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itsswritten · 9 days

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Threads of Hazel

Pairing: Azriel x fem reader

Word Count: 3.6K

Warnings: Angst, blood, gore, injuries, hints of death.

Summary: A mating bond can connect those who have not even met, but can it save them too?

All that welcomed you was the cold, splodges of darkness filtering in your distorted vision.

Time seemed to stretch and contract in the void, a dizzying whirl of uncertainty. How long had it been? Weeks? Months? Perhaps even longer.

No one was coming.

Why had you dared to hope?

It was that gentle hazel glow that danced behind closed eyelids that had stirred within you. A glimmer of something that felt worthy of holding onto. Something to believe in.

But it must have been a trick of the mind, a cruel illusion born from the depths of insanity.

No one was coming. No one ever would.

Maybe it was time to give up.

Time to surrender to the abyss, to let go of the tenuous thread that bound you to consciousness. As you teetered on the edge of oblivion, a fleeting sensation brushed against your senses, a whisper of familiarity.

You could smell it, faint and distant yet unmistakable.

Night-chilled mist and cedar.

It was that scent again. But like a wisp of smoke on the wind, it vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving your senses grasping at shadows in the void.

Another wicked false sense of hope. Your mind must be creating delusions as it comes close to its end.

No one was coming.

It was time to let go.

***

This was the last location. And then they’d go home.

Finally.

Azriel straightened his posture, rolling back his shoulders with a weary sigh. His wings unfurled and then tucked in against his back. He felt anchored, weighed down, by the silent burdens he was carrying. Even his shadows were slumped against him, as if they were also affected by his fatigue.

Azriel was utterly exhausted.

Despite Cassian's concerned pleas for him to stay behind and rest, Azriel couldn't bring himself to heed them. The ache in his bones and the weight of exhaustion pulling at his limbs were nothing compared to the thought of letting Feyre and his brother face this mission alone.

He was Spymaster of the Night Court, he would fulfil his duties regardless of his own welfare. Regardless of the demons that weighed on him.

But these demons of his, had been plaguing him for months. Clear in the dark offset look of his gaze, and the purple shadows that sat beneath his eyes– he was a tormented soul.

The aftermath of the war had etched its scars deep into Azriel. It was a sensation he was all too familiar with, the fallout of anguish and slaughter, had always defined his life. But in recent months, his demons seemed to be haunting him more fiercely than usual, their whispers echoing in the silence of the night.

For months, Azriel had been plagued by a recurring dream, a nightmare he assumed. Because as much as he tried he couldn’t recall the details. Each time he would wake from the depths of his sleep, finding himself drenched in a clammy sheen of sweat, his chest heaving attempting to draw in air as though a claw was clenched around his lungs.

But that is all that would linger.

A feeling, no memory of what had caused this reaction within him. No clue as to why his body shivered in fear when he woke.

It was a maddening cycle, the dream hovering just beyond the edges of his consciousness. Clearly haunting in nature and yet elusive. Each day felt like a puzzle with a missing piece, the memory of something crucial lurking just beyond reach.

So close, and yet not close enough. And it was driving him mad.

In a desperate attempt to break free from that grip, he tried avoiding sleep altogether. Yet, that feeling persisted. A restless energy coursing beneath his skin. It was relentless, a constant reminder– that he was forgetting something of importance.

And that feeling terrified him. Azriel had always known most, metalicus with his gathering of intel and information. Skilled in deciphering most people and their thoughts. But his own mind had him at a loss. He was no Spymaster of his own consciousness, simply a male who couldn’t sleep because of a nightmare.

Feyre, Cassian and Azriel had embarked on the final leg of their scouting mission. Despite the passing of time since the war's end, new pockets of Hybern loyalists still cropped up. The three of them were tasked with weeding out any lingering enemies. They had arrived at the last location Azriel’s intel had unearthed. A manor house on the skirts of the borders, had whispered rumours to be a base for some Hybern stragglers.

Derelict and crumbling, the building seemed to sag under the weight of its own deterioration, its once-majestic features now reduced to a skeletal framework of crumbling stone and splintered wood. The scars of fire marred its surface, meaning any valuable pieces of information that might have once resided within its walls had long since been burnt. Nothing but charred remnants and ash laid in their wake.

They had been too late, but they still had to check nonetheless.

"All clear from up above," Cassian announced, his voice cutting through the silence as he landed beside Feyre, who had just reentered what remained of the foyer. She had meticulously scouted the left wing of the building, while Azriel had taken the right.

"Clear here too," Feyre confirmed with a nod, her eyes scanning the dimly lit space for any signs of danger.

Azriel soon joined them. His part of the search had also yielded no immediate threats. Cassian stood beside his brother, kicking some burnt debris with his foot while mumbling that it was a shame Hybern’s men had burnt this place. That it was such a waste. But Azriel wasn’t listening.

Running his rough hand down his face, he let out a heavy sigh. A very clear tell that he was not okay. Something Azriel never showed. But he could feel it again, under his skin. Pinching at him. Something faint in this chest, weighed and sliced, only to subside to a dull ache.

He felt uneasy, as he had for months but there was something about this place that had shaken a deepness within his gut. Even his shadows fluttered nervously around him.

Maybe he would need to see Madja when he got home. Or maybe even relinquish his pride, and ask Rhys for help.

“Let’s get this checked over quickly, and then head home. It’s been a long mission,” Feyre spoke softly, offering both males encouraging smiles as she gestured towards the back of the building.

Feyre’s eyes settled on Azriel, giving him a reassuring look. For a moment Azriel almost let her in, he had noticed the concerned looks and touches his family had given him. Growing more and more these recent weeks. Instead though, he nodded softly following the pair into the back room.

They descended down grand stairs, into the lower levels of the house. Each step he took echoed through the empty remnants of the building, every move feeling heavier and weightier. They were hit with a chill when they reached the bottom. In the absence of natural light, Feyre conjured small orbs of illumination, casting soft, flickering light that bobbed across the dark space. The feeble glow revealed crumbling walls and decaying remnants of furniture, similar to what they had seen upstairs.

The air was heavy with the scent of decay and mildew, but there was something metallic that lingered.

Blood.

They could smell blood. And there was something else too. Perfumy and chemical.

Faebane.

Tensions rose as they all hesitated on their weapons, Azriel’s fingers gingerly hovering over Truth Teller as they stepped deeper within the space. Azriel's shadows flickered and swirled around him, their movements erratic and unsettling. They sensed something lurking in the darkness, something that sent a shiver down his spine.

There was this haunting apprehension washing over Azriel as if he had been here before. He couldn’t quite place it, couldn’t quite pinpoint why he didn’t feel like a stranger in this room.

As though he had been here many times before and yet this was still his first time here. That gnawing began deep in his gut again as his fingers gripped at his dagger.

He heard Feyre gasp loudly, before his eyes quickly scanned to see what her light had revealed.

A figure, barely recognisable in the dim light, hung limply from chains fastened to the wall, body gaunt and ravaged by torture. Steel rods protruded from flesh, each one coated in the deadly poison of faebane, its sickly scent permeating the air.

Feyre's hands flew to her mouth in horror, her eyes wide with disbelief and revulsion. "Is she..." her voice trailed off, unable to voice the question that hung in her mind. She had to stop herself from gagging, as the contents of her stomach threatened to spill up her throat.

Even Cassian, veteran of countless battles and witness to nearly every injury imaginable, could not conceal the grimace that tugged at his lips. They all took a moment to absorb the sight before them, Azriel remaining motionless as he processed the scene. The sensation from earlier still persisted, but now intensifying as Azriel's gaze fell upon the steel rod protruding from the body's chest, a sharp pang jolting through his own.

Azriel staggered, overcome by a sudden wave of agony that seized him, breaths ragged and uneven. Feyre moved swiftly to his side, her hand offering comfort as she implored about his well-being, but his attention was elsewhere.

He wasn’t listening to Feyre, he was listening to his shadows.

Alive.

They were pulsating beside him, waiting for his orders, waiting to be released, begging to be released.

Azriel clutched his chest, mustering his strength to stand straighter, the pain subsiding for now as he took a hesitant step closer,

Alive, alive, alive.

They whispered frantically this time, their urgency desperate.

Then Azriel saw it. The faint rise and fall of your chest, the subtle rhythm of your heartbeat still persisting against all odds.

Azriel's breath caught in his throat, his mind struggling to process the sight before him.

How? How were you still alive?

He wasn't the only one to notice. Cassian, wasted no time in springing into action, his voice commanding as he instructed them to release you from your chains, to get you the urgent help you needed. Both Feyre and Cassian, mentally calling to Rhys to be ready with Madja.

But Azriel was frozen in place, his senses honed in on the fragile thread of life that still clung to you. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as he watched, his chest constricting with an overwhelming emotion.

He remembered.

The sight before him wasn’t new. No, he had seen this. Seen you before. Felt this way every night for months.

It was you whom he had been forgetting when he woke, the haunting echo of your desperate pleas vibrating in his mind. As he watched your body slump to the floor, freed from the chains that had bound you, Azriel struggled to push back the flood of visions that threatened to overwhelm him.

Visions of you, screaming, pleading for someone to help you.

Begging him to come save you.

How could he have forgotten? Your cries had pierced through the darkness, reaching out to him night after night.

A plea for salvation had rippled down the thread that seemed to connect you.

That thread.

That power that had subconsciously been connecting you both for months began to hum. Louder and brighter than anything Azriel had ever felt before.

