up into you, sending shockwaves through your body with each movement. You ride him slowly at first, savouring the feeling of the connection between the two of you.

You arch your back as the pleasure builds inside you with each movement. Joel alternates between wanting to watch your hips as you find a harmonious pace with his. To the length of your exposed neck when you throw your head back and bite your lip to stave off the impending climax.

But a climax is inevitable, especially given how this build-up started over dinner, dinner with his brother and wife, where you'd chosen to wear that outfit. The one he'd sat up with a little more attention when you'd shown him your options, things were soon going to reach their conclusion.

Soon your breathing is fast and ragged as you start to move faster. You can feel him swell inside you, and you know he's close too. His hands grip your hips tightly, his fingers pressing into soft flesh, as he pulls you down onto him with each thrust and you need to steady yourself, your palms splayed open now on his chest.

“Joel,” you breathe out, “I'm close.”

Joel looks up at you, those dark eyes filled with so much want, so much need, “Darlin',” he groans again beneath you, barely able to find the words to tell you he's almost there too.

You're so, so close, he's so close now too. You're both on the edge, both ready to tip over. You can feel it building inside you, the pleasure that always leaves you breathless and speechless…

You can feel it, you're both so close, it's–

“Oh god, Joel–” you cry out as you slip over that all-familiar edge and it's explosive and you almost want to stop, the feeling so overwhelming that you have to squeeze your eyes closed. Stars behind your eyelids, heat uncurling from the base of your spine, spreading across your hips and it's so warm. It has you hearing static between your ears as the rush washes over you and you fight to catch your breath.

“Shit, darlin',” Joel moans, pulling you back from your euphoric haze, and you can feel him seal his own climax with a few more thrusts into you.

The feel of him pulsing inside you is almost enough to push you over that edge again, but you hold on, you hold on and you ride it out.

You collapse onto Joel's chest, you're panting trying to catch your breath, his breathing is ragged as he tucks his head into your neck. It's a moment you love, one you'll never grow tired of. The afterglow, the closeness and connection of it all. His heart beating fast against yours and you can feel his breath against your neck.

He wraps his arms around you and pulls you tight against his chest as he presses a gentle kiss to the underside of your jaw. 

“Happy Birthday, Joel,” you say, quiet and soft, a kiss to his temple.

His eyes, already on you since they never left, he smiles, “Thank you darlin'.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #sequins!joel #sequins!joel x f!reader

[neverchecking]

That Wild facesitting one was so good omfgjskdkk

It gave me the idea of what if reader thinks the Chain (don’t forget Sage) are just doing so great and wants to give them a reward/gift but doesn’t know what so reader asks what they want.

The Chain ofc are so excited cause THEIR GODDESS WANTS TO GIVE THEM SOMETHING??

As they all think of smt, a couple of them are saying something along the lines of “nothing as long as you’re here we’re happy :)” which ofc reader thinks is so sweet and gives them a hug (cue smug smirks at the other Links bc reader hugged them HA)

As they all mull over their options bc obviously they don’t want to mess up this opportunity, ONE OF THE CHAIN STRAIGHT UP JUST SAYS “Sit on my face” WHETHER INTENTIONALLY OR NOT, EVERYONE IS IN SHOCK AND BEFORE ANYONE CAN SAY ANYTHING— reader agrees red faced bc she loves her boys oh so much ;)

Cue everyone saying they want the same thing bc they would honestly happily die at the opportunity

So sorry if this is a bit much it just came to me

~💚

No-no, don't be sorry, I love requests like these bc the idea of Sage vs. the Chain brings me so much serotonin! Like Mhmmmmm-

Fun fact: someone flagged that post  😭Which you guys can find -> Here!

Sage is TotK Link if you didn't know!

Anyway, smut so MDNI! 18+!

Smut CW: AFAB! reader, face sitting with multiple partners, praise

・❥・So, we all know that Reader has the entire chain wrapped around their finger. No ifs, ands or buts about it.

・❥・Especially after Sage joins them.

・❥・While there is silent fighting between him and the others, they make an effort to show you a united front because you are who they are all fighting for.

・❥・As far as your concerned, they're all buddies. (that was so far from the truth it was laughable, but it kept you happy, so it was the assumption that would remain.)

・❥・That being said, when they're all together in Wind's Era (The boy was at home with his sister and Grandmother, leaving the adults to fend for themselves) and you're in ear shot, they do their best to be on their best behavior. Even if Wild and Sage are shooting the most passive aggressive insults at the other, since, as we've accomplished, Sage is adamant on knowing exactly where your food comes from.

・❥・He refuses to let that failure cook for you. Not when he can do so. He has a bigger repertoire of recipes and more skills to his name than the other does. That...man can barely get through a fucking swim without blacking out because of a memory let alone stay there long enough to ensure your food is as quality as it should be.

・❥・(AN: For legal reasons, I would never think of Wild like this, I absolutely love him with my whole heart. BUT Sage does think like this because he's an asshole.)

・❥・So, while the two are cooking, the others do their own things around the makeshift camp. Weapon maintenance, gathering firewood, admiring your perfect figure as you do nothing but read under a tree.

・❥・ Sage, of course, finishes your food first, settling beside you close enough your hips are touching his. You thank him, eagerly eating whatever was given you (They had to be sneaky about the fighting between himself and Wild, as you had no idea about the tension between them).

・❥・About mid-way through your meal, you set down your bowl, brows furrowed as a troubled expression muddled your features.

・❥・Which just would not stand. Was the meal not to your liking? Was there something wrong? Would they have to dispose of that blasted bastard who dared to try and impose on their territory that good for nothing pest-

・❥・"I feel like I owe you guys some sort of thanks for all of this."

・❥・Oh.

・❥・So he would get to live another day. Pity.

・❥・"You don't owe us a thing, Angel. We are happy to do it." Wars beamed, sitting on your other side regardless of Sage's snarl pointed at him. "No reward needed." The captain smirked, leaning into your space.

・❥・You didn't seem pleased by the answer, brows pinching further together. "...It doesn't seem right."

・❥・"Songbird, your presence is thanks enough." Sky piped up, eyes so wide and earnest, Sage feared he'd cry over you. Again.

・❥・"Airhead is right, Darlin'," The cowboy added, dropping a stack of logs near the fire. "It's a blessin' in and of itself being able to treat you like 'da Goddess you are."

・❥・Sage prided himself on know you though. He knew you well. And he knew you well enough to know that once an idea like this entered your pretty little head, it wouldn't leave. No, not without a fight in the very least. And that was a fight he didn't want to go through. Not with you.

・❥・He just had to pick something that would benefit you more than him, hiding it under the guise of thanking him.

・❥・"As much as it pains me to say this, they're right." Legend piped up, moving to crouch in front of you, easily redirecting your attention from where you were watching Warriors to look at him with his index hooked under your chin. "As long as your happy, we're happy, sunshine."

・❥・"But I don't wanna take advantage of you guys! That would make me no better than Hylia. I can't just ask these things from you without any form of thanks. That's not right." You cupped Legend's cheeks with your own hands, either not noticing or ignoring the way his cheeks lit up under your touch.

・❥・No, you had too much of a heart of gold to let this go. It was what made you so much better than that fraud that placed this destiny upon them in the first place.

・❥・Like a stroke of genius, it hit him. It was too perfect of an opportunity to pass up. While it would sound like it would benefit him, it really would all be for you. It would be perfect. A way to show his true devotion to you. His fidelity and dedication to you, his glorious deity.

・❥・"Sit on my face."

・❥・He wished he had the foresight to pull out his Purah pad to take a picture of your face, which lit up an absolute ruby red as your whipped around to face him. Sage merely shrugged like it was a reasonable request. In his mind, it was. What wasn't reasonable about it?

・❥・Shocked silence fell around the group, some angrily sputtering at the audacity while others had to question if that was a real option.

・❥・"You mooncalf! Have some class, would you?! Especially in the presence of-"

・❥・"Is that what you want?" Wars tirade was cut off by your meek voice as you pulled your hands away from Legend's face. The vet himself looked seconds away from crashing as he caught onto what you were hinting at.

・❥・Sage smirked, something sharp and devious as he cracked his knuckles in front of him. "Absolutely. I think it would be a pretty damn good way to thank me."

・❥・"You don't have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable, Y/n." Hyrule quickly pipes up, stepping closer as he shot a glare too sharp for his soft features at the newcomer. How dare that filth sully you in such a way and how dare he think of it before he could-

・❥・You were silent for a moment, shuffling for a second before letting out a breath. "If that's what you want." You finally decided, and the group was descended into chaos once more.

・❥・Cries of 'that's an option?!' and 'Hey, wait! I want that too!' erupted as the others scrambled to separate you from that degenerate, but he had latched on. His smirk was wide and knowing as he pulled you from Wars and Legend, closer to himself.

・❥・"It's exactly what I want. Now, are you crawling up or am I gonna have to pull you up here, sun flower?" Sage nipped at your neck as your went from ruby to crimson.

・❥・"Right now?!" You squeaked, eyeing the other males around you.

・❥・"You asked, I answered." Sage didn't care. This was a way of staking a claim. Of showing them all that no matter what, he would win. That he would make you feel so much better than anything they could do.

・❥・Silence fell for a second.

・❥・"Dibs on going second!" Was Wild's sudden call before there was arguing once more.

・❥・"Ya can't call dibs!" Twilight barked. "This isn't some sorta playground game where you can call for turns-"

・❥・"Third." Time spoke solemnly, nodding his head slowly. Sage honestly forgot he was there.

・❥・Twilight looked scandalized at the single word before Four was calling his namesake for the turns. Realizing that he either called or went last (Which wasn't too bad of an option in his books), he quickly rectified his horror and instead went to shove Warrior's by the face to call for fifth.

・❥・ In the time it took for him to recover, Sky and Hyrule had already called sixth and seventh respectively. And, with a shake of his head, Legend smirked. "I'll go ninth then. Pretty boy can go in front of me. Besides, you know what they say about saving the best for last."

・❥・"That it'll be worth nothing since it could never top the first." Sage cheekily called back, pulling off his top throwing it to the side so his torso was bare for the world to see.

・❥・"Why are you stripping?!" Sweet, naive you squeaked, trying to advert your eyes. If only they weren't glancing back at the toned abs and chiseled pecs. Oh great golden Goddesses.

・❥・With a chuckle, Sage pulled you closer with firm hands locked around your calves, pulling them apart to slot himself between your legs. Your hips were pulled up onto his lap before he was leaning down, wrapping an arm around you with his hand resting in the arch of your back. He quickly fell back to you were sitting on his chest, your legs straddling his upper chest as he looked up at you with nothing but pure, devious intentions. "For one simple reason, my light." He chuckled pulling you further up his chest as he licked his lips.

・❥・"I don't plan on letting you go until the only name you can remember is mine."

#linked universe #linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe #yandere linked universe x reader #linkeduniverse #yandere legend of zelda #legend of zelda #loz #link x reader #cindersins #yandere lu x reader #yandere four #lu four #lu twilight #lu warriors #lu wild #lu legend #lu sky #lu time x reader #yandere time #lu sage #yandere lu sage #yandere lu twilight #yandere lu four #yandere lu warriors #yandere lu wild #yandere lu legend #yandere lu sky #Wind isn't here bc we aren't creeps people

[maximotts]

𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑚𝑒 ⁘ 𝑤. 𝑚𝑎𝑥𝑖𝑚𝑜𝑓𝑓

a/n: I like Women In Mouth okay that's all, I think. This is yet another self-indulgent drabble turned full fic and I decided I wanted to post it so here ya go. I've had this AU for a while, but it doesn't have a name so.. suggestions welcome if you have any!

80s milf!Wanda AU. masterlist. 18+ only please. wc: 3k cw: mentions of edging and orgasm denial, soft dom!Wanda, perv neighbor!reader, imagined dubcon? [everything is consensual], mommy kink abound, Wanda's v vocal during sex, oral, finger sucking, overstim, face sitting, brief breast play, clothed sex for reader

One thing about Wanda, it wasn't enough to just feel good; she needed to feel euphoric.

"I'm so close, baby! So, so... ah-!" It was her second orgasm of the afternoon, sprawled out over her large mattress as she bucked against your face, wiggling and moaning with reckless abandon. It was torture to be good, to keep your hands curled around her soft thighs where Wanda placed them, but you knew it was all your fault. With all the alone time you'd had, teasing Wanda and drawing out her orgasms didn't seem like such a bad idea, especially after all she asked for was you laid between her legs.

