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eggluverz · 9 months

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WE REALLY WERE TIMELESS

PAIRING. dan heng x gn!reader (also dan feng x reader ig!)

WORD COUNT. 3,722

SUMMARY. dan heng does not want to remember his previous reincarnation, but there is one part he doesn't want to let go of forever— you.

SOF'S NOTE. i was listening to taylor swift's timeless and thinking about how much i love dan heng...and this was born :3 i love him sm and i def feel like love with dan heng could transcend all lifetimes <3 pls enjoy if ur a fellow dh lover :>

Dan Feng was many things. Cold and ruthless, some said. A merciless killer, said others. Revered and powerful, was the more popular and favorable opinion. But, what most people seemed to wipe from their memories was that he was also a lover.

A lover to you, at least. You, and only you.

His days as the Imbibitor Lunae were long and laborious. He lead countless battles to destroy threats and rescued Xianzhou fleets from annihilation.

Dan Feng was used to spending long periods away from home, but when he returned, he knew he would at least be greeted by you.

Occasionally, you were there fighting alongside him. Capable and strong. But most of the time, you preferred using your strengths to continue studying and advancing medicine. You were compassionate and knowledgeable, and you wanted to help your injured allies rather than cause more destruction.

His favorite moments with you involved the little leisure time he had between battles when he was able to stay in his residence with you, wrapped in your embrace.

Dan Feng, proud member of the High-Cloud Quintet, was left speechless and in awe at the sight of you. Those nights you spent together were filled with both heat and passion, and attention and love. Every moment he spent with you was intentional; he never took those times for granted.

Of course, those times couldn’t last.

Be it his selfishness, his arrogance, his drive to help his friend—he lost you. Not because you shunned him or turned him away, but simply because he was forced to reincarnate and locked away without the ability to say even a simple goodbye.

His love, lost in the blink of an eye. And he may never see you again.

Now, as Dan Heng, he was almost in denial when Jing Yuan informed him you forcibly reincarnated as soon as you heard the news of the Sedation of Inhibitor Lunae and slipped away from the Xianzhou Luofu.

What were you to Dan Heng? Dan Feng was no longer here and Dan Heng did not want to claim his past.

Imbibitor Lunae was not him. Renowned member of the High-Cloud Quintet was not him.

But when Jing Yuan spoke your name, memories of his previous life rushed through him. If he didn’t acknowledge his past, would that mean you had no chance of ever being his again?

Dan Heng had no attachment to the name Jing Yuan. Yingxian no longer held special meaning either. He didn’t want it to. But hearing your name stirred something in him. It caused a battle between past and present. And the present was winning until he walked along the streets of Penacony.

An intense shiver shot through his veins and the hairs on the back of his arm stood up. You were here.

He knew it. He felt it. Dan Heng didn’t know where exactly, but your presence was so powerful, it was something he couldn’t ignore. He wasn’t strong enough to.

You were his first and only romantic love— A love he thought would be eternal until he got reincarnated. The draw to you was so intense he found himself wandering the wide pathways filled with Gothic buildings until he felt the call was satiated.

It wasn’t completely gone, but he felt more relaxed. More at peace.

Dan Heng notice his body stopped in front of a library with a square roof and he immediately entered the building. The interior was filled with rows of bookshelves and large tables, busy with scholars and those here for leisurely reasons alike.

Despite all that, Dan Heng knew where you were right as he laid eyes on you.

You were half-hidden by piles of books as you took notes on a blank sheet of paper. You sat straight on the chair and briefly put your pen down when you noticed his staring. Your gaze met his as your eyes darted around the room.

When they landed on Dan Heng, you tilted your head to the side as he watched you, but you showed no signs of recognition.

His stomach churned. Of course you wouldn’t recognize him. You had reincarnated soon after Dan Feng did. Your past life was gone, your memories were gone, and he didn’t even know if your name was still the one that was so familiar on his lips.

With an inquisitive look on your face, you beckoned him over. He was surprised that you acknowledged him so overtly, but if you were anything like your past self, he shouldn’t be too shocked.

Dan Heng wondered if he should turn around and leave. Did he want to pretend he didn’t see you? Pretend that your fates weren’t inextricably linked?

His heart felt like it was being torn out of his chest as he turned away, ready to go on as if this never occurred so he could continue his life as Dan Heng with no ties to the previous Imbibitor Lunae. He began walking out of the library, shoving his feelings down deep to hide them away for good.

The cold outside air hit his face as he opened the door. It felt damp out—as if it were raining.

Dan Heng touched the wet drops on his face before he realized it wasn’t rain. It was his tears.

It pained him more than he cared to admit. His past love was here and he was going to throw it away before he even had another chance. He grit his teeth and clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms so deep it hurt the flesh. But it had nothing on the pain his heart was feeling.

He couldn’t do it, he realized. He couldn’t severe the bond from his past completely— Dan Heng couldn’t severe his bond with you. He’d lose a part of himself he wasn’t even aware he still had.

The muscles in his body screamed as he entered the library once more, this time walking straight to you instead of basking in hesitation. You looked confused as you stared up at him, probably wondering why he ignored you, left, and came back all in the span of one minute.

“Hi there! Can I help you?”

Dan Heng instantly froze at your words. He yearned for the familiarity; a sense of comfort washed over him at your simple acknowledgement.

But it didn’t look like you knew who he was. There wasn’t an ounce of recognition on your face even as he stood closer.

It’s me. Do you remember? he wanted to ask. The desire to reach out and grab your hand, touch your face, was strong enough to make his heart pound. But he refrained. If you didn’t know who he was, it might frighten you if he did that. And discomfort was the last thing Dan Heng wanted to make you feel.

You laughed nervously, letting out a single cough to fill the silence.

Dan Heng, realizing he hadn’t said a word, quickly scanned the books you had stacked up. They were books on medicine and the evolution of healthcare. He tried to find something relevant to say.

“I almost gave someone CPR once.”

You blinked slowly, a small and uncertain smile on your face. “That’s great! I think…” For a moment, you considered what he said. “I supposed it’s not great if someone was in a situation where they needed CPR. But it is great you were willing to help.”

Dan Heng nodded, glad his plan went well.

“Why did they need CPR? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“We found them unconscious. They had a weak heartbeat and pulse so I wanted to make sure they stayed alive.”

You took in this information, looking slightly impressed. “Typically, we start CPR when there’s no pulse, but if the individual begins gasping for breathe, it’s usually a good sign to start CPR.”

“I see.”

The two of you fell into a long silence before you gently cleared your throat.

“Is that all you had to say?” you asked. Dan Heng suspected you didn’t exactly buy that he wanted to talk to you solely about CPR. “Earlier, when you were looking at me, you had a strange look on your face. It looked like you recognized me.”

Dan Heng stilled.

You clasped your hands together on top of the table, leaning forward almost conspiratorially. “Do I know you?”

His breathing quickened at the prospect of you remembering your past with him.

“Maybe from a birthday party as a kid? Or did we go to the same school?”

Dan Heng’s face dropped. “Oh. No.”

You hummed in thought.

“You…might know me, though.”

Curiously, you raised your brows at his vague response. He wondered if he should stop himself, but he wanted to tell you about your past life. Maybe then you would remember him.

But would that be a good idea? Would it work in the first place?

Dan Heng didn’t know.

He felt impulsive but he needed to talk to you more. “I can explain more, but can we go outside first?”

You craned your neck to the side, considering your options. He knew what he asked of you was something ridiculous in the eyes of a stranger. To stop what you were doing, take time out of your day, and follow this man you had only just spoken to with no explanation.

It was wishful thinking to expect a yes.

Yet somehow, you always managed to surprise him. “Of course. Let me just return these books.”

Dan Heng tried to hide how pleased he was as he patiently waited for you to turn the books back into the librarian. He offered to help you carry them, but you managed to gather the heavy stack into your arms in its entirety.

“Now I’m ready,” you said with a smile, eyes studying him in wonder. You looked confused, but you didn’t seem concerned. Perhaps something inside of you also sensed familiarity. “Do you want to see the stars with me?”

He nodded and you led him to a clear, grassy spot away from the town. The grass was tall and green, pastel wildflowers growing amongst the landscape. You smoothed down your clothes and sat on the soft ground. Dan Heng sat next to you, careful to respect your personal space and keep a slight distance.

He took in the scenery of the night before he saw you gazing at the stars. He quickly followed suit, tilting his head back.

Moments of tranquil silence passed by before he asked, “Do you know what I am?”

You didn’t miss a beat, almost as if you were expecting that question to come. “You appear human, but your presence doesn’t feel as so.”

“Much like you, correct?” he countered. “A Vidyadhara.”

You touched your head instinctively, the place where your horns should be. With wide eyes, you hastily put your arms back against your sides.

Dan Heng raised his brow.

“I thought my appearance had changed suddenly,” you said with a nervous laugh.

He shook his head. “I’m sorry to cause such alarm. You don’t need to worry; you still appear human as well.”

“It’s not as if I’m trying to pretend I’m not a Vidyadhara,” you explained, “it’s just easier to live here and be unnoticed with this appearance.” You looked away from the starry sky and turned to face Dan Heng. “And you— Why do you choose to appear human?”

“I refuse to pay for the sins of my past reincarnation. It’s not me,” he said, voice tense. “That’s not who I am.”

“You remember your past reincarnation?” you asked, your body perking up. Embarrassed by your eagerness, you stilled. “Sorry. That’s insensitive. There must be a reason you don’t want to remember. Sometimes, I just can’t help but wish I did.”

The corners of Dan Heng’s mouth tilted upward. “Don’t be sorry. I don’t care for my past…except for one particular detail.”

You shifted your position to sit with your legs folded over the other. You didn’t say anything, instead letting him speak as he felt comfortable.

“Maybe one particular person is more accurate.”

Your eyes closed as you breathed deeply, the wind blowing around the two of you as if creating a bubble from the rest of the world. In deep concentration, you changed into your normal Vidyadhara form. Your ears were pointed, regal horns emerged from the top of your head, and you looked taller as your tail appeared underneath you.

Expectantly, you looked at him.

Dan Heng hesitated, but soon followed suit. He felt his body change to the one of his past as he revealed his true form to you.

“Am I the person in your past?” you asked slowly, examining everything from his turquoise horns and dark hair, to his long tail landing in a semi-circle around you.

He smiled to himself. Attentive as always, he thought. Lifetimes had passed, the galaxies never stopped moving, yet you were just as he remembered. Your experiences may have been different, as did the environment you grew up in, but at your core, you were still thoughtful, caring, and intelligent. No matter the reincarnation, you were still you— His beloved.

A conflicted look formed on his face as that thought. Dan Heng was getting ahead of himself. He wasn’t Dan Feng. You couldn’t be his.

You didn’t let his lack of response deter you, instead staring up at him with a hopeful gaze. “I’m sorry if that’s too personal of me to ask. It’s only… Something about you just feels safe and warm.”

His tail swayed back and forth. You felt it too?

“But you’re a stranger in this life, as far as I know,” you said with small laugh. “So why do you seem so familiar? Perhaps it means in my previous, you weren’t so strange.”

Dan Heng noticed his tail getting closer to your body before he managed to sway it the other way. You bumped yours against his mischievously. He jolted in surprise, both at the sudden touch of his tail—which he hadn’t felt in years and years—but also the small spark running through him at the point of contact.

You bristled as well. “What was that?”

“I am not sure either.”

For a moment, you were lost in your thoughts. He wondered what you were thinking as your eyes swirled, looking more captivating than any galaxy he has ever seen. Your elegant horns looked as if they were glowing against the night sky and he wanted to reach out and feel them like he used to. One of your sensitive spots, he remembered.

“I felt something when our tails brushed,” you said slowly, thinking your words through. “It wasn’t much, but it felt like a glimpse of my previous life. Do you think I can touch you more?”

Dan Heng absolutely did not mind if you touched him. Anywhere—for that matter. But he figured what was visible would be safest for the time being. He bowed his head, offering his horns to start with. “As you wish.”

You smiled brightly and his heart fluttered. He felt deep down he would do anything for you. Even confront his past life. And he vowed that what he didn’t do in his past life—spend enough time with you before it was too late—he would do in this. If only you allowed him.

Reaching out, your gaze was fixed on his tall horns. You started with a careful touch to the tip and ran your fingers down to where his horns branched out. Heat and cold were both searing through his body at the touch and he was certain from your expression you felt the same. Your hands trailed down his face, feeling the point of his ears and resting on his cheek.

Whether it was from the pain of the intensity coursing through you or whether it was because you were remembering your past life, Dan Heng saw tears rolling down your cheeks.

He brought his hand up to you to wipe them away, but stopped right before he could touch your skin. “May I?”

You nodded, a light sniffle coming from you and Dan Heng yearned to be of comfort.

He started with a light brush of his thumb to gather the wetness on your face, gently wiping it off. Then, same as you did to him, he felt the elongation of your ears and ran hs fingers from the base of your horns to the very top. They were just as smooth as he remembered and he felt you tremble at the touch. He smiled. They were still also as sensitive as ever.

“Are any memories resurfacing for you?” he said quietly.

Your eyes were squeezed shut yet tears still leaked from them. It took a while for your to respond, overwhelmed by all the emotions, but eventually you managed to ask, “Is it… Dan Feng?”

“Dan Heng now,” he gently corrected. “I don‘t go by that name anymore.”

At that confirmation, you cried even more, jumping into his arms and burying your face in his chest.

“It‘s been so long,” you said in exasperation, your words mixed with sniffles. “The Sedation— We didn’t even get to say goodbye!” You paused, removing yourself from his chest and looking up at him. “Rather, I didn’t get to say goodbye to Dan Feng. But with you here, maybe now I can.”

He nodded in understanding. His ending was so abrupt. Due to his own hubris and for the life of his closest friend, he ended up sacrificing himself. And in the long run, he learned he even sacrificed you. Dan Heng would never treat your relationship with him so casually again. He should’ve showed you it was the top priority in his life.

Dan Heng watched in silence as you closed your eyes and whispered under your breath. He didn’t fully understand what you were saying, but he allowed you to have your private moment and say your goodbyes. He said goodbye to the past you as well—a right that was also stripped away from him as he was forced into reincarnation without second thought. Anger rose in his cheeks at those who took that away from him. From you. But it died down. Ultimately, what Dan Feng did wasn’t a part of him now. Maybe the person he is today wouldn’t have agreed with those past actions in the first place.

Moments turned into minutes and minutes turned to hours before you finally opened your eyes and looked at him. Your gaze was clearer, as if it was truly him—Dan Heng—you were seeing.

You smiled wistfully, hand gently stroking the spine of his tail. “I may have said goodbye to Dan Feng, but, at your core, the Dan Heng in front of me still feels like the man I love.”

He hummed in thought. He understood exactly what you were feeling. “Your core is the same too,” he said, his palm resting on your chest where your heart was beating. “You’re someone I will always love. And I’m sorry it took me so long to find you.”

Your face broke into an expression of sadness and Dan Heng felt his heart tightened.

“I’m sorry I, as Dan Feng, left you. I’m sorry I couldn’t be with you until the end.”

You shook your head, trying to force a happy look on your face. “No, it’s okay. You didn’t leave me. You were taken and punished and I couldn’t say goodbye. But I forgive you.”

“Why? I valued my power and my friend’s life and, ultimately, was selfish and didn’t consider the impact on yours. There are so many reasons I don’t want to hold onto my past. But if being here with you means facing it, I will.”

You sighed, a small, sad chuckle escaping your lips. “You see someone selfish and arrogant, but I see a kind and selfless soul who wanted his friend to be there with him forever.”

Dan Heng thought back in shame of the Blade he met on Luofu.

“Our pasts are linked, but so are our presents,” you said, lifting his chin up. “You’re not Dan Feng anymore, are you?”

He nodded firmly.

You smiled in acceptance. “You’re not exactly my first love, Dan Feng, but I have a feeling I’ll like this Dan Heng person even more, anyway.”

His body immediately warmed and he wanted to melt into your touch. You were always so kind, so thoughtful. Dan Feng may have messed up and got the two of you separated, but he would never.

“In our last life and this life, and if we have even more to come, we will always find each other,” he vowed.

You touched your forehead to his before leaning in for a kiss. He met your lips as if he were securing a promise. A promise not to leave you again, a promise he was really here, and a promise he still loved you. There was so much he had to learn about your new life—and you, his. But Dan Heng was certain it’d only make him love you more.

He had gone through the betrayal of a friend, the betrayal of a nation, and death and exile from the very place he once called home, but no pain compared to that of losing you. And now that he found you again, he didn’t want to make the same mistakes as his past reincarnation.

You placed your hand on his cheek and deepened the kiss, breaking him out of his thoughts. Your hand was warm against the cool air of the night. Dan Heng ran his hand down to your waist and wrapped around to rest on the small of your back. He pushed you closer to him, wanting to feel your body against his. The heat emanated through the fabric of your clothes and the faint smell of wildflowers and vanilla filled his senses. It was a familiar scent he had always loved.

He smiled into the kiss and you moved closer, draping a leg around his hip. Dan Heng didn’t ever want to let you go, but he knew he had nothing to fear. Now he knew the strength of your bond—how the draw to each other could withstand lifetimes.

Not even time itself could separate you from him.

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #dan heng x reader #dan heng #dan heng x you #dan heng x y/n #dan feng x reader #dan feng #inhibitor lunae #hsr #honkai star rail #hsr fanfiction #hsr fluff #hsr imagines #hsr x you #hsr x y/n #inhibitor lunae x reader

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skzdarlings · 3 months

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chill | the threesome series ; skz ; hyunjin/reader/jeongin

masterlist.

threesome series part 4/4. long awaited finale lol.

summary: when a lie about a fake boyfriend spirals out of control, your friends take it upon themselves to help.

pairing: hyunjin/reader/jeongin content info: friends to lovers romcom. fake relationship trope. sharing a bed trope. lots of teasing and bickering and indignant exclamations. some bossy dom!hyunjin and sweet jeongin. reader is described with a bigger chest. kissing w people watching. sex toys, dacryphilia, no mention of protection, threesome, explicit sexual content word count: 8440 words.

enjoy <3

Your bottom lip is already wobbling when you click call. You sprawl on your belly, front-down in a frilly pink bed in your childhood bedroom. You are visiting your parents in the countryside, miles away from your apartment in the city and miles away from your best friends.

You are calling them now, desperate for their friendly faces. Your boys are the first ones you call in any crisis. You don’t know what you would do without them. Just the thought has you sniffling despondently.

After a few more rings, Jeongin and Hyunjin answer one right after the other. Your phone is filled with three little squares of faces, theirs smiling and yours utterly miserable.

You look at those smiles and promptly burst into tears.

“Ahh!” Hyunjin wails.

“Ohh, whoa, what!” Jeongin says.

Both of them look concerned, all scrunched up brows and frowning faces. At least you think so. It is hard to see through your tears.

“Baby, baby,” Hyunjin says. At the same time, Jeongin asks, “What’s wrong?”

You cry a few more weepy sobs, then you grab the closest teddy bear and wipe your eyes on it. You sniffle and pout.

Even though you want their comfort, you can’t bring yourself to look at your friends when you admit, “I’ve been lying to my parents for months.”

“What?” Hyunjin asks.

“Huh?” Jeongin says.

You blink away your tears and look at them properly. They are the very picture of concern. They have such striking faces so their emotions are always so plain, their features sharp, with thick dark brows and sloping cheeks and full lips. Jeongin dyed his hair a fairer auburn a while ago, but Hyunjin is dark, both of them so handsome it makes you hiccup on a caught breath.

These thoughts make you feel even more pathetic. Here you are, gawking at your best friends while everything falls apart around you.

You drop your face and cry some more. They watch helplessly through their screens, saying your name and trying to calm you down.

“What happened?” Hyunjin asks when your tears have slowed.

“Remember a few months ago, when I went out with that guy who works at the coffee shop?”

“Yes, I hated him,” Jeongin says in a clipped tone while Hyunjin scoffs.

“Me too,” Hyunjin says. Their sour faces speak volumes.

“What!” This distracts you from yours tears for a moment. “You guys told me you liked him!”

“Yeah, only because you did,” Jeongin says. He is in his bedroom and he flops back on his bed, his mop of hair forming a charming halo around his head. He grins that dimpled, mischievous grin at you. “But now you don’t like him, so we hate him.”

“I always hated him,” Hyunjin says. He is sitting at his desk, lit so prettily by lamplight that it looks like a dreamy filter. He props his face in his hand and pouts dramatically. “You didn’t need him anyway, baby,” he says. “You’ve always got us.”

At the same time Hyunjin says this, Jeongin tucks a hand under his head. He is wearing a sleeveless top and his bicep flexes where his bare arm curves. Between Hyunjin’s pretty face and prettier words, and Jeongin looking like that, it is no wonder how quickly heat rushes to your face.

You bury your face in the blankets and shriek, frustrated with everything in your ridiculous life. They are still looking at you with concern when you surface.

“Sorry,” you say. “The point is, my mom would ask about him. You know what my parents are like and how much they want me to be in a relationship.”

You love your family, you do. You do not regret using visiting your parents. The dinners and tea times and game nights have been a delight. You have been proud to catch them up on your life in the city. You are happy with your life, your education and your job and your friends. Your parents are proud of you.

They just cannot help but poke that one little detail, snagging like a loose thread on a nail and unravelling your careful composition with their obvious judgement.

You are not in a relationship. You have never been in a relationship.

Oh, sure, there have been dates scattered here and there, but nothing serious. You are fine with this but your parents consider this cause for catastrophic levels of concern.

You try to show grace. Your family is only nosy out of misplaced worries, convinced that if you do not have a boyfriend then you must sobbing yourself to sleep every night. Which is not true. Well, sometimes it’s true, especially because your two best friends are the ones making your heart race, but most of the time you just eat cheese toast in bed.

To assuage the worst of their concerns, you maybe exaggerated the truth a teensy tiny bit.

“Well,” you say, “They were so happy that I went on more than one date, so it got them off my case for a while. After we went our separate ways, I sort of just… kept telling them… I was still seeing him…”

“Uh oh,” Jeongin says. Hyunjin grimaces. Yeah, your friends know you well. They have never met your family but they know the stories and they can guess where this is going.

“Yeah, uh oh is right,” you say. “My mom invited me out here for their summer party. They throw one every year to start the season. They invite the whole family and all their friends and their friends’ kids. It’s huge. I wasn’t even thinking when I said I would come because I always do. Only when I agreed did my mom tell me to bring my boyfriend for everyone to meet… at which point I remembered…”

“That you don’t actually have a boyfriend?” Jeongin asks with a quirked eyebrow. Hyunjin laughs, covering his mouth with a quick slap of his hand to hide it.

“Don’t laugh at me!” you say with a miserable whine. “It’s not funny. I messed up and now I don’t know what to tell them!”

“What did you tell them so far?” Jeongin asks while Hyunjin tries to get his face under control.

“I was going to tell them the truth when I got here,” you say. “But then they were so disappointed that my boyfriend wasn’t with me. I couldn’t disappoint them even more by saying he didn’t exist at all in the first place!”

“So you told a bigger lie instead,” Hyunjin says, tilting his head questioningly. “What did you say exactly?”

“I just said he was busy with work,” you say. “And they were really upset about it so I tried to cheer them up. I said he was going to try and make it to the party at least.”

“But he’s not real,” Jeongin says.

“Yes, Jeongin!” you squeal. “That’s the problem! And also—” A flood of tears return, blurring your vision again. “I know it’s so stupid. We’re all grown-ups now. But I was the youngest out of all the kids growing up, so I was always the dumb little tag-along. My mom has told everyone I have a boyfriend coming and if I make up an excuse tomorrow, they’re all gonna see through it. They’ll be nice to my face because we aren’t kids anymore but I already know they’re gonna talk about me and how pathetic I am.” You start crying again, looking around at the bedroom you grew up in, still filled with the books and clothes and toys you left behind after moving. It makes you feel like that little girl again. It only worsens your angst. “Tomorrow is going to be the worst day of my life,” you say.

“Aw, no, no, it won’t,” Jeongin says.

“Hey, baby, don’t cry,” Hyunjin also says. They both speak in the sweetest tones imaginable, gazing so lovingly into their cameras it makes you melt.

“You know you’re better than that,” Jeongin says.

“Yeah, who cares what they think?” Hyunjin adds.

“I care,” you say in a small voice, looking away again because you feel so embarrassed. “At least a little bit. I know it’s silly.”

“It’s not,” Hyunjin says. At the same Jeongin says, “It is but it’s fine.” They both scowl at the camera as if frowning at each other. It makes you laugh through your tears. You wipe your eyes on the teddy bear again.

“I guess it doesn’t matter now,” you say. “I just have to face it. It’s my own fault. Maybe if I could just get a boyfriend for real, if I didn’t suck so much—”

“You’re perfect,” they say in unison. It seems to make all three of you look flustered at once.

“Seriously,” Hyunjin says while Jeongin clears his throat. “You’re our girl.”

“Yeah, everyone is else is just stupid,” Jeongin says.

“You only need to listen to us,” Hyunjin says.

“Listen to me, not him,” Jeongin teases. “He’s kinda stupid too.”

“Excuse me,” Hyunjin says in a perfectly catty voice. Jeongin sticks his tongue out.

Their antics make you laugh. You rest your cheek on the teddy bear and kick your legs behind you, smiling into your screen.

“Okay,” you say. “In that case, just distract me until I go to bed. It’s gonna be a long day tomorrow.”

They both smile at you. They waste no time obliging, launching into stories and playful bickering, making you forget about everyone and everything else. They are your boys. They are all you need.

You go to bed with a smile on your face.

That smile is gone the next day. You are a bundle of raw nerves all morning. Despite the food being prepared, you cannot imagine eating, so sick to your stomach with anxiety. Your parents ask about your boyfriend and you answer in vague replies and half-promises. You claim he is still working but you are optimistic. You cry your make-up off only once, which is ten times less than you thought you would.

At least you look pretty. You bought a new dress for the occasion, a pretty floral piece that sweeps the floor with a delicate swish. If you are going to suffer, at least you will suffer beautifully.

You are standing in front of the mirror, practicing lines and excuses and grimacing at all of them. You are interrupted when your mother calls you downstairs, the first of the guests arriving.

Here goes nothing, you think.

You take a deep gulp of air and descend the stairs, plastering a big fake smile on your face as you greet the party guests.

They come in waves. Cousins, aunts, uncles, neighbours, friends. You greet everyone pleasantly. There are so many people and so many conversations that you manage to sink into the background of every discussion, batting queries about your own private life with questions for someone else.

You start to wonder if you worried for nothing, then someone directly asks about your boyfriend. Not just someone, but one of the girls in your age group.

“Your mother didn’t know much, she said you were quite evasive about it!” she says. She is not being unkind because she currently has no reason to believe you are lying. It will be later, when everyone realizes this mystery man is not manifesting, then everyone will start to gossip and draw conclusions. This is just the beginning of a long, agonizing party. “Is he going to be here?” she asks. “I can’t wait to meet him! He’s your first boyfriend, right?”