It was a realisation, a confirmation to what he had been feeling for all that time. The golden warmth finally settled under his bones, consuming all his senses.

The mating bond.

You were his mate.

Something that was supposed to be so cherished, felt incredibly bittersweet as he watched your near dead form be pulled into Cassian’s arms.

He could feel your pain seeping through the bond, in fact that is what he had been feeling all those weeks. Your suffering leaking its way down to Azriel. Your pleas reaching him in the depths of his sleep.

He had a mate, finally.

And yet when he pulled gently on that faint thread that linked you to him, he could feel it fading.

Maybe he was too late.

***

A bright white light filled your vision, its touch lining your body slowly.

It was time. You were ready.

But just as you were on the brink of surrender, a golden warmth surged forth, wrapping around you like a protective shield. It tugged at you, pulling you back, refusing to let you go.

Not now, not yet. It spoke.

You resisted, clinging stubbornly to the edge of oblivion, but the pull of that hazel glow was undeniable.

Let me go. It hurts. I want to leave. Your soul cried towards the glow.

The hazel glow called out to you with a familiarity that stirred something deep within your soul.

I won’t let you go. Not now, not now that I have you.

You couldn’t understand. You heard no voice, yet you felt every word.

I need you to fight, for yourself, for me, fight harder than you ever have done and I promise, after this, you will never have to fight again.

Why those words had some sway over you, you weren’t sure. But when your senses filled with that comforting scent you had smelt every night for the past months. It tethered you, anchoring you in the physical realm once more.

You could smell it again, night-chilled air and cedar.

You would hold onto it one last time.

***

Agonising screams filled the air as you writhed in pain on the makeshift table. Your body contorting, fingers clawing desperately at the gaping wound in your chest. Even in the dim light, Azriel could see the blood, thick and crimson oozing through your fingers as you had lurched up when Cassian had pulled the poison coated rod from your chest.

They had managed to remove some while you were unconscious, but the pain of this one, deep in your chest, had yanked you awake. How you were still alive none of them understood. Your injuries and body filled with enough faebane to kill a dozen fae.

Your vision was still distorted. Just one of the injuries that ravaged your body. Only blurry shapes and figures filled your sight, and the lack of that sense only added to your fear. You couldn’t see who you were with, and although they didn’t sound like your captors, you didn’t know them. Didn’t trust them, and they were hurting you.

Even if they repeatedly told you they were helping you, their touch just brought more pain.

Madja flitted around Cassian, her hands hovering over the faebane-drenched wounds in a futile attempt to heal. Azriel stood at the head of the table, crouched down close as he firmly held one of your arms down. His shadows fidgeted uneasily around him, reflecting his inner turmoil. He had witnessed countless horrors in his life, some inflicted upon himself, but seeing his mate in such agony was a new level of torment.

Feeling the pain trickling down the bond was tearing him apart.

“Stop, stop. Please…” Your plea was raw, your voice strained and hoarse from the agony that wracked your body. Azriel shuddered at your tone, your voice an echo of the nightmares that had haunted him for endless nights.

He remembered it all now.

Each night, stumbling through darkness, trying to follow that golden bond to you. To your calls for him. And each time, he tried to figure out where you were, how to get to you, how to save you only to forget everything when he woke. His memory of you slipping through his fingers like sand.

“Rhys, there must be something you can do,” he pleaded, his voice tinged with desperation as he looked over your pained expression.

Feyre had diligently wiped the blood from your face, revealing slashes across your eyes. Remarkably, Madja seemed optimistic about their healing potential, though it was contingent upon your survival. He could feel your fear rippling down the bond, how frightened and in pain you were.

“Azriel…my power, I can’t penetrate her mind. The faebane has saturated her body, creating an impenetrable barrier,” Rhys responded. “I’m sorry brother…I’m truly sorry.”

Azriel couldn’t contain the small whispered sob that escaped him, his hand flying to his mouth to stifle the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

When Cassian had carried you from that dark basement, Azriel had acted on instinct, snatching you carefully from his brother's arms and holding you close. He whispered into your ear, a litany of apologies for not finding you sooner, for the pain you endured. He begged you to fight, to hold on for him. And had clung to that faint glimmer of hope as he returned to the safety of the River House.

Rhys had prepared a table for Madja to work on, but neither of them had anticipated the extent of your injuries.

Azriel had laid you on the table, still unconscious as he nervously watched Rhys and Madja try their best. Cassian and Feyre joining them moments later to help.

It was then they had all realised.

He was fussing over you, whispering frantically and his shadows had been skittishly tracing over your body and injuries. So unlike the usual calm and collected Spymaster.

Rhys had pieced it together first. Simply stating She’s your mate into Azriel’s mind. Although it was clear by the heartbreaking expressions on his family's faces, they were all aware of the significance you held.

Azriel felt helpless, he couldn’t lessen your anguish, couldn’t heal you, couldn’t do anything.

Your sobbing started again, while you writhed under their strong hands. Pleading for release. Instead, they responded with reassurances and hushed whispers, and there was one voice in particular that washed over you in a familiarity you didn’t understand.

You fought against them, resisting their attempts to restrain you, but they were stronger. Another wave of agony rippled through you as they worked to remove one of the steel bars embedded within your flesh.

“Focus, Shadowsinger,” Madja's voice cut through the turmoil, her gaze landing on him firmly.

“The best course of action is to remove these rods and then attempt to drain the faebane from her system. Her resilience is remarkable, but she won’t survive much longer without intervention.” Madja was speaking directly to Azriel now, he took a second to look down at you crying on the table. Cassian and Rhys holding you down, while they calculated removing the next impalement.

Madja continued, “If you want to help her, comfort her, support her.” The instructions were clear.

Feyre spoke then, glancing between your pained form and then to Azriel. “Use the bond Az, she needs you.”

With hesitation, Azriel’s rough hand found yours. Holding it tightly. Grooves and lines were etched into his weathered skin, speaking of his own past battles. Instinctively you wanted to recoil from the stranger's touch, but as you felt another pull on your torso you clutched down on his hand tightly. Another sob racking through you.

You felt him close to you now, his presence enveloping you as his warm breath brushed across your face. He was close to you. But you couldn’t make out who he was. Only a blurred version of a male with tan skin and dark hair. His other hand grazed your cheek, offering you a comfort you hadn’t felt in months.

“I need you to fight just a little longer,” the voice was deep and warm, there was something about it or maybe it was the words he had chosen that felt familiar.

“It hurts..” you whispered, another sob leaving your lips.

"I know, I know it does...but not much longer, okay? And then you can rest, I promise," he reassured you, igniting a flicker of hope within you despite the overwhelming pain.

Then Azriel pulled gently on the bond sending ripples of reassurance and comfort down the link. So much that he hoped to drown any pain out you were feeling.

You felt that golden warmth fill your chest, that same feeling that had pulled you from the white abyss many times before.

"It's you..." Your voice choked with emotion, the realisation dawning upon you.

Azriel stood there, uncertain of how to respond, but he watched as you turned toward him, your brows furrowed in concentration. Though your vision remained distorted, blurred colours danced before you, and amidst the haze of black and deep tan, you saw it—the faint glimmer of hazel.

"You came for me..."

"Always..." Azriel's voice cracked with emotion, his unwavering commitment laid bare.

With the last of the rods removed, your body bled profusely. Madja urged caution, while Feyre urgently advocated to cauterise the wounds. But with this amount of faebane, they grappled with the best course of action. Their voices melding in a flurry of noise.

A soft, sad smile graced your lips, your hand reaching out to touch the figure before you, feeling the contours of his cheek beneath your fingertips.

Blood began to fill your mouth, the red liquid seeping through your smile. The bitter taste staining your words. Azriel began to shake his head, clinging to that fading bond with all his strength. With a pained slowness, he felt your hand slip from his cheek, leaving a blood-stained print upon his skin.

"You were real..." Your voice was barely a whisper now, breaths shallow. "My thread of hazel."

a/n: ngl I don't love this lol, doesn't feel like my best work but sometimes it's better posted than perfect! I had originally planned for this to be longer, but writers slump has me in a chokehold so this is all I managed! Anywho, hope you enjoyed the angst! <3 - Lottie Forever tags: @sleepylunarwolf @daily-dose-of-sass @milswrites @amberlynn98 @marscardigan @illyrianbitch @lilah-asteria

#acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #acotar azriel #acotar fanfiction #angst #acotar series #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel fanfiction #azriel imagine #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel angst #azriel x y/n #azriel series #azriel fic rec

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tojipie · 1 year

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prison bf series linked here !

hii ! not rly phone sex, but sex nonetheless. i’m rly loving this series <33 prison toji unboxing fic coming someday in the distant future.

content: nsfw + phone sex

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the sudden vibrations of your phone’s ringer rips you from the boundary between sleep and awareness. you groggily reach for the device from it’s place under your pillow, clicking the off button twice to end the call.

the number rings again, then a third time before you finally pick up, ready to tear into the poor soul on the other line. it’s a facetime call from an area code you don’t recognize, probably just a misdial if you’re lucky.

you hesitantly accept and tilt the camera towards the ceiling, shielding your face from the stranger.

“hello..?” you mumble sleepily, trying to get a good look at your phone without revealing too much of yourself. the person’s screen is grainy from the lack of light, probably calling you on an older model.

the stranger’s camera pans down, revealing familiar tufts of straight raven hair. toji stares up at you from his bunk, shirtless with the sheets bunched up to his chest.