But then you’d edged her time and time again, bringing her so close just to pull away with a smirk Wanda eventually had to slap off your face. She didn't think it was nearly as funny as you did, no matter how precious you looked with her arousal smeared across your flushed cheeks. Now why did you want to be so reckless with mommy, sweetheart? You don't get to be in charge when you refuse to behave.

You'd gone from being allowed free reign to a mere tool for her pleasure, but still you couldn't complain. Not when Wanda still lets you suck on her clit or flick it against the tip of your tongue. "Please can I taste this time, mommy? I'll be good!"

Words slurred and muffled, Wanda barely realized you were talking to her until you were tapping at her thighs for her attention, the signal you insisted on setting once she started asking for more precarious activities. Typically, she was more than willing to be patient with you, but today's stress made her insatiable and she needed you to behave and comply. 

"Fine, fine just stop talking!" Frantic hands buried themselves in your hair, tugging you impossibly closer as she cums after what feels like forever but couldn't be more than a few minutes. Somehow you wriggled your way down to her entrance, lapping all you could before sticking your tongue into her hole, working your tongue in and out while Wanda devolved into a series of pants. 

For a while the world melted away, the sensations of Wanda on your face, in your mouth, and wrapped around your ears making everything else seem inconsequential. You couldn't breathe, but you'd die happy under this goddess of a woman. But then her feet were digging into your sides and it was your turn to tune into her. 

"Too sensitive, fuck you have to stop-" The brunette's words weren't matching her actions, her grip keeping you pressed right against her, dragging you up until you got the hint to latch onto her swollen bud. The moment you did, Wanda's pleas only grew louder, the desperate chants to please stop, please honey! Please it's too much confusing you as she rut against your mouth with reckless abandon. 

You couldn't get away if you tried; each time you did, Wanda's legs wound tighter around your neck, forcing you to fulfill the latest fantasy she'd sprouted. One where you were eager and greedy and ever for her and everything about her, too single-minded to give a thought to what she could handle. It wasn't too far from reality; you already had those exact feelings for her, but you reveled in being shy; a trait she found equally endearing and frustrating. 

Wanda wanted you to let loose, needed it even. This was all an experiment for her post-divorce; she longed to be wild and free how she was denied to be so long and she was sure you'd indulge her, given how she'd caught you staring at her long before she spoke to you, but damn if you weren't intent on keeping that part of yourself away from her. So far. 

"You're gonna make me cum again, I can't, it's too much!" Confusion aside, Wanda in pure bliss was something you never wanted to miss. From the first time you caught her through her guest room window while watering her rose bushes to today, watching her fall apart in the same bed, but with you much closer, she was a sight to behold.

She let you go this time, neck feeling the strain as soon as you were allowed to move it on your own again. Wanda's legs draped heavily over your shoulders still, but you'd deal with that ache later as it came, unwilling to forfeit her lingering warmth. "I'm sorry if I hurt you... I was trying to pull away, but you were holding me so tight—"

"Turn over." Wanda cut you off before you could finish your dazed apology, nudging your shoulders to help flip you onto your back. You were sure she just wanted distance, until her thighs returned to your shoulders and Wanda hovered above you much too gracefully for a woman who just had three orgasms back to back.

You swore you had a question to ask her, but your thoughts rushed away as you followed her hand trail down her naked abdomen to her deep pink pussy, two manicured fingernails disappearing as she sunk them into her oversensitive entrance. She let out a soft hiss while she fingered herself, holding your attention when they drew out and made their way to rest on your quivering lips. "Open your mouth, honey. Mommy has something she wants to talk to you about."

No convincing needed, you opened up quickly, dutifully licking her arousal from warm fingers, but subtlety isn't what she was after. Pushing forward, her fingers bottomed out at the back of your throat and she was ever so pleased when you didn't gag. "I think you're lovely, really I do, but you're holding back on me, aren't you?"

A garbled 'nuh uh' was the most you could manage, mouth too full and brain too fuzzy. "Yuh huh," Wanda mocked, stroking your tongue painfully slowly, "I've seen how you watch me for a long time, how you brush against my breasts and ass 'accidentally'... I've even noticed a few pairs of my favorite underwear missing from my drawers always suspiciously after you babysit."

"I'm not stupid, I figured out you're a dirty little pervert the day I spied you stumbling away from my window." Your cheeks were so hot they felt like they'd melt off, Wanda grinning down at you like she'd caught a criminal. As humiliating as it was to be caught and cornered, her call out turned you on terribly; thankfully, she was sitting far enough up your body to miss how tightly you had your thighs clenched together. 

Wanda saw your embarrassment and laughed, petting your hair with her free hand. "Don't feel bad, darling. Your sneaking around is exactly why I let you into my bed in the first place. I want to see how intensely you feel about me firsthand; tell me how much you think about me, show me how badly you want to get your hands on me, all of it." 

"Unless," the brunette put on a show of a pout, insecurities peeking through for the briefest of seconds. "I don't live up to what you imagined? Is that why you keep hesitating?"

Your eyes went wide at Wanda's last comment, shaking your head so feverishly her fingers fell from your mouth. "No no, not at all! You're so pretty I don't know what to do with myself!" Desperate hands pawed at her hips and backside, anywhere you could reach to reassure her. "I don't want you to be too much for you is all."

"Be too much for me, I dare you." You nodded, agreeing to her challenge easily. If Wanda was on board for more, you had more than enough ideas to last a lifetime. "Good girl, now let's practice. What exactly did you do with my stolen undergarments?"

"I, um," Wanda stared down at you with so much curiosity; clearly she wanted a real answer... so you'd give her one. "I thought they looked pretty and soft so I took them home."

"And did what with them?"

"Wanda—"

"I know this is new, but you know my name, sweet thing. Tell me what you did with them." She was sitting low enough to feel her wet heat above your ribs, tantalizing warmth reminding you all too well of what you'd imagined that night after you darted out of her bedroom. "Now, baby. I don't have all day."

"I just wanted you so bad, mommy," It started as a moment of desperation, really. After an afternoon facing Wanda in shorts and a near see through shirt as you worked side by side in the yard, you were dangerously overheated and it wasn't from the summer heatwave. 

When she let you freshen up in her bathroom, you rationalized Wanda wouldn't miss one singular pair, but one turned to two and with your third last night, she must've put the pieces together. "When I got ready for bed, I took it out of my pocket and I couldn't help myself! I was only going to use them a little, but they felt so nice and then I started thinking about what they'd look like on you and how you never let me take yours off and how much I just want to touch you."

The truth was tumbling out faster than you could keep up, your embarrassment rising as Wanda's pupils dilated, eyes lidded as she listened to your dirty deeds. The only reason you kept going was how obvious it was riling her up all over again, "You stopped me earlier, but that's all I want to do with you! Just play and figure out what makes you feel best so I can do it over and over again. When I came, all I could think of was you doing it with me, having you in my mouth while fucked myself silly."

Wanda's legs were already trembling, but they worked long enough to settle above onto your face, silencing any further confessions. "Stick your tongue out, sweet pea, I'll show you exactly what makes me feel best."

She had minimal knowledge of the receiving end of oral, the majority of her hands-on experience coming from you and what she'd heard from friends. But Wanda thought about it often for years, bringing herself to orgasm countless times grinding against her pillow and wishing it was some pretty girl's face; now that she had you, she'd be a fool not to use the gorgeous face right in front of her. 

Still sensitive from earlier, as much as she wanted to make it last, she knew she couldn't. Still, Wanda wouldn't let it stop her from quelling the heavy pit she'd grown in her stomach after listening to you speak. Clit cautiously grazing over the rough surface of your tongue, Wanda sighed, once again using the top of your head for support as she started to grind deliberately, "Who knew I had such a naughty girl for a neighbor, stealing my clothes just to go home and dirty them all up..."

"Is that what you really want to do? Get mommy all dirty and messy? Keep me like a needy housewife you can get off to everyday?" You agreed as much as you could, wanting nothing more than to use her like she was describing so crudely.

As she spoke, one of your hands snuck into your shorts, shaky fingers running over your neglected folds. It wasn't that you didn't want her to know what you were doing literally behind her back, but you didn't want her to stop you either. You tried to keep quiet and it was working well until you processed her wetness dripping down your chin and you moaned, the vibrations turning her attention to just what you were up to. "Oh you perverted little thing, you really can't help yourself, can you?"

But Wanda's condescension was only surface level; seeing you masturbate to her was even more powerful than hearing about it. She wanted to be loved, adored, lusted after, worshiped even, if she was completely honest with herself, and you would give it to her. Turns out all you needed was a little push. "Go on, show me how you touch yourself when you miss me."

Her validation spurring you on, you finally began purposefully working yourself up in hopes of finishing together, but Wanda beat you to it. Playing with her own nipples sent her over and she came in a long stuttered groan, hips having long lost their rhythm. 

She was thoroughly spent, but your free arm held her in place just as she did with your head and suddenly Wanda was trapped to endure a barrage of kisses to the sore spot between her legs. "I need to sit, honey. I can't do anymore..."

"Not yet, wanna cum like this." If Wanda wanted you to use her, you would, forcing her to remain still while you took your turn with your own fantasy. You rolled your fingertips over your swollen bud in time with your tongue on hers, ignoring her cries and pushes at your shoulders. Even though it'd be your first, your orgasm wasn't far off, having held off all afternoon in favor of prioritizing the older woman's pleasure. 

"You can't, baby no please don't-" Your lips sucked her in and Wanda's cries weren't fake anymore, the overstimulation quickly bordering on pain. Just before it did, you let up, opting to put your tongue inside her once more, teasing her slick walls while you pumped two fingers into your own cunt; the mirror image of what you'd dreamt up mere nights ago alone. 

"Feels so good, too good.." Wanda grunted as your tongue pushed deep, filling her with such a unique sensation she was almost scared she'd pass out. She hated herself for stopping you doing this earlier, having been too impatient to think of anything but how badly she needed release; next time she'd remember how positively perfect it felt to lazily rock her hips while you thrusted in and out and trust you to do as she pleased. "Please cum for mommy, sweetheart! It's gonna hurt soon, please please, 'need you to cum for me—"

"'m so close.. do it with me, just one more time, please-!" A few curls of your fingers had you falling apart, squirming under Wanda as you whimpered against her fluffy sheets. Vaguely you could hear your lover's melody of noises and when you finally dropped your arm, she fell backwards, landing on her mattress with a definitive flop. 

The only sounds in the room were from the two of you slowly catching your breaths, Wanda's hands folding over her stomach as a series of dull cramps swept over her. "I suppose I told you to be too much so I can't scold you for that," Wanda weakly swatted your thigh, propping up on her elbows just in time to catch you moving to wiggle out of your shorts. "Ah ah, what do you think you're doing?"

She stops you in your tracks, elastic waistband snapping back on your hips. "Taking these off? They're sticky..."

"Aw, my poor little love, did you get yourself all messy?" Shyness back now, your head barely budged as Wanda sat up and stretched; but your eyes never left her full chest... and Wanda noticed. "If you keep staring, I bet you'll ruin any new ones I give you and that'd just be a waste."

Upsetting as it was, you knew better than to argue with her after you'd put her in such a blissful mood. "I know, I'm sorry, mama." It was a term you had yet to say aloud, but the admonishment you feared never came. Wanda only crawled her way up to recline against the headboard, beckoning you to lay across your lap which you did readily. "Can you take my shorts off at least?" 

"Only because you did such a good job today. Lift up," Wanda guided the cotton shorts down until you could kick them off yourself, freedom from the thick fabric making you a little less uncomfortable. Still, the remaining ruined fabric felt heavy on your upper thighs, the feeling worsening each second you rested so close to Wanda's bare breasts. It was so hard to keep your cool when she was right there and your brain kept churning. "You just never stop, aren't you tired?"

You shrugged, kissing along her rib cage as she gently cradled your head with one arm, humming contentedly when you felt her fingernails stroking over your hips and thighs, "It takes a bit more for me to be tired, I think."

Wanda kept quiet, wondering how she could possibly keep you in her bed longer. A slip of her fingers over your clothed sex gave her just the idea she needed. One slow nudge of her nipple brushing your lips was all it took to encourage you to take it, licking the bud to its peak with ease; she'd picked a girl with a talented mouth who loved to use it. 