You love your mom, but she really is such a blabbermouth.

You laugh awkwardly, fidgeting with the skirt of your dress.

“Ha-ha, yeah, I was, um, just waiting for the, uh, right person, you know,” you say.

Someone else opens their mouth to ask more when the doorbell rings.

“Oh, I better get that!” you say and leap out of your seat. You give no one a chance to protest, scampering around bodies to get out of the backyard and into the house. You run past your father who is ambling to the door, telling him you got it. You want to let the guest inside then stand in the front yard to catch your breath. Hopefully, by the time you go back, the conversation will have moved on.

You swing open the door, a polite greeting on your lips. It catches when you see who is standing there.

“Jeongin!” you exclaim.

Your best friend is standing on your porch, grinning that big cheshire cat smile. He is an absurdly sexy vision. Jeongin is a tech guy but he takes modelling gigs on the side, fashion a personal hobby to him. His auburn hair is neatly styled around his face, a slash of colour in an otherwise all-black look. It makes him look long and fit, loose pants and a dress shirt over a sleeveless top, topped with a leather jacket. A silver chain sparkles around his neck.

He swoops in and kisses your cheek, giggling to himself.

“I heard someone needed a boyfriend,” he says.

You laugh a little hysterically, all the joy returning to your body in a rush. You slap your hands on your hot cheeks and look him up-and-down.

“Oh, wow,” you say. “You shouldn’t have. But you look really good.”

Your eyes are on the tip of his black boots. He is looking at you too, his eyebrows lifted as his gaze travels down your body.

“Yeah,” he says on a breath. “You too.”

Flustered, you cover yourself then swat at him. It makes him grin again, cheek dimpled.

“Stop that,” you say. “You’re not allowed to say things like that to me. And I’ve been sweating like a stuck pig under here. I feel like I should do the grown-up thing and come clean and send you away, but I’m not gonna do that. Come on.” You loop your arm with his elbow and drag him through the house to the back yard.

Seconds before joining the party, he leans in to whisper in your ear, “Then as your boyfriend, I’m allowed to tell you that you looking really fucking good. Okay?”

You very literally fall into the yard. Fortunately, Jeongin keeps his balance and yanks you upright. You stumble into his open arms, your back plastered to his chest. He is probably smiling that big grin at everyone as he keeps his arms around you.

“Hi,” he finally says and offers a little wave.

“Ahhh!” your mother screams more gleefully than a clown horn. She immediately starts hollering for your father.

“He’s inside getting some food ready, mom,” you say, covering your face in embarrassment as she scuttles up to you.

“My goodness, my goodness,” your mother says, all but throwing you to the side to get to Jeongin. “Oh, I’ve heard so much. No, actually, that’s not true, I haven’t heard anything. Tsk, crazy girl. Always with her secrets. But look at you, oh my, you’re so handsome! Look at those dimples.”

“Mom!” you wail. “Stop pinching his cheeks!”

Someone sitting nearby tugs your skirt. It is the girl from before and she is grinning. He’s hot, she mouths very blatantly, winking at you. You smile an awkward, too-wide grin, still more embarrassed than not. Everyone is chattering, looking at you and Jeongin. A couple others smile and give you a thumbs up. You pretend to be very preoccupied with a speck on your dress, focussed on scratching it off so you do not have to meet any eyes.

In the midst of all the madness, the doorbell rings again. You hear your father inside, shouting that he will get it.

“Oh, hurry up!” your mother shouts. “You have to meet—oh goodness, what is your name?” she asks, even while she has a hand in his hair.

“Ha, ah, Jeongin,” he says, managing to politely extricate himself. He takes her hand and pats it affectionately. “It’s nice to meet you, ma’am,” he says, then winks at you. Your mother looks at you with a delighted smile. You refrain from smacking your forehead.

At least things can’t get worse, you think, right before things get worse.

Your father steps into the yard, smiling a big smile.

“Ah, my little girl!” he says, waving at you. “Your boyfriend is here! Everybody, this is Hyunjin.”

Your heart was racing with adrenaline a moment ago. Now, it freezes solid. It feels like a cement block dropping right into your gut. You are not sure if the entire party actually goes quiet or if your ears just give up to protect you.

You are helpless, standing stock still as your other best friend steps onto the deck behind your father. Coincidentally and preposterously, he is dressed almost identical to Jeongin, all in black with a black leather jacket. He is wearing sunglasses, though, which he pushes onto the top of his head when he sees Jeongin.

Jeongin stares back at him, then he looks at you. Hyunjin looks at you. Your mother looks at you. Everyone looks at you.

“Um,” you squeak.

Wow, that speck on your dress really is so very interesting. And why is it so hard to swallow? Where is your tongue again? Oh, why did you ever have to tell such a stupid lie, just for a few moments of convenience.

You clear your throat and look up. Your voice comes in a croak when you say, “Hi, Hyunjin.”

“Hyunjin,” your mother says, looking at him. He blinks at her. Jeongin is handsome but Hyunjin is the definitive pretty boy, an artist behind the camera but just as suited to a life in the spotlight. His artistic soul really shines through in every capacity. Even his smile is a work of art, delicate and sweet as he looks at your mother. He would have made a perfect fake boyfriend if you didn’t already have one.

Somehow you went from no boyfriends to two. No, not even, because they are fake. You went from no boyfriends to negative-two boyfriends. That must be a feat.

“Ohhhh,” your mother suddenly interrupts the silence. She starts giggling as she tip-toes to Hyunjin like a panther about to pounce. “I see what’s happening,” she says, looking slyly between the three of you. Then she grabs Hyunjin by the cheeks as well, shaking him around like a baby rattle. “My little girl has TWO handsome boyfriends!” she cries out ecstatically. “Oh, that’s just like her too. You know, she was a late bloomer in every respect, but always caught up and surpassed everyone after the fact. Struggled at school when she was little, then grew up and got herself on the dean’s list at university. You know she didn’t even grow breasts until she was eighteen then ballooned right up, the biggest you’ve seen!”

“Mom!”

Jeongin and Hyunjin look at your chest at the same time. You wrap your arms around yourself and frown, making them both clear their throat and look away.

“Oh, sweetie,” your mother says, finally freeing Hyunjin. He and Jeongin stand together, rubbing their cheeks. They watch as your mother takes your hand. “I understand now why you were to hesitant to give us any details. But it’s a brave new world. There’s all sorts of different loves out there. I’ve been reading books!”

“Exactly,” your father says, joining you in the middle of the party. “We would never judge you for who you love.”

“That’s great,” you say. This conversation would be really sweet if it wasn’t about your negative-two boyfriends and happening in front of fifty people. “Thanks,” you say.

Your father is holding barbeque tongs. He claps them in the air and smiles.

“Great!” he says. “Who’s hungry!”

It isn’t until much later that you get a second alone with Hyunjin and Jeongin. It is well after dinner when the sun is starting to set and the party has dispersed to different corners of the yard. Your parents are with some friends, seated around a fire, so you drag your fake boyfriends into the house and upstairs to your bedroom.

You slam the door shut.

“Seriously!” you shriek. “You didn’t think to tell each other you were going to show up to be my fake boyfriend?!”

They both look chagrined, Jeongin with his arms crossed and Hyunjin rocking on the balls of his feet. They look at each other with a grimace, then try to smile at you.

“Don’t give me that look,” you say, then groan, leaning against your closed door. You cover your face with your hands. “This is insane. My life is a joke. Hwang Hyunjin, don’t even think about touching anything.” You point to Hyunjin even though your eyes are covered. You don’t need to see him to know he is reaching for something, always sticking his gossipy nose in places it doesn’t belong. When you drop your hands, you catch him hovering near your head table. He smiles nervously. “Sit down,” you say, unamused.

Jeongin and Hyunjin plop onto the bed at the same time. They look rather ridiculous in the black and leather, contrasted to all the pink and white lace of your old bedroom. Ridiculous, yes, and definitely not stupidly sexy. The contrast between two sexy bad boys and your floral cuteness is absolutely not a turn-on. It’s not. No. No. You refuse.

“Sorry,” Jeongin finally says. “We should have checked first. With you, at least.”

“Yeah, baby, seriously,” Hyunjin says, shaking his head. “I feel really embarrassed. You know we would never want to hurt you, right?”

“You were just crying so much,” Jeongin says.

“Yeah, I couldn’t sleep at all last night,” Hyunjin says.

They keep speaking in their defense. You start to pout, feeling guilty, because they are so sincere in their apology. It is very obvious they did not do this to embarrass you. The complete opposite. Your friends love you so much and it is obvious in everything they do. From the day you met them, Jeongin and Hyunjin have happily dropped everything to help you with anything. No task has ever been too big or too small. If it’s for you, they will do it. You are the exception to every rule and the first call every time.

They are your boys. You are their girl.

“I’m sorry too,” you say. “In fact, I’m even more sorry. This whole thing is my fault, after all. I should have never lied in the first place.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Jeongin says.

“Yeah, we all do stupid things,” Hyunjin says.

“It’s not like you knew it would get this bad,” Jeongin adds.

“I definitely don’t think she predicted this,” Hyunjin quips, looking at him. It makes Jeongin snort and Hyunjin grins.

It makes you laugh as well, though you cover your mouth to hide it.

It’s no good. Once the first giggle escape, they are relentless. The three of you laugh until there are tears in your eyes, doubled over as the silly situation washes over you. When the laughter has somewhat subdued, Hyunjin holds out a hand in offering.

“Come here,” he says.

You take his hand and he tugs you towards them. You find yourself squished between them, framed between their bodies like a little flower. Jeongin puts a hand on your lower back and Hyunjin brushes his knuckles over your cheek. Both touches are innocent but the combination has your face heating.

Not just your face. Heat rushes everywhere, cascading down your chest, swooping in your belly and lower. Your toes even curl.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Hyunjin says. He smiles while holding your gaze. “You know we’ll help you no matter what, okay?”

Jeongin kisses your shoulder and you cannot hide your shiver.

“Okay,” you say in a small voice.

There is a moment of tense silence after this. You look between them and they look at you.

You all jump when there is a knock at your door. Hyunjin falls right off the bed, sprawling in an ungainly clatter of long limbs on the floor. Jeongin scoots to the side, less dramatic but still surprised. You sit straighter. Hyunjin groans and rubs his head.

The door opens and your mother pokes her head inside, smiling.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she says. “But sweetie, there will be time to be alone with your boyfriends later, since I assume they’re spending the night. But right now we have company. Come spend time with the guests. Some of the others are using the hot tub and pool. Do you boys need swim trunks? Yes? I’ll go find some, give me a second.”

No one gets an opportunity to even answer. She closes the door and disappears as quickly as she came.

There is another beat of silence, then Jeongin says, “We’re spending the night, I guess?”

“Ow,” Hyunjin says. “I think I bruised my elbow.”

“Oh my god,” you say.

You putter around the poolside until the sun fully sets. When it gets dark, the pool lights start to flicker in rainbow patterns so the others gravitate there, splashing through the luminescence.

You and the boys wander to the hot tub while it is empty. Jeongin sinks right in like he does not even feel the heat while Hyunjin has to make a dramatic show about every inch of skin that touches it. You and Jeongin look at each other with matching quirked eyebrows. You smile affectionately.

“What? It’s hot,” Hyunjin says, finally sitting.

“That is how they work,” Jeongin replies.

You giggle but also drop your gaze. Your mother managed to find swim clothes that would mostly fit the boys. Jeongin is shirtless in swim trunks, his wet hair slicked back, that handsome face and all those lean muscles on display. When did he get so damn fit? He was always athletic in a subtle, svelte way, but his arms and back ripple with definition now.

Hyunjin is in a wet suit, one that stops at the knee and elbow. He is more covered but the solid black swimsuit makes him look so long and lean. His hair is also damp. You watch as he rakes his fingers through it, tucking it behind his ears. He really is absurdly good looking.

You blame the heat under your skin on the jets.

“Psst,” Jeongin suddenly whispers. His foot nudges yours under the water. “Is that them?” he whispers.

You try to be subtle, turning your head to see who is there. A few younger people are sitting in some pool chairs under a torch, chatting and occasionally glancing in your direction. It is a few of the people you grew up with, the ones you told the boys about.

You nod at Jeongin, smiling shyly. You look down at your legs through the rippled distortion of water. You are wearing a simple one-piece, just as pink and floral as your dress, still a contrast to your boys.

You look at them in time to catch a mutual nod. You were spread around the hot tub, a reach of space between your bodies, but they slide until they are pressed up on either side of you. You look between them, curling your hands in nervous fists on your chest.

“What is it?” you whisper.

“We’re your boyfriends,” Hyunjin whispers with a smile. “Shouldn’t we sit close to you?”

“Oh,” you squeak. “I suppose that’s true.” You swallow, looking at him then at Jeongin. Your heart is pounding against your hands. The combination of heat and desire is making you more than a little dizzy. “Wh-what else should we be doing?” you ask before thinking twice. Vocalizing your internal thought only intensifies your fantasies, your mind supplying plenty of mental images of what you would be doing in this hot tub if they were really your boyfriends.

Oh, you are definitely getting dizzy, but it is not just the jets.

Hyunjin and Jeongin look at each other, both of them surprised by your forward question. Jeongin laughs because that is his instinct, that dimple never shy. Hyunjin has more of a smirk than a smile. He pokes his tongue into his cheek and lifts his eyebrows when you look at him. It is a teasing expression. It makes you dissolve into nervous giggles, sinking lower into the water.

He grabs you before you can disappear under the surface. And it is a grab. Between Hyunjin and Jeongin, you always suspected Hyunjin would be a gentle lover. He is so gushy and romantic while Jeongin tends be more frank about things. But it is Jeongin who gently strokes a hand down your arm, who laces his fingers with yours and squeezes.

Hyunjin reaches right under the water, stopping your descent with a hand on the back of your neck. Your eyes widen as he yanks you up, not choking but certainly in control. Your mouth falls open with surprise. Much to your embarrassment, you moan before he even kisses you, the sound escaping of its own volition as he tilts his head and leans in.

Oh, his mouth is gentle even if he is not. His hand is on your jaw, firm, holding your face where he wants it, but his lips are so soft and warm. He kisses you deeply, licking into your mouth and sighing against your lips. You steal a breath as well, your mouth open against his. That breath catches when Jeongin kisses the nape of your neck, then your shoulder.

They both have big hands, long fingers, slender but strong. You melt between them, all heat and need.

You turn to Jeongin, breathless with desire. His eyes are dark, lids heavy. You have never seen such intensity on his usually smiling face.

You are ready to kiss him when some playful shouts erupt from the audience you forgot about. “Get it girl!” someone shouts.

“Oh my god,” you say. Distracted, you reach behind you, grasping for nothing in particular when you find something, indeed. Jeongin is rock hard in his swim trunks and your hand brushes the very decent length of him.

You snap your hand back to yourself, jaw dropping.

“Why are you hard?” you whisper harshly.

“What do you mean, why am I hard?” he whispers back, just as argumentatively. “We’re all making out in a hot tub. Of course I’m hard.”

“Hyunjin’s not hard!” you hiss.

You look over your shoulder. Hyunjin is staring up into the air at nothing, looking a little too inconspicuous.

“Hyunjin!” you cry.

“What?” he returns, also whispering sharply. “Are you saying you’re not turned on?”

“I—hmmph—you—no!”

“No?” he asks with a sharp tilt of his head.

“So,” Jeongin says, drawing your narrowed gaze back to him. He just smiles at you. “If we put our hands somewhere here,” his fingers skim your upper thigh and you jump, “we wouldn’t find…?”

You sputter helplessly but it does no good; you have no retaliation whatsoever. You look at Hyunjin but he’s no help, just smirking at you. He wiggles his fingers in a little wave and you feel flushed again.

“I’m leaving now,” you say and finally sink under the water while they laugh.

You step into your bedroom at the end of a very long day. The guests have all gone home. Your parents, for reasons your mother strangely explained, are staying at the neighbour’s house tonight. You are very aware of the privacy it offers, the air rife with possibility.

Your boys are in your bed, wearing boxers and sleeveless shirts and bickering about the size of the quilt. They stop yanking on the blankets when you appear.

You did not bring much sleepwear. You figured you would wear the old shirts left behind in this room. You have outgrown most of them, but that wasn’t a problem with you were sleeping alone. Now you are wearing old gym shorts that sit very high up your thighs, a little shirt pulled taut across your ample chest, and your friends are staring at you, their previous conversation completely forgotten.

You cross your arms and stomp to the bed, feigning indifference. You crawl over a startled Hyunjin to get to the middle, flopping into the little column of space they left for you.

“Good night,” you say.

Hyunjin turns off the bedside light. The three of you are laying on top of the covers, on your backs, stiff as boards. Your arms are still crossed over your chest in a totally unnatural position. You refuse to look around, counting every little popcorn freckle in the ceiling design.

“You kissed him,” Jeongin says, his voice so loud in the silence.

You feel Hyunjin look over, hear the turn of his head on the pillow. You cast your eyes to either side but do not turn your head. There is already a skip in your heartbeat and you cannot encourage it.

“What?” you ask.

“You kissed him,” Jeongin says. You feel him roll onto his side, facing you. “You didn’t kiss me.”

You brace yourself then turn your head, looking at him with every intention of telling him that you did it in the heat of the moment. But he is gazing you, his head propped up on his arm, that god-forsaken bicep flexed again.

You shake your head and look at the ceiling.

“Yes, I did,” you say. “What should we do about it?”

“Kiss him,” Hyunjin says. You look at him. He is also propped up, leaning back on his elbow. He looks at you with an expression that offers a challenge, asking, Well? What are you waiting for?

“Fine,” you say, then slowly turn to Jeongin. “Only because that’s fair.”

Jeongin does not hesitate. He is not as firm Hyunjin but he does not need to be. Long, steady fingers slide across your shoulder and cup the back of your head. He draws you into him, kissing your cheek before your lips.

You quickly lose yourself. Your eyes close and it feels like taking flight, or maybe falling. Yes, falling helplessly head over heels. You have been for a long time.

You cannot help but make a few wanting sounds. Jeongin’s body is so different to yours, all hard planes and firm muscle against your softer spots. His hand finds your waist and he pulls you even closer, kissing you long and slow like he is pacing himself, like he plans to kiss you for hours.

That hand wanders from your waist, sliding lower until he is cupping your ass. Your breath catches and the kiss breaks. He is quick to dive back in, kissing you deeper the second time, his tongue touching yours.

You grab his arm, breaking the kiss to catch your breath. When he leans in again, Hyunjin reaches out and shoves his shoulder. Jeongin blinks up at him, surprised.

“That was two kisses,” Hyunjin says. “My turn.”

Hyunjin grabs your shoulder and pulls you onto your back. You land with a soft thump, still intoxicated from kissing Jeongin.

You blink up at Hyunjin, your chest heaving with breath as his eyes roam down your body. His fingers follow the same trail, knuckles at your chin then the curve of your chest. You arch your back instinctively. Everything seems to throb when his fingers brush the front of your shorts. It is a momentary touch, then he is cupping your cheek and turning your face and kissing you.

Just last night, you were in this bed alone, fantasizing this very thing. You ended the phone call but you were wide awake, so you put on some music and grabbed your vibrator and lost yourself to the impossible fantasy now entering reality.

In your fantasies, one or both of them was on top of you. But Hyunjin surprises you with the opposite, taking hold of your hips and tugging. You follow his direction clumsily until you are straddling his lap. He is hard between your legs, holding you there against him while he cups the back of your head and kisses you.

You can’t believe you thought Hyunjin was a romantic little angel. He is an absolute demon, rolling his hips under you with the same unhurried pace Jeongin used. You are so wet and turned-on, so delirious with need, for a second it feels like there is nothing between you, just the hard shape of him against your softness. But no, there are thin layers of fabric between you, stretched so tight it is like they are not there.

Jeongin curves his hand over the shape of your ass. Your shorts are riding up from your position. He could get an eye-ful at the right angle.

“You’re so…” he says, but his breath catches like there is no word to do you justice. It makes you look at him, your eyes locking in intensity.

It ends when Hyunjin rolls, laying you onto your back again. Then he sits back, leaving you there in a breathless pant.

“What do you think about?” he asks.

You make a noise back at him. It is supposed to be a question but it comes out garbled. You shake your head, then manage to ask, “Huh? Think about?”

He sits up and reaches into your bedside drawer. You come to coherency when he takes out your vibrator.

“Hyunjin!” You cannot help but scold him. “I told you to stay out of there!”

“You know I like to investigate,” he argues. “I can’t help it.”

“Oh my god,” you say, slapping your forehead. “I swear to god, it’s like being friends with a crow.”

Jeongin sits up too, laughing so much he has to cover his face. He shakes his head as he comes up for a breath, pushing his hair out of his face.

“Stop laughing,” you say, even while a few giggles escape.

Jeongin just grins at you, then he reaches out and touches traces his thumb across your smile.

“Are you going to answer?” Hyunjin asks.

You look at him and snatch the vibrator back, clutching it possessively to your chest.

“That’s none of your business,” you say.

“It could be,” he says, expression getting darker by the second, a playful smile turning to a dirty smirk. He runs his teeth across his bottom lip then bats his eyelashes. “If you think about us,” he finishes.

“I—no—you—”

“It’s fine,” he says. “It’s normal. I think about you.”

“Hyunjin,” you gasp. You go to whack him with the vibrator then remember what it is. You hold it against your chest again, embarrassed. Hot in the face and everywhere else, you sputter more indignantly than you feel, “There’s nothing to think about with me.”

He looks at you like he can’t believe you are serious, his eyes dropping down your body then back up. He laughs, covering a hand over his mouth.

“Last night I thought plenty,” he says with a wave of his hand. “I wondered if you could come so hard it would make you cry. I bet you’d look pretty.”

You swallow hard. Your hands are getting clammy, clutching the toy. You cannot even fake any indignance, so turned on it is making your head spin.

“That’s rude,” you say in a rasping voice, “I was crying and you were—”

“I waited to touch myself, thank you,” he teases.

“Jeongin wouldn’t do that,” you say, looking back at him. He is staring up at the ceiling, blinking too quickly and too innocently. “Jeongin!” you exclaim.

Hyunjin laughs some more, a gleeful little cackle behind his hand. You huff dramatically, trying and failing to frown at them.

“My friends are perverts,” you say.

Hyunjin is reclining in an insouciant slouch. Jeongin is sitting upright behind you. You look between them as they look at each other, seemingly conversing through nothing but a series of blinks. Jeongin smiles first, winking at you when you meet his eye. He is holding your gaze when Hyunjin moves, smooth and quick. They crowd you, one on either side, each with a hand on your thigh.

You make a noise, a surprised little whimper as you spill onto your back. You clutch the toy for dear life as Jeongin strokes your inner thigh and Hyunjin’s long fingers trace your waistband. You gasp when Hyunjin slides right in, under your shorts but over your underwear. You are so turned on that there is no hiding it, the fabric wet under his searching fingers.

“Takes one to know one,” he says with a smile. “Maybe that’s why we’re friends.”

“I don’t think we’re just friends,” Jeongin says while sliding the toy out of your hands. He turns it on and your clit pulses under Hyunjin’s fingers, trained to react to the noise.

Hyunjin laughs, his breath on your neck. He moves his hand while Jeongin presses the toy between your legs, over your shorts and panties but nonetheless immediately effective. You squirm a little. The onslaught of sensation has your thighs twitching to close.

The boys shuffle quickly. You find yourself sitting between Jeongin’s legs, your back against his chest. Hyunjin kneels in front of you, holding your legs open so you cannot escape the toy’s blissful torture. You can feel an orgasm winding up ridiculously fast. You have not had a proper relationship but you have fooled around, but it was never like this. Even by yourself with a toy, an orgasm would take time. You have a breath to realize you are going to come, hard, legs spread for your boys.

It hits you quickly but deeply, rolling vibrations of pleasure that have you rearing up. You start to cry out and Jeongin covers your mouth even though you are alone, catching the sound in his palm. He holds the toy with his other hand, keeping it in place while Hyunjin holds your legs so you feel every tingling second of aftershocks.

When you whine into his palm, Jeongin lets you go and turns off the toy.

The room feels very quiet when the toy stops. You come to reality, remembering you are in your parents’ house in your old bedroom. Your parents might not be home but it still seems wrong to get down and dirty with your old teddy bear staring at you.

Hyunjin follows your line of sight. He grabs the bear and turns it around.

Okay. It’s fine now.

You twist around and grab Jeongin, kissing him roughly. He holds you as desperately, kissing back with the same fervour. Hyunjin gets his hands on your shorts and tugs them down. They are only off one leg, dangling around your knee, when he dives in and starts kissing your pussy through your underwear.

You are still sensitive from your orgasm, moaning into Jeongin’s mouth while Hyunjin torments you with his. When he moves the material out of the way, your legs start shaking again. Jeongin reaches down to touch you too, his fingers brushing Hyunjin’s lips. Hyunjin sucks the taste of you off his fingertips then dives back in.

You are caught by surprise when you come again. Jeongin catches your cry, covering your mouth again as you shake in his arms. A tear spills loose just from the sheer sensation of such rapid orgasms. Your body feels like a live wire, all lightning and electric energy.

Hyunjin kneels upright, looking at the tear running down your face. You whimper into Jeongin’s hand when Hyunjin licks it off your cheek.

“Knew you’d be pretty like that, baby,” he says.

You pry Jeongin’s hand off your mouth. It goes easily. In the end, they follow your lead. You know your boys. They would do anything for you. They would start. They would stop.

You do not want them to stop.

“Fuck me,” you say, so quietly it does not even penetrate the silence. Even so, Hyunjin slides his hand between your legs and slides two fingers right inside you, so easily because you are so wet. Jeongin squeezes your breasts in his hands, over your shirt then tugging the fabric up and over to get his hands on your bare skin.

“What was that?” Hyunjin asks. He brings those wet fingers to his lips and licks your wetness off them.

“F-fuck me,” you say, still a whisper but clearer. “Please.”

“Well,” Jeongin says, kissing your temple. He smiles at Hyunjin. “Since you asked so nicely.”

You all tumble over, laying on your sides. Jeongin is nestled behind you, Hyunjin in front of you. Jeongin lifts your shirt over your head while Hyunjin finally removes everything below your waist. You slip your hand between your thighs while they whip off their shirts and boxers.

Then it feels like their hands are everywhere. Yours too, reaching forward for Hyunjin, reaching back for Jeongin. You hold his hip while he rocks against you, his cock gliding along your backside.

“I’ll go first,” Hyunjin says, manhandling you onto your back then getting up between your legs.

“You kissed her first,” Jeongin argues, shoving him. Hyunjin shoves him back.

“You’re bigger,” Hyunjin says, nodding to his dick. “I’ll get her ready.”