“you too good to pick up the phone now?” he asks, clearly teasing. the inmate’s voice is quiet, coming out in choppy rivets as his dated microphone picks up what it can.

“toji!?” you whisper scream, sitting up to turn your beside lamp on. the additional light helps illuminate your figure better, you notice his eyes perk up at the clearer sight of you.

“mmmh, happy to see you babydoll.” he grins, leaning closer to get a good look at you. your eyes are puffy with the promise of rest, giving you that extra bought of softness he loves so much.

“oh shit, were you sleeping? m’ sorry.”

he doesn’t sound sorry at all.

“nono i’m awake.” you reassure the older man, taking in the sight of him laid out on the narrow cot. your boyfriend had aged since the beginning of his sentence, though you figure that’s not out of the ordinary for someone serving time. “how’d you even get a phone?”

“s’ a secret.” he muses, clearly finding the situation amusing. “i get to talk to my baby though, isn’t that nice?” he states plainly, shifting to prop his head up with his hand.

“it is, actually.” you mumble apologetically, feeling bad at your initial lack of a greeting. “m’ happy you called me.”

you pause, choosing your next words carefully “don’t you have bunkmates?” you wonder, searching the background for any signs of other men in the dark cell. the promise of being ratted out by a cell mate was one that wouldn’t end well for either of you.

“nah, lawyers said i’m too dangerous to be staying in D-block with everyone.” he states boredly, shifting again to lie on his back with a grunt.

“wh— are you serious?” you whine, already mulling over the countless conversations you’ve had with him regarding his nasty fighting habit.

“pfttt, no?” the inmate chuckles, throwing his head back with a hearty laugh. “last guy in the cell got out on wednesday, ‘s just me in here till’ my sentence is up.”

he stills, looking you up and down quickly.

"fuck." he grumbles, you look real pretty right now."

you sigh in relief, ignoring the compliment to continue grilling him. “so you’ve been getting along with people?” you ask, skill skeptical.

“you know—hah- how i am.” he tells you, clearing his throat before continuing. the screen begins to wobble a little, blurring his figure for a moment. “when have i —fuck- ever been out of line, huh? ”

“i think you were pretty out of line when you went to fucking jail.” you tease, pausing to analyze his hurried breaths on the other line.

“toji? do you feel ok?” you ask, wishing you were there to check up on him.

“yeah—mmgh- why? his camera starts to pan up shakily, phone slipping from his hand. the last of his facade shatters as a pleased groan rings out in the tiny cell.

“fuck.” he whines, “fuck— oh my god. you’re gonna make me fucking cum.”

“show me.” you command, finally piecing everything together.

the older man flips the camera and brings it right up to his hard cock, stroking it from the base up with vigor.

his tip is an angry pink, weeping milky precum down his shaft to glaze his knuckles. the sounds coming from your phone are absolutely filthy, a hot mix of pants, groans and expletives .

“oh my god.” you giggle, propping your phone up to watch better. “is that all for me?” the dips and hills of his abs jolt as he laughs.

“all for you.” he pants, bucking his hips up every time his fist meets his tip.

“is this why you called me?” you tease, watching his cock bob back and forth in his hand. the older man stops to thumb his slit, massaging milky pre into the tip before starting up again. “you just wanted to get off? didn’t wanna talk to me or nothing?”

“no—hah. i mean—.” he groans, clearly too out of it to answer. “fuck. fuck i’m close.”

you squeeze your legs together to quell the ache between your thighs, content to just watch him enjoy himself.

sharing a room with 4 other people means little to no time alone, that much you knew from your visits. it wasn’t rare for him to pitch a tent during your supervised phone calls, squeezing his cock behind a glass barrier while you gushed about your day.

a hearty groan knocks your train of thought loose as ropes of cum stream down his knuckles and onto the sheets. you watch in awe as he milks his dick, slapping it onto his stomach for the added simulation.

you wait until his breaths even out to speak, watching him grab a towel from off camera to clean himself up.

“feel better?” you ask, so badly wishing you were there to kiss him in the midst of his afterglow.

“so much better.” he sighs, shifting to lay on his side again.

“they definitely heard you. i mean those rooms don’t have doors right?”

“of course they fucking have doors.” he grumbles, clearly embarrassed at the thought of getting caught dick-in-hand.

“did you..” he trails off, rubbing his eyes with a soft yawn.

“too tired.” you state plainly, shifting the focus from your pleasure to his.

“i don’t deserve you.” he mumbles, dark eyes barely open.

“course you do baby.” you whisper. “you wanna head to bed? i’m coming up on thursday to visit.”

“you are?” the excitement in his voice is adorable.

“mhm, might even bring you a charger for that piece of shit burner you swiped.”

the jab earns you a booming laugh, lulling you back to the precipice of sleep.

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tag list ! <3 🏷️

@honeybee54321 @m150-50up @kuryoomi @t4naiis @serendippindots @sillyalo @levixbby @powerrwa

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hoshifighting · 2 months

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"S" on My Chest, 'Cause I'm Ready to Save Him

Synopsis: Amidst the chaos of your world, you found Seungcheol, a man with gummy smile who melted the icy walls around your heart. But just when things were heating up between you two… You find out he's from a rival mafia, all thanks to a tattoo on his back. And you have to protect him.

Warnings: Smut, angst, mafia, oral (f. receiving), pussy slapping, unprotected sex, begging, manhandling, penetrative sex, dirty talk, lies, crying, threat of suicide, violence, organized crime, betrayal and etc.

Word Count: 7.1k

Reader! Mafia X Seungcheol! Enemy Mafia

You, the underboss of a powerful mafia syndicate. Born into a legacy of organized crime, you inherited the reins of power from your father, stepping into a world where loyalty was currency, and trust was a rare gem amidst the sea of deceit.

For years, you navigated the treacherous waters of the underworld with precision and cunning, your focus solely on the tasks at hand, your heart shielded behind walls of steel. Love was a concept long forgotten, buried beneath layers of duty and obligation. You had grown so selective, so cautious, that even the notion of such an emotion seemed foreign, a distant memory fading into the abyss of your past.

But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

Enter Seungcheol - a beacon of light in the darkness, his presence like a breath of fresh air in the smoky haze of your existence. With his dark locks and a gummy smile that could melt even the iciest of hearts, he sauntered into your life like a whirlwind, disrupting the carefully constructed walls you had built around yourself.

At first, he was just a familiar face at your favorite bar, a friendly ear amidst the chaos of your world. He listened to your frustrations with genuine interest, his empathy a balm to your weary soul. Slowly but surely, he wormed his way into your life, becoming not just a friend, but a confidant, a pillar of support in a world where trust was a rare commodity.

Before you knew it, Seungcheol had captured your heart a year ago, his unwavering devotion breaking down the barriers you had so meticulously erected. He showered you with affection, his gestures grand and heartfelt - bouquets of flowers that filled your home with their sweet fragrance, extravagant dinners where laughter flowed freely, and nights filled with excitement and passion.

[...]

As Seungcheol's hips moved with effortless rhythm, igniting waves of pleasure that coursed through your body, you clung to him desperately, as if afraid he might slip away into the night. Your arms wrapped tightly around him, pulling him closer, your heart pounding in sync with his as your chests pressed together in a passionate embrace.

Locked in each other's gaze, your eyes spoke volumes, conveying a depth of emotion that words could never capture. And as the pleasure surged through you like a tidal wave, you couldn't help but moan his name over and over again, each syllable a fervent prayer on your lips.

In the midst of ecstasy, Seungcheol's voice, husky and filled with desire, intertwined with yours in a seductive dance of words.

"You like that, don't you?" he whispered, his breath hot against your ear as he trailed kisses along your neck. "You love it when I make you feel this good."

His words sent shivers down your spine, your body responding eagerly to his touch as he continued to tease and tantalize you with his dirty talk.

"Tell me how much you want it," he murmured, his voice low and commanding. "Tell me how badly you want to cum."

Your breath hitched in your throat, your words tumbling out in a fevered rush as you surrendered to the pleasure he offered.

"I need you" you gasped, your voice raw with desire. "I need you to make me yours, to make me cum until I can't think of anything else but you."

As Seungcheol continued his relentless assault on your senses, driving you to the brink of oblivion, your body responded with fervor, your walls clenching around him in a powerful crescendo of pleasure. Lost in your orgasm, you could feel the sheets beneath you grow damp with the evidence of your cum.

His hips stuttered against yours, his movements becoming erratic as he chased his own release, his face buried in the crook of your neck as he sought solace in your embrace. In that moment of pure bliss, there were no words, no thoughts, only the raw, primal connection between you and him, binding you together in an unbreakable bond of desire and need.

As you slipped out of bed to freshen up in the bathroom, leaving Seungcheol to bask in the warmth of the sheets, you couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you. Despite the chaos of your life outside these walls, here, in this moment, everything felt right.

As you returned to the room, your heart fluttered with anticipation, eager to reunite with Seungcheol after your brief absence. But as your eyes fell upon his form, lying face down on the bed, a smile playing on his lips, your breath caught in your throat.

Something was different.

With hesitant steps, you approached him, the smile on your face faltering as you noticed the new addition to his soft skin - a tattoo etched into his flesh, unmistakably belonging to your rival mafia. Your blood ran cold, a shiver coursing through your entire being as the implications of his inked allegiance sank in.