Temporarily distracted, you didn't notice Wanda's hands slipping under your panties until she was spreading your folds, her touch as loving as it was teasing. "Since you're wide awake, tell me all about these thoughts you've been having about me, honey. Answer my questions well and I'll tire you right out."

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff au #milf!wanda maximoff #milf!wanda au #motts writes. #maximotts

[melancholy-of-nadia]

love u lately (m) #8 | myg/knj/pjm

title: love u lately​ chapter title: #8 - split pairing: yoongi x f. reader, namjoon x f. reader, jimin x f. reader (yoonminjoon x f. reader) rating/genre: m (18+) ; smut ; college/university au , pseudo frat! bts; best friends! yoonminjoon friends to lovers; summary: Your dilemma of trying to decide between Yoongi and Jimin was already stressful enough, but to add Namjoon to the mix, has you slowly falling apart emotionally, mentally and academically. When your university's Annual Valentine's Day Night Market event opens up the opportunity to spend time out with Yoongi and Jimin, will you finally be able to tell them how you feel? Or will your own indecisiveness lead you all to a falling out? warnings:  LONGEST CHAPTER SO FAR, reader is anxious and stressed throughout this whole chapter, breakdown from stress, fluffy lowkey date stuff, MORE CONFESSIONS, kissing, THE LONG AWAITED THREESOME, MLM kiss, bro helps put on lube on other bro, vaginal fingering, breastplay, ball fondling, eating out, blow job, dick slapping, possessiveness, double vaginal penetration, reader on BC, Yoongi and Jimin reassurance through it, pet names, clit stimulation, double creampie, uh i think that's it a lot happens, oh yeah...eventual angst, alcohol consumption, arguing, pettiness, secrets revealed, namjoon? note: everyone, please say thank you to @daegudrama for editing this chapter and fixing the smut because i can barely write smut! total word count: 14.8k drop date:  March 2nd, 2024, 1:30PM PST cross posted on AO3 here ← #7 | Series Masterlist | #9

February 12 [Tuesday]

The atmosphere in your business communications class is tense, and you can feel the pressure of your stressed thoughts hanging over you. You’re supposed to be presenting a case study on a local cafe from your hometown where you used to work at in high school. The topic revolves around marketing and finance initiatives to enhance the cafe's traffic and sales. This includes a presentation and paper deliverable. 

You stand at the front of the room, a faint sheen of nervousness glistening on your forehead. The slides projected on the screen behind you outline various strategies to revamp the cafe's image and attract more customers. Yet, your words stumble, and your sentences lack the usual confidence you had the semester prior. Professor Michaelson, a stern figure in the business world who now teaches as a side hobby, observes with a critical eye.

As you fumble through the presentation, you catch the gaze of JB watching you with an expressionless demeanor. Great. Nice to see your ex-crush is silently judging you. He adds to the pressure, making you acutely aware of the less-than-impressive performance you’re delivering. The weight of recent decisions, or lack thereof, regarding Yoongi and Jimin looms over you, clouding your ability to focus on any of your school work these days.

Professor Michaelson raises an eyebrow, signaling his dissatisfaction with your lackluster presentation. "Is there a reason you're not fully engaged today, Y/N?" he questions, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

"I, uh, apologize, Professor," You stammer, attempting to regain composure. "It's just been a bit hectic lately."

"Life happens, but it's crucial to maintain professionalism, especially in a business setting." he admonishes. "Proceed with your presentation. We'll discuss your performance afterwards."

The classroom clock ticks away, each second stretching into an eternity. As you continue stumbling through the slides, your mind involuntarily keeps drifting. Fuck, why is it so hard to come up with the right words to say? At some point, you feel like you’re rushing to reach the end without even trying.

“Thank you Y/N, that was enough. Good work.” Prof. Michaelson interrupts right as you’re on your final slide.

Oh no, it was bad bad.

The ordeal finally comes to an end, and you step back to your seat. You always told yourself you wouldn’t let your relationships get in the way of your academics, but now, it finally has. And you are so fucked.

As the class progresses, you try to shake off the lingering embarrassment. Each step feels heavier as you leave the classroom, disappointment with yourself settling like a stone in your chest. Once the class ends, Prof. Michaelson hands you a graded rubric with additional comments. You don’t bother reading them and just rush out of the classroom, feeling tear threatening to roll down your cheeks.

And once you’re out of the building, they do.

Your own letdown sits heavily on your shoulders. In that moment, you wish you could rewind time, erase the awkwardness, and salvage whatever dignity remains. But could you have done any better? As you wipe away a frustrated tear, you can't help but wonder how you let things spiral out of control.

++++++

“Maria! I don’t know what to do!” you exclaim, your voice laced with exaggeration. Amidst the bustling environment of the dining commons, you feel anxious, playfully pushing Hwasa back and forth as the two of you navigate the lunch line. It’s usually not that busy on Tuesdays, but today it is. 

Hwasa, undeterred by the apparent crisis, responds with humor, “Switching to my Catholic name?! Oh, girl, you really do need some salvation.” She laughs, effortlessly maneuvering through the crowded space as she fills her tray with an array of buffet options.

“I’m being serious here! I honestly can’t pick either of them and I also can’t give Namjoon an answer. And this whole thing has been bothering me to the point I just failed one of my big projects for business comm!” Frustration bubbles in your tone as you slam your tray down, earning curious glances from other students in line.

“Oh God, okay.” You two walk over to an open table and sit down on opposite sides of each other. “Maybe reject them all? That’s the safer option right? No one will be truly hurt especially because you’re emphasizing not ruining your friendship. And you all move on, date other people and still maintain that friendship! The end.”

“Yeah…” You pick at your food with your fork aimlessly, not making any effort to eat it. “I don’t even know if we could ever be the same as we were before this…deal.” “But were things even the same before you decided to fuck Yoongi?” Your eyes widen, darting around to ensure no familiar faces are within earshot. “Hey, hey we’re in public! Someone we know could hear us.”

Hwasa sighs, lowering her voice. “You were already uncomfortable when Namjoon and Jimin were seeing people and wanted to get more serious with those girls. Yoongi clearly liked you before that party too. I wouldn’t doubt the other two also had those feelings before that, but were just better at hiding it. I don’t think there’s any ‘normal life’ to return to before you all started to address the elephant in the room.”

She’s right.

There was already something there whether you noticed it or not. At some point in time, the idea of liking you was planted in their heads, and eventually growing into love. You just don’t know when and while you hold a lot of love for them, you’ve always pushed the idea of romantic love for them aside as it didn’t seem realistic, or even good to think about. Keeping it platonic was easier anyways.

Up until recently, though, when whatever pent up sexual frustration and desires took charge on your relationships with two of your best friends.

“You’re right. I’m just going to have to acknowledge the risks and deal with the consequences of my horniess and feelings.”

Hwasa chews her food before responding matter-of-factly, “And whatever happens, I will be there to comfort you! You can use my boobs as a pillow and spill your tears onto me.”

You laugh loudly. “Always appreciate knowing you will be there during my lowest lows with your chest as comfort.”

You both finish lunch and head over to her dorm to rest before your next class in an hour.

“So…is your decision coming before or after the Valentine’s Night Market?”

The Valentine’s Night Market. You had totally forgotten that Hwasa invited you and the boys to come by for one of ASU’s – the student org she’s in – annual night market event. It was mixed celebration for Lunar New Years and Valentine’s Day here.

"Oh, Valentine’s Night Market. Totally slipped my mind," you admit, realizing the distraction of your personal matters overshadowed the upcoming event.

Hwasa grins, "Well, I’m tabling and selling kimchi fried rice and hotteok. Do you still have some time to help out a little? Just for the first hour! Jieun will take over after!"

You don’t have any set plans to hang out with Yoongi and Jimin besides saying that Valentine’s Day is the day, so you might as well tell them to come to the event and hang out with you there. It could make things less suspicious to others. You also wonder what Namjoon’s plans are so you can avoid any distractions that day too.

"Yeah, sure, I can help out for a bit. But, let me check with the guys about it." you say, pulling out your phone to send a quick message in the Sanctuary group chat.

You [1:15 PM]: Hey, what plans did you guys have in mind for Valentine’s Day evening? There’s the night market event on campus, and I’m helping Hwasa table for the first hour. You guys should come and we can hang after?

While waiting for their responses, Hwasa continues, "Please! I hope they say yes. Plus, it'll give you time to think about your decision more. Trust me; selling hotteok is like therapy." Your laughter punctuates her words, easing the tension.

Not long after, your two best friends respond back.

Yoongi [1:21 PM]: We wanted to wait to hear what you had in mind and do that, but this sounds good. We’ll be there.

Jimin [1:22 PM]: Yeah, let’s do that. Beats sitting around and overthinking.

With your plans in place, you turn back to Hwasa.

"Looks like I can work the shift!"

“Fuck yeah! I appreciate you helping out, let’s try to get everything sold.”

The anticipation for the event in two days starts building, and you both dive into more detailed planning and strategizing. Hwasa's vibrant personality coupled with her contagious excitement feels motivating, and you find yourself getting into the spirit and readiness to confront your feelings.

++++++++++++

February 14 [Thursday]

If only your anxiety would be weaker than your drive for motivation.

The soft rays of the setting sun filter through your bedroom window, casting a warm glow on the floral print ruched spring short dress you twirl in front of the mirror. It was a gift from Yoongi for Christmas, paired with the long star earrings Jimin gifted you. The whole ensemble makes you feel delicate and coquette. You feel a little embarrassed to find yourself dressing up for this, but you figured if you might as well go all out for what could be the last day you do something like this.

You’re on a mission tonight.

After doing a soft makeup look, you grab your small black flap bag walking downstairs. 

You texted the house gc earlier letting them know you'd be out helping at the night market. Hoseok responded saying he'd be there too because his dance club group was doing a cover performance. Seokjin mentioned he’s also going to be there tabling for Kappa Psi Pi. Jungkook and Taehyung were going out bar hopping with a few other guys hoping to get lucky for the night. Jimin and Yoongi said they would be in the library studying for a midterm, which didn’t raise any suspicions, surprisingly.

As for Namjoon…

“Tiny, where are you going all dolled up?”

You are caught off guard by Namjoon's call from the kitchen where he is eating a bowl of cut fruit. He stands leaning against the doorway, looking at you from head to toe, licking his lips after each juicy bite of fruit. Is that melon? When your eyes leave his lips to look into his gaze, you become frozen. Huh? This never happened to you before. What an interesting thing to see how his actions leave you feeling a little nervous now, especially after what he confessed to you not that long ago.

“I’m helping table for V-day night market with Hwasa at 7:00, then I’m going to enjoy the event after my shift.”

Namjoon nods, his gaze holding a mix of understanding and something else. “That…sounds pretty fun.”

“What about you?” Namjoon forgot to respond to the group chat, so you’re curious to hear of his Valentine’s Day plans. You don’t think it will involve him on a date after his confession, so you wonder what else he has in store.

He sets his bowl down and steps closer, whispering near your ear and causing a shiver down your spine. You’re suddenly more alert than you were previously.

“I wanted to spend time with my Honey, but that will have to wait.”

You’ve heard his low raspy voice many times before, but for some reason, it feels very erotic in this moment. If he commanded you with this voice all the time, you would do whatever he pleases. Your breath catches, and questions swirl in your mind. Hold on, what does he mean that will have to wait? For what?

Before you can seek clarification, he adds, “I’m going with Soyoon, John and San to a live art gallery event up in the big city. John’s band friends are going to play.” 

“A-Ah, I see.”

He gets up from his leaned position and looks at you softly. Has it been a long time since Namjoon looked at you with that much love and care in his eyes? You feel like he’s become much more serious with you since you started college. This act feels nostalgic.

He pushes a few loose strands behind your ear, “Don’t get jealous okay?” He chuckles, his signature dimples coming into sight.

“Huh?! I wasn’t even thinking that!” you stammer, attempting to brush off the implication despite failing as your face blushes.

In this moment, he pulls you into a tight hug. Your cheek presses against the fabric of his gray shirt, and you soak in the comfort he provides. It feels so nice. So safe. After a long time, in his arms, you feel at home.

“Well whenever you’re ready, I’ll be there no matter what.”

You assume he’s talking about you answering his confession from the trip.  