You did not actually get a good look at Hyunjin’s dick before he put it inside you. If Jeongin is bigger, you are almost worried, because Hyunjin is bigger than anything you have had down there. You make a keening, high-pitched noise, mouth open as he presses inside you.

Jeongin lays beside you, reaching down to rub that still-tingling bundle of nerves. It helps, your eyes closing and head falling back. Jeongin kisses the exposed line of your throat while Hyunjin starts moving inside you.

“Ohh—” you say, your hands moving all over his chest. You clutch one shoulder and reach for Jeongin with your other hand. He guides it to his dick, helping you find a rhythm, stroking his length while Hyunjin fucks you.

It goes on for a time, then Jeongin curses, squeezing your hand around him. He nods to Hyunjin.

“Move,” he says. “My turn.”

Hyunjin, panting, pushes some hair off his sweaty forehead. He moves backwards down the bed, stepping right off. You yelp with surprise when he grabs your legs and yanks you down the bed. He grabs your hips and flips you over, then gestures to Jeongin.

“Your turn,” he confirms. They switch places, Jeongin kneeling behind you while Hyunjin kneels in front of you. You get up on your elbows, lifting your hips while Jeongin thrusts in. He wastes no time, evidently already on the brink from your ministrations. It means your gentle lover is suddenly pounding into you, your fingers forming fists in the bedsheets, yanking the covers everywhere as you pant and moan.

“Sooo pretty,” Hyunjin says, cupping your face in both hands. You know what he wants without asking, opening your mouth eagerly. You doubt it is the best head ever, especially considering half your attention is on Jeongin, your body moving where he wills it. But you manage, savouring the moment and already imagining every variation of position for the future.

You look up at Hyunjin, kissing the tip of his dick then saying in a rough voice, “I want both of you one day.”

“Fuck,” Jeongin says and immediately comes, grinding deep inside you. Hyunjin grabs you by the neck and puts you back on his dick, murmuring a string of expletives just as colourful until he comes.

You think it is over when Jeongin pulls out. Cum is dribbling out of your mouth when Hyunjin sits back. He wipes his thumb over your lips, pushing them closed.

“You can swallow,” he says. His touch is a suggestion, not forceful, so you could ignore it. But you gaze up at him and swallow.

And while you are doing that, Jeongin grabs the toy and puts it back between your legs. You almost scream, bucking when it comes to life on your dripping pussy. Hyunjin cups your face in his hands again, stroking your cheeks while you ride the pulsing vibrations. Another couple tears spill and he wipes them away with his thumbs, cooing sweet nothings at you the entire time.

They wring three more orgasms out of you before you basically collapse, exerted and sweating and panting.

“God,” you rasp, laying on your side, still breathing hard. “I’m gonna need to get in shape for this. Two boyfriends is no joke.”

The three of you laugh, then you get to enjoy the spoiled princess treatment that is having one boy to cuddle while the other fetches water and a towel. When you finally get to sleep, it is nestled safely between your boys, murmuring sweet words at each other in sleepy tones until you fall asleep.

Your parents return at lunch the next day. While Jeongin helps your father grill and Hyunjin sets the table, you help your mother prepare a side dish. She is practically beaming at you.

“Do I want to know why you slept at the neighbour’s last night?” you ask.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” your mother says. She kisses your forehead. “I heard you on the phone the other night. I know you lied about having a boyfriend.”

“What?!” You look at her with alarm and surprise. “But – but you didn’t say anything! You acted like Jeongin was my boyfriend the second he arrived!”

“Of course!” your mother says. “Look my dear, anyone can find a boyfriend. Walk onto the street and throw a rock, there’s one with his head out the car window like a dog. Easy. Not everyone can find a man who shows up to a party and pretends to be her lover, expecting nothing in return, and doing it just because he loves her. And you found two.”

Your mother wraps you in her arms. You are still surprised but you hug her back.

“I’m sorry I made you feel so pressured,” she says. “I just worried about you all alone in the city, but now I see you’re not alone. But, you know, I am a mother, and I saw how those boys looked at you, so I figured… well…”

“Mom!” you cry, a little mortified she intentionally set you up.

“Did it work?” she asks with an eyebrow wiggle.

You are laughing helplessly, shaking your head, which only makes her laugh.

“I knew it,” she says. “Sometimes fate just needs a hand. Maybe two.”

“We’re not talking about this anymore,” you say, walking away.

“You are glowing this morning. Maybe I should get another man too.”

“Mom, please!”

#hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x reader #yang jeongin x reader #jeongin x reader #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin smut #yang jeongin smut #jeongin smut #hyunjin x reader x jeongin #hyunjin x you #jeongin x you #hyunjin x you x jeongin #skz x reader #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader

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littlestarlightseverywhere · 3 months

Text

Do Your Worst

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel’s lover is having a hard time, but no amount of acting out can push him away

Warnings: mentions of violence (torture)

Notes: Sorry for the silence, I’ve been having terrible writer’s block but I think I did okay with this one!

Image Credit: Pinterest

Today was rubbish. Probably one of her worst days yet.

It had been exactly two months since Hybern captured her from Azriel’s post and took her to their war camp deep in the Spring Court’s woods. Exactly two months since she’d been tortured for information she’d die before giving up. Exactly two months since she’d made peace with her death. Rhys couldn’t track her immediately, Mor and Feyre’s searches came up empty each time, and even Azriel’s shadows couldn’t pick up a clue. Azriel had driven himself mad, downright insane, trying to find her. Each day he spent every waking hour looking for clues, scouring the forests for her scent, and each day he returned to bed with nothing to show for it. It took Amren and Nesta a month to finally locate her. In that month she laid cut and bruised, chained to a wooden post like an animal, struck, cut, and burnt for every question she refused to answer. They left her in the middle of that camp, exposed to the heat of the day, the cold of the night, the rain, the wind, and the thunder. They made her into a spectacle.

She only thought of her family, her Azriel, the entire time. My Azriel, she’d think each time they brutalized her. My Azriel, my Azriel, my Azriel. Rhys collapsed when she allowed him into her mind after they brought her home. He would never forgive himself for sending her on that mission, nor would he ever show his brother what she’d shown him, for Azriel very well would have sent Prythian to immediate war.

And while the cuts, bruises, burns, and broken bones would heal completely, the skin of her back would forever be changed, marred with angry, raised scars from a heavy leather whip. She could barely walk.

The first time Azriel saw the lashes on her back, he was helping her undress the night she returned home. Each movement caused her to cry out in pain. She tried to bite her lip, clench her fist, grip Azriel’s arm, tried anything to keep from crying, but nothing helped– the pain was too much. It would’ve been a mercy from the Mother to fall apart, limb by limb, bone by bone, instead.

Azriel had seen all the other scars when Madja was working on her; those alone made him sick and wild with a hideous rage, potent enough to crumble the mountains surrounding the city into nothing more than powder on the ground. The lashes on her back– the thought of some wretched male stripping her and lashing a whip over her soft, warm skin in the mud and rocks– filled him with a fury so intense, so horrid, he could’ve wrapped his bare arms around the sun and pulled it down to earth. Set everything on fire.

That very night, with names in his ear courtesy of the shadows and Cassian and Rhys positioned at her door, Azriel made each of those names pay. He was back by sunrise, tucked into bed beside her, wing draped over her restless body, and she was none the wiser.

“You’re killing it,” Madja’s appointed physical therapist, Jarrah, encouraged as he watched her do her exercises. He was tall and muscled with glittering, golden-brown skin, looking ever the Summer Court high fae that he was.

“It’s killing me,” she ground the words out, mincing each syllable as they passed through her teeth. Pain gripped her legs, lower back, and upper arms like a vise as she fought to complete a rep, the movements squeezing every last bit of energy out of her and collecting on the mat below in puddles of sweat. “I can’t do it, Jarrah.”

“You can and you will,” he squared his shoulders at her, smile fading as he willed her to find her strength again. In recovery, he’d taught her, there were good days and there bad days– healing was not a linear process.

Some days she did well in physical therapy and pushed herself– the pain only meant she was getting stronger. Azriel would be absolutely beside himself with pride and their friends echoed as much.

Other days, her body seemed to give out in protest, the pain too unbearable, and she’d wonder if she’d ever be the same again. Azriel would encourage her– she knew it wasn’t pity– but she couldn’t stand it all the same. She’d collapse onto the floor against her will during physical therapy, shoving Jarrah away with shame when he’d tried to help her up each time. Sometimes, she’d wake up in the dead of night, clammy, and nauseous from a nightmare that felt more and more real each time she had one. Azriel held her to his body whenever she’d jostle awake, heaving and shaking, stroking his warm hands up and down her arms. Other nights he held her hair back as she retched her dinner into the toilet, panting and crying silent tears.

“To expect linearity is to set yourself up for failure,” Jarrah lectured during their very first session when all she wanted to do was get to the hard stuff, to prove that she was alright– that she was still whole. Jarrah did not mind her bad days, but something died within her every time she left training without making any notable progress– every time her body failed her when her mind seemed to be giving its all.

From the moment they started their session this morning, Jarrah noted her body was fatigued and her mind was somewhere else. Oh dear.

“We can take a break–”

“No!” She buckled down and held her position, determined to prove to herself that even on her worst days she could succeed. It was the most enthusiastic response Jarrah had gotten all session from her so he allowed it. He watched her body tremble from the strain, the sweat bead at her temples, the fatigue in her eyes as she fought the pain in her spine.

Her body could not bear it anymore. She felt her traitorous legs give out beneath her and the ground came up faster than she could register, faster than Jarrah could react. A strangled cry crawled from her throat as she collapsed and her body trembled in a pain her mind could barely process.

“Fuck,” a familiar voice rang out from the gym’s entrance and Azriel ran in. Just great. What was he even doing here? After the first training appointment in which Azriel could barely keep himself from choking out Jarrah and coddling her, he agreed to not interrupt her sessions thereafter. His disregard for their agreement made her feel so small.

“Fuck,” Jarrah echoed. He was at her side in two steps, arms outstretched to help her up, but she scooted away as fast as her leadened arms would allow, turning her face away in shame.

“Don’t touch me!” She croaked.

Jarrah stopped himself by the time Azriel was at her side, crouching beside her and taking up what felt like all of the oxygen in her space. Breathe, she tried to remind herself but with Azriel hovering and Jarrah a foot away, both watching her crumpled pathetically on the mats, she couldn’t.

“Are you alright?”

“Get her some water!”

“That’s enough for today, let’s get you some food.”

“... My love?”

Azriel’s soft voice pierced through her terrible thoughts. She felt his strong hands reach under her armpits to help her up but she pushed against his biceps, swatting him off in a desperate attempt to move away. But the pain made her so dizzy, it was difficult to create any real distance.

“Don’t!” she cried out, for it was all she could do, and Azriel dropped his hands immediately. “I can get up on my own.”

Azriel didn’t move. Jarrah placed a comforting hand on Azriel’s shoulder. “We should give her some space.”

Azriel clenched his jaw but it didn’t stop the twitching of his upper lip. He stood abruptly, swiveling on his heels so his face was only mere inches from Jarrah’s, who’d since quickly retracted his hand to himself. To his credit, he kept his shoulders square, but even he wasn’t immune to the pure threat in the Shadowsinger’s glare.

“My mate is in pain, she can’t even stand up, and you want to leave her like this?” He growled.

Anger grappled her lungs, stealing whatever air she’d managed to collect. That was the problem. “I can stand up, Azriel. I’m not made of glass.”

It took her a few minutes, but she did it. She first rotated her hips so she was on her hands and knees. With one foot underneath her, she pushed herself up, trembling, sighing, moaning as her body resisted the upward movement, but she finally stood.

Azriel clenched his hands at his sides to anchor himself back, to resist from helping her. He knew she was capable of doing anything, that she didn’t really need him. Part of the reason he was so hesitant to pursue her all those years ago was because she was so independent that it intimidated him. Azriel wasn’t sure what he brought to the table, what he could do better that she already did for herself, how he would fit into the life she’d built for herself.

But that didn’t change the fact that he would still do anything for her. It didn’t take away that primal need to protect her. He tried his best not to suffocate her but sometimes he couldn’t help his instincts when his love for her outweighed everything else.

She allowed Azriel to link his arm with hers as she waved goodbye to Jarrah, silently apologizing for Azriel’s outburst.

“Let’s get you something to eat, yeah?” His voice was soft as he led her out of the gym and to the townhouse’s sunlit sitting room. “You did so good today, love.”

“I’m not hungry.” Was all she replied. She couldn’t stomach anything after such a rubbish session. Fear that she would never be the same ever again set in, but nobody would understand. No one could even fathom what it would do to her if she couldn’t keep doing her job, going on these missions, protecting this city. If she was relegated to a desk for the rest of her life, she’d have lost everything she’s ever worked for.

“Sure you are. At least something small to keep the medicine down.”

Madja had her on a cocktail of herbs and elixirs– something for the pain, something for the scars, probably something for how fucked her mind had become– she couldn’t keep track. Azriel kept track for her. She swallowed the pills and the bitters he gave her and allowed him to rub the salve into her scars before bed. Whatever. This was life now– being shoddily held together by some combination of antibiotics, gauze, and ointments.

She shook her head in defiance and Azriel sighed, stopping her just before the doorway to the living room where the rest of their friends sat. She was so stubborn– if she didn’t want to do something, no one could get her to do it. It was a quality he admired but also a quality that drove him downright mad at times like this.

“What’s bothering you?”

“You mean besides healing at a snail’s pace and sitting on my ass all day in this house while everyone else goes to work– fulfills some sort of purpose? I’m doing just great.” The smile did not reach her eyes.

Azriel tilted his head as if to say No, really. I know there’s something else. He could read her like a damn book– it had always been that way.

She hesitated for a moment before confessing, “I don’t know if I’ll be the same ever again.”

Azriel’s face softened at the anxiety that weighed on her shoulders so heavily they sagged.

“Of course you will, love. It’s only a matter of time.”

“It’s been two months and I can’t even climb the stairs without needing a break. My body hurts by the time I go to bed. I can still feel my back– the scars–” the words caught in her throat and she quickly cut herself off before she choked on them, unable to talk too much about it without feeling her body and mind repulse.

“Come here,” Azriel wrapped his strong arms around her frame and pulled her into his body so close their hearts beat in sync before each other as if in private conversation. “The physical training, the medicines, the therapist, you’ve got it all going on. No one here is working harder than you right now.”

“But what if it isn’t enough,” she mumbled into his chest, a single hot tear catching on the fabric of his sweater. She turned her face into his chest to wipe the tear away completely and Azriel’s heart broke for her. He wished he could reach into her chest and pull out the pain with his bare hands, fly with it to Ramiel and drop it at the peaks where it could never find its way back to her ever again. “You know better than anyone, you could do everything right and it still wouldn’t matter. I just need to get better. Be myself again.”

“I will love you no matter what happens. Even if you are never the same, I will still love you. This changes nothing.”

She pushed him away abruptly, hastily wiping away tears as if Azriel couldn’t see them. He didn’t get it. This wasn’t about him, about him loving her. This was her life. If she couldn’t get back to who she was, fill the roles she’d spent her whole life caring about, where would she stand among her family? Where would she stand in this life? In this world?

“But it changes everything for me,” her eyebrows furrowed incredulously. “I want my body back, my mind back. Thanks for letting me know you’d still love me if I were to be this fucked up forever, but that’s literally the last thing on my mind right now, Azriel. I don’t want to be fucked up forever, I want to get better, and I need you to want that for me too.”

Azriel tried to find the right words, stuttering in his search to say the right thing. He didn’t mean it like that. He only ever wanted the best for her– would kill for her to have what’s best for her. “I-I didn’t mean–”

“No, I’m sure you didn’t.” She huffed, storming past him into the sitting room. Instant guilt flooded her as soon as she left him. Azriel helped however he could. Perhaps it wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t put himself in her shoes in this very situation, but he’d gone through something traumatic too, and Azriel definitely knew a thing or two about helplessness. Still, she felt so alone. Azriel tried, but he wouldn’t understand what it was like to be a woman tortured in a camp full of males. What that took from her. She wouldn’t explain it.

Azriel watched her storm off, feeling as if he was failing her all over again. Every night, he watched the dullness in her eyes grow as he handed her the medicines. When she laid down in their bed with practiced monotony so he could rub the salve into the scars stretched across her back, he bit the inside of his cheeks to keep from crying. They were nasty things, raised and swollen with blood and she flinched every time he touched them, as if he were delivering the lashings all over again. She was hurting and he felt so helpless. He vowed to always protect her and take away her pains but he could do neither of those things and the thought of it ate him alive everyday. Only the Mother knew the true lengths he’d go to for her. That man would do anything.

In the sitting room, Azriel brought her a sandwich that he put together in the kitchen. Nuala and Cerridwen insisted that would make it, but he politely refused. He wanted to be the one to do it.

“Az, I told you I’m not hungry,” She murmured as he handed her the plate.

“You need to eat something if you want to keep the medicines down,” He reasoned again.

“I know what Madja said, I was there,” She snarked, crossing her arms. She was so tired of people telling her what to do. Jarrah telling her what exercises to do, Madja telling her what medicines to take, Rhys telling her that she shouldn’t try to work again so soon, Feyre telling her she should take more walks, Cassian telling her to drink less wine, Azriel forcing her to eat more food.

“Okay, darling,” He placed the plate on the table when she wouldn’t take it from him.

“Turkey and swiss, okay!” Cassian peeked at the sandwich, nudging her arm. “And he cut it in half too.”

“Just the way she likes it. In half though, not diagonal– too much crust in one bite if it's cut diagonal,” Azriel smiled from where he sat across the table from them. She could have cried at the sight of him, at the love in his eyes, in his voice. Words were never his strong suit but Azriel more than made up for it in acts of service. This was how he showed his love. This was him reaching his hand out, begging for her to take it, to let him in. To let him help.

And she didn’t know why she had such a hard time letting him in. She didn’t want to seem incapable of anything, and letting herself fall apart the way Azriel would allow her to terrified her. She’d never fallen apart before. She didn’t know how she could do it without completely tearing herself and every past wound open again. It broke her heart to watch his smile falter when she didn’t reach for the plate.

“I’m going to bed,” she stood up as quickly as her body would allow and left the room. It was too much. Azriel’s disappointment, everyone’s expectations, watching her, studying her, readying themselves to be there for her if she did explode. She never needed this much attention in the past– to receive so much of it all of a sudden made her feel like she was made of porcelain and everyone was expecting her to shatter at any moment. She could hardly breathe in that room and needed to get out before something within her cracked further.

The stairs loomed before her, mocking with how many there were. Grabbing the bannister until her knuckles paled, she hoisted herself up one step at a time, maneuvering her body so that her entire weight wouldn’t be on one leg for too long.

Nesta appeared behind her, climbing the steps she’d taken over the course of minutes in just mere seconds, with a stack of books in one arm and a handful of her gown in the other. Nesta stopped a couple steps ahead, turning around and looking down at her through long eyelashes.

“Well this is pathetic,” Nesta snorted.

“Fuck off,” she meant to sneer, but it came out in a breathless huff instead. Pathetic indeed.

Nesta let her skirts fall from her right arm as she extended it toward her.

“I don’t need your help.”

“You definitely do.”

“Don’t you have those smutty little novels to get back to?”

“Shut the fuck up and take my arm, or bust your ass on these stairs, I don’t care.”

Begrudgingly, she took Nesta’s arm. Neither of them spoke, but Nesta patiently guided her up the stairs, supporting her where she needed it. Out of the entire Inner Circle, she got along the most with Nesta. Their conversations usually followed a very similar pattern as this one did, but only because they each saw a little piece of themselves in the other, even if they never mentioned it.

“Heard you being a bitch downstairs,” Nesta finally spoke when they cleared the last stair and stood at the landing so she could catch her breath.

She couldn’t find it within herself to take offense. “I love him more than I’ve ever loved anything or anyone. I don’t know why I do this,” she confessed. She didn’t need to explain further. Nesta automatically understood. When they locked eyes, that silent comprehension flowed between them again and for the first time since arriving back home from the war camp, she felt relief. The kind of relief that made your heart beat out of your chest and go a little dizzy. The kind of relief that came from being completely understood without having to spend the energy trying to put the thoughts and feelings into comprehensible words.

“I know. It’s not your fault.” The words fell softly from Nesta’s lips. It was the last thing she said before she led her to the library. They sat in arm chairs across the fireplace and read for hours in each others’ company. No one came looking for her. No one tried to force a plate of food down her throat. No one wanted her to do those stupid mobility stretches. Nobody was asking her if she was okay. It was everything she needed. So why did she still feel restless, like something was missing?

Azriel.

She left the library after she’d calmed down. In the quiet, amongst the books, when she thought that was all she needed, she felt misery instead. She needed Azriel. She wanted to lay in bed with him forever, feel his skin on hers forever, stay in his warmth forever, feel their heartbeats sing side by side forever. Azriel forever. Nothing else would compare.

When she reached their room, it was empty. Disappointment flooded her chest, but she knew Azriel was giving her space. As she moved closer to the bed, she found a new plate of food waiting beside a note. A remade sandwich, cut down the middle as always.

Your favorite. Was all the note said.

Indeed it was. She polished off the sandwich in a matter of minutes, as ravenous as she was. Actually, she was hungry when Azriel first offered one to her in the sitting room, but she was too stubborn to take it then.

The bath towel beside the note on the bed was warm to the touch. From the soft sound of trickling water in the bathing room, she knew he’d run her a bath. The air above the tub smelled of sandalwood– his scent. As she stripped off her clothes and lowered herself into the warm water, the scent encompassed her as if he was in the room with her right then, waiting to join her.

Surely, an hour or two must have passed. Her eyes pried open, the water and soap around her body in the tub still warm and feathery like a winter duvet. She didn’t know when she’d fallen asleep, only that it was the best sleep she’d gotten these past two months. For the first time since coming home, she slept with no nightmares and no nausea to rouse her from rest. She didn’t even dream. She simply passed out.

When she finally left the bathroom, her body wrapped in the towel he’d warmed for her, she found Azriel sitting on the bed with a book nestled in his large hands. As she stepped through the doorway of the bathing room, he looked up, smiling softly. Pure love shone in his eyes like a beacon, flashing and blinking in the darkness that war camp left her in.

At the sight of his soft smile, the gentleness of his features, the relaxed sag of his shoulders, she felt something break.

Sensing a shift in her demeanor, he lowered the book, eyebrows knitting together.

"What's wrong?"

Those two damned words. She bit the inside of her cheek, walking weakly to Azriel's side of the bed. He placed his book on the nightstand and sat up straighter, anticipating her next move.

She climbed into his lap, straddling his hips, and laid her upper body against his torso, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck. Her arms wrapped around his body tightly, breathing him in like he was the oxygen she lived off of. Anything else, anything that was not Azriel, and she could just die right there.

He brought his arms around her tightly, heart sinking when he felt her hot tears on his neck. She did not shake. She did not sob. He only felt the wetness on his skin and the erratic heaving of her chest against his as she fought to regulate her breathing.

He did not say anything else. He held her, unmoving except to rub her back or run his hand over the back of her head, smoothing her hair. His other hand held the back of one of her thighs to keep her in place as she grew increasingly limp in his arms.

"I've been such a wretch." Her voice was heavy and filled with sorrow. "I've been such a wretch to you. I'm sorry Az."

"Oh my love," He held her as close as he could, willing her to feel the love he held for her in his chest. His love for her ran everywhere his blood did, from his toes to the top of his head, every day and every second, his astonishment of her coursed his body like an electrical current keeping him alive. Without her, there was no pulse.

"How do you put up with me?" He felt her wipe her nose on his shoulder and he couldn't help the smile on his lips.

"Because I love you, and I know your anger has nothing to do with me."

"But you should not have to put up with it."

"I will put up with anything when it comes to you. You don’t ever have to worry about that when it’s you and I,” He pulled her back so he could look into her eyes. “You went through something horrible. You’re going to need time to work through it all, but I will be here for every moment of it. I’m sorry if I’ve been suffocating you, darling. I only do it because I can’t help it. When I see you hurting I wish I could take all of it from you and put it in me.”

“I never want you to hurt,” she told him earnestly. The thought of him going through what she did filled her with rage so sudden and consuming she couldn’t begin to imagine what Azriel felt when they finally found her at the camp.

“I could never when I have you looking out for me,” He smiled that cheeky, boyish smile that came out so rarely.

“I’ve just been having so many bad days. I should be happy that I’m back home, that I’m safe now. I don’t know why I’m feeling like this, and it comes out at the wrong times in the wrong ways. But I don’t know what I’d do without you, Az.”

“Even on your worst days, you’re the best of us. So do your worst. I can handle it."

The disbelief in her eyes melted away when he cradled her head, smiling earnestly– and gods, she wished she could commission Feyre to paint him like this– a man smitten. With all the tonics and creams Madja had forced on her, she had a sneaking suspicion that none of them would truly heal her. They helped the symptoms, but never the cause. She’d accepted that it would take a damn miracle to heal the cause. And here Azriel was, pleading and lovely, looking like her damn miracle.

She let him undo the towel from around her body and lay her into the soft covers, warm from where he sat while she was in the bath. Turning over, Azriel smoothed the salve over her scars as he did every night. But for the first time in months, she finally replied to his attempts at starting conversation as he worked. For the first time in months, she laughed genuine laughs that felt only slightly foreign– much like old friends– in her throat. For the first time in months, as he tenderly slicked Madja’s balm over her scars, praying to the Mother for her health over each one he touched, she did not flinch.

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thursdaygxrls · 4 months

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Enemies to lovers & enemies with benefit, remus x reader pls? They both are academic rivals and one day things got heated and they have angry sex then after that everytime they would argue in ends up in them having sex? Maybe add in a jealous remus hehe

i absolutely loved this request!! tried my best (i haven't written smut in a while, sorry if it's trash). might need to do a part two to add the jealous remus in :)) also, i'm trying out a new intro set up because i'm tired of the old one

how to hate a boy

pairing remus lupin x reader

warnings mdni!! smut, lotta smut, fingering, p in v (protected), general hatred, really bad editing (i didn't edit tehe)

Remus Lupin was always a crude, scruffy boy. Ever since she’d met him, he’d been nothing but trouble. It started with the pranks. Remus Lupin and his moronic Gryffindor companions had become notorious for their practical jokes within the first few years of Hogwarts. It was nothing necessarily harmful: enchanting quills to scribble on sleeping students' faces or swapping out pumpkin juice for polyjuice potion. They were always annoying, but never intrusive to her specifically. Until the end of fourth year.

She prided herself on being one of the brightest witches of her age, receiving praise from McGonnagle and Slughorn themselves. It was only natural to assume she'd ranked somewhere in the top five in each year's final exams. There was an ease to her step when she walked to the board outside the square where each fourth year's marks had been posted. Though there was a crowd of both horrified and excited children, she pushed through to look at the list. Her eyes moved to the top immediately, gently combing through the list until...