Tentatively, you reached out to touch his back, your fingers tracing the lines of the tattoo with a mixture of disbelief and dread. Every instinct screamed at you to run, to flee from the danger that now lay before you, but you were rooted to the spot, unable to tear your eyes away from the damning mark.

Seungcheol's smile faded as he caught sight of your expression, confusion flickering in his eyes before realization dawned. He rose from the bed, his movements slow and cautious, as if afraid to startle a wild animal.

"Y/N, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern as he reached out to you, his hand outstretched in a gesture of comfort.

But you flinched away, your entire body trembling with fear and uncertainty. How could you have been so blind, so naive to trust someone who bore the mark of your enemy?

"I... I didn't mean for you to find out like this," he said softly, his gaze never leaving yours. "But please, you have to believe me. I'm not who you think I am. I love you, and I would never betray you."

"You knew... you knew who I was all this time..." you breathed out, your voice trembling with a mixture of shock and betrayal. Stepping back, you instinctively wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling exposed in a way that Seungcheol had never made you feel before.

As he took a step closer, his expression fraught with concern, you couldn't help but recoil, the weight of his deception heavy upon your shoulders.

But Seungcheol shook his head vigorously, his eyes filled with sorrow as he attempted to calm the storm brewing within you. "No, Y/N, I didn't know at first" he pleaded, his voice cracking. "I swear, I only found out after we were already together."

Your mind raced, trying to reconcile his words with the truth that now lay bare before you. Could you believe him? Your job was no longer to play with dolls in beautiful pink dresses, in which they found her dream prince. Now, any relationship you get involved in would have its consequences.

Feeling vulnerable and exposed, you hugged yourself tighter, your gaze locked with his as you searched for any hint of deceit. But all you found was genuine remorse and a desperate sincerity that tugged at your heartstrings.

Tears welled up in your eyes, finally breaking free in a choked sob as you hastily reached for your clothes, your hands trembling. Seungcheol felt the desperation pulsing through his veins, his heart breaking at the sight of your pain.

He reached out to touch your arm, a gesture of comfort born out of instinct, but you flinched away, your voice trembling as you pleaded with him to refrain. "Please... don't touch me." you whispered, your words a knife to his heart as you recoiled from his touch.

Seungcheol's hand fell limply to his side, the weight of your rejection crushing him with its intensity. You had always craved his touch, sought out his warmth and affection with a hunger that matched his own, and now to see you pull away from him like this was more than he could bear.

"I'm sorry" he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as tears began to trail down his cheeks, mirroring the pain in your eyes. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I never meant to hurt you."

You continued to dress yourself in silence.

With a heavy heart, he watched as you prepared to leave, the realization dawning on him that he may never see you again. The thought was like a dagger to his soul, piercing him with a pain that cut deeper than any blade.

"I love you," he whispered hoarsely, his voice barely above a whisper as he reached out to you one last time, his eyes pleading for forgiveness. "Please... don't go."

But as you turned away, the tears in your eyes reflecting the agony in his own, Seungcheol knew that it was too late. The damage had been done.

Breathless and heartbroken, you dashed through the empty streets, the sound of your own footsteps echoing in the stillness of the night. Each stride felt like a dagger to your soul, the weight of betrayal heavy on your shoulders as you raced towards your home.

Arriving at last, you wasted no time in summoning your most trusted hacking team, their expertise your only hope in unraveling the truth of Seungcheol's identity. With trembling hands, you guided them through the labyrinth of digital defenses, your heart pounding in your chest as you awaited the results.

And then, there it was - displayed on the screen in stark black and white, irrefutable evidence of Seungcheol's treachery. Not only did he belong to your rival mafia, but he was the very owner, the puppet master pulling the strings behind the scenes.

As the days passed, you heard a distant conversation between your dad and his henchmen. About this gang, the name matching the tattoo of the person you loved the most. The plan would be to meet the leader in an empty warehouse near one of the least busy streets in the metropolis. And that was enough for you to not even want to hear the rest.

You were going against your own laws, days passed after the incident. But his death was the last thing you wanted. And you knew what your dad was capable of.

Seungcheol's attempts to reach out to you came in waves, a relentless barrage of emails, messages, and calls that served as a constant reminder of the love you craved every day. Despite your best efforts to block him out, he persisted, his promises of redemption and declarations of undying love echoing in your ears like a haunting melody.

Despite the pain that still lingered within you, you knew that you had to push forward, to be the strong, capable woman that your role in the mafia required you to be.

With each calculated move, each careful step, you reaffirmed your commitment to your role within the organization, knowing that nothing could repair the wounds that had been inflicted upon your heart. But even as you buried yourself in your work, the memory of Seungcheol being in danger lingered in the recesses of your mind.

[...]

As you walked with a heavy heart, a gun gripped tightly in your trembling hand, you knew that you were treading dangerous ground. Your father had warned you countless times to steer clear of this mission, but the nagging feeling in your gut told you that you couldn't ignore it - not when the safety of someone so dear to you hung in the balance.

The air was thick with tension as you prowled through the dimly lit alleyways, your senses on high alert as you navigated the maze of crumbling buildings and shadowed corners. The mission weighed heavily on your mind, the stakes higher than ever as you ventured deeper into enemy territory.

And yet, despite the pain, you remained focused on the task at hand, determined to see it through to the end.

Entering in a big empty shed, suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed through the empty place, alerting you to the presence of another. Instinctively, you reached for the gun tucked at your waist, your muscles tensing as you prepared for a confrontation.

And then, he stepped into view - Seungcheol, his eyes widening in surprise as he locked gazes with you, the shock evident on his face. "Y/N, this is dangerous shit. What are you doing here?"

"What is it? Didn't you already know this was my job?" Your damn pride now decided to speak louder.

"Y/N, please... you have to listen to me" he pleaded, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender.

"Tell me why I should trust you," you demanded, your voice laced with anger and hurt. "After you've hidden everything, why should I believe a single word that comes out of your mouth?"

"I knew... I knew about your identity," he admitted, his voice strained with regret as he looked at you with eyes filled with pain. "But I didn't know from the beginning. I swear, Y/N, I didn't."

His words hung heavy in the air between you, a silent admission of guilt and regret that echoed in the depths of your soul. And as he continued to speak, his voice raw with emotion, you couldn't help but listen, despite the chaos that raged around you.

"I was alone," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "Commanding this and that, but always alone. And you... you were my comfort, my solace. You were the embrace at the end of the day that I craved more than anything."

The weight of his words settled over you like a heavy blanket, the realization dawning on you that perhaps there was more to his deception than met the eye. And as you looked into his eyes, you saw the truth reflected back at you - the fear, the loneliness, the desperate longing for connection that had driven him to keep his secrets buried deep within.

His eyes seemed redder than normal, his dark circles were deep, and you noticed his hands shaking in his pockets. How much you were missed in his life, showing physically in him too. And you don't think it's very different from you.

"I was afraid" he confessed, his voice trembling with vulnerability. "Afraid to tell you, because I knew that sooner or later, this would be your reaction. And I couldn't bear the thought of losing you, of losing the one person who meant everything to me."

And then, the sound of footsteps echoed through the room as people entered, forming a circle around you. Among them was your father's team, your dad's trusted compatriots who now stood before you with a mixture of concern and determination etched on their faces.

One of them, your father's longtime partner, stepped forward, his voice grave as he addressed you. "Y/N, you need to leave," he said, his words ringing in your ears like a death knell. "Or else you'll be at risk."

But before you could protest, Seungcheol stepped forward, his expression desperate as he pleaded with you to listen. "Y/N, please," he implored, his voice cracking with emotion. "You have to leave. You can't do this."

You turned to him, your heart aching with the weight of the decision before you.

And then, without hesitation, you raised your gun, pointing it at your own team, who looked at you with shock and disbelief.

Seungcheol's eyes widened in horror as he realized what you were about to do. "No, Y/N, stop!" he cried out, his voice filled with desperation.

But you were beyond reason, consumed by a fierce determination to protect the man you loved at any cost. And as you stood there, gun in hand, facing down your own team, you knew that the line between loyalty and betrayal had blurred beyond recognition.

As your father appeared amidst the confusion, his eyes widened in shock at the scene unfolding before him. The sight of you, tears streaming down your face, with a gun pointed at your own team, was a stark contrast to the composed, capable operative he had always known you to be.

For a moment, silence hung heavy in the air as your father took in the gravity of the situation. It had been years since he had seen you cry like this, It was probably while you were still a child, years since you had allowed yourself to show such vulnerability in front of him. And the sight of his child in such distress made his heart ache with a pain he couldn't bear. "What the hell are you doing, Y/N?" he demanded, his eyes searching yours for answers. "Put the gun down, now."

You hesitated, torn between the love you felt for Seungcheol and the loyalty you owed to your father and the team. But before you could respond, Seungcheol stepped forward, his presence a reassuring weight against your back.

But before you could respond, Seungcheol spoke up, his voice filled with urgency. "Y/N, please," he pleaded, his grip on you tightening. "You have to let me go. I can't bear to see you put yourself in danger like this."

He was afraid that you wouldn't be able to bear the weight of the consequences, that the burden of his actions would crush you beneath its weight.

But you refused to let him go, clinging to him as if your life depended on it. For in that moment, Seungcheol was more than just a lover – he was your anchor amidst the storm, the one person who had stood by you through thick and thin. The only person who didn't disappear when he discovered his true identity.

"Dad, please," you pleaded, your voice shaking with emotion. "You don't understand."