Whenever you’re ready, he says.

“Thank you Joonie.” You sigh deeply into his chest, words sounding a little muffled.

Could it be that Namjoon’s the true answer to all your problems, not Yoongi or Jimin? But it still doesn’t feel right. No matter who you end up ultimately picking, you still feel like you won’t be happy. Even if the other two guys say they will be happy, will they actually be okay with seeing their two best friends happily in love?

And if you end up with one of them, what’s to say the relationship will last? What if you two fall out of love for each other and ultimately break up? Will you be all alone at the end this time, no best friends to lean back on to help you rise up once again? You hate to admit how much Yeonjun’s after image lingers in your mind whenever you think about the future of a relationship. Despite how he was just a brief happening in the summer breeze, the lasting impact of his final words remain.

You bid goodbye to Namjoon, who leaves first as John’s ‘96 Toyota Corolla stops in front of the house to pick him up. Soyoon waves to you excitedly from the back seat as she sits next to San. 

As the car fades in the distance, you walk in the opposite direction to campus.

After walking for about 8 minutes, the quad comes alive as you step onto its paved pathways, filled with the vibrant tapestry of the Valentine's Night Market. Strings of twinkling lights drape across the trees, casting a warm glow. Stalls adorned with heart-shaped decorations and bursts of red and pink hues line the paths, creating a whimsical atmosphere.

As you immerse yourself in this enchanting setting, a mixture of emotions washes over you. The sweet aroma of various treats wafts through the air, enticing passersby. Stalls offer an array of delectable delights, from cotton candy in shades of pastel to heart-shaped cookies intricately decorated with icing. The scent of hotteok wafts from Hwasa and Jieun's stall, where they expertly flip the sweet korean treat on a sizzling griddle.

“Oh! Honey! You’re here–” Hwasa pauses, checking you out from head to toe. “Looking cute as fuck, bestie!”

“Thank you.” You reply sheepishly, using your arms to flatten your dress from any wrinkles. “The whole setup for the night market looks so cool this year!”

You look up and all around, colorful lanterns sway gently overhead with wishes and messages from students written on small notes. The gentle breeze causes them to dance in the night, adding to the ambience of the market. The gentle hum of laughter and conversation blends with the cheerful melodies of the band playing at the very center of the quad.

A few Carnival rides spin and twirl at the far end of the quad, their lights tracing intricate patterns against the night sky. The Ferris wheel, glimmering in pink and red, stands tall, offering couples a romantic view of the campus from above. Nearby, a carousel with whimsical creatures invites laughter from those enjoying a nostalgic ride.

Various booths offer interactive experiences, adding an extra layer of fun to the festivities. A photobooth machine captures candid moments against a backdrop of sparkling hearts, while a fortune-teller booth held by the Harry Potter club promises glimpses into the future. Students crowd around games of skill and chance, trying their hand at winning prizes that range from plush toys to heart-shaped trinkets.

“There’s carnival rides too?” You gasp seeing them in a section beside the built stage at the center of the quad.

“Yeah, we got a few international students who joined this year willing to fund for better stuff.” She leans in close to your ear and points carefully at two people named Giselle and Ten standing around another booth. “So you better go enjoy it after! We also have a few bands playing, so even more reason to stick around.” 

“That’s so cool! I’ll keep that in mind!”

Hwasa hands you a cute apron with hearts and stars from a box below the table. "Okay. Time to make those hotteoks, bestie! I have Peniel and Junny handling the kimchi fried rice, so don’t worry about that."

You walk around to enter the tent then tie the apron around your waist. You stand next to the griddle gradually heating up. Hwasa takes charge of coordinating orders and managing the flow of customers. The scent of sizzling batter and sweet fillings fills the air as you expertly flip the hotteoks, ensuring they are cooking to perfection. 

Peniel stands in the next table over, clad in a stylish apron with the words "Best Chef in the World" emblazoned on it, working diligently at the adjacent stall, skillfully frying up batches of savory kimchi fried rice. Junny sits while on his phone as he waits for people to come by and order. The enticing aroma of Korean spices wafts through the air, drawing in hungry students with each tantalizing whiff.

After a while of a couple of orders coming in, Hwasa glances at her watch and nudges you. "I need to run to another booth to get more change. Can you handle this for a bit?"

"Uh, sure!" you respond, taking the cash box and flashing a reassuring smile. As Hwasa disappears into the bustling crowd, you focus on the task at hand, jotting down the few orders you get and going back to the grill. Dammit, why did she have to leave you like this until God knows when?

Suddenly, two familiar figures approach the stall, dressed in outfits that catch your eye. 

"Angel isn’t getting any orders." Yoongi speaks first with a grin, his eyes lighting up with surprise and amusement.

Jimin chuckles, “I guess it’s a slow night for our darling."

“H-Hey–” You pause as you check them out.

Yoongi sports a black bomber jacket that complements his laid-back aura. Underneath, he wears a simple white tee, creating a clean and modern look. Paired with dark jeans and sleek Airforces, his overall ensemble has your eyes glued to him. His hair is also in a bun, which you hadn’t seen him do before. Has his hair grown that much?

When you turn to glance at Jimin you see he’s opted for a varsity jacket that injects a dose of sporty charm into his outfit. Jimin’s black hair is slowly catching up to the same length as Yoongi’s. The jacket, with embroidered details and a slightly worn appearance adds character to his look. Beneath the jacket, Jimin wears a snug-fitting black shirt, with distressed jeans and comfortable converse sneakers to complete the look. 

They look so fucking good. The urge to pounce on them is high, and you wonder if it’s your hormones talking. They’ve been yapping all day keeping you at your wits ends. You wish you were done with your shift so you can go run off with them, but you still have another 25 minutes to go. Lost in thought, you don’t realize that your gaze lingers on them for more than a mere moment. It isn’t until Yoongi notices and chuckles. Shit, they’re going to tease

"Cat got your tongue?" he teases, a smirk playing on his lips.

You roll your eyes, trying to mask the blush creeping up on your cheeks. "Uh, I'm just appreciating the fashion show you two decided to put on tonight."

Jimin grins, nudging Yoongi. "Well, you know we always dress to impress.” Jimin jolts slightly as he remembers something “Oh right! Here, we got you something.” 

Jimin holds out a small bouquet of pink roses, their sweet fragrance wafting through the air. "These are for you," 

Yoongi follows suit, "And these are from me. We thought they might brighten up your evening."

The corners of Yoongi's lips lift into a warm smile as he reaches behind him, handing you a small vibrant bouquet of sunflowers – a burst of yellow that seems to carry the sunshine itself. 

Your heart swells with gratitude as you accept the flowers. "Thank you both," you express genuinely, fingers gently tracing the petals of the sunflowers. "They're beautiful, just like the two of you."

Jimin’s cheeks tint with a subtle blush, and Jimin chuckles, playfully nudging him. "Looks like our darling is smooth with words too. Must be how you’re getting customers tonight"

As you place the bouquets in the back table, you're drawn back to the present, realizing you're still on your shift. "Oh! No, actually, tabling has been pretty slow overall!" you exclaim, eager to change the subject to calm your heart down. "Hwasa's off getting change. But is there anything I can get you guys while you're here?"

"Can we get you now?" Yoongi bluntly asks.

Yet again, you find yourself caught off guard by his boldness. He never used to be like this, but ever since you two started this deal, you feel like you awakened another side of him.

“Sorry boys,” You shut down the flirting efforts, instead playing hard to get. “Unless you wanna help me sell these hot…buns? Then maybe I could finish faster and go?”

"You know what, Honey? We'll help you out," Yoongi declares, rolling up his sleeves with a mischievous grin.

Jimin joins in, "Yeah, we can't let you work too hard on Valentine's Day."

You chuckle, appreciating their willingness to lend a hand. “Come around back and get to work then!” 

This actually proves to be a good idea for you. Once they start working, they start to bring in a crowd of people. The two men take turns flipping hotteoks, playfully teasing each other and engaging customers with their charisma. Jimin, with his infectious smile, handles customers with so much ease, while Yoongi adopts an exaggerated seriousness as he grills, drawing amused glances from onlookers. You’re left in awe at the efforts of your best friends and how reliable they are. 

When Hwasa comes back, she’s amused at the sight bringing in so much traction. 

As you all finish with a good chunk of the orders, she finally steps inside the tent and you hand her the stack of orders you all took. “Thanks to these two, we've made an impressive number of sales. I think this is my cue to go?” You look at her with stars in your eyes, hoping that this will be enough t satisfy the greedy tiger that is the treasurer of ASU, Ahn Hyejin

“I guess you have done your part, Y/N.” She turns to face Yoongi and Jimin. “Now, go enjoy the night with her! I have some people coming in at 8 to handle things from here."

You and your three best friends nod at each other and leave the stall to go explore the rest of the night market, which is now filled with more people. Couples stroll hand in hand, sharing stolen glances beneath the glow of the market lights. You wonder if you’ll ever get to experience something like that. Laughter erupts from other corners filled with various groups of friends exploring diverse offerings. Everyone’s creating memories that will linger long after the night has passed. Will this night be a good memory for you three as well?

In that moment of many thoughts, you feel Yoongi and Jimin’s fingers gently interlace with yours. Oh? Not “Oh” in a confused way, but “Oh” as a casual remark of an action that’s filled with normalcy. It’s something that feels just so natural for you three for as long as you’ve known each other. Your hands in theirs as you weave through the lively crowd of the night market embraced with its infectious energy leaves you feeling at ease. 

"You look adorable in that dress, Y/N. We didn't even notice what you were wearing under the apron earlier," Jimin remarks, flashing his signature eye smile as he stops walking. Yoongi chimes in, "Yeah, the gifts we got you suit you well."

Blushing at their compliments, you glance down at your outfit, feeling grateful for their attention to detail.  “O-Oh, thank you. I just felt like it was the right day to wear it.”

See? There’s times where comments, no matter how normal they may seem for long time friends, will actually get you flustered. Damn their words of affirmation hitting you right where you feel it.

As you wander through the stalls, Jimin spots a photobooth and suggests capturing a few memories together. His eyes gleam mischievously as he proposes, "Hey, why don't we take some photos? You know, like old times."

“Like the times we would take photos in the photobooth after we saw a movie at that run down theater in middle school?” You giggle.

“Exactly like that. You would always make us take those!” Yoongi reminisces.

In the spirit of spontaneity and nostalgia, you agree, and soon, you three find the empty photobooth with a charming backdrop, pay the small fee and enter it.

The first photo captures all three of you in silly poses. Yoongi throws a peace sign, Jimin puckers his lips in an exaggerated kissy face, and you make bunny ears behind Yoongi's head. Laughter erupts as Jimin clicks the photo, freezing that moment of carefree camaraderie.

For the second shot, you find yourself sandwiched between Jimin and Yoongi, each of them throwing a peace sign while you sport an exaggerated surprised expression. 

For the final shot, Jimin eyes Yoongi, seemingly having a pose idea that you’re unsure of. Yoongi nods curiously. Jimin positions himself on one side of you, and Yoongi on the other. Milliseconds before the camera clicks, Jimin and Yoongi simultaneously plant soft kisses on your cheeks. After the shutter goes off, the moment is frozen in time on the strip as it comes out of the photo booth machine. For a split second, you're caught off guard, the warmth of their lips leaving a lingering sensation on your skin. The shock registers on your face, captured perfectly in the photograph.

"Wait, what!" you exclaim, your eyes widening in shock. 

"Surprise!" Jimin grins, stepping out to grab the photo.

"Yeah, gotcha." Yoongi adds, a playful glint in his eyes.

Your initial shock turns into shy laughter as you realize the mischief they've just orchestrated. "Hey! That was so uncalled for…"

Jimin chuckles, "Gotta keep things interesting, right?"

Yoongi smirks, "Consider it payback for all those times you surprised us being a minx."

You burst out laughing, which leads to them into a laughing fit seeing you feeling happy. Agh, they always gotta tease and expose you like this! You playfully swat at them, still processing their unexpected actions.

After leaving the photo booth, the tantalizing aroma of freshly baked bungeo ppang fish bread catches your attention. The scent triggers a childhood memory, and you excitedly share, "Hey, let's stop by this stall! I haven’t had a bungeo ppang since I was in elementary school."