In that moment, she died.

She found her name next to an emboldened number six, and the name above? Lupin, Remus John. Her mouth was dry in an instant, all the moisture having been sucked from her tongue to her eyes. As if the colossal failure along with its physical repercussions wasn't enough, Sirius Black, one of said moronic Gryffindors, had popped up next to her for a look at the board.

"Would you look at that, Moons!" His ecstatic tone sent a wave of bile up her throat, "You're in the top five!"

"Piss off." She heard his gruff voice respond.

"I'm serious! You're up here!"

That was about all she could take. She pushed through the crowd, ignoring the hisses of annoyance and the calls of 'what the hell's her problem?' Hot, salty tears filled her eyes as she stomped from the square. Something like this would never happen again, she would make sure of it.

Thus, the rivalry was born.

Remus never truly knew how he'd suddenly gained an enemy the next year. He didn't know her well - she was just a girl in his year, not one he'd ever talked to or singled out. Yet, there was a newfound aggression she held towards him that unleashed itself within the classroom. If he began to raise his hand to answer a question, hers would shoot up with no hesitation before his fingers were as high as his head. He thought she was just eager and he was just slow until it happened in every class they had together for two weeks.

Then, in the library, she would casually pluck the books he would reach for. It was a nuisance, truly, and more than that, he received an A on a paper he could've received an O on if he'd just had the books he needed. It was then he accepted that this was not a random occurrence, this girl truly had some sort of vendetta against him, and he needed to retaliate. Returning to his dorm after collecting his graded paper, he immediately sought to design a prank to put an end to this one-sided war. However, within minutes of planning it, an idea occurred to him: maybe he'd started it all, or Sirius, or James, or Peter. Perhaps she'd been fodder in one of their pranks, and in turn was the one getting her revenge.

Remus was not an unreasonable man. Unlike Sirius (who would've pulled something far worse than a practical joke on her), he could deal with this situation with something much less drastic: a conversation.

He found her the next day tucked away in the library. She was at a table near the back where there were more cobwebs than books. He approached her with the same caution someone might lend to a venomous snake or feral cat. Slow, steady steps led him to her chair, where he introduced his presence with an awkward cough.

"Hi," he spoke, tone unwavering. She, whose eyes had been gliding along the pages of a book, looked up at him with an uninterested gaze. He stood still for a moment before letting out a sigh.

"I'm sorry, alright?" He huffed, though he wasn't sure what his was sorry for.

"Sorry?" She raised a brow in what seemed to be genuine intrigue.

"Yeah, y'know," he gently scraped the edge of his boot against the table leg, "For whatever I did. Or we did. Whatever bit of fun we had that's got you so miffed with me."

All at once, her quirked brow and sense of interest dissipated, replaced by a hard scowl. Quickly, she began packing away her belongings, not caring to spare him a glance.

"What?" There was a sense of annoyance in her voice, "I was apologizing."

"Mhm," she hummed, zipping her bag. Before she left, she met his eyes with a piercing gaze, "I heard about that A you got, Lupin. Try a little harder next time, will you?" With that, she left the library and a partly-dumbfounded, partly-pissed Remus.

His initial reaction was to fight fire with fire: if she wanted to be a prick, he'd show her how low he could get. He stomped through the castle, steam blowing from his ears. His face was twisted into one of rage when he slammed his dorm door shut, immediately alerting his roommates.

"'Bloody hell's wrong with you?" Sirius immediately perked up from the upside-down position he had on his bed. Remus, more than ready to respond, opened his mouth only to find that no words would come out.

I heard about that A you got, Lupin. Try a little harder next time, will you?

That remark, her book sabotage, the amount of times she'd overshadowed him in class. This hatred towards him was personal, and it had to do something with his marks. He had been doing quite well recently, especially with coming up in the top five of last year's final exams. A wicked smile crossed his lips as he slowly slid his bag from his shoulders.

"Nothin'," Remus shook his head, walking to his desk, "Nothin's wrong at all."

"That was concerning, that face you made – did anyone else see that? James?" Sirius glanced around the room to see James far too invested with his Walkman and Frank and Peter half asleep in their beds.

"Trust me, Pads, I'm perfect," he shot Sirius a grin.

Next week, there a new paper was assigned in Defense Against the Dark Arts, a class he and his new sworn enemy shared. Instead of visiting the library in the afternoon as he always had, he would go during early mornings. Yawning, he fought the urge to resume his slumber on his table as he scribbled down notes upon notes of research. He got quicker, too, learning to raise his hand faster than she could ever dream of. Sure, sometimes he didn't know the answer to the question being asked, but he was quicker than her, and that's all that mattered.

A month later, when the DADA essays were now graded and redistributed to the students, he found a large red O at the top left of his paper. A wild, toothy smile adorned his lips as he looked down at the letter. The class had ended, but most of the students were there, pouring over the grades they'd received. Remus eyed the room for a moment before finding her at a table a few seats behind him. He stood, leaving Sirius, his desk partner, to tap his nails against his paper marked with the words 'See me after class!'

Remus was stealthy, making his way to her with the slow, collected steps he'd used before. Only this time there was no caution: he was decisive, cool. He sneaked a look at her paper, catching a glimpse of a red E. Looking back to her face, he noticed the gentle, pretty smile spread on her lips, but quickly shook his head.

"Nice work," he hummed, asserting himself. She looked to him with that same uninterested gaze he'd seen before. At that, his smirk grew tenfold.

"Maybe try harder next time, though, yeah?" He held up his paper. She couldn't even try to hide the shock, her jaw falling immediately to reflect to O on his paper. Without a word, he turned and slid out of the classroom.

Though it seemed like a done deal, this rivalry carried on for years. It went from a silent challenge to an increasingly public feud, which included spats in the Great Hall and fiercely whispered arguments in the library. It only worsened when they each became Prefects: their new privileges allowed even more room for one-upping. At some point, all of Hogwarts either knew of or had experienced their shared wrath. Opinions on the quarrel varied.

"She's fit," Sirius had said one afternoon in sixth year, "Nice bum. Maybe a good snog would set you both straight."

"Have you ever talked to her?" Lily Evans asked during a study session with Remus, "Try reasoning?"

"Fight the power!" James screamed, half drunk, half high at a party.

By seventh year, it seemed as though there was nothing that could be done. They hated each other, and that was that.

It was late November when Remus had Prefect rounds. Frost covered the edges of the windows he passed, and he wondered if it was he or the snow outside that had caused it. It was pure chance that drove him towards the library. He just wanted to stop there for a moment of silence before returning to his dorm. Of course, he had his silence in the empty hallways, but he chose to ignore that in favor of inhaling the scent of old books.

He entered the library, walking through a few shelves and mindlessly trailing his thumb along book spines. It was dark, but his wand provided a good bit of light to see ahead of him. He turned to leave when a noise pricked his ears: a loud thud in the back of the library.

Remus was on high alert as he rushed back to where the sound had come from. It was likely nothing more than a few first years sneaking out or a couple trying to get in a late night snog, but he still held his wand at the ready. What he did not expect to see upon turning the corner was his mortal enemy crouched over fallen books.

"What the hell are y'doing?" He spoke, his voice not nearly as quiet as he'd hoped. Her head shot up immediately before bowing with a hiss due to the light of his wand.

"Get that bloody light out of my face, you ass," she huffed, setting the books back down on the table. It was as though she was fully set up for a study session: books, parchment, quills, and the warm glow of a candle. He studied the scene with furrowed brows.

"You shouldn't be in the library, it's past curfew," he said in a sharp tone. Another look at the girl led him to (hesitantly) soften up his gaze. Under the white light of his wand, he could clearly see the marks of exhaustion left on her face, the very ones he saw in himself at the mirror. He settled himself in the space between her table and an empty one behind him.

"Past hours? Really now?" She shot back in a sarcastic tone. Remus huffed.

"You should be sleeping," he grumbled out.

"And you should be up?" She rolled her eyes, "Go on, leave me alone. I have work to do."

"What kind of git stays up late to work?" He said, ignoring that fact that he was absolutely that kind of git, "Get to bed."

The words didn't seem to pierce her, as she turned back to her book, unaffected. He stared down at her seated form, unsure of what to do. A cough (disguised as a groan) left him, and he decided to push a bit more. He leaned towards the table to pick up a book.

"What are you even–”

"Stop," she snapped. In a flash she stood and swiped the book from his hands. They were both on their feet now, their feet within centimeters of each other.

"You should sleep," he repeated with a clenched jaw.

"And what do you care?" She griped.

"You're a student out past hours, and I'm a Prefect," he said in a tight voice.

"Prefect? I'm a Prefect, you dunce," she scoffed, waving her hand in an irritated manner, "Just shut it and-"

"Don't tell me to shut it." The interruption was accompanied by a grip on her wrist. The sudden physical contact was a surprise to both of them. Even more surprising was the fact that she hadn't yet snagged her hand back.

"There would be no need to tell you to shut it if you didn't keep your ugly mouth closed," she hissed, her tone far louder than what was considered appropriate for a library. The silence was thick between them. His fingers burned her skin from the heat he radiated.

Remus didn't know what it was that made him do it. Sleep deprivation, frustration, rage, bashful horniness from the way he was yelled at. Whatever it may be, he unclasped her wrist only to capture her jaw and smash his lips to hers in an angry kiss. It wasn't pretty, and it wasn't gentle, and he nearly pulled away when he realized what he'd done only to feel her hands grip his hair, pulling him impossibly closer.

It was unabashedly ugly the way they kissed. Open mouths and gnashing teeth, more wrath and bite than the result of a tender love love confession. Remus had entirely forgotten there was a table behind him until her hands met his chest and pushed him back, knocking him onto the solid wood surface.

He was taller, but in this moment, she was above him, biting his lower lip and pulling his hair with total disregard to how it may hurt him. This action ripped a deep groan from his throat as wave of sweet pain washed over his scalp. His sudden vocalization sent her flying back with wide eyes.

"What are we doing?" She said through heavy breaths.

"You wanna stop?" He spoke, equally breathless. Her immediate reaction was to say 'no,' which scared her into stunned silence. Remus took this lapse to quickly stand to his full height and push her back towards her table. His lips were back on hers as he carelessly slid her belongings to the ground. He had just enough clarity to move the candle with a bit more diligence, setting it down on the table in front of hers.

Finding herself trapped snuggly between Remus and the wood, she hopped up to sit on the table. This new position seemed to suit Remus as well, seeing as he slotted himself directly between her open legs. His lips descended from her mouth to her jaw. He lost himself in her gasps as he nipped and sucked at her skin, though, he wasn't lost enough to ignore the way her hips jolted into his when sunk his teeth into the junction where her jaw met her neck.

His hands slid further down, testing the boundaries below the waist. His callused fingers pulled up the edge of her sweater to find the band of her jeans. Despite the way he was hungrily eating away at her flesh, his hands were hit a stagnant pace.

"God, you're always so slow," she growled, smacking his hands out of the way to undo the button of her jeans. She expected some sort of quip in return, maybe even a harsh bite on her neck, but there was nothing. Remus was silent except for his breathing, yet, his eyes shown a different story. The candlelight reflecting against his pupils created tiny fires encased by a ring of hazel. He removed his lips but not his body, keeping her pressed to the table as his licked the fingers of his right hand. He shoved past her loosened jeans and panties to find her pussy, already a bit wet. She gasped, but he quickly used his other hand to clamp her mouth shut.

“Slow enough for you?” He whispered against the shell of her ear as one finger lightly dipped past her entrance. He was achingly slow yet deliberate, pushing his finger in before letting it recede. She moaned into his palm against her will at the pace. Her hands moved to grab his wrist, but somehow, he was quicker. He moved from her mouth to clasp her hands and slam them down on the table behind her, causing her to slide backwards and him to gain more control on top of her.

“Oh, too slow?” He asked in mocking tone. In an instant, his fingers had gone from feather-light strokes to quick pumps, fucking her entrance without any of the gentleness he’d given before. The sudden speed with which he'd changed his pace caused his other hand to slacken his grip on her restraint, and one of her hands slipped to hold onto his shoulder.

"Fuck, hold on – slow – Remus, please," she gasped out. His fingers hurt, but there was something so delicious about the pain he was giving her, like a bruise you couldn't stop pressing. Remus, hearing her, eased up slightly to a lighter pace, though, he was still moving without an ounce of caution.

With the new pace in place, her hand moved slowly down from his shoulder and towards his abdomen. Finally, she found purchase just under his raggedy belt where a bulge had formed. When she gripped him, a groan left his lips, and his fingers stuttered their movements.

"Merlin, don't cum in your pants." Though she was nearly breathless, her words still held that same edge they always did.

"Fuck you," he rasped as his thumb found her clit. The new sensation sent a shockwave through her, and her hand resurfaced on his bicep. It had only been minutes since he'd started, but, embarrassingly enough, she felt the hot mixture of pain and pleasure tightening in her. Within moments, she couldn't take it anymore, and a half-silent cry escaped her as she came on his fingers. His movements slowed, but never let up entirely.

"Don't cum in your pants next time," he whispered gruffly as his hand slipped away. It was then that she realized that her jeans were still up to her thighs, and Remus never bothered to remove her panties to gain more access. Ignoring the way he'd said 'next time,' she met his eyes.

"Are you gonna blue-ball yourself or get on with it?" She snipped.

"You always have something to say," he shook his head. His fingers, still laced with her release, reached for his belt. Each of them shuffled out of their jeans and undergarments. Remus was quick to shuffle through his discarded pants to find his wallet, which housed a singular crumpled condom. She watched as he tore it open.

"Who's fucking you, Lupin?" She scoffed.

"You, apparently," he replied, slipping the condom over his length. He hated that he was hard as a rock without being touched, but chose to ignore that fact as he lined himself with her entrance.

Remus sunk into her slow, a feeling that caused each of them to hiss at. His hands found her waist as hers found his shoulders. For a moment, they were still: her, sitting at the edge of the table, him, between her legs. Then, he began to move. Slow, languid strokes to the rhythm of something a little more tender than what they were doing.

"You fuck like a grandpa," she huffed against his shoulder. Truth be told, she actually quite liked the pace he'd set. It wasn't as if she could let him know that, though.

"Merlin, you talk too much," he groaned in reply. Half-angered and half-turned on by her words, he immediately assumed a quicker pace. It was a fast ramp up from tender love-making to hateful fucking that had them both gasping for air. He thrust into her without regard for any of her pleasure, choosing to chase his own high. In return, she met him halfway, returning his vigor with just as much urgency.

Though they both still had their sweaters on, their grips on each other threatened to wear the material. Her nails dug past the woven fabric to prick his skin, and the pads of his fingers pressed harsh marks into her waist. The speed at which they were moving drove Remus further to the edge, and after a while, he was biting back whimpers. Sensing this, she licked her lips.

"I'm not even close," she spoke, though, her breathless voice partially betrayed her. Remus, however, couldn't care less whether she was bluffing or not. His hand slipped from her waist to find where they met. Like before, his thumb rubbed circles against her clit, causing her to clench around his length. This new feeling was the straw that broke the camels back, and each of them came undone, letting out simultaneous moans of pleasure.

Remus gave a few more weak thrusts before the sensation became too much and he chose to stand still, heaving hot breaths into the crook of her neck. They were both still in the wake of what they'd done. Clarity washed over them, and eventually he pulled out.

They silently gathered themselves. He moved away from her and tied off the condom while she located and pulled up her partially wet panties. The only sounds that accompanied them were heavy breaths and zippers.

"We shouldn't have been so loud," she spoke as she gathered her books into her bag, "It's a bloody library, someone could've easily caught us."

"You shouldn't have been in the library in the first place," he huffed in return. Under the light of the still-burning candle, Remus noticed a splotch of wetness at the edge of the table. Moving his sleeve past his palm, he wiped the spot down.

"Ew," her brows furrowed as she looked at him with disgust.

"I was just inside you, you can't say 'ew' to that," he rolled his eyes at her. She opened her mouth to respond, but instead, shifted her weight. A sigh left her lips.

"We should leave separately," she spoke quietly, "You go ahead first."

"Oh, so you can stay in the library past hour?" He raised a brow.

"You're one to talk! All you do is cause problems, and–" she stopped herself with a deep inhale, "Just leave first, yeah? You're probably supposed to be back by now, Prefect rounds don't last this long." While he wanted to argue, he instead let out a huff and whispered a quick lumos to light the end of his wand. With a final glance back at her, he left, quickly making his way out of the library and to the halls. As he walked, he finally had a moment to realize what they'd just done.

What in hell was that? He calmed himself by looking at the facts. Fact: he hated her. Fact: she hated him. Fact: that was the best sex he'd ever had. Fact: he wanted to do it again.

He swallowed hard as he stepped through the portrait of the Fat Lady and into the Gryffindor common room. His movements were robotic: first, going to the washroom to clean up and dispose of the condom still in his possession, second, moving to his dorm room to not sleep. He slipped into the room quietly to find each of his roommates asleep. Relief flooded him as he slipped his sweater over his head.

"You're late." A voice startled him so bad that he nearly threw his sweater. Gulping, he scanned the room to find Sirius partially propped up. His black hair was a mess, and it seemed as though he was only half awake.

"Yeah, uh," Remus finished changing and slipped into his bed, "A few first years were out. Causing trouble, y'know, the usual."

"I thought maybe you'd ran into Y/n, got into a late-night screaming match," Sirius giggled. The mention of her name caused him to tense, but he tried his best to laugh along with the joke.

"No, no Y/n," he lied through his teeth.

"Y'know," Sirius sat up a bit more, "You two should just shag and get it over with. I bet–”

"Goodnight, Pads," Remus interrupted him quickly.

"Fine, fine, don't shag," he shrugged, laying back down, "Never know."

Though he tried to fight it, a small grin stretched across his lips. Remus knew very well.

#thursday writes #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #remus john lupin #remus j lupin #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin smut #remus lupin x reader smut #smut #mdni #18+ only

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daisies-daydreams · 1 year

Text

Closer (Ghost x F!Virgin!Reader)

Pairing: Simon Riley (Ghost) x F!Virgin!Reader Category: Fluff/Smut (18+) Warnings: Soft Sex, Virginity Loss, Penis in Vagina Sex, Graphic Descriptions of Genitalia, Vibrators, Vaginal Fingering, Vanilla Sex, Protected Sex, Slight Breast Play, Brief Sexual/Performance Anxiety, Mentions of Trauma Word Count: 4,088

Summary: Ghost and you are ready to take the next step in your relationship…and he intends to take his time with you.

Author’s Note: This is the fic I wrote for the “Who Should I Write My Next Fic About?” poll. I wasn’t sure which direction to go in at first, but eventually I decided on Ghost with a virgin/inexperienced reader. I may write another one where Ghost’s more rough, but we’ll see.

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

You felt warmth spread through you from head to toe. Your lips were wrapped sweetly with Simon’s as you snuggled on your bed. His uncovered chest brushed against your perked nipples that lay beneath your tank top. You’ve never felt safer in your life, held in the sturdy arms of the man who called you his. The bed frame creaked beneath you when he suddenly rolled over, taking you with him. You giggled, cupping his square jaw tenderly. He smiled as he broke away from your kiss. You blushed as he pressed small, individual kisses to every one of your knuckles.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” Simon murmured into your ear. The tips of your ears burned while he continued to kiss your hands.

“Simon…” you sighed when he dove his lips to your neck. Your boyfriend chuckled, his voice reverberating into your skin. You realized the warmth you felt was starting to trickle somewhere else…

You raised your hands and pushed at his chest slightly. His lips unlatched from your flesh.

“Love?” Simon asked, brows slightly knitted. You wiggled beneath him, your cunt clenching and unclenching around nothing.

“Si, I-I want to do it,” you gasped out. Simon cocked his head.

“You want to have sex?” his gaze remained glued to your pleading eyes. Your hands rubbed up and down his rugged abdomen, fingers tracing across each dip and curve of his muscles.

“Y-Yes. We’ve been together for a while, and I-I really want to,” you squeaked as you hid your face in his chest. He backed away from you, his raw, calloused hands clutching onto your own. He rubbed the back of your palm with his thumb.

“Are you sure, sweetheart?” he asked seriously. You gave a firm nod.

“Yes, I’m sure,” you affirmed. Simon inhaled through his nose. The gentle hum of the ceiling fan felt louder as he thought in silence. Your heart felt like it was ready to burst, as did the aching heat in between your legs.

“Alright,” Simon said. You squealed and lunged forward, wrapping your arms around his broad upper back. He gave a breathy laugh as he held you in his lap. “On one condition,” he said firmly. Your love brought you back down onto the pillows, laying you on your back. “You have to let me know if I’m doing something that makes you feel uncomfortable, okay? I want you to make you feel good, (Y/N). Can you do that for me?” he asked.

“Yes,” you agreed with a sweet smile. “And could you do the same for me?” you asked. His eyelids drooped as he shifted above you.

“Of course, love,” he whispered. Your eyes latched onto the distinct bulge growing beneath his dark pants. You looked into his eyes, two dark pools filled with so much love and hunger for you.

You weren’t Simon’s first. Before, he’d usually find a woman at a bar who was only looking for a single night of heated passion, only to leave their beds cold the next morning. With you, however, there was something that kept him anchored. The bear hugs you’d give him when he came back from deployment. The way you’d wrap your arms around him and kiss his temple when he jolted from a nightmare in a cold sweat. Maybe you weren’t Simon’s first to fuck…but you were definitely the first to love.

The scent of his cologne overwhelmed you as Simon lowered his mouth to meet yours. You moaned into his kiss, your hands traveling down to squeeze at his taut ass. He chuckled and bit your lower lip.

“Naughty thing,” he mused. You giggled before he blew a raspberry into your neck.

“Simon!” you squealed. His hands flew to your sides, his fingers digging into your flesh. You howled with laughter as he tickled you relentlessly. “Si! Stop! I can’t-I can’t breathe!” you wheezed. His fingers slid down to the hem of your pants. You gasped when his raspberries quickly turned into sucking.

“Si,” you breathed. He groaned into the junction where your shoulder and neck met, his teeth grazing over your skin. He sank his hips over your clothed cunt, his hard member poking into your arousal. You jumped at the sensation, sparks flying across your womanhood. You raised your hips to meet his.

“Yes,” you moaned. He smiled before licking a stripe over your pulse. You spread your legs as he rutted into you, his cock twitching above your clothed folds. You gasped as Simon gave a sharp suck on your neck, his lips latched onto your skin. Your heart raced as you hung onto his shoulders, the heat of his cock emanating from below his sweatpants and dripping onto your cunt. You blinked your eyes open as he detached from your neck. His light stubble brushed against your cheek as he gave another peck to your lips.

“Let me get something real quick,” Simon said while patting your thigh. You didn’t miss the subtle glint of mischief in his eye. You watched him slip off the bed and stroll over to your dresser. Your eyes nearly popped out of your head when he pulled out your thick, blue vibrator. The corners of his cracked lips turned up as he eyed your burning cheeks.

“Can I use this on you?” your boyfriend asked, head slightly tilted. You swallowed thickly and nodded.

“Y-Yeah. How did you know that was there?” you stammered, heat coursing through every inch of you. Simon chuckled lowly as he sat back on the bed, the mattress dipping beneath his weight.

“Found it while I was doin’ laundry while you were sick,” he admitted. You pursed your lips as you remember him sucking in a deep breath last week while he was putting clothes away. He flicked the switch on and the toy began to hum to life. Your hips bucked forward in anticipation. Simon grinned, his eyes lidded as he watched you squirm and bite your lip.

“Can I ask you something else, love?” the bulky man asked.

“Anything,” you replied. He strode towards the bed and climbed on top of you. His body was massive compared to your own, his shadow nearly swallowing you whole. His eyes scanned over you before he hovered the vibrator over your covered pussy.

“Do you use this while I’m away?” Simon questioned. His voice was gravely and dripping with lust. You closed your eyes and sucked in a sharp breath.

“Y-Yes,” you gasped. He hummed before fiddling his fingers around the band of your pants.

“Who do you think about when you use it?” Simon grunted. He dropped the head of the buzzing toy just above your clit. You swallowed thickly.

“You…I always think of you,” you gulped. Simon groaned with approval. He gazed back at your lidded eyes, patiently waiting for your permission.

“I’m ready,” you said, your heart hammering beneath your sternum. Simon grinned before he slowly pulled down your pants. He silently gawked at the wet spot leaking through your black, lacy lingerie.

“Christ, ‘ave you been wearing this all day?” he murmured. You swear you were going to burst as his other hand slid up your exposed thigh.

“M-Maybe,” you blushed. His grin grew even wider as he admired the lacy work that adorned your beautiful curves, particularly the panties that barely covered your soaking snatch. “I wanted to-Oh!” You gasped when the head of the vibrator hummed over your bundle of nerves. Your body wound in on itself as he dipped the toy further into your clit. It felt like you were being struck by bolts of lightning each time he circled around the nub. He spread your legs a little wider with his free hand. Your hips jutted forward, riding on the vibrations as he went up to peel off your shirt.

“Simon,” you keened as you pushed your chest out. Your breasts were covered by more black lace, your cleavage a welcomed sight to his eyes. He drank in your whole form as you whined, the toy lapping away at your folds. Simon’s jaw clenched. Part of him, any part of him, needed to be inside of you now.

“Is it alright if I put my fingers in you, love?” Simon questioned as he tilted the vibrator back and forth between your labia. Your eyes shot open as you nodded vigorously.

“Fuck, please I need you, Si,” you moaned with outstretched arms. Simon’s breath hitched. “I need you”. Three words that made every inhibition in him snap in half. You curled your fists in the sheets as he pushed your panties aside. His dark eyes lingered on your soaked folds. You held your breath as you felt him spread your labia with his fingers, your slick coating his tips.

“You’re so wet already,” he groaned. You shuddered as he turned up the speed of the vibrations, the waves now pounding into your core. “So fuckin’ hot,” Simon murmured. You were melting in his touch. He watched your hole clench and unclench around nothing. He leaned forward, the tip of the toy now circling around your clit.

“I’m gonna put one finger in at a time, okay?” Simon whispered into your ear. Your hands clutched onto his tattooed forearms, your delicate fingers a sharp contrast to the bulging muscles.

“Okay,” you assured him. With a few more strokes across your folds, his index finger dipped past your entrance. Your mouth opened into a round ‘O’ as you felt his thick digit stretch your walls. You arched your back when he curled up into your spongy g-spot. Simon kept looking between you and his finger being swallowed by your cunt, watching for any signs of discomfort. Slowly, he dragged the finger out of your walls before pumping it back in.

“Si,” you moaned. You felt every curve of his digit as he stroked in and out of you. The vibrations on your clit sent shockwaves through your core as your walls tightened around his finger. Your legs shook as he soon added another digit, stretching you out more than your own fingers ever could.