But your father's expression remained resolute, his eyes flickering with concern as he took in the scene before him. "I don't care what your reasons are," he replied firmly. "Violence is not the answer."

"Dad, I know violence isn't the answer," you replied, your voice steady despite the tears still streaking down your cheeks. "But you have to understand, if I leave now, they're going to kill him. Don't act like you don't know what they're capable of, because I've seen it firsthand."

Your father's expression softened slightly, a flicker of understanding crossing his features as he took in your words. He may not have agreed with your methods, but he couldn't deny the truth of what you were saying.

As the tension reached its breaking point, you felt the weight of your decision pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. With the sound of your father's henchmen cocking their guns ringing in your ears, you knew that you were running out of time.

"I would do everything for him, Dad," you said, your voice unwavering despite the fear pulsing through your veins. "And when I say everything, I mean everything."

With trembling hands, you raised your gun and pressed it against your own temple, your heart pounding in your chest as you looked around at the worried faces of those around you. "If anyone moves," you declared, your voice steady, "I will kill myself."

The room fell into a shocked silence, the air heavy with the weight of your words. Even Seungcheol, who stood frozen in disbelief, felt his heart plummet at the sight of you in such a precarious position. Holding your jacket with the intention of making you give up.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as everyone processed the gravity of the situation. Your father's henchmen hesitated, their guns wavering as they exchanged uncertain glances. And amidst the chaos and confusion, you remained resolute, your finger poised on the trigger, ready to follow through on your desperate threat.

Your team knew that your death would spell the end of everything, that your father would never forgive them for letting it come to this.

"Dad," you began, your voice quivering, "you know I've never asked anything for myself. It's never mattered to me how much money we had or what position we held. But this... this is the only thing I'm asking you for."

Your father's expression softened, his features reflecting the turmoil of emotions swirling within him. Now he knew the depth of your love for Seungcheol, and he understood the lengths you were willing to go to protect him. After all, your dad had never seen you in love before. He observed the way Seungcheol, the mafia leader who needed to be cold enough to bear with leadership, held you tight, afraid to lose you, his own eyes reddened from the tears that hadn't stopped since.

For a moment, the room fell into a heavy silence, the tension palpable as everyone waited for your father's response. And then, with a resigned sigh, he nodded slowly, his eyes filled with a mixture of regret and understanding.

"I'll do what I can," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "But you have to promise me one thing, Y/N. Promise me that you'll put the gun down."

His words hung in the air, a solemn reminder of the gravity of the situation. And as you looked into your father's eyes, you knew that this was your only chance to save Seungcheol.

With a trembling hand, you lowered the gun, the weight of it slipping from your grasp as you stepped back, the tears still flowing freely down your cheeks. As the tension in the room began to dissipate, your father's authoritative voice cut through the stillness, commanding everyone to lower their guns. With a collective sigh of relief, the henchmen complied, their weapons lowering to their sides as the standoff came to an end.

With the immediate threat diffused, you turned around, your heart heavy with emotion as you sought solace in Seungcheol's comforting embrace. Tears continued to stream down your cheeks as you buried your face in his shoulder, allowing yourself to release the pent-up emotions that had been building within you.

Seungcheol held you tightly, his arms a reassuring anchor amidst the storm of emotions that raged within you. In that moment, the walls you had erected around your heart crumbled, allowing your vulnerability to flood forth like a rushing river.

And as you cried like a baby in his arms, Seungcheol held you close, his own tears mingling with yours as he too allowed himself to be vulnerable in your presence. Together, you shared a moment of raw emotion, a testament to the depth of your love and the strength of your bond.

Meanwhile, your father stood nearby, his expression a mixture of relief and contemplation as he observed the scene before him. Wiping his forehead with his hand, he took in the gravity of the situation, the weight of his daughter's love for Seungcheol weighing heavily on his heart.

In that moment, amidst the chaos and the turmoil, your father realized that he couldn't ignore the truth any longer. The love you and Seungcheol were sharing behind his back, was undeniable, and he knew that he would do whatever it took to protect it, even if it meant going against everything he had ever believed in.

As the tension eased and the henchmen filed out of the room under your father's silent command, a heavy silence settled over the empty space, leaving only you, Seungcheol, and your father standing amidst the remnants of the standoff.

The sound of footsteps echoing against the cold, concrete walls served as a stark reminder of the gravity of the situation that had just unfolded. Your father's expression remained inscrutable as he turned to face the two of you, his gaze lingering on the intertwined figures of you and Seungcheol.

Once they were gone, your father turned his attention to Seungcheol, his expression unreadable as he addressed the mafia leader. "Where are your henchmen?" he asked, his tone measured but tinged with curiosity.

Seungcheol met your father's gaze squarely, his own eyes unwavering as he replied, "I came alone, sir."

Your father's eyebrows furrowed in surprise, a mixture of confusion and concern crossing his features. "Why would you do that?" he questioned, his voice laced with genuine curiosity. "Putting yourself in danger like this."

Seungcheol's expression softened slightly, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips as he looked at you, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. "Because I knew Y/N's father was here," he explained, his voice steady. "And I didn't want to risk any violence, not when her family is involved."

Your father's gaze softened, a hint of admiration shining through as he regarded Seungcheol. "I see," he said, his tone reflecting a newfound respect for the man standing before him. "That's quite a risk you took, Seungcheol. But I appreciate your efforts to avoid unnecessary bloodshed."

Seungcheol nodded, a sense of relief washing over him as he received your father's approval. "Thank you, sir," he replied, his voice humble. "I just want what's best for Y/N, and I'll do whatever it takes to keep her safe."

Your father's gaze softened as he took in the sight of your swollen eyes and trembling form, the toll of the intense standoff evident in every quiver of your body. With a gentle hand, he placed it on your head, a silent gesture of comfort and reassurance.

"Y/N," he said softly, his voice filled with paternal concern, "you need to rest. It's been a long night, and you've been through a lot."

You nodded weakly, the exhaustion washing over you like a tidal wave. Despite the adrenaline still coursing through your veins, the weight of the events that had unfolded left you feeling drained and emotionally spent.

Turning to Seungcheol, your father's expression softened even further. "Take care of her," he instructed, his voice carrying a hint of gratitude. "She's been through enough tonight."

Seungcheol nodded solemnly, his eyes reflecting a sense of determination as he took your hand in his. "I will," he promised, his voice steady. "I'll make sure she gets some rest."

[...]

As you stepped through the door, you felt a weight lift off your shoulders, the tension of the night slowly beginning to ebb away.

Without a word, Seungcheol guided you to the couch, his arm wrapped protectively around your shoulders as he led you to sit down. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver of comfort through you, easing the ache that lingered in your bones.

As you settled onto the couch, Seungcheol disappeared into the kitchen, returning moments later with a blanket and a steaming mug of tea. He draped the blanket over your shoulders, his touch gentle and reassuring, before handing you the mug with a soft smile.

"Drink this," he said softly, his voice laced with concern. "It'll help you relax."

As Seungcheol sat beside you, his gaze filled with concern, he couldn't help but feel the weight of the tension that lingered between you. With a hesitant voice, he broached the subject that had been weighing on his mind since the events of the night unfolded.

"Are you still mad at me?" he asked softly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of forgiveness

"I'm not mad, Seungcheol," you began, your voice soft but steady. "I'm just... confused."

Seungcheol nodded, his expression filled with empathy as he listened intently. "I understand," he replied, his voice gentle. "I know I've kept things from you, and I'm sorry for that."

You sighed, the frustration and uncertainty of the situation bubbling to the surface. "I just don't understand why you didn't tell me sooner," you admitted.

Seungcheol's expression softened at your words, a hint of regret flashing in his eyes. "I understand," he replied, his voice gentle. "But I want you to know that I never meant to keep anything from you. I just... I didn't know how to tell you."

You nodded, the weight of his words sinking in. "I know," you said quietly. "And I forgive you. But moving forward, I don't want there to be any more secrets between us."

Seungcheol nodded solemnly, his eyes locking with yours in a silent promise. "I agree," he said, his voice firm. "No more secrets. I'll tell you everything, I promise."

The sincerity in his words washed over you like a wave, easing the tension that had settled between you. And as you talked, the conversation flowed freely, the walls between you crumbling away as you laid bare your fears and insecurities.

"It's just... I miss you, Seungcheol," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I miss us. The way things used to be."

Seungcheol's expression softened at your words, his heart aching at the pain he had caused you. "I miss it too," he confessed, his voice filled with longing. "I miss being able to be completely open with you, to share everything without reservation."

You felt a surge of emotion welling up inside you, a mixture of love and frustration that threatened to overwhelm you. "I love and hate how you bring out this side of me," you admitted, chuckling. "The side that's open-hearted and vulnerable, that shows my feelings like a teenager in love."

Without another word, you reached out, pulling him close by his neck and capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. Seungcheol leaned into the kiss, his own desire evident in the way he responded, but before things could escalate further, he pulled back, his expression conflicted.

"Y/N, we... we should take things slow," he said gently, his voice tinged with regret. "You've been through a lot tonight, and you need to rest."

But you shook your head, your eyes darkening with desire as you leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his in a silent plea for more. "I'm not tired, Seungcheol," you whispered, your breath mingling with his. "Not when I'm with you."

As Seungcheol pulled you onto his lap, a surge of desire coursed through your veins, igniting a fiery passion that consumed you both. His hand tangled in your hair, sending shivers down your spine as he pressed you down onto his throbbing cock.