Yoongi and Jimin exchange amused glances, remembering your tales of childhood cravings. You ate so many when you would go over to Yoongi’s house because his mom would make dozens of them for their church fundraisers. You even got the nickname “little bungeoppang” from Yoongi’s mom because of this.

The club's fish bread stall boasts an array of flavors, from traditional red bean to modern twists like chocolate and custard. They order a variety, hoping to recreate a bit of nostalgia for you.

While enjoying the warm, sweet taiyaki, you notice a towering structure at the far end of the quad—the Ferris wheel. Your eyes light up with curiosity, and you turn to Yoongi and Jimin, "What do you guys think about riding the Ferris wheel? I've always been a bit nervous about heights, but with you two, it might be fun."

Jimin grins, "That sounds like a great idea! We can keep you company and make sure you feel comfortable."

Yoongi adds, "Don't worry, we'll be right there with you. It'll be a fun experience."

Encouraged by their reassurance, you join the line for the Ferris wheel. It’s not a gigantic ferris wheel that you’ve seen at amusement parks, but it’s fairly midsize that would let you see a large portion of campus up at the highest point. The anticipation builds as the line inches forward, and soon, it's your turn to board one of the colorful gondolas. The Ferris wheel slowly ascends, offering breathtaking views of the night market below.

Is it the worst moment to admit that you’re a little scared of heights? Probably. You know you wanted to ride this, but now that you’re on it. You’re a little anxious. It’s not even that high! Get it together, Y/N.

Your fear must be easily sensed, because Jimin decides to wrap an arm around you, offering support, while Yoongi holds your hand on the other side. You wait for them to make fun of you for wanting to ride the ferris wheel despite being scared of heights, but those words don’t come. 

As the gondola reaches its peak, you glance at your university campus and down at the bustling market, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. Yoongi whispers, "Look at that view, Angel. It's beautiful, isn't it?"

With their comforting presence, the nervousness begins to fade, replaced by a sense of joy and exhilaration. You’re okay. You’re safe with them. The Ferris wheel ride becomes a shared adventure, a moment suspended in time between the colorful lights and the starry sky.

As the Ferris wheel descends, you all step off and exit the area. It’s a relief to be touching the ground once again. You tag along behind Yoongi and Jimin and become the person to recommence the hand holding once again.

In the distance, the rhythmic beat of a live band permeates the air. The music carries a unique blend of energy and emotion, drawing you all toward the center of the quad where the performance unfolds.

Yoongi tilts his head, recognizing the sound. "That sounds like Sammy's band," he remarks, his ears attuned to the familiar tunes. With curiosity guiding your steps, the three of you make your way to the source of the music.

As you three approach the middle of the crowd watching the performance, the silhouette of the keyboardist catches your eye, and you're taken aback. It's Yijeong, playing alongside Sammy's band. You shoot a puzzled look at Yoongi, who smirks, "Sammy asked for Yijeong's number this morning. Dojoon got food poisoning, and they needed someone to cover for him."

The stage is bathed in a warm, golden glow, and the crowd buzzes with anticipation as the band gets ready for their next song. 

“We are ‘The Rose’! Or ‘Windfall’...we haven’t decided on our official name yet. My keys guy got food poisoning so a good friend came to cover. We have two songs coming up next. One is a cover of one of my favorite songs and the other is an original song written by us, so enjoy!”

The first chords of the cover song, "Pristine" by Snail Mail, resonate through the speakers. Sammy’s, the lead guitarist, fingers dance effortlessly across the strings, conjuring a haunting melody that seems to linger in the night air. The drummer – which Yoongi comments is Hajoon – sets a steady beat, creating a rhythmic foundation that anchors the ethereal atmosphere.

As Sammy begins singing, his voice filled with both vulnerability and strength wraps around the lyrics. Each word is like a brushstroke on a canvas, painting a picture of longing and introspection. The crowd, drawn into the magnetic pull of the music, sways in unison, a collective dance to the emotional cadence.

Internally, you're caught in the vortex of emotions. The lyrics of the song, like a mirror reflecting your own inner turmoil, resonate with the complexities of your relationships. The notion of wanting to be one with someone echoes the silent desires you've been grappling with, a yearning for unity in the midst of uncertainty. You can’t be with just someone. You realize you have to be with them. But why is the answer so obvious, yet feels impossible?

When the song finishes, The Rose transitions seamlessly to their original song, "I Don't Know You.” Sammy’s voice takes center stage, followed by bassist Jaehyeong pouring raw emotion into every note. The melody weaves through the air, intertwining with the radiance of the lights above. The keyboardist, Yijeong, adds a layer of depth, his fingers dancing across the keys like a silent storyteller.

With each lyric, you find yourself pulled deeper into a contemplative state. The longing expressed in the music mirrors your own inner conflicts. I want to know you.  It's a phrase that reverberates within you, a sentiment that resonates with the intricate dance between friendship and something more.

In the midst of the performance, you glance at Yoongi and Jimin, their eyes reflecting a shared understanding. You wonder if the song is hitting them as much as it’s hitting you right now. The energy from the stage lets your surroundings become a realm where emotions are laid bare. Yoongi and Jimin both hold internal diaries with thousands of words that have not been said aloud.

The chorus swells, and you're compelled to reach out, gently tugging at their arms. The gesture, a silent acknowledgment, weaves seamlessly into the fabric of the music. The lyrics, "Do you want me? Your lover who will never change. Even your bitterness, makes me obsessed," echo in your mind, prompting introspection and a deepening realization.

Suddenly, against the backdrop of the music, Yoongi and Jimin exchange glances, and a shared realization flickers in their eyes. The intensity of the performance and the emotions it evokes push them to reveal what's been lingering in the air.

“Y/N, I’m in love with you.”

“I’ve loved you for a long time, Y/N.”

Jimin and Yoongi speak simultaneously, though Yoongi says a slightly different declaration. You’re speechless. You had anticipated hearing these words after being able to connect the dots, but to actually hear them. At this moment, it’s surreal. This feels like a dream. You don’t want it to end. Because when it ends, things might not ever be the same. And that scares you.

While their words of confession are simple, their love conveyed more in the language of shared gazes and repressed emotions that leave you with a myriad of questions. Even though you had a feeling, you are still left awestruck. The melody, the lights, and the atmosphere seem to crystallize in that moment, etching the beginning of a new chapter.

I love you. Despite such a simple three word phrase, you can’t sayt it right now, You can’t even gather all the words you want to say right now. Maybe because you feel nervous right now, but you will save it for when you go home. And that’s now. You all need to go back now. You need to be somewhere where you can throw all your love and make it known how much you care for them. You just can’t do that here.

The urge to go to the sanctuary that will let you liberate your feelings before it feels like it’s too late.

Without any other words, you respond with a smile, bright and with hidden intentions. “Let’s go home?”

With no questions asked, they seem to understand your intentions and take you away.

+++++++++++

The atmosphere in your room is heavy with unspoken emotions as you all made your way back home from the night market. The walk is quiet, with occasional flustered glances exchanged between you, Jimin, and Yoongi. The air is tense with anticipation and uncertainty.

Upon entering your room, the tension lingers. You go sit in the center of your bed and gesture your two friends to join you on it. It takes a moment to collect your thoughts, wanting your own words to sound heartfelt before breaking the silence. 

"Yoongi…Jimin…." That sounds too serious, but there is no way to just confess something that has probably been 10 years in the making without you really realizing it.

Jimin looks at you with a mixture of hope and anxiety, while Yoongi maintains a calm demeanor, his eyes reflecting understanding. You take a deep breath, grappling with the weight of your decision.

"I don’t even know what to say, but I appreciate both of your confessions.” You pause for a moment, letting out a sigh, before continuing, “I want to say I love you both too. A lot. More than I ever thought I did before, and this whole deal really opened my eyes to those feelings.” You glance at both of them, trying to gauge their own reactions to your words. In a way, it’s like reassurance to convince yourself to keep going. You’d probably crawl into a hole and die if maybe you heard wrong earlier and now they’re incredibly confused as to why you’re saying this.

But it’s not like that at all. Yoongi’s cat-like smile right now is one of those things that has always reassured you when you were uncertain in the past.  His eyes turn glossy, while trying to put up a composed exterior, as he patiently waits to hear you say more. Jimin, on the other hand, becomes flustered from hearing your confession. You notice him fidgeting with his fingers and biting his lips, which is something he only does when he’s feeling shy. If only you were aware that every beat of their hearts echo in silence and anticipation. 

“I never imagined myself in this situation,” you admit, “But it’s clear that my feelings have evolved so much after realizing the small things that you’ve done for me, not just recently, but ever since I met you two. And eventually I realized that I love you two in different ways as well.” You take a deep breath, attempting to articulate the intricate dance of emotions within your heart. 

“Yoongi, you’ve always felt like my other half.” You confess further, “It’s like we’re always in tune with each other’s thoughts and feelings. I feel like you complete parts of me that I couldn’t find on my own.”

"Especially during those times when my relationships soured and I struggled trying to socialize with new people," You admit, your voice taking on a more reflective tone. "You were there for me, Yoongi. Your understanding and steadiness became my anchor in those turbulent moments. When I felt lost, your presence brought a sense of calm and assurance. You've seen me at my lowest, yet you never wavered."

You reach out towards Yoongi’s hand, thumb tracing the back of it. "Jimin, you're someone who makes me feel so free," you confess, a genuine smile playing on your lips. "You've always managed to coax me out of my shell, and without you, I don't think I'd be the person I am today."

Jimin's eyes light up with a mix of gratitude and happiness.

“And," you add, a hint of playfulness coloring your tone, "I can't forget that you were my first kiss. It was a moment filled with happiness and warmth, a memory I cherish deeply. You made me feel safe, and I truly always look back to that time when we were young and innocent."

You lift up your hand to caress Jimin's cheeks, which flush with a rosy hue. A mix of surprise and joy twinkle in his eyes.

"Thank you for sharing your feelings with us," Yoongi speaks first, his voice a gentle melody that resonates in the room. "It means a lot to know that I mean so much to you in that way. We've been through so much together, and knowing that feeling is mutual is the greatest feeling ever."

Jimin shares his gratitude as well and adds, "I never expected to hear such beautiful words from you. It's like a dream come true knowing that you love me and think about those things too.”

They’re so sweet, you think. A part of you internally questions if you’re really deserving of their love, but you push it away. You can’t let anything stop you right now. “There’s a lot more I want to know from you, but for now, I wanted to ask if we could do something before…this all ends.”

Curiosity sparkles in their eyes as they turn their attention to you. "What is it?" Yoongi inquires, his voice filled with a blend of interest and anticipation.

Jimin, on the verge of voicing his thoughts, begins, "Is it..."

“Could we…try a threesome?”

The suggestion hangs in the air, catching them off guard. Jimin's eyes widen, surprised by the proposal, while Yoongi raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement playing on his lips.

"W-Wow…holy shit…" Jimin stammers, his cheeks turning a subtle shade of pink. “Say no more, I’m fucking down.”

You chuckle nervously, "Really? It’s just for tonight. A final hurrah before…whatever happens."

Yoongi smirks, "Well, that's unexpected. Are you sure you're up for it? I mean, I’m willing to do it."

You nod nervously, determined to bring a sense of ease to the situation. "It's our last night under this deal we have. I’m also on birth control so we could try anything and everything. So whenever you’re ready—"

You stop speaking as you notice their eyes darken slowly, lust hidden behind them. Without a word, their actions become synchronized, and the atmosphere shifts subtly.

Jimin, always the bolder one, is the first to make a move. His lips press against the sensitive skin of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. You inhale sharply, the unexpected warmth of his kiss catching you off guard. Meanwhile, Yoongi's gaze remains fixed on you, a mixture of desire and uncertainty in his eyes.

As Jimin's kisses trail up toward your jawline, Yoongi gets closer, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on your waist. The room is filled with a soft, anticipatory hum as their actions synchronize, creating a symphony of sensations.

Their lips meet at the curve of your jaw, and for a moment, there's a gentle collision of their lips. It catches you off guard, though Jimin doesn’t seem too shocked and Yoongi remains neutrally curious. You find yourself gradually immersed in the experience and wanting to see how things could go.

Before things can get more interesting for you to see, their lips soon meet yours in a shared kiss that starts tentatively. An initial awkwardness you felt asking for this melts away, replaced by a growing sense of connection. The taste of both Yoongi and Jimin on your lips creates a unique and intoxicating blend. Sweet, intoxicating and sinful.