“So tight,” he awed. He looked back up at you and your ecstasy-ridden face. You were moaning so loudly it could have shaken the bedroom walls. You pouted when his movements suddenly came to a screeching halt. The toy lay still against your clit, his fingers barely reaching past your tight entrance.

“You alright?” Simon asked. You nodded your head violently, nearly slamming it into the headboard.

“Yeah, why?” you questioned with a nervous glance. Your love looked you up and down, his brows slightly knitted.

“You just looked like you were in pain, love,” he said. The toy still hummed in his hand. Your face grew slightly pale as you opened your mouth.

“I-I was just…trying to do it right,” you admitted. Simon tilted his head.

“Do what right, sweetheart?” he questioned. You sighed and averted his gaze.

“You know, how women act in…” red instantly flooded your cheeks as you bit your lip. Oh. Oh. Simon placed the toy by your side, though he kept his fingers in your snug cunt.

“Hey, look at me,” the man said. You felt tears sting at the corners of your eyes. “(Y/N), please,” Simon said. You drifted your eyes back to him, afraid you’d see disappointment etched into his face. Instead, you found the softest smile you’ve ever seen. His free hand came up and cupped your cheek.

“You don’t have to pretend when we’re like this,” he said. You nodded, a tear spilling from your eye.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to be perfect for our first time,” you sniffed. He leaned forward and gently kissed your lips. You sighed, soaking in the warmth of his kiss.

“I don’t want perfect, I want you,” Simon stated. Your love’s dark chocolate eyes shined as he wiped the tear away with his thumb. He released a heavy sigh before pressing his lips to yours again. “Whatever faces or sounds you make-I want to see and hear ‘em. Because they are yours, understand?” he said firmly. Your lips curved up as you pressed your cheek into his hand.

“Yes. Thank you, Si,” you smiled. He returned your expression before sliding his hand down to your hip.

“I love you, (Y/N),” he said. The dam burst and you found yourself suddenly sobbing. Simon’s eyes widened as he circled his arm around you, pulling you into his chest.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” he faltered. You sniffed before pecking small kisses around his face, lingering on his mouth.

“No, I’m happy,” you said with a small grin. You’ve told each other that you loved one another before, but this time it hit you like an oncoming freight train. His large hand rubbed the small of your back, his clavicle leaning into your wet face. “I love you, too, Simon,” you as you clung to his shoulders. Both of you remained there, holding each other for what felt like an eternity, exchanging kisses every so often.

“Love, do you still want to continue?” your boyfriend finally asked. That’s when you remembered the feeling of his fingers filling your cunt. You leaned back, your head dizzy from all the emotions that crashed over you. You shifted your hips and sighed at the feeling of his fingers sinking in even deeper. He arched a brow as you spread your legs for him.

“Please, fuck me, Simon,” you pleaded while fluttering your lashes. He hissed through his teeth when you clenched your walls around his digits.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell,” he groaned. His cock strained in his pants as he readjusted himself, making sure you were still comfortable in your position. “Gonna start movin’ my fingers again, alright?” he said. You bit your lip and nodded, pressing your hips down onto his hand. He started to pump in and out of your cunt, this time drawing out wet squelching from how wet you’ve become. Each stroke sent shocks down to the tips of your fingers and toes. He brought his thumb up to your clit, circling it tenderly.

“Fuck,” you gasped, your hands grappling at his wrists.

“Look at you, taking my fingers so well,” Simon praised. It sent another ripple of pleasure down your spine. He scissored his digits in your hole, your mouth releasing a silent cry as you were stretched even wider. It wasn’t long after that a third finger found its way into your gummy walls. You gripped his forearms as you felt yourself drawn to the point where pleasure and pain collided. You found a rhythm as you ground on his thick fingers, the discomfort slowly subsiding. You let whatever noises that came to you flow out of your mouth, your face now twisted in pure bliss.

“Si, I’m gonna cum,” you moaned, your pussy fluttering around his digits. Your tongue threatened to roll out of your mouth when your felt him spread his fingers inside of you.

“I’ve got you, baby,” Simon murmured. His teeth nipped at your earlobe as he curled all fingers into your upper wall, the pad of his thumb wound tightly against your swollen bud.

“Si!” you cried as the cord in you was torn to shreds. You legs shook wildly as your walls squeezed his digits.

“That’s it, baby,” he cooed. You melted into the mattress while you rode out your high, his lips at your ear the whole time. You winced as he withdrew his fingers, your hole now stretched out and quivering for more of his touch. Simon admired your slick that clung to his hand, his eyes delicately observing how it shone in the dim light of your bedroom. Your body shivered when he took the hand into his pants and snatched his aching cock. You moaned at the sound of your slick squelching as he fisted his dick. You stared at how the muscles in his arm bulged every time he stroked his cock.

His growls were damn near feral as he discarded his pants and underwear. When he turned around, your mouth snapped open. You gawked at the sight of his member. It wasn’t very long, but its girth made you realize why he had to stretch you out just moments ago. A drop of precum caught the light of the room before he tightly wrapped his throbbing member in a condom. He popped open a bottle of lube, slathering his cock in the jelly-like substance. His face was now wrought with an insatiable hunger as he climbed over top of you. You shuddered as a cold, wet feeling spread across your folds as he lathered the lube across your cunt. He snapped the bottle shut and tossed it aside. You fluttered your lashes as he line up his tip with your entrance.

“You sure you still want to do this?” Simon breathed. You reached down to his cock. Just a small touch of your fingers made it jump. He groaned when you wrapped your hand around his shaft.

“Yes, Simon. I want you,” you begged. You withdrew your hand, using it to grab onto his shoulders. He licked his dry lips, his fat tip breaching your tight hole.

“Gonna start slow, alright sweetheart?” Simon said. You nodded, breasts rising and falling as you tried to relax your walls. With a deep breath, he finally pushed inside. You winced as his head stretched through your entrance. You felt like you were going to be torn apart from the inside out as he carefully inched his cock into your plush heat.

“You’re doing so well, love,” Simon reassured with soft kisses to your face. Your lips curled into a tight line as you arched your back. Your fingers dug into his broad shoulders as he pushed in further, his shaft falling deeper into your walls. He was halfway in before he stopped.

“Love? How are you feeling?” Simon asked. You sucked in a sharp breath as you looked down. You gasped at the sight of his cock plugged into your weeping cunt.

“It feels so…tight,” you gasped as his cock twitched inside of you. He sighed, letting his hands fall to your hips. His thumbs massaged your sides as he pecked your cheek.

“I know, baby. Just try to relax,” he cooed softly. You nodded, taking slow, steady breaths. Your walls began to unclench around him, allowing him to slip in further. “Atta girl,” Simon praised. You felt your breath knocked out of you as his cock drove further into you. Each inch only added to the pressure inside of you. “Almost there, love,” your boyfriend encouraged through gritted teeth. Your head was swimming as he finally bottomed out inside of you, his balls tapping against your slick folds.

“I knew you could take me,” Simon grunted as he pressed his forehead down to yours. You tilted your head, catching his lips in a heated kiss. He let you to adjust to his size as both of you moaned into each other’s mouths. Simon pulled back, his pupils blown and lips parted.

“I’m gonna start moving. That alright?” he asked. You hooked your feet around his lower back.

“Yes,” you whined while arching your back. Simon hummed before he slowly pulled out of you. The loss of fullness felt strange to you, like letting go of someone after a long hug. It was quickly replaced once more as he drove his length back into your walls. You cried as he dragged his cock inside of you at a steady pace. Each stroke left your body shivering with bliss.

“F-Faster, please,” you moaned. Simon shifted his hips as he began to pump into you at a quicker pace. A moan was ripped from you when his thumb circled around your swollen clit. Your hands fell to his upper back as you drank in the feeling of fullness. Your fingernails dug small crescents into his muscles with each delicious drag of his cock.

“Fuck, feel so good around me,” Simon growled. Your pussy squelched as your arousal bubbled and oozed around his length. The heavenly pressure in your lower stomach was beginning to build again. His lips found their way to your tit, latching on and sucking tenderly. You thrashed below him, making one of his hands fly to your hip to steady you.

“Yes Yes Yes,” you chanted. Simon panted above you, his balls slapping against your slick folds. You keened and curled your toes when his head continued to ram against the spongy spot inside of you. He unlatched his mouth from your breast.

“Taking me so well, my good girl,” he growled before going to suck on your other tit. Your entire body sang with ecstasy as you gazed down the precipice of your release. He felt so heavy inside of you, ramming into you and showering you with praises. Your eyes widened.

“SIMON!” you screamed as you seized up. He hissed as your walls snatched his cock in a vice grip. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, his length dragging through you and helping you ride out your second orgasm.

“(Y/N), fuck,” he groaned as his head fell back. Simon’s dick quivered inside of your cunt as he stilled, his thumb pressed snugly against your folds. Your whole body felt like it collapsed into itself as you drifted down from your high. Your love groaned and panted above you, a sheen of sweat coating both of your bodies. Your pupils were blown, gazing up to his spent form.

“Sweetheart? Are you alright?” Simon murmured, his cock slipping out of you. Even though it slightly ached, you still whined at the feeling of emptiness that consumed your cunt.

“I-I’m okay...more than okay,” you breathed. He smiled and kissed your plump lips. Your grin imprinted on his mouth before he pulled away.

“You did amazing, love,” Simon praised. You frowned as he pulled his cock out of you. The condom was absolutely soaked in your slick. Your eyes gaped at his cum that pooled in the small pocket below. You swallowed thickly and thought what it would feel like when it would spill inside of you someday. Simon patted your thigh before tying the rubber into a knot and throwing it into the bin. His eyes shined when he turned back to you. Your cheeks were rosy, pupils blown and chest rising and falling. Simon slid off the bed, the sound of running water following not long after. You gave a tired smile as he stepped back into the room holding a warm washcloth.

“Gotta take care of my baby,” Simon drawled. Your heart skipped a beat, though the feeling was quickly replaced when you noticed some blood on the inside of your thighs. Your eyes widened. Simon looked down, his gaze soft and voice calm.

“Are you sore?” he asked. Your lips drew into a straight line before you gave a hesitant nod. He grunted before placing the washcloth over your folds. “How much does it hurt?” Simon continued. You flinched when he patted over your swollen clit.

“Not that much, just feels weird,” you replied. His lips pecked your knee as he finished cleaning you up.

“Hymen must’ve torn,” he said bluntly. Your face grew red. Simon stroked over your thighs, massaging the soft flesh. “It’s alright, happens a lot for people’s first times,” he reassured. You sighed, head resting back on the pillow.

“Thank you,” you said breathily. Simon grinned before he crawled by your side, his arms enveloping around you as he pulled you closer. He snaked one of his legs around yours. You sighed as Simon spooned you, your heart fluttering with every kiss he pressed to your neck.

“Want to take a shower with me?” you piqued. Simon lips froze while you turned your face to look at him. His eyes seemed far away as he thought for a moment.

“As long as I get to wash you,” he murmured. You chuckled, brushing your smaller hand over his.

“I’d be honored...but would it also be okay if we stay like this for a little longer?” you asked. He smiled and pecked your temple, his other hand stroking over your stomach.

“Of course, love,” Simon hummed. You closed your eyes as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. The two of you stayed in bed for a long time, wrapped in each other’s love.

_____

#ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #ghost simon riley #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x y/n #cod #cod mwii #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare ii #modern warfare smut #cod smut #cod fluff #smut

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bethanythebogwitch · 1 month

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Wet Beast Wednesday: pistol shrimp

Oh snap, it's the snapping shrimp post for Wet Beast Wednesday! Snapping shrimp or pistol shrimp are loud little critters that have evolves a very useful and fascinating tool in their pincers. Let's not waste time and shoot off to learn about these little gunslingers.

(Image: a pistol shrimp. It is a mostly white shrimp with red stripes. One of its claws is considerably larger than the other. It is standing on gravel and next to some seaweed. End ID)

Pistol shrimp are over 1,000 members of the family Alpheidae, which is part of the infraorder Caridea. This means they are true shrimp, not to be confused with superficially similar animals like brine shrimp, mantis shrimp, tadpole shrimp, and prawns. Yeah, I only recently learned that prawns and shrimp aren't a language difference between British English and American English like chips vs fries. They're not even that closely related. As true shrimp, pistol shrimp have two main body parts: the cephalothorax and abdomen, which are composed of 19 body segments. The abdomen forms a flexible tail with a fin on the end. When startled, the fin can rapidly curl under the body, propelling the shrimp backwards. Like other decapods, there are 10 limbs. The front pair of limbs have evolved into claws used to manipulate objects. The claws are the most distinguishing feature of pistol shrimp. They are asymmetrical, with one growing extremely large, over half the size of the body. The big claw has a modified version of the typical pincer. This pincer has an upper claw that can open up at a right angle. Under the claw is a pocket in the lower pincer, into which water flows. The upper pincer then slams down into this pocket, forcing the water out. The pressure of the pincer closing water in the pocket creates a cavitation bubble that is forced away from the claw at up to 26.8 meters per second. This is enough force to seriously wound small animals and hurt larger ones into leaving the shrimp alone. The cavitation bubbles can reach up to 4,427 degrees C (8,000 F) . For comparison, the surface of the sun is about 1,000 decrees (C) hotter. When the bubble pops, it creates a snapping sound that can reach 218 decibels. For comparison, most gunshots max out at around 170 db. This puts pistol shrimp is the running for the loudest ocean animals, with whales being the other main competitors. If that all sounds like a lot, the whole event happens so fast that the heat doesn't have time to affect much and the noise sounds like a moderately loud snap to us. Adults can snap their claws shut with an acceleration of up to 30 meters per second squared and juveniles can do it up to 20 times faster. The whole process takes less than a millisecond. When the cavitation bubble collapses, it can produce light. This is called sonoluminescence and nobody knows how it happens. If a pistol shrimp loses its large claw, the small claw will grow into a new large one while the missing limb will regenerate into a small claw. Adult pistol shrimp average between 3 and 5 cm long.

(Image: a drawing showing the process of a pistol shrimp snapping its claw. In the first panel, the claw is closed. In the second, the upper claw opens at a 90 degree angle, revealing a cavity. In the third panel, the cavity fills with water. In the final panel, the claw is closed again and a jet of water is ejected from the claw. End ID. Source: Wikipedia user Carermyers)

(Gif: black and white, slow-motion video of a pistol shrimp's claw snapping shut and creating a cavitation bubble. End ID. Source)

Pistol shrimp live worldwide, though most species live in tropical or temperate water. There are some cold water species and even freshwater species. Most prefer habitats where they can make burrows and where there are plenty of other animals. Coral reefs, oyster reefs, seagrass beds, mangrove groves are common habitats. Snapping is used for hunting and communication. They typically hide in burrows, waiting for fish or other small animals to pass by. When prey passes, the shrimp will snap to stun or seriously wound the prey, then drag it into the burrow. Some social species actually form eusocial hives with a single queen who produces all offspring. These shrimp are the only known marine eusocial species and all occur within the same genus (Synalpheus), though not every member of that genus is eusocial and eusociality appears to have evolved at least 3 times within that genus. It appears that a reason why only this genus developed eusociality is their larvae do not disperse, instead staying in the same area as the parents. The hives are usually located within sponges. Other social species are not eusocial, but still live together in colonies. Many less social species have formed a symbiotic relationship with gobies. Both species live in burrows, but gobies are bad at digging while the shrimp have poor eyesight. The goby will protect the shrimp while it digs a burrow, then the two live together. They will forage together, with the goby using its superior eyesight to watch for predators and warn the shrimp to get back to the burrow. Pistol shrimp are monogamous, the same pair coming back to mate over and over again (this does not apply to the eusocial species in which only the colony's queen is permitted to mate). The female is only fertile during a short period after molting. The male will stay with the female and protect her during the vulnerable period after mating and some species will remain with each other until the eggs hatch or permanently.

(Image: a eusocial pistol shrimp queen with eggs. Her body is translucent and multiple eggs are attached to her abdomen. The eggs look like translucent balls. The is inside of an orange sponge. End ID)

(Image: a pistol shrimp and goby emerging from a burrow in the sand. The shrimp is a mottled green and white. The body is a bright yellow fish covered with blue spots. End ID)

Pistol shrimp are a major source of noise in the places where they live. If you've ever been swimming and can hear repeated cracking noises, that may have been a bunch of pistol shrimp. Some scientists monitor the level of pistol shrimp noises as a method of monitoring the ecosystem. If the noise level drops, that is an indicator that the local ecosystem is suffering. The noise of the shrimps can get so loud that it actually interferes with sonar and forms of underwater communication. During World War II, members of the navy realized that the shrimp disrupted sonar enough to hide submarines, so they started hiding submarines near reefs with lots of the shrimp to keep them from being found by enemy subs. Weirdly not the only small marine animals to mess with submarines. I'll get the the other major one soon. The largest threats to pistol shrimp come from habitat destruction. Some species of pistol shrimp have entered the pet trade. As coral reefs, seagrass beds, and other habitats are destroyed, the shrimp that rely on them will suffer as well.

Yet another time I get to use one of these cards in a post

(Image: the Weird n' Wild Creatures card featuring pistol shrimp. End ID)

#wet beast wednesday #pistol shrimp #snapping shrimp #shrimp #decapod #crustaceans #marine biology #biology #zoology #ecology #animal facts #eusocial #symbiosis #goby #informative #image described

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 6 months

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Your Casanova

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~800

Warnings: fluff

Summary: You're the team's jet pilot who always looks forward to spending time with Spencer Reid. His love for you is unconditional.

Square Filled: jet pilot (2021) for @cmbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

You’re in the middle of doing your checklist when Spencer walks onto the jet. He looks to the cockpit and sees you there doing your thing. A bright smile etches on his face, and he steps aside to let his coworkers past him so he can talk to you.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Spencer!” you grin and look at him. “I’m glad you’re here. How has your week been?”

“I finished ten more books. I would have finished more, but I was a bit busy playing chess at the park with the other kids. I also went to the local library and participated in the local science fair. The kids had good ideas but I helped them hone their craft.”

“Sounds like you had it good.”

“It would have been better with you by my side.”

That makes your cheeks heat to which your copilot smirks. You nudge her leg to get her to shut up. She knows of the little crush you have on Spencer ever since meeting him a few years ago. Hearing about his week makes your day tenfold. You’re the main pilot for the BAU for both A and B Teams. A Team is by far your favorite team because it’s the team Spencer’s on.

While you have to focus on flying, there are times when you can take a small break and let your copilot take the reigns. You and Spencer always have something to talk about no matter the subject because as much as it makes your day to hear about his, it makes his day to hear about yours.

However, it’s not always sunshine and rainbows as Penelope likes to put it. Spencer will be one way when you pick him up at the airport but be another way when you get to take him home. The stress of the case will weigh heavily on his shoulders, so you like to do the little things to help him feel better even if you don’t think they’ll help.

Spencer walks onto the plane after the grueling case you took him to, and you notice how his shoulders sag a bit.

“You got this, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll finish the checklist.”

You leave the cockpit and join Spencer’s side in the small kitchen where he’s making himself some coffee.

“Hey, sunshine,” you say to him.

“Hey,” he says and gives you a half-smile.

“I’m not gonna pretend to know what you’re going through, but I think under the circumstances, you’re doing a good job. You’re the strongest person I know.”

Derek smirks when he hears you subtly flirt with him, which Spencer doesn’t pick up on.

“Thanks,” Spencer smiles.

You get back to the cockpit to get ready for take-off. This flight isn’t as long as some of the others so sPencer decides to spend it taking a nap. When the plane lands, you allow the agents to get off first before you and your copilot do. Spencer and Derek are quietly arguing about something as you pass by them, and then you feel someone crash into your back.

“I am so sorry,” Spencer chuckles nervously.

“That’s okay. Did you need something?”

Spencer looks back at Derek who gives him an encouraging nod.

“Would you like to go out with me on Friday? I know a great Indian place.”

“I love Indian food,” you grin.

“So, is that a yes?”

“Yes.”

“Great. Um, here is my number.”

He fumbles with his FBI card that has his personal number on there.

“Great. I’ll call you,” you grin and walk off.

As they say, the rest is history. You and Spencer have been in a loving and stable relationship for a year now, and you fall in love with him every single day. You’re piloting for B Team this week, so Spencer planned something special for you when you return. You told him the date and time at which you would be touching down, and he told you he’d been waiting for you at the pickup area.

When you land, you rush to get your things so you can see Spencer sooner. You step into the pickup area and frown when you don’t see your tall boyfriend. Maybe he’s stuck in traffic or trying to find parking. You wait five minutes and grow concerned. He’s never late.

The irrational part of your brain thinks he’s cheating or that he doesn’t love you anymore even though you absolutely know he’d never hurt you like that. You look at the time when you hear two security guards laughing to your right. They’re looking at someone lying on the bench next to them, and when you walk closer, you see it’s Spencer. He’s so tired that he fell asleep waiting for you on the bench with flowers in his hands.

“Man, I bet he’s whipped,” one of them chuckles as they walk past him.

You walk over to him with a smile on your face and put a hand on his cheek gently.

“Spencer, baby?”

He jumps awake at your touch and looks up at you apologetically.

“Sorry, I fell asleep.”

He hands you the flowers that are slightly squished from his body.

“They’re beautiful,” you chuckle and lean down to kiss him. “Come on, Casanova. Let’s go home and fall asleep to Disney movies.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he grins.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fan fiction #spencer reid fan fic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fiction #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #cm #criminal minds fanfiction #cm fanfiction #criminal minds fic #cm fic

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shibaraki · 9 months

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PUT MY LIPS TO SOMETHING ┊ MIYA OSAMU

synopsis: after a string of terrible dates taking a break sounded ideal. then Miya Osamu happens, and you find yourself back at square one. foolish, hoping, and hungry.

tags: GN reader, post timeskip, (blind) first date, reader is a foodie (and has a big appetite), implied bad past experiences (ppl mean about said apetite), insecurities (not about weight), strangers to lovers, sharing food + feeding each other, flirting, romantic + sexual tension, first kisses, *slaps roof of kitchen* you can fit so much Love into this thing!!!!!!!

wc: 5K

The evening laid bare in strokes of colour. The air is tepid. People part around your inert figure as you stand to the side and watch, shifting awkwardly between each foot. You were ten minutes early. And it seemed so was your date.

You exhale, palm laid over your rapidly beating heart. You’re not sure what your expectations were after agreeing to let Saeko set you up on this blind date but Miya Osamu exceeded. A beautiful stranger. Tall, broad shouldered with dark hair and hooded eyes. The dress shirt he’s wearing is close to a second skin, drawn tight around his back and clinging just slightly to his soft middle, shirtsleeves rolled to the crook of his arms.

On a whole you trusted her judgment. Apparently he owned the small restaurant she and her colleagues frequent for their lunch hour. She promised that he was handsome, which was plain to see, and effused repeatedly that the two of you would work well together. Nevertheless you can’t help feeling cautious.

Dating has been… tricky at best. A game to some, a way to keep score. The search for validation. A means to an end. A fleeting cure to boredom. You don’t think you’re particularly bad at meeting new people, but it can’t be ignored that you don’t have much to show for it thus far.

You’re aware enough to discern the root cause. You loved food—that’s the long and short of it. You savoured meals to the very last crumb, seeking out the various flavours on your tongue to really get to the heart of the dish. Because that’s what food did: it loved back.

Dates often treated you like a different creature entirely upon witnessing your appetite. Poorly veiled embarrassment, or concern, or disdain as you sat across from one another and ate. Different in a lesser way, in a distasteful way, as though they were sampling fine wine for the flavour and you were just drinking for the sake of getting drunk, when it was quite the reverse.

Anyone would think you behaved like an animal. Your table manners were fine. You treated the staff with respect. You made conversation and asked questions, even when they made no effort themselves, and tried to make the best of the evening.

With every failed attempt at making a connection you were beginning to grow lonely. The presence of your loved ones and their families, their partners and their children, never truly filled that cavernous ache in your chest. Poured in like morning sun with hopes to warm you from the inside out, perhaps, only all that ever did was make the hole more obvious to you.

Taking a break from the scene sounded ideal. Then Miya Osamu happened to see a photo of you over Saeko’s shoulder, expressed his interest, and you found yourself back at square one. Foolish, hoping, and hungry.

There’s phantom heat around your fingers. The gentle squeeze of Saeko’s hands as she sent you off. “This one will be different,” she told you. With her words echoing in your thoughts, you pat down either side of your hips, ironing out the creases, and start toward him.

Osamu is leaning against the outer wall now, scrolling on his phone. A warm musk fills your senses as the distance shortens. Smooth notes of oakmoss and vanilla. He must notice your approach in his periphery, because he straightens up and steps forward, turning to face you with an apprehensive smile. The attraction between you becomes tangible before either of you speak a word.

"Hi," you smile back, oddly at ease to see that he is equally nervous. "Miya, right? I think I'm here to meet you".

The tension slips from his posture and from yours in turn. His smile grows and deepens the crinkles by his eyes as his gaze sweeps over you. Dawn casts the street in a peachy tint and it dapples across his cheeks in a faux blush. "Sure hope so," he says. "Call me Osamu. Ya look beautiful, by the way".

Something rouses in your chest. You're warm now. His accent is unfairly charming, like the rest of him. "Thank you," you reply, lingering on the delicate silver chain around his wrist, and how the folded fabric of his sleeve strains around his forearm. "So do you".

"Beautiful?" Osamu echoes, brow arched with the teasing lilt in his voice.

You hum, drawn to the natural heat emitting from his body. "S'what I said, isn't it?"

"So you did," he murmurs, the low timbre settling over you like silk. When your eyes meet he rocks back on his heels, clearing his throat and gesturing to the restaurant he picked for tonight. "I made a reservation for us. Wanna head in?"

"I'd love to".

As if entering another world, the noise lowers into a pleasant din. You step through the tall latticed doors into what appears to be a bistro-style restaurant. All autumn pigments and harmony. Family owned, from what you recall after searching it up last night. The main dining area has a romantic ambience to it, balmy toned lanterns centred on each table and an open kitchen where the chef is lovingly making a yakisoba dish.

"Tanaka mentioned yer a bit of a foodie," you blink from your appreciative stupor and glance at Osamu. "Apparently they serve really good European food here so," he rubs at the back of his neck, a little pink and unsure, his shoulder jerking in a loose shrug. "Thought'cha might like it".

Your heartbeat floods your ears. "I really like it," you say, hushed, flustered at his thoughtfulness. Before he's able to respond a host has approached, young and dressed in a well pressed black vest, not a thread out of place. He bends into a perfect bow.

“It is a pleasure to welcome you this evening. Will it be a table for two?”

Osamu sidles closer. There's presence at your lower back, his hand lingering, and you decide to lean into it. “There should be a reservation for two under the name Miya,” he nods. The host brightens.

“Of course! Right this way".

The host takes off toward the rear dining area, hidden from view. Osamu encourages you forward and as you walk together he leans to whisper in your ear, "We haven't seen the best part yet".