Desperation fueled your movements as you eagerly tugged at the hem of his shirt, your fingers fumbling with the fabric in your haste to rid him of the barrier between you. With a husky laugh, Seungcheol obliged, lifting his arms to allow you to peel the shirt from his toned torso.

The sight of his bare chest sent a rush of heat to your core, the muscles rippling beneath his skin a tantalizing invitation that you couldn't resist. Your hands roamed greedily over his chest, tracing every contour and dip as you reveled in the feel of him beneath your fingertips. "You're so eager, aren't you?" he teased, his voice husky with desire. "But don't worry, my love. I'm not going anywhere."

Seungcheol's laughter echoed in the room, a sound that only served to fuel your desire further. With a hungry growl, you leaned in to capture his lips in a searing kiss, your tongues dancing in a passionate tango as you lost yourselves in the heat of the moment.

As you continued to grind your clothed core against Seungcheol's throbbing cock confined within his jeans, the intensity of your arousal reached new heights. The sensation was so intense that you had to break the kiss, letting out a low, guttural moan that reverberated against Seungcheol's lips.

His own desire was evident, his chin quivering as he fought to hold back his own moans of pleasure. But unable to resist any longer, Seungcheol swiftly freed you from your shirt, his hands deftly unclasping your bra and tossing it aside.

With a sense of urgency, Seungcheol lowered his head, capturing one of your exposed nipples in his mouth. A jolt of pleasure shot through you as his warm tongue flicked against the sensitive bud, his lips closing around it in a deliciously tantalizing embrace.

Seungcheol lavished attention on one nipple, his hand eagerly reachingj for the other, his fingers expertly pinching and rolling the hardened peak between his fingertips.

As you opened your eyes, the world around you seemed to blur for a moment before coming into focus. And in that instant, you realized that you were no longer on the couch, but instead lying naked on Seungcheol's bed.

A surprised gasp escaped your lips as you took in the sight before you, the realization sinking in that Seungcheol had effortlessly whisked you away to his bedroom with incredible speed. It was yet another testament to his quick reflexes and agility, qualities that you found incredibly alluring.

Seungcheol's lips left a trail of wet, fiery kisses down your skin, each one igniting a new wave of desire within you. Your eyes followed his every movement, locking onto his gaze as he looked up at you with a hunger that mirrored your own.

With a slow, deliberate motion, his tongue traced a tantalizing path along your slick folds, eliciting a moan of pleasure from deep within your throat. The sensation of his tongue against your sensitive flesh sent shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through your body, your slick wetting his tongue as he continued to explore every inch of your pussy.

But as his tongue teased and tantalized your clit, driving you to the brink of madness with each flick and swirl, you couldn't help but tremble with anticipation.

"Please," you whimpered, your voice thick with desire. "Stop teasing me, Seungcheol. I need you."

Seungcheol's lips curved into a mischievous smile as he looked up at you, his eyebrows furrowing with amusement. "Oh, baby," he cooed, his voice dripping with lust. "But teasing you is half the fun. And besides, I love seeing you squirm and moan for me."

As Seungcheol's tongue lapped at your clit with an intensity that bordered on exquisite torture, you felt a fire ignite within you, consuming you with a burning desire that threatened to consume you whole. Your back arched involuntarily, a promise of the orgasm that loomed tantalizingly close on the horizon.

But just as you felt yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy, Seungcheol abruptly pulled away, leaving you panting and trembling with need. Your legs quivered with embarrassment as he rose from between your thighs, a wicked smile playing on his lips.

Desperate for release, you begged him once more, your voice thick with desire and longing. But instead of granting your request, Seungcheol pouted playfully, delivering little slaps to your swollen pussy that sent shocks of pleasure coursing through your body.

Each slap elicited a gasp of pleasure from deep within your throat, your hips instinctively bucking against his hand in search of more. And when Seungcheol least expected it, you surprised him by cumming just from the sensation of his hand against your sensitive flesh.

With a cry of ecstasy, you grabbed hold of his wrist, pressing his hand firmly against your throbbing cunt as you rode out the waves of pleasure that crashed over you.

"Well, well, well," he teased, his voice dripping with a hint of mockery. "Looks like someone's a little too eager, hmm? Cumming just from a few little slaps on that pretty little pussy of yours."

With a coy tilt of your head, you met his gaze squarely, your voice steady despite the lingering traces of embarrassment. "Well then," you said, your tone playful yet assertive. "Are you going to fuck this pussy or what?"

Seungcheol's sudden assertiveness took you by surprise, his red ears and the way his pants and underwear fell to the ground signaling his overwhelming desire. Before you could react, he had manhandled you around the room, pressing your back against the wall with a force that left you breathless.

"Since you want to feel this cock," he murmured huskily, his voice sending shivers down your spine, "you're going to feel it entirely."

With that, he thrust his cock deep inside of your pussy, your walls clenching around him as he filled you completely. His grip tightened behind your legs, holding you securely against him as you clung to his neck, your nails digging into his skin with a mixture of pleasure and desperation.

As the position allowed him to hit your g'spot with each powerful thrust, pleasure surged through you in waves, igniting a fire within you that threatened to consume you whole. Your eyes rolled back in ecstasy, your body arching against his as you surrendered to the overwhelming sensation of pleasure that washed over you.

Seungcheol's voice was a low, guttural moan as he continued to drive into you, each thrust pushing you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy. "You like that, don't you?" he growled, his voice thick with desire. "Feeling me deep inside you, hitting all the right spots."

"Oh God! Seungcheol-ah!"

Seungcheol's eyes darkened with desire as he heard you moan his name, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. "That's it, baby," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "Moan my name again. I want to hear you scream it."

His words sent a thrill of excitement coursing through you, igniting a fire within you that burned hotter with each passing moment. With a sense of urgency, you complied, your voice a breathless whisper as you cried out his name once more.

"Seungcheol," you moaned, the sound echoing through the room as pleasure washed over you in a relentless wave. "Oh god, Seungcheol, yes!"

With a hand tangled in Seungcheol's hair, you felt the tension building within you, the waves of pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave. "I'm cumming, baby, I'm cumming," you warned, your voice trembling with anticipation as you felt the climax approaching.

Seungcheol responded with slow, sharp, and hard thrusts, each one sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. The sensation was almost too much to bear, but you welcomed it eagerly, relishing in the overwhelming pleasure that consumed you.

"I got you, baby, I got you," Seungcheol murmured, his voice filled with reassurance and desire. "Oh my god, cum for me."

His words were all it took to push you over the edge, your body convulsing with pleasure as you creamed all over his cock. The sound of your release mixed with the slickness of your arousal filled the room, a symphony of wetness that echoed off the walls.

In that moment, any doubts you had about Seungcheol's strength faded away, replaced by the certainty of his embrace. His arms held you so tight that you couldn't help but feel safe, trusting him completely to carry you through the intensity of your orgasm.

As Seungcheol gazed into your eyes, he couldn't help but be captivated by the lazy smile that played on your lips, your gaze still clouded with the aftermath of pleasure. He gently lay you back on the bed, his fingers trailing along your skin as he asked if you could handle another round.

"Ready for round two, baby?" Seungcheol murmured, his voice thick with desire as he positioned himself between your legs. "I want to make you cum again, even harder this time."

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, excitement coursing through you as you eagerly awaited his touch. "Oh god, yes," you moaned, your voice a breathless whisper. "Please, Seungcheol, fuck me hard."

You nodded eagerly, a playful glint dancing in your eyes as you spread your legs for him, inviting him to take you once more.

With a growl of approval, Seungcheol buried his cock deep inside of your sopping cunt, the sensation of him filling you once again sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. With each powerful thrust, he drove deeper into you, feeling your pussy getting tighter every second.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Seungcheol groaned, his voice thick with lust as he lost himself in the rhythm of your bodies moving together. "I could fuck you like this all night long."

"Yes, Seungcheol," you moaned, your voice hoarse already "Fuck me harder, baby. Make me cum all over your cock."

Seungcheol whimpered at your words, you could feel the intensity of his desire growing, his cock twitching inside of you with each thrust. Determined to drive him over the edge, you watched with anticipation as he licked his thumb and began to massage your clit with incredible speed.

As your pussy clenched around him, Seungcheol felt a surge of pleasure shoot through his body, his own orgasm crashing over him with an intensity that left him trembling. He watched you in awe, your head thrown back in ecstasy as you screamed in pleasure, your body writhing beneath him as you rode out the waves of your climax.

With almost closed eyes, Seungcheol's gaze remained fixed on you, his own pleasure mirrored in the way his body convulsed with each pulse of release. His hands trembled around your hips as his cum spilled into you, filling you up with each pulsating throb.

Despite his best efforts to keep up the dirty talk, Seungcheol found himself overcome by the overwhelming sensation of pleasure, his words reduced to incoherent moans and stuttered phrases. "Oh god," he groaned, his voice thick with lust. "You feel so good, baby. So fucking good."

As Seungcheol crawled to you and laid his head on your chest, hugging you tightly, you felt a sense of warmth and comfort enveloping you. But when you felt the hot tears against your skin, your heart clenched with worry.

"What's wrong, Seungcheol?" you asked softly, your voice filled with tenderness and concern. "Why are you crying?"

His eyes glistened with unshed tears as he met your gaze, his expression a mixture of sadness and regret. "I just... I can't believe how brave you were today," he murmured. "You risked everything to protect me, even after everything that happened. And I... I just wish I could have protected you better."