Yoongi unzips your dress from the left side and both men begin removing your dress, their hands move with a synchronized urgency. As your dress falls away, you sit there before them in nothing but your lingerie, vulnerable yet empowered by the raw desire written across their faces. You feel a rush of heat flood your cheeks as their gazes linger on your exposed form, their desire palpable in the air.

They immediately begin undressing themselves, losing to their own lust, throwing their clothes on the floor and pushing you down on the bed. Yoongi begins fondling your breasts, fingers inching toward your core. Jimin on the other hand, frees your right breast from your bra cup and attaches his lips to your nipple.

"Mmph," your moan escapes your lips as you arch your back, feeling the heated, sloppy kiss of Jimin's mouth all around on your tit. He's unrelenting with his hold and you are helpless under his touch. Your breasts have always been so sensitive that it makes you nearly lose it already. The idea of you so weak for him and nobody else that you can’t even stand. The sensation continues to shoot through your body like an electrical current, making your core clench and your hips buck slightly.

Yoongi inches closer, his gaze never leaving your face as he keeps one hand gently kneading your breast while he uses the other to slowly begin tracing circular patterns over the lacy fabric covering your clit. The anticipation is almost unbearable, building a crescendo of desire that threatens to consume you. You need more of them.

With a sudden urgency, you pull them down onto the bed, your eagerness surprising both of them. Their soft laughter only fuels the fire as you straddle Jimin to kiss him more, your hands grabbing his hardening cock under you and giving it several strokes. He deepens the kiss almost immediately and as soon as your mouth opens for him, your tongues brush against each other in fervor. It's so sloppy and carnal and just simply pornographic, but it's also filled with enough emotion and intimacy to make your knees buckle. You move your hand to massage his balls in time, and he nearly keels over, mouth falling open. He lets out a gasp when your thumb circles his throbbing tip. 

On the opposite end, Yoongi kneels down, his free hand lifting your hips upwards before his mouth leans in and meets your swollen clit.

You hear smacking sounds immediately, and combined with how this feels, his skillful lips and hands have you crying out, squirming, and grasping onto Jimin for dear life. Yoongi called this ‘taking you to Hong Kong”. You still don’t know why, but fuck, does he do it so well. It’s literally your favorite thing in the world since this deal started.

With his tongue licking and circling your clit, you know you aren't going to hold on much longer. He moans against your hard bud, enjoying this just as much as you are. His fingers dig into the soft skin of your ass spreading them apart adding yet another sensation. You try to not let the coil in your stomach release wanting to hold onto this feeling for as long as possible. It feels somewhat embarrassing if you’re the one cumming so much so soon.

Though, it’s inevitable that you’ll go insane from all these different sensations.

The intensity of the moment is palpable. You continue devouring Jimin’s lips, feeling his body heat and sweat against yours. Yoongi removes himself from you, denying the orgasm from coming. But you’re too focused on Jimin to worry about it, which makes Yoongi irritated.

This leads to him slowly sliding up beside you and gently running a hand along your ass, his fingers grazing the lace of your panties. The sensation is electrifying, and you can't help but moan softly into Jimin's lips.

"You want more, don't you?" Yoongi whispers seductively into your ear. His voice is low and rumbling, sending shivers down your spine. You nod eagerly, unable to find the words to respond.

“Hehe…Darling’s so needy,” Jimin pulls away from the kiss, giving you a knowing smile. In perfect harmony, the two men begin to undress the remaining lingerie, their hands moving with a fluid movement, their eyes never leaving yours. You feel vulnerable and exposed, yet simultaneously aroused and empowered by their desire for you.

Their fingers gently caressing your skin, you feel an electric current running through your body. They lay you down on the bed, positioning you on your hands and knees, facing the large mirror on the wall. That cursed mirror that you had once faced previously, though just with Yoongi.

You take a deep breath as you see your reflection, your arousal evident in the flushed skin and dilated pupils. Yoongi moves in behind you, his hands on your hips, pulling you closer to him. You feel his erection against your ass, a silent reminder of what is to come.

Jimin kneels in front of you, grabbing his cock and slapping it across your cheek, bringing your attention back to him. And he says you’re the needy one. Ha. You aim your head towards his waiting length and open your mouth. He thrusts in slowly, filling your mouth without trying to make you gag on it. Not today!

As you begin to suck on Jimin's cock, you feel Yoongi's middle finger slide into your pussy, mimicking the motion of your mouth. He pumps his finger in and out, with each second making you go into a trance. The tiny moans you let out at just one finger pushes him to add another right next to it. The way your walls contract as if fighting back against him pushing and pulling and spreading you open is driving him insane. He wants to feel it for himself, squeezing and milking him for all he’s worth. Your sounds of pleasure fill the room when you pull your mouth away from Jimin to control your breathing.

“Make those pretty sounds louder. You already know how much I love to hear them.” Jimin coaxes you further. You’ve known he gets off on your moans since the first day you fucked him.

Yoongi watches your reflection in the mirror, a mix of lust and satisfaction playing across his face. He's always been fascinated by the way your body responds to him, the way it seems to crave his touch.  He feels euphoric whenever he gets to fuck you like this, but even more right now.

Jimin’s aware of Yoongi’s possessiveness as he watches this exchange, his heart pounding in his chest. He wants nothing more than to fuck you and even him if the opportunity presented itself. Though the latter is not for today. It would be a dream to just do this in the future and give his best friends the pleasure they so desperately crave.

As you continue to suck Jimin's cock, Yoongi increases the pace of his fingers thrusting inside you. You feel like you're on the edge of something incredible, a pleasure so intense that you can barely breathe. He's unrelenting with his grip and you are helpless under his touch–his fingers are pumping faster and faster until you’re a trembling mess. Yoongi holds your hips up with one arm to keep you stable.

After your quivering stops, he pulls out his fingers.

“Mmh.” You groan around Jimin’s dick, which entices him to go faster.

“Hold on. You’ll get what you want. Be patient.” Yoongi chuckles in response as you whine from the loss of feeling him. After, he positions himself behind you, his cock throbbing against your entrance. He pushes himself inside you, filling you completely. You moan around Jimin's cock, the sensation of being filled by both of them in different places is overwhelming. Yoongi grips your hips, setting a leisurely pace as he watches the mirror. You glance upwards at Jimin, whose head is thrown back in his pleasure. Your fingers dance across the toned muscles of his stomach before gripping his hip urging him to push further.

Jimin pulls out of your mouth when he feels himself getting close. He doesn’t want to finish in your mouth. He’s done that many times before, and wants to change things up. There’s something that he has in mind that he wants to try.

He moves towards Yoongi and tells him that he wants to trade positions, telling him to lay under you instead. Yoongi immediately gets what the younger man is plotting and moves to position himself under you, his cock glistening with your juices. He lines himself up with your entrance, slowly pushing into you. A soft moan falls from your lips. This new angle hits new spots inside you. When Yoongi doesn’t immediately thrust, you rock your hips watching carefully for a reaction on his face. He grabs your hips holding you in place as Jimin situates himself behind you. “Darling, is it okay if we try double penetration?” Jimin asks, very shyly.

Your eyes widen a bit. You haven’t tried this with either of them before simply because the thought of it scared you and you also thought it was unsanitary. So you haven’t done this with anyone. You don’t know if you’re ready for that tonight. You’re honestly more open to doing it in one hole for now…Wait could you even do it? Could they both fit… Well it’s worth the shot. 

“Could you guys do it in the same… hole?” You try to word out. This feels embarrassing. Your horniess is going to jump out the window trying to have this conversation. Please just agree to it, guys.

The two men sense your timidness and nod.

“Yeah, that sounds more exciting.” Jimin smirks.

“We’ll try it.” Yoongi moves some strands of hair behind your ear to have a better view of your face. God, you’re glad they can’t see you blushing so hard in the darkness of this room with only the moonlight coming in.

“There’s lube in my bedside table.” You mumble not wanting to believe you are saying that out loud.

Both men raise an eyebrow and you playfully hit Yoongi’s chest. Behind you Jimin opens the drawer to retrieve the lube without a comment.

“Damn, Y/N, were you planning this?” Yoongi smirks and you lean forward to kiss him so he won’t be able to say another word. 

He takes his opportunity to hold the back of your neck and thrust into you until you have to pull away. Your moans fill the air only fueling the fire inside of Yoongi and Jimin. After a few more seconds Yoongi pulls you off his cock and against his chest stroking your hair. Behind you Jimin opens the lube bottle squirting a generous amount onto his hand. You hear the bottle click shut and he tosses it to the side. 

Your head lifts enough to see Jimin stroking his cock in the mirror. Yoongi’s grip on you tightens momentarily as a shocked gasp is pulled from his plump lips. With a look over your shoulder you see Jimin coating Yoongi’s cock with lube. His small fingers wrap expertly around his best friend’s length. 

There’s definitely something here you need to uncover in the future, but for now, you enjoy their acts.

When both men are properly lubricated you guide Yoongi back inside of you. He slips in easily and Jimin carefully lines himself at your entrance, and very, very slowly pushes his way in. Oh no, there’s a sting already. You feel a few tears pooling as you try to accept more of him. Fuck. You don’t think you can do this.

“Angel, it’s okay. Just take a deep breath and relax your body. Take as long as you need.” Yoongi reassures you and you nod. Things like this remind you why you love this man so much.

You take his advice, taking short breaks in between to get comfortable as Jimin keeps going. You feel both of them filling you, their cocks stretching you wide. Once they’re fully in, you wait a bit to adjust to the sensation, taking deep breaths to relax yourself. It feels so weird, but so comforting. It’s something you can’t explain unless you experience it.

Yoongi starts to thrust, his cock slamming into your pussy with quick force. Meanwhile, Jimin starts to match his pace, his cock sliding in and out of you in perfect sync with Yoongi's thrusts.

You cry out in pleasure, the sensation of being completely taken overcoming you.

You can't help but scream as the ecstasy builds inside you. Your body starts to shake, and you know you're close. Yoongi and Jimin are not far behind you being much more vocal than any other time you’ve been with either of them. This must feel just as earth shatteringly pleasurable for them as it does for you.

"Fuck, yes!" Jimin growls as he slams into you, his eyes locked on your reflection in the mirror. "That's it, take it all! You’re so good!" His voice is deep, hoarse with desire as he watches your arousal grow with each thrust.

Yoongi’s eyes never leave yours, his expression a mix of pleasure and anticipation. He thrusts deeper, harder, feeling your muscles clench around him as you near your release.

"Fuck, angel, you feel so amazing," he whispers, kissing your sweat-slicked forehead.

Suddenly, the three of you are lost in the throes of passion, your bodies moving together in perfect harmony. The sounds of flesh slapping against flesh fill the room, mixed with your gasps and moans of pleasure.

Just as you think you can't take any more, Yoongi and Jimin both pick up the pace, their bodies moving with a rhythm that's both primal and beautiful. You can feel their erections throbbing inside you. Yoongi takes this opportunity to start kissing your breasts and sucking your nipples. Jimin moves his hand under you to flick at your clit, adding an extra layer of stimulation that sends you over the edge.

Your body tightens around them, signaling that you're about to cum. Yoongi and Jimin feel your muscles contracting around their cocks, and they know that you're about to explode. They both thrust harder, trying to push you over the edge.

"Fuck, I'm going to cum!" Jimin growls, his hips bucking wildly. "Finally going to fill you up!"

"I'm close, too," Yoongi gasps, his eyes locked on yours. "You feel so fucking good, angel."

Your body trembles uncontrollably as they continue to fuck you, their cocks hitting your sweet spots over and over. The pleasure builds and builds, until finally, you can't take it anymore. 

“F-Fuck! Mmh!” Your orgasm explodes once again through you like a lightning bolt, your body shuddering and quivering. Almost simultaneously Jimin and Yoongi finish inside you. The sensation of their cum fillig you to the brim feels so odd, but equally satisfying. Jimin collapses onto your back panting in his euphoric post orgasm haze. 

Jimin pulls out first watching as the mixture of his and Yoongi’s cum drips down the length still inside you. Yoongi pulls you off his length watching as your legs quiver their cum trailing down your leg as he lays you beside him. Jimin goes into your bathroom to grab a towel, dampens it in water, and dabs it gently on your lower regions to clean. Feels as if the evidence of what transpired earlier is being erased. Just like when the clock struck midnight and Cinderella’s transformation became undone. Though, it’s not even midnight right now.