You immediately understand what he's referring to as you're led through a pair of golden drapes and into a conservatory space that looks out on a lustrous bamboo grove and a small koi pond. Your table is right by the stretch of windows, offering a lovely view. It steals the breath straight from your lungs, “Osamu…”

Once seated the host returns to offer you a pair of damp towels on a tray. Osamu orders a drink while he wipes his hands, and then you do the same. You sink into the cushioned back of your chair. A shoe brushes your ankle and retreats to settle alongside it, just a couple of inches. The centrepiece gently breathes to life, illuminating the table.

Anticipation trickles back in as Osamu voices his gratitude and you realise you’ll need to order in front of him. His focus turns to you as the host departs, discerning your expression. “D’ya wanna order a starter first?” he asks, sliding a menu to you.

The menu is thick and glossy. You make a commiserate sound, thumb plucking at the corner of the card. “Everything sounds really good. I’ve never had carottes ra—âpées,” you murmur, skimming excitedly over the dishes and listing off the things that catch your eye.

A low chuckle interrupts your train of thought. Rather than underlying irritation, you’re met with amusement and curiosity. “Really do like yer food, huh?”

Heat floods your body, and you resist the urge to grimace. “Sorry, I can get carried away. Is there anything you want to try?”

“Thinking of getting grilled octopus and canola to start and the sea bream for main,” he recites, studying you in the low light. Muffled are the far off sounds of meat popping on the hot stove-top and you can smell a sweet, coconut-like aroma. “Don’t need to be embarrassed y’know. I’m a food lover too”.

You perk up noticeably in your seat and Osamu’s expression near melts into sheepishness. “You run a restaurant, right? Saeko mentioned”.

“Ah, yeah. Onigiri Miya. Nothin’ as grand as this,” he gestures to the surroundings offhandedly. Your eyes linger on the flex of his throat as he swallows, pride bleeding into his voice. “Won a Food Made Good award though, just last month”.

“No kidding. Congrats Osamu, that’s amazing,” you grin, instinctively leaning into his magnetism and resting your hands on the table surface. Osamu seems to mirror your movement without meaning to. “Have you always wanted to run a restaurant?”

“Never really thought about it. Up to the end of my second year I assumed I’d fall into somethin’,” he admits. “I sorta hit the ground running after graduating. My brother too—”

“Excuse the interruption. I have your drinks,” interjects a new timid voice. The server shuffles forward to set the glasses between you on the table and then fumbles for her notepad, clicking the cap down. “Are you both ready to order?”

Osamu recovers and recites his choice for starter and main, and you do so afterwards without second thought. It’s nice, being at ease. Sitting opposite Osamu feels natural. The glass is cold against your palm, ice cubes clinking softly as you bring it up your lips and drink. You nudged the conversation forward before it could wilt. “You were saying, about your brother?”

“Atsumu. He’s my twin brother,” Osamu begins with a small smile, poorly hidden behind the rim of his glass. He sets it down, watching the amber liquid ripple. “Played volleyball since we were kids, but he always loved it a little more than I did. So while I racked up every business permit and licence I could get and he dove first into division one”.

“You both sound pretty brave, in your own right”.

“Thanks,” Osamu grinned and you got the impression that you very much said the right thing. “Brave is a new one. We’re used to bein’ called reckless idiots”.

“Tomayto tomahto,” you tease, lifting an arm and crossing your fingers together. After another sip, “Gotta be a little bit of both, right?”

“You’re right about that,” he conceded. Mouth thinning as if to rein in his smile, he reached up to needlessly fix his hair. “How about yerself, what do you do?”

Attraction hung over the table, an incorporeal anticipant thing that swells as the evening unfolds. Darkness enveloped the bamboo grove and activated the small aureate floor lights placed between the culms. You fall into natural conversation over your starter dishes. You share laughter. Tender and succulent; you share food, too, leaning forward to pluck a sample from his plate, offering your own. Not a single grimace.

Every other first date pales in comparison.

Osamu watches you with a hooded gaze warmed by his second pint of beer. There’s a certain satisfaction to him, contentment. The tip of his tongue peeks out to catch an errant drop. He nudges his ankle to your calf again when the server returns to clear away your starter plates, and you don't move away.

“Can I ask why you’re single, and what you’re looking for?”

“Finally, the hard hittin’ questions”.

You laugh, “We’ve got to get over the boring first date spiel at some point tonight”.

Osamu rumbles his assent, rests his chin in his palm, casting an idle glance to the garden as he thinks. “Think my answer’s kinda standard. At first I never had the time ‘cause of the restaurant, didn’t think it’d be fair,” he begins, and his mouth twists into a little self-effacing smirk. “When I thought I was ready I tried some’a those dating apps but nothin’ ever clicked for me”.

“I get it. Gauging chemistry is harder online,” you affirm softly, readjusting your seat as the server steps up to set down your main dishes, inclining her head in greeting but with enough grace not to interrupt. Osamu voices his gratitude, sliding his plate closer. The grilled tai is a beautiful fleshy pink colour, garnished with sprouts and hosta leaves.

“Ma says I’m a romantic,” he continues sheepishly, plucking up his chopsticks. “I’d prefer to meet someone naturally, face to face. To really feel it when ya click with each other”.

“Yeah?” there’s an ache blooming in your cheeks as you glanced down at your food. The plate is still hot to touch. You pinch your chopsticks and inhale the rich scent of saffron, garlic and onion, and beneath it all sharp notes from an open flame. “I think we’re doing pretty good on that front”.

“Better than I hoped,” he murmurs, supple and full of promise. The hair on your arms prickles. When was the last time anyone looked at you like that, you wonder. “Soon as Tanaka caught on that I saw your picture on her phone she was determined to appeal ya to me. Thought it might be too good to be true”.

You hum around your first mouthful, feeling much the same way. Saeko had worked hard to strong arm you into meeting him. The food falls apart gently on your tongue and suddenly your agreeable noise becomes a pleased crescendo, taken by the rich smoky flavours.

After swallowing you grow self-conscious; the weight of Osamu’s focused attention is heavy. Rather than embarrassment, the flush tinting his cheeks seems to be something else entirely. He has a chunk of grilled tai between his chopsticks, halted halfway to his lips. “Is it that good?” he teases, strained.

There’s no true malice or ill intent behind it. It’s lighthearted—you could even delude yourself into thinking he sounded fond. You kick your lips, inhibitions worn a fraction after a glass of liquor. “I’d say that’s obvious,” you smiled. “It tastes amazing. Thank you, for picking this place”.

“S’been my pleasure believe me,” he says, finally taking a bite of his own. Like him, you observe how his expression flickers as the flavour fills his senses. A flare in soft surprise, rippling as he chews and discerns the texture. His eyelids flutter closed, lashes fanning out over the high point of his cheeks, and open in the next breath to catch you staring.

“Is it that good?” you echo coyly. Osamu smirks, a glimmer in his eye. He picks up a small piece of the tai sandwiched with a hosta leaf and cups his hand beneath it while offering you a try.

“See for yaself,” he says. Energy simmers under your skin, all buzzing heat and jitters. You quickly sip your drink, rinsing your palate before shuffling closer to the table's edge and lean forward, lips eagerly parting to take the morsel into your mouth. A hitched breath. Osamu holds your gaze while you parse the hints of dashi broth and ginger.

“God. You weren’t wrong. The texture is perfect…” you stop yourself from rambling further and swipe your bottom lip as you recline in your chair, chopsticks poised like pincers. Pulse quickening behind your ribs you copy his actions, taking a sample of your dish for him to try. “Try mine too?” you offer, abashed.

Osamu struggles to temper his grin. Words aren’t necessary. He props himself onto his elbows and stretches forward, pink mouth wrapping around the end of your chopsticks. Closer now you notice the soft cupid’s bow on his top lip. He draws back with a soft groan as he chews—the sound ripples down your spine.

“Never tasted anything like that. Almost has a tangy bite to it,” he praised.

“Right? It’s amazing how they managed to marry earthy and briny together. I think it’s a Spanish dish, maybe,” you wonder aloud, eyes sweeping over the table. “How have I never been here before?”

“It’s my first time too, a friend recommended it. Heard they’ve only been open a year and some,” he tells you. Eventually the conversation slows as eating takes precedence. The server flits in and out to take your empty glasses, bringing refills. Sitting there, now with an empty plate and your third drink half full, a different spirit entirely sifts inside you.

Osamu admires you over the rim of his beer. “I never got to ask earlier,” he mused. “Are ya looking for a serious relationship or…?”

You scarcely hear him, preoccupied with staring at his other loosely curled hand beside the centrepiece. If he notices he doesn’t mention it. “I am. I’ve been trying. Any more than this I might actually fit the definition of a serial dater,” you admit, in an attempt to reciprocate some of his prior vulnerability. “But all I want is to settle down. Find someone”.

About to take another sip, Osamu's fingers slip slightly on the condensation around his pint. “Yer serious?” he baulks. His accent is thicker, rough. You wince at his tone. “Sorry, sorry. I just have a hard time believin’ nobody snatched you up yet”.

Feeling a little like a damn has broken in your chest, you nod. “Maybe I tried too hard. Somehow showing genuine interest only ever puts them off more,” a brittle bout of laughter breaks the delicate quiet, and you begin tearing at a napkin to distract yourself. “And most of them didn’t really… like my appetite. I embarrassed them sometimes, I think”.

Agitation on your behalf flickers in his expression; brows drawn taut, jaw clenched, it flies over his face and smooths out just as quickly. “That’s bullshit,” he said, sounding far calmer than he had looked. Warmth encompasses your hands and your fingers pause their repetitive motions. Osamu runs his thumb over your knuckles. “‘Scuse my manners. But ya not embarrassing in the slightest. There’s nothin’ more satisfying than watching someone eat well”.

A slow smile pulls at your lips. The napkin is in pieces. You sense his caution in crossing any boundaries, pressure alleviating as though to pull away, so you overturn your wrist and thread your fingers together. “I think so too,” you reply. “Not much better than good food and good company”.

“Guess we’ve covered all the bases,” he murmurs, squeezing until your palms kiss. “Feel like sharing some desserts with me?”

The hunger in your heart rears its head. Mentally you send a good word to Saeko, knowing you owe her more than a drink or two for this. “Can’t say no to that,” you return, voice a little thick. Whatever will prolong the night.

Dessert ends up being a beautiful burnt honey cake. It comes with a creamer of liqueur laced chocolate sauce that strays as you pour it. Osamu watches you clean a wayward thread of melted chocolate from wrist to heel with your tongue, grey eyes overcast with something heady. You feel a pulse of magnetised desire where there’d been none before as wet fingers popped free of your mouth.

It’s delicious, you're sure. You can hardly remember anything beyond the face he makes as he tries it.

The end of the date looms with dreadful finality. Osamu pays the bill in full despite your countless protests. You walk through the front dining area, busier than it had been, and in passing you bow your head toward the chef working behind the bar and the host at the entrance.

“Thank you very much,” he acknowledges politely. “Please come again”.

It’s jarring to step back out from the restaurant’s welcome embrace into the street. “Guess this is it,” you inhale deeply and move to Osamu’s side to sap him of his warmth, wrapping yourself around his arm. He pulls you closer and you yield like putty, partly the need to shield from the crisp, late night air and partly the desire to prolong your time together.

“Did you walk here?” he asks, rubbing your hip. Your hand is splayed over his chest, heat seeping through the fabric, heart tapping against your palm.

“I got dropped off,” you reply. “I’ll have a car pick me up”. Osamu dithers for a moment, visibly searching for the right words. He rubs at his neck—a nervous habit you’ve noticed.

Whatever you were expecting it wasn’t, “Are ya still hungry?”

Your mouth opens and closes. True, there’s no real physical ache of hunger but you would hardly describe yourself as full, or sated. “…I could eat,” you confess. Osamu grins at that, dark hair haloed by the streetlight. “Why?”

“My restaurant isn’t far from here. If yer comfortable with it, the cab can pick you up from there and I’ll make a treat for the ride home,” he says. He must take your brief silence to mean discomfort, because he continues on. “Ya can say no,” he murmurs, thumb stroking back and forth at your waist. “Just didn’t want the night to end yet”.

The offer strikes a chord within you, and you feel like you could burst. You want. Guided by fleeting impulse you press a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. He startles and then moves as if to chase it. Your breath catches as you come together in a soft, chaste press of lips.

“I’d like that,” you rasp, patting at his chest and unwilling to part. There’s relaxed, padded muscle underneath. “What’s the address?”

After receiving the address you input it into your phone, scheduling the taxi to pick you up in around thirty minutes—at Osamu’s suggestion. As promised the restaurant is no more than a five minute walk, tucked away alongside a few other establishments. You notice the Onigiri Miya sign fixed above the door displaying his logo, but the shutters are down.

“Gotta head in through the side,” he explains quietly. You nod, clasping both hands around his forearm and letting him lead. The clink of his keys fills the silence, followed by a series of clicks. The door opens and he flicks the switch on. You squint at the intrusive light that floods the space, blinking to adjust, and make a low inquisitive noise as you meander through.

The interior errs on traditional, and it works well. Hanging along the accent wall is a banner of the shop name written in calligraphy, and other various artworks are littered throughout showcasing appreciation for the local agriculture.

Osamu disappears into the back amidst your exploring. You duck beneath the curtain draped across the doorway to find him. The kitchen is small, an obvious compromise to make room for more dining space. Food preparation is dedicated to the heart of the kitchen on an island-like setup, while dishwashing and such are pushed to the perimeter. Osamu embodies it comfortably and confidently.

Hands wrung against your stomach, you lean to get a closer look at what he’s doing. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Osamu stops, still poised to reach for the water bowl next to his workstation. There are multiple others set out, each seemingly with a different ingredient. His mouth pulls into a boyish grin. “Don’t worry about that,” he says, inclining his head to the stool opposite. “Just sit there looking pretty and I’ll feed ya something good”.

You bite the inside of your cheek and wonder if it’s possible for butterflies to hatch in your chest. A fuzzy giddiness that spreads to the tips of your fingers, and you want to kiss him again. “Promise?”

“Promise”.

Lowering onto the stool, you watch raptly as he wets his fingers and takes a pinch of salt to rub into his hands. Skin glistens under the pale florescence. Osamu's visage wanes, and you're struck by how at home he looks.

“So,” you speak, if only to fill the silence—and to hear his voice again. “What made you fall in love with food?”

Osamu scoops the cooked rice from a nearby bowl into his palm and starts to shape it. He doesn’t pause in his motions, even with the contemplative tilt of his head. “Lots’a reasons, really,” he says. “Earliest one I can remember is when I made breakfast for my gran for the first time. Ma helped out, ‘cause I was only five or six, but I was real proud of myself”.

“That’s cute,” you murmur, a nascent fondness stirring inside your body at the imagined young Osamu that flashes through your mind. “Did it turn out any good?”

Deft fingers knead a shallow dip into the centre of the rice ball. “Course it didn’t, I used way too much salt. But she still ate it, and it made her feel better”.

“Because she loves you”.

Osamu meets your eyes. Outside, droplets stutter out a drowsy staccato against the windows, cohesive with the beat of your heart. The moment feels pheromonic, like when you know something is just right the second you find it. “Yeah,” he murmurs. His mouth curls up and he tucks some of the nearby ingredients into the rice. “See, yer getting it”.

That's what it is. Osamu likes to take care of people. Your focus falls to deft fingers, gently folding the rice over, as though tucking it in. He gives it a triangular shape, adorned with a slice of nori, and sets it into a small cardboard tray. Without preamble, he reaches to start another.

"Y'know, first time I ever confessed to someone it was with onigiri," Osamu tells you, unheeding of the wellspring he opened in your chest. "Made 'em that same morning, had a speech and everything. Never told anyone I was gonna do it".

You hum and scoot closer, folding your arms atop the island. It's cold ot the touch. Osamu appears to blossom further under your avid attention. He repeats the steps, pressing new filling carefully into the heart of the rice and admits, "Got rejected, though".

Your face falls. "I'm sorry, Osamu".

"It's fine. In the end I gave one of 'em to 'Tsumu, and I ate the other," he shrugs, looking rather happy for someone talking about their botched first confession. "Know what he told me?"

"What?"

"Looks me dead in the eyes and goes 'What the hell, 'Samu. Are ya holdin' out on me? These taste better than usual'," Osamu pitches his voice as he recites the memory, presumably mocking his brother. You laugh, and he ducks his chin to hide his grin. "I remember missin' three serves that day. He told me since I suck so bad at volleyball I should be a chef instead. Idiot doesn't even remember he said it, but..."

While he had meant his words to be light you heard the significance beneath it. You rise from your seat. Osamu tucks the third and final onigiri into the tray and lets his focus stray toward you. Featherlight strokes up his forearm, you rest your cheek against his shoulder. You peer through your lashes and look at Osamu's face, at a tentative beginning.

"And now you're here," you say, reaching to cup his warm cheek. He leans into it, lids fluttering as your thumb traces an arc beneath his eye. His ears are warm against the tips of your fingers. "You did it".

"Yeah," Osamu releases a shaky breath. "Is it—can I kiss ya again?"

Your answer comes with the tilt of your head. Osamu kisses you, solemnly sweet. You can faintly taste the beer he drank. He's warm, firm under your hands. You feel him smile against your mouth and smile back, nipping at his plush lower lip. The intensity grows as a strong arm coils around your waist, his wet, rice soiled hand held away from your clothes. Your fingers slip into his hair as his tongue dips into the seam, slides over your own and along the grooves in your teeth, drinking the whine right from your mouth.

"Osamu," you sigh, pushing harder, needing to be closer, and yet he is pulling further away. "Noo, come back".

"Greedy thing" he rasps. His voice is infused with warm laughter. You hum as he kisses you again, similar to the first. It's quick and chaste, and with too much finality for your taste. "I know. But I'm pretty sure that's yer ride waiting outside".

You sniff haughtily, following his line of sight to the car headlights filtering in through the windows. "Wait. Let me walk ya out," he mumbles, turning away to find a towel to wipe his hands on. Meanwhile you gingerly pick up the takeout tray of onigiri and cradle it to your front, as though something precious.

"Ready?"

The night is colder than you remember, and you'd only been out of it for a short time. Sparse raindrops pitter patter on the pavements, leaving dark little dots on the concrete. Osamu walks ahead to check with the driver and then waves you over, opening the door himself.

"What a charmer," you tease, turning into him once more and pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you, Osamu. I had a really great night".

"Good enough to see me again?"

The crinkles by his eyes are knowing, aware that he needn't ask at all. And the thought that you could be another person for Osamu to take care of—it satiates the ache.

"Maybe I can cook for you next time," you say as you climb into the backseat. Osamu bends, peering into the car.

"Promise?"

Loneliness is just another form of hunger. You realise that now.

"I promise".

#hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #miya osamu x reader #osamu x reader #haikyu x reader

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pink-sparkly-witch · 8 months

Text

All She Wants, Part One

Summary: As an Omega, Y/N’s biology dictates that she needs to be claimed and have pups. Despite seeing her through her heats for years, Dean – the Alpha Y/N wants to settle down with – refuses to give her what she needs.

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Female Omega!Reader

Rating: 18+ Only

Bingo Square: The quote: “Don’t try to alpha me. It won’t work.” for @j3bingo which is highlighted in bold.

Warnings: omegaverse, A/B/O, A/B/O dynamics, language, ruts, heats, smut (well… technically, it’s smangst and could be perceived as tw: dub-con), p in v, dirty talk, breeding kink, claiming kink, knotting, angst, Dean is a bit of an asshole, fighting, canon level violence, arguments.

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Well, we get straight into the filth under the cut with this one! I hope you’re ready for some angst alpha Dean! Buckle up, buttercups, and enjoy the ride! Please consider reblogging to spread this far and wide around this Hellsite, or leave a little comment. It really does fuel our muse. If you’re too shy, or too cool for people to know you read fanfic and you don’t want it showing on your blog, you can submit an anonymous ask or drop me a DM 💖

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“Fuck, Omega, you’re dripping all over my cock,” Dean growls as he slams into you again. This is the eighth fucking he’s given you in the past three days, and it’s sure to be over a dozen by the time his rut is over.

You and Dean have been doing this for years. Whenever he’s in a rut, you get him through it, and whenever you’re in heat, he’s repaid the favour. At first, it was easy; a means to an end. You knew each other, you trusted each other, there was an attraction between you, and it was less risky than disappearing off the face of the earth for five days with a stranger, especially when any alpha could claim you with or without your consent.

As time passed, you’d done what you promised never to do; you caught feelings. Once that happened, becoming emotionally bonded to Dean was no longer a choice, and in all ways but wearing his mark, you and the green-eyed hunter had mated.

“Such a sweet fucking pussy, baby girl. Can’t get enough of it,” Dean’s voice had deepened with his arousal, and you knew the alpha in him was slowly taking over.

You groan at his words. He’s always good with dirty talk and can turn you into a weak, whimpering mess with a single word.

“Mine.”

But it’s all talk. Dean has told you plenty of times that you could never be anything more. And the more years that passed, the harder that’s been to accept. Every month when your heat ended, you swore it was the last time. Your biology dictated your life, and if an alpha didn’t claim you and give you pups, you’d go feral and die.

Dean’s knot is beginning to swell; you can’t feel him as deep as he had been. He drapes himself over your sweat-slicked back to give himself better purchase to push and shove into you, desperate to get as deep as he’d been a few minutes ago. It’s a futile effort as he won’t get what he wants until his knot has slipped inside you, but being surrounded by him – his weight on top of you, breathing in his scent – is a euphoria you could never get enough of. It’s the reason you’ve always ended up under him.

“Alpha, please,” you beg pathetically. “Need your knot.”

“Yeah? You gonna be a good girl and take my knot, ‘mega?” Dean grunts in your ear, his knot beginning to catch at your entrance.

“Yes, Alpha!” You gasp as Dean’s hand wraps around your throat, pushing your head to the side and exposing your neck.

“Of course, you are, ‘mega. Always such a good girl for your Alpha,” Dean grunts, thrusting harder and harder, trying to force his knot inside your walls, but he can’t quite slip it into your tight, slightly tense channel.

“Gonna fill you up so good, baby girl. Knot you and fill you. You want that, huh? Want my come? My pups? Want me to ruin this pretty little neck with my mark?” he grunts, teasing your delicate skin with his teeth.

You moan, feeling another bout of slick leaking from you at his words. It’s all you want, and you choke back the tears at the regret you feel about ever starting this vicious cycle; at the cruelness of him using what you so desperately want to loosen you up enough to take what he wants.

And you hate yourself because it works.

“Yeah, I know you do, Omega. You just gotta let me in. Let me in, and I’ll fill you so good, baby. There’s no way you won’t come out of this pregnant.” You try to remind yourself that it’s only words, and you’re on birth control anyway, so it’ll never happen, but you can’t help but wish there was truth in them.

Dean lowers his head, and you shiver when his tongue licks over your mating gland and his teeth nip at your skin.

“Alpha!” You scream, finally reaching orgasm as his knot breeches you and locks your bodies together for the foreseeable future.

“That’s m’girl,” Dean growls as he grinds into you, the tip of his member kissing your cervix. He jerks his hips, shoving impossibly further inside you, and you whine at the pleasurable pain.

“No fucking pussy better than yours, ‘mega, and it’s all fucking mine,” Dean roars and you feel the heat of the first ropes of come hitting your quivering walls, sending you into a second orgasm.

Your elbows can no longer hold your weight, and you collapse onto the bed. You hate how Dean knows what buttons to push to get you to give him what he needs. You hate your body for falling for his words. And right now, as you experience a third orgasm that has you fighting between euphoria and disgust, you’re glad Dean hasn’t claimed you, and a chemical bond is non-existent, so he can’t feel the torment you’re currently going through.

You sigh as the waves of your climax roll away, and your body melts into the mattress. Behind you, Dean moans low and long as your relaxed body allows his knot to slip in deeper, and he empties everything he has into your womb.

Dean has never come so hard with you before, and you wonder if the claiming and breeding talk did it, or if it was because he’s never been so deep inside you before. Or if he, like you, is finding it harder to fight his instincts.

He carefully rolls you both onto your sides and wraps himself around you protectively, placing soft kisses across your back and shoulder. It’s the first sign that his rut is ending, and it doesn’t surprise you that it’s a day early, given how much of his come you can feel swirling in your belly.

The afterglow you’d been basking in is quickly overshadowed with dread because you know this is the last time this would happen. You can’t keep doing this to yourself. Dean will never want more with you than what you have right now. He’ll never reciprocate your feelings for him, and you refuse to put yourself through it any longer.

“You okay, Y/N? Was I too rough?” Dean asks, pressing his lips to your spine, and you know for sure he’s out of his rut because he called you by name and not “Omega” or “Baby Girl”. And if using your name hadn’t given it away, then his concern for you would have.

“No,” you say quietly. You try to shift away from him, yelping from still being locked together tightly and stretched to almost unbearable pain. You want to cry, knowing you’ll likely remain that way for over an hour. At one time, that would’ve made you the happiest little omega on the planet, being tucked safely in your alpha’s arms, him locked in you so tightly, but right now, you just want to get away from him.

“Easy, sweetheart,” Dean soothes, running his hand up and down your side. “We’re gonna be here a while. It hasn’t been like that since my first rut, and I’m jammed in there pretty tight,” Dean chuckles. “Fuck, that felt good!”

You remain still and silent, not wanting to cause yourself any further pain, and grateful that if the tears you’re holding fall, you can blame it on the discomfort you feel.

“Uh, you know all that talk about claiming and pups was just that, right? Dirty talk?” Dean speaks, breaking the silence that had formed between you. “Because this life ain’t the place for weaknesses like mating bonds and pups.”

“I know.” It comes out in a whisper, but at least you didn’t burst into tears at the final nail in the coffin of your relationship with Dean.

“Good,” he states, pulling you further into his body and settling down to sleep.

Now all you need to do is wait until Dean’s knot deflates and he’s sleeping deeply. Then you can shower the stench of the alpha from your body and return to your room. Your space. Your haven. Your nest.

ONE MONTH LATER

The trouble with witches is that they’re more intelligent than most people give them credit for. And vindictive. They’re also the most vile monsters on the planet. Still, you can’t help but admire them. Not that you’d ever admit that out loud, but you can’t deny the genius of the one you’re hunting right now that’s had the three of you running around in five different states trying to catch her.

When your luck finally turns, and you find her hideout undetected—a hundred miles from the bunker, no less—the three of you get takeout and beer in the motel room, and form a plan to take the bitch down.

As the sun comes through the threadbare drapes, rousing you from the first restful night’s sleep you’ve had in weeks, you still feel tired and too hot. Trying to kick the duvet off your overheated body, you feel a solid block behind you and sigh. Sam and Dean had insisted you all share a room, knowing you’re all on the witch’s hit list and are safer in numbers until she’s dead, so you know it can only be Dean behind you.