Your heart ached at his words, the depth of his love and concern for you shining through despite his tears. Wrapping your arms around him, you held him close, offering him comfort and reassurance in the face of his distress.

"You don't need to protect me, Seungcheol," you whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. "We protect each other. That's what love is all about."

Seungcheol's tears continued to fall, but you could sense a glimmer of relief in his eyes as he leaned into your embrace, finding solace in your words.

"I missed you so much, Seungcheol," you whispered, your voice filled with love and longing. "More than you'll ever know."

His eyes softened at your words, a small smile playing on his lips as he reached out to cup your cheek tenderly. "I love you," he said softly, his voice a gentle caress against your skin.

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thisblogisaboutabook · 2 months

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Rainy Season

Azriel x Reader

An angsty little one shot. Azriel’s mate is tired of being at the bottom of his list of priorities.

Update: Due to popular demand, this is being made into a series!

Part 2

The air’s getting heavy and we both know why

There was a time when an evening like this brought solace to my weary soul.

Azriel’s hand wrapped around my waist, caressing my stomach, pressing soft kisses to the juncture of my neck and shoulder. His hair tickling against my sensitive skin as we hid under blankets absorbing the incessant melody of drip, drop, drip, drop and the echoing pitter patter of rain drops hitting the roof. His warmth seeping right through to the coldest depths of my soul.

I’d turn around, pressing my bare breasts against his muscled chest. Our breath hitching as his sunburst eyes of brown, amber, and gold bore into mine, his soft lips whispering promises of forever.

Say that this storm is just passing through

But Azriel wasn’t here. He hadn’t been for 6 days, 23 hours, and 50 minutes now. It would have been laughable, comparing the past to now, if it weren’t so damned sad. In the beginning there’d been long, doting love notes with risqué quips regarding his intentions upon coming home, little gifts that he couldn’t resist bringing back from his travels, and the stolen hours where he’d sneak in a visit during the intermittent downtime on his missions. As a realist, I knew that it was not sustainable long-term but relished in it as the gift it was. Newly formed, passionate love that exceeded anything I had ever imagined upon finding my cauldron-blessed mate.

As the years went on I understood when the love notes became briefs and the thoughtful gifts became pecks on the cheek as he hurried through the door to exchange his leathers for clean ones, wipe down his weapons, and rest before his next mission. But time went on, as is inevitable, and distant were the memories of stolen moments away from missions, the desperate caress of his hands roaming my body as if he couldn’t quite believe I was fully corporeal before him - needing to touch me to reassure him that this was real. Now the touches were detached, perfunctory, another task on his never-ending to-do list.

Drop after drop we’re destroying this house and eachother.

The boiling point had been simmering for a while, left on the fire with reassurances of “Things are just busy right now”, “It’ll slow down soon”, “I would stay if I could, love. You know I would. I have no choice.”

But we both knew all too well that there was always a choice. There were times when Rhys let it slip that Azriel had volunteered for missions that his other spies were perfectly suited for, times when all I wanted in the world was to be curled up and listening to the rain with my mate.

Missions became tasks with the Valkyries, “chaperoning” Cassian and Nesta, and emotionally supporting the lovely doe-eyed fawn - Elain - who was the delicate cherry blossom of spring opposite of my wild summertime storm.

It wasn’t her fault. The trauma inflicted upon her, the loss of autonomy that came with being thrown into the cauldron and having her mortality stripped away without her say. The powers she never asked for overwhelming her senses. Hell, maybe it wasn’t Azriel’s fault for responding to the traumas of his past and the need to overcompensate for every ounce of blood he’s drawn by saving anything and everything that needed rescuing.

The problem lay with the fact that where Elain is a “seer”, my ability to “sense” when things are amiss was strong and Azriel’s intentions with her were becoming blurred. Feelings of lust had become more frequent down the bond along with flutters of joy and adoration. When it began I thought maybe things would look up in our relationship - he was missing me, fisting his cock to fantasies of taking me over and over when he returned home - but he only became more distant. He’d return more often than not smelling of jasmine and honey. The strength of the scent coating him correlating with the increase in enamored feelings slipping through the bond.

Six days ago when I’d asked him to skip out on training with Cassian and Nesta and whatever it was he and Elain would do - that was when the thunder clapped and the sky opened. “I can’t just stay home and cater to you all the time. I have duties to this court. Why can’t you find a hobby to occupy your time? Nesta reads and trains with the Valkyries, Feyre paints, Elain gardens and she evens bakes! Why can’t you be more like-“

He caught himself too late, immediately reaching out to place a gentle hand on my shoulder and apologize but it was too late for that.

Please, make it stop

It wasn’t that I wasn’t a forgiving or understanding person. i appreciated his dedication to his court and family and those in need but…

“Why can’t I be more like what? You can stop mid-sentence but you already said it all.” I looked down, shaking my head as silver lined my eyes. Gods, I hate that I’m an angry crier. “You want to know why I can’t be more like Elain in your eyes, Azriel? Because I exist in your fucking blind spot! I have been helping Feyre AT the studio, volunteering at a food pantry in Velaris, and teaching self-defense classes to women and children at the park but you wouldn’t know because you never ask me what I’ve been up to while you’re gone.”

He started to speak but I wasn’t finished. “The reason I cannot be more like Elain, or Feyre, or Nesta is because I’m none of them. I am ME. And you know what? I like me. I don’t want to be anybody else.” Trying and failing miserably to hold my head high I pathetically fell to my knees, shuddering as tears of rage flowed freely.

Warmth enveloped me as Azriel knelt down to soothe my quaking form. I let him if only because I didn’t have the composure to tell him otherwise as he began pressing kisses to my forehead. “I’m so sorry. I have been a terrible mate. I love all that you are- I- I’ll stop with Elain. She’s doing much better and Nuala and Cerridwen can keep an eye on her, so can Rhys and Cassian, and her sisters. It will be okay.”

That consolation attempt only drove the blade of bitterness deeper into my heart. Elain had so many in her corner and who did I have anymore? My chronically absent mate? The family I left behind to move to Velaris with Azriel? There was nobody close by.

“I think you should leave.” I sobbed out.

Azriel ignored the shaky command, continuing to hold me. Fuck - is this what it took for him to notice me? Breaking my heart so he could stitch it back up again?

“Azriel.” I stated firmly.

He met my eyes.

“You should leave.”

His look grew puzzled. “I thought you wanted me to stay - to spend time together? Please, Y/N. Let me make this better.”

“I need space. Give me one week.”

“But-“

“One. Week.”

Azriel’s shoulders slumped, head hanging low for several minutes before realizing that my decision was firm.

“I love you.” He said before heading out the door.

——————

Like clockwork as 7 days, 0 hours, and 1 minute were up, the front door to our home opened and Azriel’s footsteps padded in behind me, my gaze remaining fixated on the rain falling outside the window. A lump formed in my throat as I avoided turning to meet his gaze.

So dance one more dance and tell one more lie.

Azriel stepped around me, wordlessly extending a hand, patiently waiting as I avoided his gaze a moment longer before taking it. His shadows began humming faintly, increasing their melody and reaching a crescendo as Azriel began dancing with me through the room.

Say that you love me even if it’s not true

I let myself melt into the warmth of his chest. The thick air remained heavy upon my soul but I could have this. I could let myself enjoy this moment.

We wordlessly danced through the room in the soft glow of the fae lights.

We made our way through the hall into our shared bed that had become so neglected.

“I love you, Y/N.” he murmured as he laid me down, stripped bare underneath him.

“I love you too, Azriel.”

——————

Wish I could just say it and words were enough to keep you from being the one giving up.

The middle of the night left me restless as he lay soundly asleep beside me. My senses tugged me toward his bag that he’d discarded at the entryway. I brought out his dirty clothes from the week only to be greeted with the fresh scent of jasmine and honey.

Like the sky letting go for no reason

I packed my essentials and voyaged out into the pouring rain. Its patter on my skin washing away the salty tears streaming down my face. Following my senses to where the love was true back to my Summer Court home, my family. As free as a summer storm.

It's just the rainy season.

—————————————

A/n - I know there are plenty of Azriel x Reader and Elain fics out there. It was rainy and dreary here yesterday and this song was in my head for the first time in like 10 years so…. I wrote this.

#sarah j maas #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel #a court of silver flames #a court of frost and starlight #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x elain #elain archeron #rainy season #inspired by Hunter Hayes #inspired by a song #azriel angst #angst #azriel one shot #acotar oneshot

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nariism · 7 months

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ೃ⁀➷ ALL I WANT ✧.*

a/n: tooth-rotting fluff !! this is so so mushy and soft. kissing and some touchiness but nothing too crazy i think. also this is unedited brainrot i wrote at 2:30am so enjoy ... <3

Neuvillette has never told you that he loves you.

The words are always there— resting heavy behind his teeth just waiting to burst out at the most inconvenient times, and yet he's never brought himself to say them.

You don’t need the words to prove his devotion to you anyways, already aware that there is no other soul in the world able to hold him the way you do. But he’s always wanted to say it, stopped only by his own fears.

Immortality is a funny thing. In a thousand years you could be nothing but a distant memory for him, gentle whispers in the back of his mind or ghostly touches wisping over his skin.

The idea of losing you terrifies him, but he knows the loss well and knows to keep his heart safeguarded somewhere deep within himself. I love you are words he only murmurs into your skin while you sleep, or chanted in his head when you hold him.

However, you’ve been proving it difficult to resist ever since you moved in with him.