With a soft sigh, you lay down beside Yoongi after Jimin finished cleaning you, your body trying to get comfortable on the bed. The sheets beneath you are a soothing touch against your skin and surprisingly, not really wet at all from the orgasms. You can even feel the residual warmth from the shared moments with Yoongi and Jimin.

Jimin, attuned to the unspoken rhythm of the moment, gracefully positions himself on your other side. He mirrors your movements, creating a seamless transition as he settles beside you. The bed becomes a canvas for this intimate tableau, the three of you forming a gentle embrace.

Now, you find yourself sandwiched between the two men who have become such integral parts of your life. Imagining the scene right now in third person feels weird to think about. The afterglow of shared experiences paints a soft glow on each face, and a sense of tranquility permeates the room. The warmth of their bodies on either side of you creates a space of comfort, a sanctuary. 

With a synchronized movement, both Yoongi and Jimin turn onto their sides, facing you. Their arms encircle you in a tender embrace. You really do feel so safe here in their arms. Their fingers trace soothing patterns on your skin, and their touch becomes a delicate dance, a silent expression of their feelings for you.

As you bask in the post-intimacy tranquility, Jimin breaks the serene silence. His voice is a gentle murmur, "So, about what we talked about earlier... any thoughts on who you're leaning towards?" His eyes, a mix of hope and excitement, search yours for an answer.

Many thoughts flood your mind about what to say, and you take a deep breath before responding, "I…still need another day, Jimin. It's not an easy choice. I think this whole thing made it harder for me to decide…" Once you finish speaking, you can sense the disappointment that flickers across both of their expressions, but it's Jimin's reaction that stands out. The excitement that had danced in his eyes begins to fade, replaced by a subtle irritation.

Yoongi nods in understanding, his expression stoic. "Take the time you need, Y/N. We want you to be sure."

Jimin, however, turns his back to you, a silent gesture of frustration. Despite staying in the bed, the shift in his demeanor is noticeable. He remains present physically but seems to withdraw emotionally. Unable to ignore the tension, you decide to address the unspoken. "Jimin, are you okay?" you inquire gently, your voice barely above a whisper. His back remains turned to you, a subtle resistance in his posture.

A sigh escapes him, and he shifts slightly. "Yeah, I'm fine," he mumbles against your pillow, his voice a delicate blend of resignation and disappointment. It's too obvious that he’s not okay with this.

Yoongi, sensing the undercurrents, tightens his hold around you, offering silent reassurance. He understands the complexity of the situation, respecting the need for time and clarity.

In the quiet moments that follow, Jimin speaks up again, his voice softer this time, "I just thought... I don't know. It's frustrating, that's all."

 His vulnerability becomes more apparent as he wrestles with the emotions stirred by the unfolding events.

You reach out, your hand gently finding its way to Jimin's shoulder. The touch is a tender acknowledgment, a silent assurance that the complexities of your emotions are not lost on you. "Jimin, I promise to give you guys an answer soon. I just need a little more time…” You think you should tell them about Namjoon telling you he’s in love with you. Transparency rule, right? They would understand you want to think this through more knowing how this is a tough decision. “Namjoon told me he likes me awhile back. He told me I didn’t have to give him my answer right then and there, but now that’s also been stressing me lately.”

Jimin, still facing away from you, visibly tenses at the revelation. It's as if the room, already steeped in complexity, has become even more intricate. Yoongi's grip around you remains steady, but you can feel him tense up a bit from the mention.

"Namjoon?" Yoongi's voice carries a mix of surprise and, perhaps, a hint of insecurity.

"Why didn't you tell us sooner?" Jimin, still facing away, speaks, his voice edged with a touch of frustration. "I... I wanted to figure things out on my own first before bringing it up," you admit, your gaze shifting between Yoongi and Jimin. "It's not like I kept that from you intentionally. I just needed some time to process and evaluate everything."

Jimin remains silent for a moment before speaking, his words measured, "Evaluate things now that you're considering him too?"

Yoongi nods, his expression unreadable. "This doesn't make things any easier for us." he remarks, a hint of weariness in his voice.

He's right, and you know it. Maybe you shouldn’t have opened your big fat mouth. But you had to be honest with them about what’s been going on. Taking a deep breath, you continue, "Namjoon is our best friend too, and I don't want to ignore his feelings. I need to figure out what’s the best thing to do and how it might affect all of us."

Your words hang in the air as you all settle into an uneasy silence. There’s just too much right now leaving you grappling with uncertainty. With a shared understanding that words might not provide the resolution needed at the moment, you decide to let the night take its course.

Yoongi, sensing the need for a change in the atmosphere, suggests, "Let's get some rest. We can talk more tomorrow." He turns to face away from you and wraps himself up more with the blankets and sheets on your bed.

Jimin, still facing away from you, doesn’t say anything. 

As you lay there, staring at the ceiling, you can't help but wonder if there’s even a good ending in store for you. You think through hundreds of different scenarios, but can only imagine hurt at the end of them. Sleep eludes you for a while, the pressure of your decision stressing your mind.

The room gradually quiets down, and the soft sounds of nighttime take over. 

+++++++++++

February 15 [Friday] You wake up the next morning, entangled in limbs and surrounded by the body warmth from the men who made love to you the night before. You are still half-asleep when you hear a voice calling out your name. 

“Y/N…” 

When you get up, your eyes bulge out from the immediate sight of Jungkook at the foot of your bed. 

“Jungkook? What the fuck.”

You’re so close to yelling, but quickly remind yourself where you are and what day it is. It’s your room at the Beta Tau house and it’s Friday. Wait fuck! Why are Jimin and Yoongi still in your bed? The jolt you did in reaction to Jungkook causes the two men beside you to wake up. Yoongi looks grumpy as he slowly gets up, while Jimin cutely rubs his eyes. Once they make eye to eye contact with Jungkook, they’re wide awake.

“Y/N… Jimin…Hyung… you all need to be more careful.”

“Jungkook, how the fuck did you get in here?” Jimin groans.

“Through the door like a normal fucking person.” Jungkook looks at each of you and sighs. “I knew about Honey and Yoongi that one time, but when the hell did this all happen?”  

“Long story.” Yoongi takes this time to respond, rather shortly as he puts his hands through his hair. “I’m not even going to ask right now. It’s 7am in the morning. I was about to go to the gym before class, but saw Jimin didn’t even come back last night and his location was off. I was worried so I came in to ask you and then I see this…” You’re not going to lie, you feel embarrassed that you got caught like this. “Anyways, get back to your rooms before anyone else notices.”

“Jungkook…” You look at him with sincerity in your eyes.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to blabber about this. I wouldn’t want to cause anything bad in the house.” He reassures you and leaves the room. Yoongi and Jimin get off the bed, get dressed and exit the room. They don’t address you as they leave, which leaves you feeling a bit hurt. But you can’t blame them. They were definitely expecting you to pick one of them. Now you told them Joon’s in this …”competition for your affections”. And you said you’d need one more day to give them a response. You wouldn’t be too surprised if they’re mad, even if they’re not explicitly showing it. But you’ll do it today. Nothing will stop you today!

++++++++++++++++++++++

Anxiety gnaws at you more with time.

As the day progresses, you find yourself immersed in thinking about your school work, while the unresolved situation with Yoongi and Jimin lingers in the background. Despite the attempts of your friends to engage you in conversation during lunch, you can't shake off the cloud of unease that shadows your thoughts.

After your only noon Friday class, you join Taehyung, Namjoon, and Jin for lunch on the lawn behind the Redwood Literature Hall. The atmosphere is somewhat warm as the sun shines brightly. The laughter and casual banter between the guys fills the air. However, your mind remains preoccupied, distant even as you nod and smile along with the conversation.

Namjoon, perceptive as ever, seems to catch on that something is bothering you. Instead of directly addressing it, he smoothly transitions the conversation, attempting to involve you more.

"So what game are we playing for Friday Night Game Night?" he asks, a twinkle of excitement in his eyes.

"Huh?" You're momentarily caught off guard, the shift from your internal thoughts to external conversation a bit disorienting.

"What? Did you forget we scheduled game night this week, Tiny? We've been trying not to miss doing this at least once a month with everyone," Namjoon chuckles as he reminds you. 

"I'm sorry. I've been busy thinking about school work."

"You don't have anything tonight, do you?" Namjoon inquires.

"I..." The truth is: you don't want to have game night tonight. It's ironic how, just a few months ago, you were in Namjoon's shoes—eagerly asking if people would join game night and witnessing the waning interest in one of your favorite pastimes with the Beta Tau boys. Skipping out now might raise suspicions, especially since you assume Yoongi and Jimin will be there. Running away from the situation is not an option.

"No, I don’t. Maybe we could play drunk Jenga with the rules on the blocks? I think it's in Hoseok’s room. I'll ask him for it later." you suggest.

"Ooh, we haven't played that since last year!" Taehyung chimes in, with food in his mouth before swallowing.

"Sounds chill then." Namjoon continues eating some of the salad in his bowl before adding, "Wait, I'm going to have to leave game night a little early because I have to finish helping San and John with a film project in the library. Gonna pull an all-nighter. You guys won't mind?"

"No, we don't mind!" You and Jin say in unison, reassuring him. 

"Yeah, go help them. You won't miss too much, well maybe Jimin getting naked or something." Taehyung's playful remark elicits laughter from the group, momentarily lightening the atmosphere. You join in the laughter, appreciating the effort to inject some levity into the conversation. As you all finish your lunch and head separate ways, you continue to prep yourself internally to confront them with a final answer. But when?!

+++++++++++++++++

Before you know it, you’re there.

Night falls, and all the boys gather around the expansive U-shaped couch in the living room of the Beta Tau house. The room is bathed in lighting of string lights hung haphazardly across the walls. Jin hung them months ago after he found out how much nicer the house looked with ambient lighting on at night. The music resonates from the Samsung TV, streaming from someone's Spotify account—most likely Jungkook's, given how similar the songs are to your music tastes.

On the coffee table sits an array of American and Korean snacks, creating a tempting spread that the guys start to grab. The assortment includes chips, popcorn, and desserts, complemented by an enticing mix of beer and soju. You grab one of the Strawberry flavored sojus and take a sip out of it. Mmm. Still gives you trauma from your first college hangover, but you need it to get through this night. Your eyes shift to Yoongi and Jimin, who sit to your right, conversing with Namjoon and Jungkook. You haven’t talked to them all day and you’re wondering if something is actually up beyond what they say.

Sudden anticipation rises as Hoseok makes a grand entrance, unveiling his stash of hard liquors from the top kitchen cabinet, eliciting cheers and excitement from everyone in the room. Hoseok, holding up a bottle of whiskey, interrupts the banter, "Enough chit-chat. Who's up for some real fun?"

Taehyung, his eyes gleaming with excitement, exclaims, "Count me in for anything that involves these bottles." He starts looking through all the bottles..

“You really went all out tonight! Some of these are expensive as fuck.” Jungkook, clearly impressed, examines a bottle labeled "The Yamazaki" and asks, "Hyung, how did you manage to snag this one?”

“My sister’s boyfriend gifted this one to me.” He giggles, grabbing shot glasses to place on the table for everyone. "Enough about that, we're doing shots out of this whiskey.” He gestures for everyone to grab a glass as he pours everyone up. Raising their glasses in the air, Jin proposes a toast, "To being single, wild, and free!"

That’s…for fucks sake. 

The room falls into an awkward silence as everyone stares at Jin, confused by the unexpected toast. “What? Are we not single, wild, and free?”

“Hyung, it’s...that was just weird.” Jimin narrows his eyes, clearly puzzled by the sentiment.

“Just take the shot already, guys!” Jin chuckles, his ears reddening from embarrassment in the face of the disapproval of his toast. The room erupts into laughter, breaking the brief awkwardness, and everyone throws back their shots, the smooth whiskey burning down your throat. The hints of fruit to the wood-like taste made it somewhat bearable. You’re definitely a soju and wine girl. You don’t know how the guys love hard liquor.

As the whiskey warms everyone up, the group gathers on the floor around the coffee table, where the Drunk Jenga tower awaits its fate. The wooden blocks contain a unique challenge or rule at the bottom of it that you must do when you decide to move it.