Becoming more awake, you notice Dean nuzzling into your neck, his lips resting on your mating gland, and his calming, intoxicating scent surrounding you. This is the closest you’ve been to him since his rut a few weeks ago, making your stomach lurch.

Quietly slipping from the bed, you smile wistfully as the green-eyed alpha whines at your sudden absence. Dean has been looking at you strangely these past two weeks. You know that he knows you’re pulling away from him, but as always with the two of you, it’s gone unspoken. Dean never talks about his feelings, and the last time you did, well, let’s just say that’s when you knew you and Dean were a sinking ship.

Grabbing underwear, jeans, a vest top, and flannel from your duffel bag, you make your way into the bathroom, wanting for once to have a long, hot shower without it turning cold when soap suds are still in your hair because the boys have used it all up.

Fully dressed and towelling your hair, the first signs of this month’s heat make themselves known as your skin prickles and the twinges start in your lower belly. This will be the first heat you’ve endured without Dean in a long time, and you pray to Chuck or whoever the fuck is running things upstairs now, that you’re strong enough to handle it.

Taking two Tylenol for the impending cramps, and a suppressant to try to ease the other symptoms of heat, you brush the tangles from your wet hair and head over to the diner to get breakfast for yourself and the two alphas, the younger whose bed is now empty having gone out for his morning run, and the older who is still snoring, his nose buried into the pillow you’d slept on.

DEAN’S POV

Dean is pacing the motel room. Y/N’s scent is still strong in the air and tinged with the beginnings of her heat, a scent that always drives him fucking wild. Her damp towel hangs on the heated rail in the bathroom, so he knows she hasn’t been gone long, but he’s worried about her. Especially lately. And especially with a conniving witch bitch hellbent on vaporising them.

Y/N has been pulling away from him lately, and her sharp tongue has left him licking his wounds more than once. He’d been wracking his brain, going over their every interaction, trying to figure out what he’d done to piss her off. What hurt him the most was her obvious despair at having to share a bed with him last night.

He and Sam agreed the three of them would stay in one room until they’d killed the bitch. They were all on the witch’s radar, but if they stayed together, at least they had safety in numbers. When he gave the news to Y/N, she looked at him as if he’d kicked a puppy right in front of her, and that felt like a knife to his gut.

He’d even thought about saying she could sleep with Sam, but the very thought of that made him want to tear his younger brother’s throat out, so he had no choice but to grin and bear her cold shoulder and the cold bed.

Not able to make and take comfort in a nest for herself, Y/N had situated herself on the bed as far away from him as possible and contorted into the tiniest little ball she physically could, making it abundantly clear to him and Sam that she felt extremely vulnerable. Dean knew that hurt not only him but Sam too.

The sound of footsteps outside the room makes Dean grab the gun filled with witch-killing bullets from the dresser and point it at the door. He relaxes his stance and lowers the weapon when he recognises Sam’s shadow through the grimy motel room window.

“Have you seen Y/N?” Dean barks at his younger brother the second he walks through the door.

“Yeah, she’s sitting in the diner eating breakfast. I ran past her a couple of minutes ago,” Sam replied, stretching his calves and putting his earphones away.

“You talk to her?”

“No. I thought it best to give her some space. With the way things have been, and, you know, she’s on the verge of a heat and, uh, she hasn’t really been herself lately, and last night with the…” Sam sighed. “What happened between you two, Dean? Because that is not the happy Omega we know.”

“I wish I knew, Sammy. I really do, but I’m at a loss here.” Dean starts to pace again, in obvious distress and breathing deeply through flared nostrils.

“When was the last time things were okay between you?” Sam asked.

“My rut last month. But even then, the last time we, uh… you know… she was off.”

“Dean,” Sam’s jaw clenched, hoping he didn’t have to kick his brother’s ass for forcing himself on her.

“I knew she was distracted. Her head wasn’t in it, and I needed her so bad—” The dawning of realisation washed over the green-eyed alpha’s features, and he felt sick.

“What did you do, Dean?”

“I, uh, I fucked up. I had to get creative with some dirty talk to slick her up enough to get my knot in, and I… fuck!” Dean sits on the bed, places his head in his hands and pulls at his hair.

“Dean,” the younger alpha’s nostrils were also flaring now, but it was from anger as opposed to his brother’s distress.

“I played on what she wants. What she really wants, Sam. I’ve always been clear with her about what we have and never used any of what she… but that night, I told her I’d claim her and give her pups.” And just like that, everything makes perfect sense to Dean. Y/N is pushing him away because she desperately wants what he teased her with. “And then, as we lay there locked together, I told her it was just talk, and I could never give it to her.”

“Jesus, Dean! You’re telling me you used her by telling her you’d give her what she wanted, then you broke her heart by taking it all back, saying she could never have it so that you could knot her? That’s low, even for you!” Sam scoffs.

“I never said she couldn’t have it. I said I couldn’t give it to her. She’s leaving me, Sammy. It’s why she’s been pushing me away. Why she feels vulnerable around me now and wants her own space all the time.”

“Yeah, and you fucking deserve it!” Sam growls as he swings for Dean, clocking him in the jaw with an almighty crack. “She loves you, Dean! And you treat her like an omega whore you’ve paid to see you through a rut?” As the younger Winchester pulls his fist back and lands another punch, the door slams, making both men jump at the sudden movement.

“Enough!” Y/N’s voice verberates through the room. “What has gotten into you two?” The pack dynamic they’d forged for themselves had Y/N as the matriarch, and so her maternal tone had them shuffle their feet and look to the floor. “We have bigger problems to deal with right now, and you two fighting like a couple of juveniles will only give the witch the ammunition she needs to take us all down!”

“Sorry, Y/N,” both alphas mumble like a couple of scolded pups.

“I brought breakfast. Eat.” It’s an order that neither alpha dared disobey. They shuffle their way over to the small table, sitting down and eating silently while Y/N checks and rechecks their duffles for the witch hunt.

Y/N’S POV

Edging silently along the wall, gun in your hand, locked and loaded, you can hear a woman’s voice and Sam grunting, and realise you only have seconds to get this right. Taking a deep breath, you step into the room, and your eyes scan the surroundings.

Sam is against the wall, struggling against invisible restraints, and the witch speaks in Latin. Knowing that can only mean trouble, you raise the gun and take a second to get your aim right between the bitch’s eyes.

It’s a second too long, and she whips her hand to the right, your gun flying from your grip and landing across the room, as she continues her Latin chant as if you weren’t just trying to kill her.

You run at the first purple spark emitted from the witch’s palms, putting yourself between Sam and the witch without hesitation. You’d missed the first part of her curse, but you’d heard enough to know that the youngest Winchester could absolutely not be hit with it. You needed to get in front of it. You couldn’t let her ruin all three of your lives.

Closing your eyes, you wait for the curse to hit, but instead, a gunshot rings through the room, and everything goes silent. You don’t get hit by a gust of wind or an electric shock… just nothing.

Peeking an eye open, you see the witch lying on the ground, blood pouring beneath her and Dean glaring at you expectantly, his nostrils flared in anger. Not wanting to deal with him right now, you rush over to Sam, scanning over him and checking he’s okay.

“Sam! Are you hurt?” you ask as you crouch beside him and scan his body for visible injuries.

“No, just winded. I’ll be fine. Are you alright?” Sam touches your forearm to stop you from fussing about him.

“She’s a hell of a lot better than she coulda been!” Dean yells across the room. “What the fuck were you thinking, Y/N, huh? Throwing yourself in front of a witch like that, you coulda been killed!”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Dean. I’m—” Dean cuts off your response, marching towards you with his index finger pointing at you.

“I swear, if you say ‘I’m fine,’ so help me!” Dean only stops when he’s toe-to-toe with you, and he puffs his chest and rears his shoulders back, trying to intimidate you. Trying to make you submit to him.

“I am fine, Dean. The curse mentioned a brother, so it wouldn’t have affected me anyway,” you argue back.

“It could’ve killed you for all we know!”

“Dean, you need to calm down,” you implore.

“And you, Omega,” Dean says, his voice low and full of alpha authority and his finger dangerously close to your face, “need to start following my orders and stop purposely disobeying me because of some stupid tantrum you’re throwing! Go wait in the car.”

You do the worst possible thing you could do right now and laugh, before turning and walking away from him. You won’t let anyone speak to you like that, and you definitely won’t let Dean, either.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?… Don’t you dare walk away from me, Omega!” You can smell his pheromones from where you are and know that not only is it in pure anger, but because he’s extra on edge having being able to smell your heat and is starting to get antsy.

“Don’t try to alpha me. It won’t work. You haven’t claimed me, Dean. I am not your omega. You made it very clear that I’m only good enough to be your rut bunny, and you know what? I’m done with that, so stay the hell away from me!”

“Y/N!”

Once again, you completely ignore him and keep walking. It’s hard because your body screams for him, but you won’t let him use you. Not anymore. Never again.

“Omega!” he roars again, and you walk out the door, slamming it behind you.

Screw waiting in the Impala. You’ll make your own way back, grab your bag, and go to another motel for the night. It was going to be a long enough car ride back to the bunker tomorrow, you needed some space—for everyone’s sake.

Next Part>>

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queenshelby · 4 months

Text

An Illicit Affair

Part Seven: The Hotel Encounter

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (46) x Reader (23)

Warning: Age-Gap, Taboo Relationship, Infidelity

Wednesday came around quicker than you thought, eight o'clock rolled around, and you found yourself standing outside the Westin Hotel lobby like a lost puppy. The hotel's grandeur and sophistication overwhelmed you, and you couldn't help but compare its opulence to the dimly lit jazz club where you first laid eyes on Cillian.

You squared your shoulders, trying to summon some confidence. Taking a deep breath, you crossed the threshold into the marble-floored lobby. The scent of expensive perfume and designer cologne hung heavily in the air, and you could hear soft classical music playing somewhere in the background.

The sound of hushed conversations and the occasional click of heels on marble floors filled the space. You scanned the crowd, searching for Cillian. When you caught sight of him, your heart skipped a beat.

"Hey," Cillian greeted, his voice low and smooth, sending shivers down your spine. "You made it," he added, gesturing towards a secluded table tucked away in the corner. "Shall we sit?" he asked, his piercing blue eyes locking onto yours. You nodded, unable to tear your gaze away from him.

The familiar warmth spread through your chest, and your palms grew slick with perspiration. Leading you to the table, Cillian pulled out a chair for you. Once seated, you could feel his gaze boring into you, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. Your heart thumped erratically, and your mind raced with a jumble of memories and desires. .

"So," you said, shifting in your seat after sitting down at the quiet table in the corner, "How is Max doing? He is back at home now, isn't he?"

Cillian's eyes held a faraway look, his lips quirking upward ever so slightly. "He is and he is doing well, considering the circumstances," he said, taking a sip of his drink. "He has lost his license, and his car insurance won't cover the damages to the car, but he's alive, thank God."

"I know. I am glad," you spoke nervously before you took a deep breath, preparing yourself for the inevitable question.

"So, what did you want to discuss with me?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady and, immediately, guilt began to form in Cillian's mind.

"To tell you the truth, I don't really know. After seeing you again at the hospital, I..." Cillian began to trail off, stammering nervously. "I just wanted to see you," Cillian confessed, his voice barely audible. "So that I could apologize and explain myself, to tell you that what happened between us was...," he added before trailing off again.

He looked down for a moment and then continued, his voice wavering slightly. "I really fucked up Y/N, but I cannot stop thinking about you," he told you before he wiped his brow with his sleeve, looking genuinely concerned. "I know that what happened between us was a mistake. It was fucking wrong because I cheated on my wife with you, but I just can't seem to shake you off my mind," Cillian admitted, his gaze locked on you, and you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

"Cillian, I--" you started, your voice catching in your throat. "We both know it was wrong," you managed to say, your heart pounding hard enough to rattle your ribcage. "And I don't know what to say other than that I am sorry for putting you into this situation. I should not have pursued you," you added, wringing your hands nervously, thinking about the fact that he was married and that you used to date his son. This was all so complicated, so messed up, and whilst you craved him, you knew that this wouldn't lead to anything prosperous.

"Y/N, you didn't put me into this situation," Cillian countered, taking a deep breath. "I did this myself and, if I remember correctly, I was the one who pursued you, not the other way around," he confessed before he darted his eyes downwards for a brief moment, looking ashamed. "I should not have done it," he mumbled, shaking his head, "but I cannot help but wonder what it would be like if we got to spend some more time together," he then gazed at you intently, his expression serious and determined.

"Cillian," you whispered, shaking your head. "This is insane," you told him before you tried to stand up from your seat only to be halted by Cillian laying his arm across the back of your chair.

"Please, just listen to me," he implored you, his voice hoarse and strained from desperation. "I realize that we shouldn't be having this conversation, but I simply cannot help it. Every time I think about you, I want more. It's like a fucking addiction," Cillian confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

"We can't do this," you reminded him, averting your gaze, afraid of the depths of desire reflected in his eyes. "You're married," you pointed out bluntly, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. "And I dated your son," you added, the guilt gnawing at your gut.

"I know," Cillian groaned, his frustration evident in each tortured syllable. "But tell me that you don't want this too," he urged, causing you to pause, your heart racing madly in your chest.

Torn between reason and desire, you studied Cillian's handsome face, tracing the lines of his chiseled features with your gaze. His eyes were pleading, beseeching you to give in to the forbidden attraction that simmered between you just as the waiter came by, finally wanting to take your order.

"What can I get you?" the young man asked, flashing a dazzling smile at you both. You and Cillian exchanged awkward glances before you quickly looked away, focusing on the menu instead.

"A bottle of Bordeaux, but can we have it brought up to the room please?" you nervously said to the waiter before Cillian could respond to his question and your request left him baffled.

"Of course. What is your room number, ma'am," the waiter asked politely, glancing between you and Cillian curiously.

"It's 309," Cillian answered, his voice low and gruff as you stood up and reached for your bag with fidgeting hands.

"What are you doing?" Cillian asked, his voice husky as he watched you stand up.

"Going to your room," you answered him matter-of-factly. You felt nervous, the excitement coursing through your veins like a drug. "Isn't that what you wanted?" you whispered, turning to face Cillian. The air between you vibrated with pent-up energy, like a storm brewing under the calm surface of a lake. You could practically feel the electric charge between you, and it pushed you forward.

Cillian nodded nervously, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down in his throat like a tiny pulse. "Yes," he whispered, and you couldn't help but blush.

"Good, then lets go before my conscience kicks in and guilt gets the better of me," you mumbled before Cillian stood up as well and followed you toward the elevators.

Once the elevator doors closed, Cillian let out a sigh of relief, and you pressed the button for the third floor.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, reaching out to brush a loose strand of hair away from your face.

His touch was warm and gentle, sending a delicious shiver down your spine.

You searched his gaze, finding comfort in the vulnerability etched into his expressive eyes. "Yes," you replied, your voice soft and certain, before you allowed your fingertips to graze his cheek affectionately.

"I am sure about this," you assured him, your eyes never straying from his mesmerizing gaze before, eventually, the elevator doors slid open with a soft whir, and you stepped out onto the third floor with Cillian hot on your heels.

You adjusted your dress nervously, smoothing down the fabric and glancing around the hall, making sure no one was watching you two. The dim lighting masked your expressions as you moved towards the indicated room number, your heart beating like a war drum in your chest.

Cillian pulled his key card from his jeans pocket, swiping it along the slot and hearing the soft mechanical click signaling the door had unlocked. He turned the handle delicately, leading you both inside the darkened room.

"Let me turn on the lights," he suggested, fumbling around the wall switch before the soft glow flooded the room, bathing you both in a comforting warmth.

Your nerves skyrocketed as you saw the plush king-sized bed situated right in front of you, and your heart fluttered in anticipation.

Cillian guided you gently towards the center of the room, his grip tightening around your hand subtly as if urging you closer. Your skin prickled from the tension between you both, creating a magnetic pull that neither of you could ignore. You peered up at him, finding solace in his blue eyes which mirrored the uncertainty that danced within your own and, not long after that, your lips finally collided.

The kiss was passionate yet gentle, a dance of tongues and teeth, your bodies pressing closer and closer, almost losing balance.

Despite the lingering guilt clouding your mind, the thrill of his presence ignited a fire within you—a flame that refused to be extinguished.

Cillian's hands roamed over your body, exploring curves and valleys, moving to unbutton your dress with trembling fingers. You could sense the urgency in his movements, the raw desire simmering just below the surface.

With trembling hands, Cillian untied the string holding your dress together, exposing your black lace bra and panties, leaving nothing to the imagination. Your breath hitched as you watched him gaze hungrily at your exposed flesh, his eyes dark with lust.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion before he pressed his lips against your neck, kissing and sucking gently, leaving red marks that stung pleasantly. You moaned softly, arching your back as his hands moved lower, cupping your ass and pulling you closer as, suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

"Room Service," a male voice called out from beyond the entrance, causing Cillian to freeze mid-kiss.

"Ignore it," you muttered, clutching Cillian tightly, unwilling to break the spell that had enveloped you both.

"I can't," Cillian replied, releasing you gently before walking towards the door with his face covered in your lipstick. "It was you who ordered the wine," he then chuckled before he opened the door just a crack, whispering something quietly to the room service attendant waiting on the other side. There was a brief exchange of words before the sound of heavy footsteps fading away echoed through the room.

"Thank you," Cillian murmured, closing the door firmly behind him and placing the bottle of Bordeaux you had ordered minutes earlier on the desk besides the door.

He turned to face you, a crooked grin playing on his lips when he saw that you had taken off your bra and were waiting for him on top of the bed.

"Looks like I am not the only one in a hurry," he joked before pulling his t-shirt over his head, revealing his lean torso. His chest was covered in freckles and featured a small patch of chest-hair, both of which was something you considered particularly attractive.

He then went to unbuckle his belt, slowly sliding his pants down, revealing his CK briefs, already straining against his growing erection.

"I can't wait to feel you inside me again," you whispered as desire pooled inside of you like molten lava threatening to erupt, consuming every rational thought.

Cillian smiled seductively, stepping out of his clothing completely, leaving him naked and gloriously erect before you.

You swallowed dryly, your mouth feeling parched as you admired his sculpted physique. He was perfection embodied, and your heart pounded wildly in your chest as you ran your eyes all over his gorgeous form.

"You are so hard already," you purred, reaching out to touch the throbbing bulge nestled snugly between his legs.

Cillian groaned, his breathing labored as he grabbed your wrist, stopping you from proceeding.

"Not yet," he growled, his voice laced with raw lust.

"I want to taste you first," he added, stepping closer to the bed with a predatory glint in his eye. "Making you cum with my mouth is what I have been dreaming about every fucking night," he then told you and you bit your lip, feeling an unfamiliar wave of excitement wash over you.

"Really?" you mused, your voice dripping with feigned innocence. "Because I was thinking that maybe it would be more fun if I get to taste you again first," you teased, a mischievous spark dancing in your eyes.

"Oh, I'm definitely going to enjoy that," Cillian groaned, his cock twitching eagerly in response as he prowled towards the bed like a predator zeroing in on its prey. "But ladies first," he asserted before pinning you down beneath him. "I want to hear you come undone," he asserted and you did not dare to argue.

"Alright, if you insist," you moaned as Cillian skillfully removed your panties with a single tug, leaving you bare and vulnerable.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your inner thigh softly causing a pleasant shiver to run down your spine. He traced kisses down your leg, slowly working his way towards your core.

"You smell so fucking good," he commented before he took a moment to appreciate your wetness visibly staining the sheets underneath you.

"You're soaked," he noted appreciatively, and your heart raced at the sheer pleasure he derived from your arousal.

Cillian kissed and caressed your inner thighs, his hot breath teasing your sensitive skin.

"Fuck," you whimpered, squirming beneath him as he lowered his head, his lips hovering inches above your quivering mound. You could feel his warm breath on your moist flesh, raising goosebumps on your skin.

Your breath quickened, a wave of anticipation washing over you like a tidal surge.

"Tell me how much you want it," he commanded, leaning forward, his eyes smoldering with passion.

"I want it so much!" you cried out, bucking your hips in anticipation. Cillian's eyes gleamed with triumph as he parted your folds gently, revealing your swollen clit, pulsating with need. He licked his lips, savoring the sweet aroma emanating from your sex.

"Please!" you then begged, your voice cracking with desperation. "Just touch me, taste me, make me cum!"

Cillian grinned wickedly, his eyes sparkling with anticipation before lowering his lips ever so slightly.

You moaned loudly, thrashing your head from side to side, desperate for release. Your pussy throbbed, yearning for attention, and you arched your back, offering up your slick slit to Cillian who, finally obliged.

His tongue darted out, flicking your engorged nub lightly before diving in, delving deeper into your wet depths. You moaned loudly, grinding your hips into his face eagerly as he explored your folds with fervent abandon.

"Fuck yes," you screamed, your voice echoing off the walls of the luxurious bedroom. "That feels so good!" you moaned before running your hands through his hair.

"So fucking good," you whispered, panting heavily as Cillian continued to lap at your slick folds with a feverish hunger. His tongue swirled around your clit, teasing you mercilessly before plunging back inside your dripping pussy. Your entire body convulsed with pleasure, and you bucked wildly beneath him, desperately seeking release.

"Oh god, I'm going to cum!" you screamed, your voice hoarse with ecstasy. Cillian's ears perked up at your cry, and he began to lick faster, harder, his tongue stabbing into your wet hole relentlessly.

You clawed at the sheets, screaming obscenities, begging for the pressure to continue.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, yes!" you hollered, as the waves of pleasure built inside you, threatening to break any second now.

Cillian latched onto your clit, sucking it hard between his lips, making you scream louder.

You grabbed fistfuls of the silken duvet, nails digging into the material as intense spasms rocked your core.

"Cillian, fuck!" you screamed, the words escaping in ragged gasps.

Cillian groaned, lapping up your juices greedily, reveling in your cries, his cock throbbing painfully against his briefs. He loved seeing you lose control, watching your body surrender to the overwhelming sensations sweeping through you as, finally, your orgasm hit you.

You shook violently, clinging onto reality as everything around you faded, leaving only the sensation of euphoria, a blissful void that swept you higher and higher until you exploded.

Cillian released your clit, swallowing your juices with relish, enjoying the taste of your desire. He rose, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes burning with satisfaction.

"That was quick," he remarked, a smirk curling his lips. "I didn't expect you to cum so fast," he admitted and, seeing that you were much younger and inexperienced than him, this was a huge turn on for you both.

You exhaled sharply, still reeling from the explosive climax you had just experienced.

"Well, you clearly got some skills in that department, Mr Murphy," you teased, playfully running your fingers through his sweaty hair.

Cillian chuckled, his eyes shining with pride. "So I've been told," he mused, stroking your damp thigh tenderly before you pushed him beneath you as, slowly, but surely, you came down from your high.

"I suppose it is my turn to pleasure you now sir," you declared, crawling towards him with a sultry smile on your face before reaching for the hem of his briefs. "And I want to suck you so good that you beg me for mercy," you whispered softly into his ear, your hot breath tickling his neck.

Cillian groaned, gripping the edge of the mattress as you slowly pulled down his underwear, revealing his impressive, fully erect length.

"Oh god Cills," you cooed, reaching out to stroke him gently. "You are so hard for me, and dripping already," you moaned with approval as Cillian's eyes widened with anticipation, his cock twitching eagerly in your grasp.

"Please," he whispered weakly, his voice cracking with desire.

"Please what?" you asked coyly, stroking Cillian's cock gently with your thumb.

The head of his shaft was shiny with pre-cum, reflecting the light in the dimly lit room. "Tell me what you want, Cillian," you added, biting your lip suggestively.

Cillian swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down in his throat. "I want you to take me into your mouth," he uttered, his voice breaking. "Please," he then begged again and you smiled, nodding your head slowly.

"I'm going to enjoy this," you said, licking your lips hungrily before leaning down to lick the pre-cum of his slit.

The taste of him made your head spin, and you moaned softly, slurping his tip gently. "God, you taste so good," you whispered, squeezing his balls gently, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from Cillian before you used your mouth to fully engulf him.

Swallowing him whole, you sucked him hard, moaning around his cock as you worked your tongue around his head, swirling it in circles.

"Oh fuck," Cillian groaned, thrusting upwards into your mouth, desperate for more.

Your mouth bobbed up and down, the saliva lubricating your movements and making sloppy sounds that filled the quiet room.

"Y/N," Cillian whimpered, grabbing at your hair, his fingers tangling in your locks. "Slow down," he pleaded, his voice strained and broken.

He reached for your hair, attempting to guide your rhythm. Yet, you remained stubborn, continuing to suck him hard, knowing full well that he would soon lose control.

You heard him moan, felt his cock pulsing, and smelled the scent of his arousal, all signs that he was close to the edge.

"Y/N," Cillian gasped, his voice hoarse and desperate. "I'm close," he groaned, and you didn't answer him - you didn't even look up, instead choosing to increase the suction and speed, eager to drain him completely.

The sound of his cock pumping in and out of your mouth became deafening, like a heartbeat filling the room. He was close now, his cock swelling in your mouth, and he started to thrust into you harder until, abruptly, he stopped.

"Stop," he breathed out, sounding surprised and relieved. "I can't take anymore of this," he gasped after ten minutes of your onslaught before you reluctantly released him, licking your lips, tasting the saltiness of his precum mixed with your saliva.

"The first time I cum tonight needs to be inside you. I am begging you," he panted, pulling you closer, your breasts mashed against his chest. You could hear his heart pounding furiously in his chest, matching yours.

"You are begging me, huh?" you teased, nibbling on his earlobe softly. "I love it when you beg," you whispered, licking his neck sensually. "Especially coming from you, this is such a turn on," you told him just before Cillian groaned deeply, his muscles stiffening beneath you.

"I can't believe I'm saying this," he grunted, his erection throbbing against your belly. "But yes, I'm begging you, Y/N. Please, let me cum inside you," he rasped, his voice husky with longing.

"Why do you want to cum inside me?" you asked Cillian, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Because it is so fucking intimate," Cillian sighed, his voice rough and raw with desire. "Feeling you contract around me, as I spill myself deep inside you," he admitted, his tone earnest and sincere.

"Also, it is somewhat taboo," he whispered, his breath fanning across your neck as he held you tight. Every muscle in his body tensed, ready to explode. "Which is exactly why I want it," he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

"Me too," you agreed, your voice soft and sultry. "I want to feel you fill me up with your cum," you confessed, your words slipping past your lips like silk. "And then, when I go to my lectures tomorrow, I want to feel it leaking out of me little by little, reminding me of our encounter each time I walk," you teased, causing Cillian to groan loudly.

"Don't say it like that or I won't last much longer," he chuckled, squeezing your hips tighter as you kissed him passionately while, at the same time, climbing atop of him and aligning his hardness with your wetness.