Namjoon, already showing signs of tipsiness, gives the tower a skeptical look. "This better be worth the trouble."

Jimin, on the other hand, seems more excited, his eyes glinting mischievously. "Come on, Kim Namjoon, where's your sense of adventure?"

The first few turns are light and easy, with challenges like “Arm Wrestle", “Make an animal noise” and "clothes swap". The atmosphere is lively, and the guys are getting into the spirit of the game.

As the rounds progress, you all reach for your drinks more frequently, the clinking of glasses punctuating the room's growing merriment. The initial caution around the game transitions into a more carefree atmosphere as bottles are passed around and everyone takes hearty swigs between turns.

Namjoon, always one to embrace a challenge, starts pouring stronger drinks for himself, Yoongi, and Jimin. "Let's spice things up, boys!"

The room resonates with laughter and cheers as the alcohol takes its toll. Yoongi, normally reserved, finds himself loosening up, his witty remarks becoming bolder. Jimin, with his playful nature, encourages everyone to take bigger sips, and everyone starts getting more suggestive blocks.

The tower, now a precarious construction of wooden blocks, becomes the focal point of the party. Namjoon, fueled by liquid courage, seizes a block that reads, "Twerk on a table."

A hush falls over the room as Namjoon considers the challenge. Without a second thought, he positions himself on a sturdy table, sending the tower into a swaying frenzy. The guys watch in a mix of shock and amusement as Namjoon begins a twerking performance, his moves dangerously close to toppling both the tower and the table.

Jin, caught between laughter and concern, yells, "Namjoon, be careful! We can't afford to lose the Jenga tower yet!"

Namjoon, lost in the moment, twerks with unbridled enthusiasm, nearly bringing chaos to the game. The room erupts in cheers and applause as he completes the challenge, stumbling off the table with a triumphant grin.

As he gets off the table, he seems to be out of it, but then sobers up suddenly to say, “Fuck, I gotta go meet up with the other guys. I’m gonna call it a night for me!” 

Everyone bids him goodnight as he probably won’t be back until the next morning. He grabs a jacket, a hangover drink from the fridge and water before you watch him head out the door. You hope he’ll be fine.

You all continue playing, the tower becomes less stable. It was Yoongi’s turn next. He pulls a block with finesse, reading it aloud, "Kiss, Marry Kill? You mean Fuck, marry, kill?"

Taehyung grins, rubbing his hands together, clearly enjoying the chance to make Yoongi spill. "Alright, pick 3 of Honey’s girl friends."

Uh what. Did he just seriously just ask that? You immediately raise an eyebrow at Taehyung for saying such a thing, but he doesn’t notice.  Wait, is it bad that you're reacting like this? But that’s so weird to ask in general. 

"I don't think I can answer that." Yoongi responds directly with a cold tone. He grabs one of the bottles of soju from the variety pack next to the table in preparation to pour in his shot glass as he chooses to take a drink instead of answering. It makes sense to you why he wouldn’t answer, given what he confessed the night before. 

Though, the tension in the room becomes palpable as Taehyung's question hangs in the air, seeming to try to think of a way to convince him to respond. The playful atmosphere takes a sharp turn, and you can sense Yoongi's discomfort with the unexpected question.

A tense silence lingers for a moment before Jimin, unable to resist the opportunity to stir the pot, chimes in, "Why not, Yoongi? It's just a game. Scared your choices will upset someone?"

What’s he up to? You don’t get what he’s talking about. He must be drunk. You see Jungkook and Hoseok rush to get water to sober him up, sensing trouble. Taehyung and Jin sit there watching, unable to move as they’re also confused as to why Jimin is trying to incite something.

You shoot Jimin a sharp look, your patience wearing thin. "Jimin, he can answer it if he wants. It's just a game."

He smirks, an edge of bitterness in his tone, "Yeah, just a game. Just like this whole situation we’re in, right?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Your eyes narrow, the playful atmosphere taking a sour turn. 

Yoongi, sensing the escalating tension, intervenes, "Alright, enough. Let's not ruin the night with unnecessary bullshit. I’ll take the shot and we move on."

The other guys are very confused at the sudden argument happening. Oh god, if Jimin doesn’t shut up right now, everyone’s going to find out.

You roll your eyes, growing weary of the veiled remarks. "Jimin, seriously, just drop it. This is not the time or place. It’s Friday Night Game Night."

He smirks again, a calculated move to get under your skin, "Oh, but when you’re the one deciding the time and place for stuff and never going through with things, that’s fine?"

"Hey, we talked about this already. Why are you acting like this?” Yoongi becomes growingly frustrated. Okay? What did they talk about that you’re missing out on exactly? This is getting ridiculous. You’re clearly missing a big piece of a puzzle that you didn’t know existed.

Jimin ignores his efforts of mediation, unwilling to let it go. "Maybe if someone could actually make a decision, we wouldn't have to keep playing these games."

Your patience snaps, and you retort, "Maybe if someone wasn’t acting like a child, we could go outside and have a mature conversation about whatever you’re fucking on about!"

“Maybe if I fucking told you earlier about the pact me, Yoongi, and Namjoon made in high school. We wouldn’t have ever gotten in this dumb ass de—” Jimin’s words are immediately cut off by Yoongi’s attempt to shut him up by covering his mouth. A struggle ensues as Jimin fights to break free.

Your eyes widen, a mix of shock and seething anger crossing your face. "Hold on. What? What pact? This is all news to me."

Your mind races, trying to comprehend the revelation. A pact made in high school? Over what? Don’t fucking say it’s a pact so they wouldn’t sleep with you. What the fuck. The realization hits like a sucker punch, leaving you feeling betrayed and blindsided. How could they have gotten into this fuck buddies deal and have clearly broken the honesty rule since day 0?  Even though you were feeling bad only a few months ago when you had slept with Jimin. But at least you came clean to Yoongi as soon as you could. 

But what the hell is this?! Who in this damn world would be okay with hearing their own best friends making some fucking bro code deal under the table?

Yoongi groans, speaking calmly, "It was supposed to be a stupid thing, just a way to avoid drama between us. I didn’t think it mattered anymore. We didn't think it would become a big deal anyways."

Your voice trembles with a mix of anger and hurt, "A big deal? You guys are my best friends and hid some fucking pact that you made a few years ago? How is that not a big deal?"

Jimin uses whatever strength he has while drunk to free himself from Yoongi's clutches. Though, his expression remains unapologetic, he shrugs, "It was for the best…at the time. We didn't want to ruin our friendship over a girl. Didn’t think it would affect us as much as it did. "

You scoff, disbelief coloring your tone, "A girl? I’m literally your fucking best friend, Park. So, what, you guys broke it how? Deciding to fuck me and forget your bro code!?”

Fuck. 

As if the universe was suddenly signaling the end of this ordeal, the sudden jolt you made as you yelled at him causes the jenga tower to fall. The wooden blocks scatter across the table and on the floor, making the impact of the argument land even harder.

The bomb was dropped.

The room is engulfed in a heavy silence, the weight of the revelations settling in like a thick fog. The other guys exchange uncomfortable glances, sensing the gravity of the situation. Taehyung’s jaw is on the floor as he glances around, but cannot say anything. You hope to God he just doesn’t either. Knowing him, he’s going to make things worse without trying. Jin rubs his temples, while looking stressed, but somehow not that surprised.  Jungkook and Hoseok return with water bottles, trying to diffuse the tension by offering it to Jimin. They also heard everything as they were in the kitchen, but do not comment on it. Jungkook was the only one who knew, but even then, the deal and pact is definitely news to everyone else.

This doesn’t stop the emotions swirling within you. Unlocking Pandora’s box that revealed the pact feels like a betrayal. You just can’t believe a secret pact between your best friends was kept hidden for years. How long? Was this when you were dating Yeonjun or even before those events? What about during the virginity race? Jimin's nonchalant attitude adds fuel to the fire, leaving you feeling beyond upset, hurt, and confused. He’s choosing not to answer your question. 

It has to be because you hit the nail.

Yoongi, attempting to diffuse the tension, steps forward, "Look, we didn't plan for this to happen. We didn't think it through, and it got out of hand. We're sorry for not telling you earlier."

His apology hangs in the air, and you struggle to find the right words. You’re livid and they don’t even get it. Anxiety builds within you and now, the air starts to feel thick in this room, and everything seems to close in on you. You think you’re going to throw up if you continue staying in this room around them.

“Um, guys…maybe we should take a step back, cool off a bit. I have a lot of questions, but we can talk about this more calmly later." Jin, always the peacemaker, breaks the silence cautiously.  

“Yeah, let’s take a break for now to sober up.” Hoseok adds.

Yoongi nods, a mixture of frustration and resignation settling in. "Yeah, maybe we should."

It would be good to step back right now and get your head wrapped around all of this, but you need to leave the house to do that. You can’t be around them right now. You need to go see Hwasa. Jieun. Soohyun. Soyoon. Fuck if you know who else, but you just can’t be here any longer.

"I'm leaving." Standing abruptly, you snatch your phone from the couch and grab your hoodie hanging by a chair. The room falls silent as you declare your departure, the heaviness of betrayal settling in your chest. Fueled by anxiety – the urge to throw up and the sting of unshed tears. You never envisioned yourself in this situation, feeling deceived and in a way, taken advantage of.

"What?" The question from Yoongi hangs in the air, a desperate plea for an explanation. You move towards the door in a hurried rush, a whirlwind of emotions overwhelming you. 

As you make your way to the exit, Yoongi, Hoseok and Jungkook rush towards you, concern etched on their faces. They don’t want to let you out while you’re drunk and vulnerable, but you’re too out of it to consider that. Jimin remains seated on the floor next to Taehyung and Jin, waiting for the inevitable. Yoongi attempts to grab your hand, a gesture of known comfort, but you vehemently shoo it away.

"Don't touch me!" The words escape you, laden with hurt. You’re caught offguard by your own voice coming out. You come to a sudden halt, attempting to regain control over your breathing, needing to calm the storm within before you say things you don’t mean. The truth hangs heavy in the air, and you feel compelled to address the turmoil.

"I...I genuinely love you guys a lot." The confession spills out, a raw and explicit expression of the emotions coursing through you. "I struggled so much, agonizing over who to choose because I can't imagine a world without either of you by my side. The same goes for Joon. I enjoyed the times we had during this deal, but I wasn't going to pick any of you.” You turn to look at Jimin’s direction, who refuses to face you. “I wanted to put our friendship first and minimize any damage out of love and respect for you guys. But it seems like you guys weren't even considering that when breaking your little fucking pact!" The words linger, a bitter truth exposed in the wake of shattered expectations.

Yoongi stands there unable to respond, frustrated. Your eyes lock with his. Tears glisten on the brink of falling, reflecting a different kind of hurt behind his eyes – a hurt you can't bring yourself to delve into at this moment. Not in your current state.

Choosing to break the eye contact first, you turn away and head out the door, leaving the Beta Tau house behind. You don’t know when you’ll be back. You don’t want to be back anytime soon.

You headed to Hwasa's dorm, hoping to God that she's in that dorm on this Friday night. Because you're going to fall apart at any second as you trudge through the streets and onto campus.

As you make your way through the campus, you find your gaze involuntarily drawn towards the library. The familiar sight triggers the reflex to seek solace in Namjoon's company. Under normal circumstances, he would be your go-to person when something immediately troubled you or when things went awry with Yoongi and Jimin. However, this time feels different. 

You shouldn’t go see him for now.

You carry on going onto the path toward Hwasa's dorm, hoping she's there to provide you support and understanding you desperately need in this moment of vulnerability. The anticipation and anxiety mount as you reach the building, your hands trembling as you dial Hwasa's number, yearning for a comforting voice in the chaos that has engulfed you.

“Y/N? Hey? What’s up—” “Please come to the front of your dorm building.”  You interrupt her before she kept on speaking.

“Wait, Y/N what’s wrong—”

It’s this simple question that becomes the tipping point to you finally bursting out in sobs. No guys to hold you back, no deal to keep thinking about anymore.

“I-It’s over.”

–

–

tbc ?!!??! :O a/n: welp. the bomb was dropped. um. yes, that really just happened. the next chapter will be ... insane as well. I'm already writing it and I want you all to prepare yourselves! Anyone have any thoughts or theories on what will happen to our favorite quad and the rest of the house? i'd love to hear about them so lmk hehehe thank you all for reading!

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