"Okay, no talking then," you giggled, sitting on his lap and positioning yourself over his member. "Just moaning," you teased, taking a deep breath and lowering yourself on him inch by excruciating inch.

"Shit," Cillian gasped, throwing his head back and grabbing onto the pillows as you impaled yourself on his cock, feeling the head of his penis stretch you wide open before sliding inside, deeper and deeper.

"Oh god," you moaned, rocking your hips slowly as you sank down further, taking his entire length inside you.

"You feel so good," Cillian groaned, reaching up to massage your breasts gently, his thumbs circling your nipples. "So fucking tight," he added, his voice husky with lust as you started to ride him.

You both knew that you wouldn't last long; the atmosphere in the room was thick with anticipation, and your bodies ached for one another.

As you moved on top of him, your pelvis grinding against his, the friction was enough to send you both spiraling into oblivion.

"Harder," Cillian urged, reaching down to squeeze your ass cheeks, encouraging you to bounce on him.

You did as instructed, moving with reckless abandon, lost in the heat of the moment.

Each thrust sent shockwaves coursing through your body, intensifying the feelings building inside you. Cillian's hands gripped your hips tightly, urging you on, helping you reach new heights of pleasure.

"Fuck, you are so tight around my cock," he groaned, his voice hoarse with lust as you rode him and those words struck a chord deep within you, setting your blood ablaze. You moaned loudly, adrenaline pumping through your veins as you moved on top of him with renewed vigor.

Each thrust brought you closer to the edge, and you bit your lip, trying to contain the screams building in your throat.

"So good," Cillian encouraged, his hands roaming all over your body, tracing patterns on your skin. "So fucking good," he groaned, his voice low and guttural.

You threw your head back, letting out a primal scream as you slammed yourself down on him, harder and faster than ever before until Cillian felt the need to slow things down.

Abruptly, he maneuvered you beneath him, taking control as he moved into a missionary position.

With each deliberate entry, he gazed into your eyes, a mixture of lust and admiration evident in his expression. His gaze was steady, unwavering, like a man drowning in the ocean of your passion.

"How does it feel?" he asked "Does it feel good?" he questioned and you nodded, unable to speak.

The words caught in your throat, choking you in their intensity.

You wanted to tell him how wonderful it felt, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, you simply nodded, eyes locked on his face.

Cillian watched you intently, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a sly grin. "Good," he said, his voice husky with lust.

He slid his hands under your thighs, guiding them to rest on his shoulders. "Lift up," he instructed, his voice firm but gentle. You obeyed without hesitation, your heart pounding in your chest.

The room seemed to shrink around you, trapping your thoughts in a suffocating loop of lust and anticipation. Each thrust sent ripples of pleasure coursing through your body, and you couldn't help but let out a low moan of approval.

"Yes," Cillian hissed, his eyes locked on yours. "Like that."

He pumped into you steadily, his grip tightening around your hips. With each powerful thrust, he pushed himself deeper inside you, driving you closer to the brink.

"I'm close," you managed to utter through clenched teeth as he thrusted into you with slow but steady thrusts.

Your body was on fire, every nerve ending screaming for release.

"I know," Cillian responded, his voice hushed yet intense. "Let go for me. Give in," he coaxed, his tone soothing yet commanding.

And with those words, the dam broke. Your orgasm washed over you like a wave, crashing into you with such force that it left you gasping for air. You cried out, your voice echoing in the silent room, as your body convulsed around Cillian's cock.

The intensity of your orgasm overwhelmed you, stealing your breath and clouding your vision.

"I'm going to cum," Cillian gasped, his voice strained and desperate. "Can you feel it?" he asked, his gaze never wavering from yours.

You nodded, biting your lip to stop the screams from escaping. The feeling of him throbbing inside you was indescribable and, just like that, with a low groan, he came undone.

"Fuck," he cursed, his eyes shut fiercely as he emptied himself inside you, his cock pulsing with each release.

His entire body shuddered, and you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close as he struggled to catch his breath.

You could feel his warmth seeping into you, his essence mixing with your own. His weight pressed down on you, cocooning you between the soft sheets.

Your heart thumped madly, the echoes blending together, creating a symphony of chaos within your chest. You stared back at him, your gaze transfixed upon his beautiful face.

"Are you okay?" he asked, the concern in his voice palpable.

"Yeah," you replied, the word scarcely audible to even your own ears. "I'm fine. Just...amazing," you added, your voice shaking.

He looked at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Good," he then said, his voice hushed yet intense. "Although, don't think that we are done here yet," he told you while easing himself out of you gently, causing you to moan once more.

"So, you want me to stay the night then?" you asked Cillian, breaking the tranquil silence enveloping the entire room.

His eyes locked onto yours, a smoldering ember flickering in their depths, before nodding slowly.

"Only if you want to," he replied, his voice laced with uncertainty despite conveying an offer you knew he really wanted you to accept.

"I would love to," you responded nonchalantly, giving him a peck on the cheek before sitting up carefully, maneuvering away from the mess beneath you and it was in that moment that Cillian's cellphone rang.

The ringtone echoed through the room, jarring him from your afterglow as he reached for his phone lying on the bedside table.

Seeing the name "Danielle" come up on the screen, you knew that this was his wife calling him and, immediately, he paused, looking at you with pleading eyes for a few seconds before answering the call.

"Hey," he spoke calmly into the receiver, his voice betraying none of the events that had transpired earlier between you. "What's up?" he wanted to know and, much to your surprise, she appeared angry and, even though she wasn't on speaker, you could hear the entire conversation between them simply due to the loudness of her voice.

"How dare you treat your son like that, Cillian!" Danielle screeched into the phone, her voice trembling with anger.

"Treat him like what? What the fuck are you talking about?" Cillian asked calmly, the confusion apparent in his voice.

"Max just told me that you wouldn't get him a lawyer, nor would you be paying to get his car fixed," Danielle spat out, her voice cold and unforgiving. "You basically disowned him because of that accident and, if you ask me, that's not fair, Cillian!" she shouted.

Cillian sighed into the phone, his shoulders dropping slightly as he tried to calm himself down.

"Look, Danny," he began hesitantly, trying to explain his side of the situation. "Max knows what he did. He fucked up and he will have to deal with the consequences of his mistake," he insisted firmly. "He is an adult and can take responsibility for his actions," Cillian argued defensively.

"So, you're actually sticking to this bullshit line?" Danielle snapped back incredulously. "He's your son, Cillian. It's your duty to support him through tough times like these," she stated bluntly.

"I know that he is my son," Cillian sighed heavily, rubbing his temples in frustration. "And as his father it is my responsibility to ensure that he grows up to be a decent human being, which won't happen by spoiling him and fixing his mistakes," he explained patiently.

Danielle snorted derisively, her voice laced with sarcasm. "And what makes you think that you're doing a good job at that?" she challenged him. "You are never fucking home. You much rather hang out with your females co-stars than your family," Danielle accused him harshly.

"Here we go again," Cillian muttered irritably under his breath, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"We've talked about this countless times," he reasoned calmly. "My work requires me to spend long hours on set and travel to promote the films," he reminded her. "And I don't choose to socialize with the actresses I work with," he added pointedly.

"You sure act like it sometimes," Danielle retorted sharply. "Remember the last scandal surrounding you and Florence Pugh?" she reminded him. "It was plastered all over the media and gossip magazines," Danielle hissed, referring to the infamous red carpet event where Cillian was rumored to have left with Florence following some flirtatious banter.

"For the millionth time, I did not cheat on you with Florence Pugh," Cillian insisted, his temper flaring up. "She is my colleague. We were merely having a chat and people jumped to conclusions," he clarified vehemently. "Now, I am going to hang up the phone and we will discuss this later," he decided, feeling tired arguing with Danielle over something that wasn't true.

"Suit yourself," Danielle shot back coldly, slamming the phone down, cutting off Cillian mid-sentence.

The abrupt end to the conversation left Cillian feeling defeated and frustrated but, most importantly, confused about how to react towards Danielle.

"I'm sorry," he apologized to you quietly, his voice heavy with guilt.

"It's fine. I should probably go," you said, standing up from the bed and beginning to gather your clothes strewn across the floor. You were trying to process the sudden shift in mood, and the tension created by listening to Cillian's heated discussion with his wife.

"No, wait," Cillian said, reaching out to touch your arm. "I would like you to stay," he admitted, his eyes pleading.

You hesitated, glancing at the phone still resting on the bedside table. "Are you sure about that?" you asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

"Yes, I am sure," Cillian responded quietly and you studied him closely, trying to gauge whether he truly wanted you to stay or if he was simply being polite.

After a moment of contemplation, you shrugged nonchalantly. "Alright," you agreed, tossing your dress back onto the chair.

"But I hope you know what you are getting yourself into," you warned Cillian, walking back over to the bed and sitting down beside him, wearing only your panties.

"I do," Cillian assured you, his eyes shining with resolve. "And I want you to know that you won't regret staying," he promised, his voice soft and warm.

You arched an eyebrow in amusement, noticing the change in his demeanor compared to moments ago. "So, what's the plan then?" you asked, curious to see how he would handle the situation.

"Well, we could start by ordering room service," Cillian suggested, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "I am starving," he admitted, his stomach growling in agreement.

"That sounds perfect," you responded enthusiastically, picking up the menu card on the bedside table.

Cillian picked up the phone and dialed room service, requesting a cheese platter, fruit bowl, and some other snacks. Once he hung up the phone, he turned back to you and smiled.

"They said it would be about 45 minutes," he said, running a hand through his hair. "Would you like to have a bath?" he asked, eyeing you seductively.

You hesitated for a moment, glancing at the bathroom door before smiling back at him. "Together?" you asked, causing him to nod.

"Yes," you agreed, slipping off your panties and leaving them on the floor. Cillian followed suit, leaving his boxers discarded on the ground.

Entering the bathroom together, you marveled at the size of the tub. It could easily fit two people comfortably and you lost no time in turning on the faucet and adding bubbles for a relaxing soak.

Climbing into the water first, you gestured for Cillian to join you. The water was warm and inviting, enveloping you in a comforting embrace. You watched as Cillian stepped in behind you, his knees brushing against your legs.

He reached for a bottle of bath oil and poured a generous amount into the water, creating a delightful aroma that filled the air.

"God I wish I had a tub like this," you mused aloud, enjoying the sensation of floating effortlessly in the water.

"Well, maybe someday," Cillian replied, running his hands along your arm, his fingertips grazing your skin lightly.

"Maybe," you agreed, smiling wistfully. "For now I have to make do with a dorm room and group shower facilities," you chuckled, playfully splashing the water at Cillian.

He laughed and splashed you back before pulling you in for a kiss. It was a brief reprieve from the heaviness of the conversation he had shared with his wife earlier - and, somehow, it made everything else seem easier to bear.

You and Cillian spent a comfortable thirty minutes in the bathtub, chatting about music, dreams, and aspirations. You shared stories from your life on campus and how you navigated yourself through medical school while Cillian interjected with comments and questions, one which caught you off guard.

"If you don't mind me asking," he began hesitantly, "why did you break up with Max?" he asked, bringing up a subject you hadn't expected. You took a deep breath in, considering your response. "I mean, you were together for a while," he prodded gently, not wanting to upset you.

"I...," you stammered, staring down at the water, feeling the awkwardness creeping up on you.

"I am sorry. I shouldn't have asked. You don't need to answer that," Cillian quickly countered sympathetically, his fingers tracing circles on your shoulder.

"We were at and still are at different stages of our lives," you explained thoughtfully, avoiding his gaze. "So, our paths simply diverged I suppose and this led me to break up with him," you told Cillian, watching his reaction.

"I understand," he nodded, appearing thoughtful. "Sometimes life takes us on different roads, regardless of how much we may wish otherwise," he offered reassuringly and you couldn't help but state the obvious.

"On a road where I am sleeping with my ex-boyfriend's father?" you joked, half-seriously and half-nervous. Cillian chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the edges with amusement. "I guess so," he replied, reaching out to trace a line down your arm. "Who would've thought, eh?" he then murmured as he was feeling the warmth of your skin beneath his fingertips.

"Not me, definitely not me," you confessed, allowing a nervous laugh to escape before you asked Cillian an equally important question.

"I am curious though," you began cautiously, "Do you still love your wife?"

You swallowed hard, knowing that this was a sensitive topic and that his response might lead to an unexpected turn of events.

"No," he answered swiftly. "And if I would, then you wouldn't be here right now," Cillian answered with a subtle hint of sadness in his voice. "Our relationship has been complicated for a long time," he revealed honestly, reaching out to stroke your damp hair affectionately. "There have been arguments, misunderstandings, and many sleepless nights spent fighting to maintain our connection," he continued. "I suppose, somewhere along the way, we stopped loving each other," he concluded, his voice cracking slightly.

"Then why don't you divorce her? I mean, Max is an adult now and he would understand, right?" you ventured tentatively, still unsure of how Cillian would respond to your query.

"Because I haven't found the courage to do so," Cillian confessed frankly, his voice quivering slightly. "I always thought that, maybe, what is broken can be mended," he added sadly, running a hand through his wet hair. "But what we have become..." he trailed off, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Her jealousy caused most of our problems over time and, for the past ten years, she continuously accused me of cheating on her," Cillian sighed deeply, sinking further into the water.

"But you didn't?" you pressed, your curiosity piqued, and Cillian shook his head slowly.

"Not once," he insisted adamantly. "At least not until now," he corrected himself, his gaze lingering on you. "And you know what the worst part of this is?" he asked rhetorically, his voice trailing off. "I don't even feel that guilty now, for being with you," he confessed, leaning closer. "It feels wrong, yet so damn right," he murmured, pressing his lips against your neck.

You pulled him closer, feeling the electricity between you surge through your veins. "You're not alone there," you whispered, your voice catching in your throat. "Like I said earlier, I never thought I'd be in this situation with my ex-boyfriend's dad," you admitted, a hint of laughter in your voice.

Cillian smiled, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "I guess we're both pretty messed up, huh?" he teased, reaching out to pull you closer. Without hesitation, you nestled your head against his chest, savoring the warmth of his embrace just as there was yet another knock on the door.

"Room service," announced a voice from outside, and Cillian reluctantly released you, wrapping a towel around his waist before stepping out of the tub to answer the door.

As soon as he returned, tray in hand, you wasted no time in grabbing a slice of cheese and nibbling on it.

"This is delicious," you then remarked appreciatively before climbing back on to the bed with a fluffy towel wrapped around your body.

"I'm glad you approve," Cillian grinned, offering you a piece of bread before suggesting for you to spend the next few days with him, right here at the hotel.

You considered his offer, the idea appealing to you.

"Well, I have lectures in the morning and then I was meant to go to the movies with my friends, so...," you started to say but Cillian cut you off.

"What movie are you going to see?" Cillian asked casually, taking a bite of the apple he held in his hand. You bit into your cracker, chewing thoughtfully before responding.

"Oppenheimer," you admitted while blushing slightly and your answer caused Cillian to furrow his eyebrows.

"That movie is totally overrated, you know," he then teased with a mischievous grin, and you couldn't help but laugh.

"Well, I guess I was really just going to see it because of that hot guy who happens to play that dude who built that bomb back during the war and...," you began to joke just as Cillian started to tackle you in the most seductive way possible, pinning you beneath him playfully.

"Uh, I see," he laughed, placing a playful kiss on your neck which, immediately, elicited a moan from you. "So, you are only interested in seeing the movie because I am in it...," he taunted, his voice husky and intoxicating.

"No," you giggled, swatting Cillian playfully. "I mean, it was a selling point, but it wasn't the only reason I wanted to see it," you explained, causing Cillian to chuckle.

"Relax, I'm only teasing," he assured you, his eyes gleaming mischievously before he kissed your neck tenderly.

"So, you really want me to stay?" you checked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes, incredibly so," Cillian replied sincerely, stroking your cheek softly.

"You're sure that you won't regret it?" you questioned, hesitant despite the electric chemistry between you.

"Absolutely not," Cillian confirmed, his voice thick with desire, and there was a vulnerability to his plea that struck a chord deep within you. You couldn't shake the feeling that this was precisely where you belonged—with Cillian, entangled in this forbidden web of passion and intrigue.

"Okay," you thus conceded softly, a slow smile spreading across your face. "I'll stay," you whispered, your breath fanning out against Cillian's bare chest before you picked up your phone and texted your best friend and roommate Lucy, telling her that you wouldn't be back until Friday.

To be continued...

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mur4sak1 · 2 months

Text

How would genshin men react to seeing you in a dress?

A/N: Remember that English is not my first language so I hope I wrote in the best way <3

Situation: that day in the city there was a big celebration that had animated the whole town. The people were elegantly dressed, they laughed, lived and joked, filling even the smallest streets with joy. Due to the size of the city you and your man hadn’t met yet, until he, searching through the crowd, managed to see your face. But due to your appearance he was unable to immediately approach you.

Characters: Diluc, Kaeya, Wriothesley, Alhaitham, Kaveh

Diluc=People's shouts of joy could be heard from every corner of the city and they were so loud that they even echoed inside the buildings. Diluc, who until now had been working in his studio, was ready to go to the streets to enjoy the last moments of the party. As soon as he went out the structure, the muffled music that could be heard from the rooms was louder than ever, giving him a bit of relif after so many hours of effort. He went down the stairs of the city until he reached the long balcony overlooking the main square, tiredly leaning on it with his arms. His eyes looked at the crowd dancing casually and without following the rhythm throughout the area until a group of them fell, perhaps because they were too drunk. A laugh escapes from Diluc's lips which makes him roll his eyes at the clumsiness of what he had seen. However, a girl arrives to help the men on the ground to get up, she was dressed very well in a long tight dress which highlighted her curves and with his back free from tissue, illuminated by the light of the setting sun. The group thanked her and staggered away and Diluc thought of how kind she was to help them, even if the fault of that situation was theirs. The woman turned and the redhead immediately recognized your face, even though it was very far away; he had always seen something more in you and this event sparked something and him. It was so obvious, his face had turned the same color as his hair, a scene that if Kaeya had seen it, it would have been a great excuse to make fun of his brother for life.

Kaeya=The celebration in Mondstadt heated up the streets. Everyone was joyful, excited and drunk, and Kaeya loved to take advantage of these situations to flirt with anyone he could see and then walk away without accomplishing anything, just to have fun, just for the sake of feeling powerful. The crowd had gathered under the statue of the archon anemo and loud music led everyone to a free and wild dance that filled the square. The blue-haired man was leaning against the side wall of the church, surrounded by a few women who drooled over him and asked to tell them all his amazing adventures. “…and that's how I defeated a horde of Hilichurl completely alone” he concluded proudly while the women listened to him impatiently, as if they couldn't contain their excitement. As he spoke, focused on driving the desperate ones even more crazy, he saw a female figure pass in front of him. She was too focused on carrying a large bouquet of yellow flowers in her arms and not tripping over her heels to care about anyone around her. The long floral dress she wore fell softly on her hips, leaving her chest partially empty and allowing the flowers direct contact with her skin. The long hair had a few small green leaves, probably blown away by the wind from the bouquet and landed there; Kaeya had noticed all this in a couple of seconds. She walked along the entire pathway alongside the church and then approached an elderly lady and, crouching down slightly due to his short height, handed her the large bouquet. When she stood up she shook his dress and moved his head to make any residue fall out. It was in that moment that Kaeya recognized you, brighter than any little girl present, the only woman he really wanted and that, for some reason, he could never get. The old lady thanked you and you lowered your head slight, and then joined Barbara and Amber who were talking not far away. Having disappeared from his vision, Kaeya regained his composure and this allowed his attention to return to the small crowd surrounding him which was now bothering him quite a bit. “Okay misses, story finished, I have to go now” he said, then he made space between the women and walked away. In return he received disappointed gasps, but he didn’t care anymore, those women no longer interested him. He just wanted to get rid of it so he could finally reach you and try, for the umpteenth time, to conquer you... but you weren't going to give him an easy win.

Wriothesley=The festivals in Fontaine were always large and involved all members of the big region. The city was decorated in every corner, filled with various activities and food stands to spend the day in company. That year Furina was extremely excited by the idea and decided to give all of her employees the day off so that they too could appreciate and enjoy the hard work that was behind the creation. It was now late morning and Wriothesley was walking through the streets near Neuvilette while they were looking for a place to have lunch; they were sure that everyone would share their idea shortly, so they hurried and entered in a small pub that made the best sandwiches in the city to avoid a painful and long row of people. As soon as they entered, however, they found a crowd of drunk figures laughing and dancing to the music in the large area surrounding the counter. With his hands in his pockets, Wriothesley followed his friend to the cash desk, ready to order lunch and leave the restaurant as soon as possible. As he was selecting his choice from the menu, heard Neuvilette say hello to someone, and as he looked up, he saw Navia sitting at the counter with a beer in her hands. The man greeted her with a nod and returned to concentrating on his lunch. At a certain point his attention was called again by the woman's words “and don't you say hello to y/n?”. Wriothesley was confused, he was always alert and attentive to everything! You weren't there, otherwise he would have definitely seen you! But he was wrong...he looked up again and behind the blonde he saw a familiar figure in a tight short dress and high black boots, with loose hair framing her lightly made-up face. Their gazes met and the man immediately recognized your eyes, being struck by your appearance. He had never seen you so elegant... of course, he had always considered you an attractive woman in work clothes but he would never have imagined that you could be so attractive in a simple dress. “Won't you say hello to me Wrio?” You replied with a light laugh. Finally the man regained his composure and greeted you, but did so with a slight stutter. This made Neuvilette frown, and as he looked closer at Wriothesley, he immediately understood why. So he immediately turned to Navia and asked her if they could go for a walk around the outside streets to discuss some work things. Initially she refused because she wanted to enjoy the party with her friend and without thinking about duties. The man, however, looked at her intensely, pointing to something in the dark-haired that made her burst out laughing. Still in ecstasy, she stood up and started to leave for the fateful work talk, laughing. Maybe due to the alcohol or the liveliness of the moment but what she said to Wriothesley made him blush and become even more agitated than he already was: "If I were you I would keep more control of your friend in public hahahah". In fact the man hadn't realized it but y/n's dress had not only left him speechless, but also the one who was creating the bulge under his trousers.

Alhaitham=It was now late afternoon and the party was coming to an end. The tired group of people was slowly decreasing and everyone was heading back to their homes. Alhaitham had walked alongside Tighnari all day as they tried, in vain, to contain Kaveh's contagious enthusiasm at every stand they passed. The city was not very large in size, but the numerous and intricate streets that were used as elevators to go up to the upper floors of the structure made it like a labyrinth and it was difficult to meet family figures. In fact, the man had not met you even once and this was remarked several times during the afternoon by Kaveh, who seemed to be your biggest admirer. Now half drunk, Alhaitham took him home and made him lie down on the bed, where he fell into a deep sleep. He went into the kitchen to prepare a quick dinner but while he was waiting for the water to boil to prepare a soup, his thoughts constantly ran to all those times that, after hearing your name from the mouth of his roommate, he searched for your face in in the middle of the crowd, without however having any results. Since he was a resolute man he decided to leave the house for a walk, in the hope of putting peace to the confusion in his head. By now the streets were deserted and walking had become much easier and more relaxing than it had been in the previous hours. Alhaitham took a small road that climbed upwards to reach a small gazebo that he loved so much, because it was isolated and had a magnificent view. He mentally retraced the road: as soon as he finished the short covered corridor he would have to turn left. He took the last steps but as soon as he turned around he realized that his isolated spot was actually already occupied. There was a woman from behind, sitting on a small stone bench, with her face turned towards the red sunset, the light wind was moving her hair and with it the hem of the short dress she was wearing. For the first time Alhaitham could not think; he was known for his intellectual qualities superior to the norm, and for always being a rational and cautious man in his actions. But this time it was as if his mind was turned off, struck by what his eyes were seeing. The woman moved her face slightly to observe the view from the other side too and the man immediately understood who he was looking at, it was you. The rotation of your head caused you to glimpse a male figure, gasping in fear. “Oh it's you Al, you scared me” you said giggling heavily, relieved it was him. “Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, I just didn't recognize you dressed like that,” he said, finally managing to compose himself. “The view from here is beautiful, right?” you said, turning your gaze to cover your embarrassment. The man answered after a while with a simple "definitely", which however was certainly not aimed at the sunset, but rather at the one thing that his eyes could no longer stop looking at. “Will you sit here with me or will you stand the whole time?” you asked, finally making the man come forward and sit next to you. You two looked at the sky for some time, in silence, without saying a word. However, if the two had opened their ears more, they would have heard a familiar laugh of joy coming from not far away; it was Kaveh who, woken up by the fall of the boiling pot, had gone out to get angry at Al for not paying attention but found him, after not a short time, with you. This made him explode with joy because he knew in his heart that he was partly the cause of everything that was happening, but also of his friend's first and only irresponsible behavior for which he could have teased him for a lot.

Kaveh=The city was so full of people that many had started to pass among the tables where other people were eating and drinking together. In fact, Cyno complained several times about this behavior while he was at a small square table with Kaveh, Alhaitham and Tighnari eating some skewers. The party was desert themed and for this reason you could occasionally see some child dressed as an Egyptian deity running through the crowd and stumbling due to the long white fabrics and the mask that partially covered their vision. Between one laugh and the next, time passed quickly but not having seen you yet caused a small sadness in Kaveh that he tried, as usual, to hide by transforming himself into the life of the party. After a couple of hours the boys were still sitting at the table talking about this and that when the blond felt hands covering his eyes and a figure standing out behind him. "Who is?" he asked . "Guess!". He immediately recognized your voice and showed the joy he had of knowing you were close with a big smile. “Y/n I know it's you, now let me see” he said laughing. You immediately did as requested and gave him a big hug from behind, wrapping your arms around his slender shoulders. Then you broke away and went to the other side of the table to say hello to all the boys. Due to the fact that you had suddenly appeared from behind, Kaveh hadn't yet been able to see you properly, but when he found yourself in his visual field, the boy was amazed. You wore a long white satin dress with two holes in the sides from which hung chains full of diamonds and gold decorations. The arms were covered by a thin white veil attached to the dress by a single seam at breast level while the back was completely empty, exept for a chain that started from the shoulders and went down in a "Y" shape until it found the fabric. In her hair there was a pin with a white flower and the face was decorated with long black eyeliner. Throughout the greetings, Kaveh had his eyes fixed on your outfit, so much that he didn't even realize that you were in the company of Collei (who was also equally dressed in the theme of the party) who immediately handed you a drink. The girl asked if you and her could join them and, after a positive nod from Tighnari, pulled up a chair and sat down next to him. You also did the same thing, but sat between Kaveh and Cyno. There was so much chaos and it was difficult to communicate between the music and the singing crowd. You sipped the drink your friend had offered you for the first time, exclaiming out loud that it tasted great, sure that no one had heard you. In reality you were wrong, as Kaveh took the moment to get close to your ear and whisper a phrase that would surely soon have more than unexpected results: "you're very good too".

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