There's nothing extravagant about the way you wake up, nothing extraordinary or strange. You wake up like any Fontainian would: cold and gloomy and complaining about the weather.

Despite how ordinary it all is, it doesn't stop him from spending the first few minutes of the day admiring your face before he inevitably has to get out of bed to get ready for work.

Mornings are his always favourite; the slow stirrings of the day like a calm before the storm. Those few minutes are precious to him more than anything in the world, where he can do nothing but kiss your sleeping face awake and keep you wrapped up in his arms.

You've recently made it your routine to follow him out of bed a few minutes later. He hasn't found out why exactly until today.

He doesn't even need to turn around to know it all— every part of you memorized and carved into each muscle and filling any thoughts that cross his mind.

The slow shuffling of your feet across the room; the quiet yawn that makes him smile because he can imagine your face; the bumping of your body into the back of his in your clumsy state.

It's all comfortable. Familiar. You.

"Morning..." You mumble, arms wrapping around his waist and nose buried against his back.

"Seems someone slept well," he hums.

Your arms squeeze his waist a little tighter. "Because you keep the bed so warm."

"I see. Is that the only reason you decided to crawl out of bed this morning?" He asks with a little lift of amusement, placing his mug down and watching the ripples stir in his coffee.

"No," you lie rather blatantly, and he laughs in a way that makes your heart flutter. "....Shut up."

"It’s quite rude to say that to the Iudex, no?"

"Shut up," you huff again. Your hands carefully climb under the hem of his shirt and explore the expanse of his skin. The cold this exacts on him makes him stop in his motions. He shivers before finally turning around to catch your wrists.

You frown, gently knocking your face back into his body— his chest this time, where you can hear his heart beating.

"Not my fault you're so warm."

Neuvillette only sighs, scooping you fully into his arms and leaning back onto the counter so you can rest your weight against him.

And he knows every part of you like this too: a memory chained to his beating heart. A second life breathed into him meant only to remember you this way.

He knows you're cranky because the sun just rose and here you are, already shuffling around the cold house since he left his side of the bed empty. He knows that you're impossibly perfect in his arms— a piece of a puzzle hand-crafted for him to hold. He knows that it will be sunny today.

You are everything. Everything.

He pulls you away by the shoulders, nose brushing against yours as he leans in close to kiss you. There's a pause just before your lips meet— an apprehension in his actions. He sighs, shaky and nervous.

"I love you."

Then he kisses you slow and sweet, the same way he has always savoured that feeling twisting in his heart at the very thought of you. Enduring and knowing, lacking any more hesitation because he knows this is exactly what he wants and where he needs to be.

You're blinking at him dumbly when he pulls away, lips parted in such a cute way that he wants to lean in again.

"I must be hearing things because I swear you just said–"

"I love you," he repeats quietly, suddenly feeling embarrassed by his confession yet unable to contain the words anymore.

Your expression twists in wonder and for a moment he can't help but think that you're the most beautiful person in the world. In the centuries that he's been wandering Fontaine, he's never been so sure of one thing:

"I love you," he says for a third time in full confidence. His lips crash into yours again in a frenzy, a flurry of emotions swirling in his stomach and so many thoughts screaming in his ears that he can't think straight.

When he stops for air he doesn't fully leave you, mouth still married to you as he kisses along your cheek to your jaw. You laugh, arms circling around his neck.

"Can you say it again?"

And he will. He would say it a million times just to see you smile like that again.

🏷️ @saetoshi hi my beautiful

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sunkendreams · 6 months

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WHAT COULD’VE BEEN.

( michael schmidt x fem!reader. )

༄ ⠀𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | michael schmidt x [fem!]reader.

༄ ⠀𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 8.8K.

༄ ⠀𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭 | one-shot, not requested. potentially multiple parts.

༄ ⠀𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | mentions of past trauma, depression, friends to lovers, confession of feelings, mutual pining, explicit sexual content/smut, virgin!mike, loss of virginity, mike is definitely more submissive here, vaginal sex, riding, making out, dry humping, hair pulling, light dirty talk, cunnilingus, fingering, handjob, unprotected sex (pls wrap it), cum play, mike moans a lot I don’t make the rules !!

༄ ⠀𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 | you guys should’ve seen this coming from a mile away … anyway !! I hope you guys enjoy, I loved the movie & I love Mike even more! If this fic gets good reception, I would like to make a second part or more Mike fics! Please let me know what you think! Thanks so much for your love & support, you guys are just fantastic! ❤️

❝ “What could’ve been, Mike?” You whispered, absentmindedly rocking closer until your chest nearly bumped into his shoulder.

A saccharine affection glistened within his warm stare, enough to burn a hole right through you as he squeezed your hand. “Us.” ❞

Sparky’s Diner stands proud alongside the highway, a now-dilapidated fixture of a small town. Your parents used to take you here as a child, and at one point, it was your grandmother’s favorite place to eat. Now, it almost seemed forlorn, with the occasional gaggle of patrons or stragglers, but nothing more. You were seated in one of the creaking booths, slumped forward.

Cars whistle past a smudged window pane, slivers of daylight trickling through as they catch against the ceramic surface of your coffee mug. Your leg bounces — it mirrors that of the man sitting across from you. Silence fills the void between the both of you, a tenuous moment that seems to last an eternity until you hear a brief clearing of a throat.

“How’ve you been?”

You hadn’t seen much of Michael Schmidt since the incident at the mall — it was almost as if he’d become the resident recluse, and part of you couldn’t fault him for that. You were working at Auntie Anne’s Pretzels, now doomed as a paper-pusher at the career center. You’d run into Mike that way days prior.

It was a loaded question — you were unsure of how to proceed. Part of you wanted to inquire about his own wellbeing. Exhaustion glistened on his features as if they were a permanent fixture, from the bags underneath his eyes to the far-off look in his bloodshot gaze.

He kept his hands stuffed into his pockets, his stare momentarily trailing between you and the lukewarm mug of coffee sitting in front of him. Mike recalled the days of working at the mall with you — it almost seemed a little easier back then, when he wasn’t completely weighed-down by nightmares and job instability.

Mike still held this nagging sense of guilt for letting your friendship crumble after the mall. You’d tried to reach out on numerous occasions, even after his arrest for assault and battery — no one else had done the same. It was scorched earth wherever he stood, and there wasn’t a single soul willing to get close.

“I’m doing well enough,” Your answer finally emerged after a near-endless bout of silence. The warmth had drained from your mug, but it gave you something to hold onto. “How’s Abby?” Mike’s younger sister was his entire world — you often commended him for his undying commitment to her.

Gone were the days of you sneaking her free cinnamon-sugar pretzels and delivering the leftovers to Mike once your shifts were through. You missed it — it almost felt like some distant dream, when in reality, it was only a year and a handful of months ago.

Any mention of Abby often struck a chord within Mike, as if an amalgamation of memories had come back to haunt him. His countenance was a reflection of that — still anchored down by the ghosts of the past. His dreams were becoming more vivid — worse, even. A sinking feeling consumed him then, jaw tightening as he fought against the onslaught of emotion.

A grimace flickered across his visage, enough for you to become concerned. Your heart began to beat a little faster — had something happened to her? “Mike?” You prompted, voice dropping an octave, softening up as you tilted forward. The last thing you wanted was to bring up painful memories.

You knew about his brother, Garrett.

“She’s fine,” Mike exhaled, pocketed hands perched atop his lap. He hadn’t intended to sound harsh, gaze apologetic as he looked back at you. “I’m sorry. My Aunt, ah … She’s trying to get sole custody of Abby. It’s been an uphill battle.” He confessed, tone downtrodden.

“Mike,” You murmured, brows knitting together as you abandoned your mug, hands twisting themselves together. The pain etched into his face was unmistakable — and he was holding himself together through it all. “That’s awful. Have you talked to the courts?”

A humorless huff of laughter escaped him, followed by a more indifferent expression. “No,” He leaned back within his seat, hands withdrawing themselves from his pockets, splayed out across his lap, instead. “I’m definitely not fit to be raising a kid, I know that much.” Mike sighed, eyes fluttering in the opposite direction.

Protest formed upon the tip of your tongue, prompting you into action. “That’s not true. She’s been glued to your hip, even when we worked at the mall. I think if a Judge saw how much the two of you mean to one another, they wouldn’t take her away.” You murmured.

This was the you that he’d sorely missed — one full of tenderness and a gentle optimism. Mike wanted to believe you, but given the overwhelming circumstances and his Aunt’s persistence, it felt like a losing situation. At least, for now, he had time to work this new job and gain some rapport in the process.

“I hope so,” Mike folded his hands together, resting them atop the stained, plastic tabletop. He wanted to change the subject — for now, anyway. “Thanks for still sticking with me, even after all this time.” He murmured, a pang of guilt gnawing away at his insides. You were a good person — the best that he knew.

He felt like he’d squandered away your friendship to slip into this veil of reclusiveness, instead of still holding onto you, that little ray of sunshine. Mike wanted to make amends with you, and he wanted to start down that path before he’d inevitably ruin it again.

An empathetic smile crept onto your features, followed by a soft exhale. “I wish that we hung out a little more,” You mused, tucking a fist underneath your chin. “But I understand that you’re busy. Did that job work out with Mr. Raglan?” You inquired, eyes sparkling with intrigue.

Mike’s breath hitched within his throat, a very subtle noise — he missed you terribly. Jeremiah used to tease and torment him about the colossal crush he had on you, but those times were buried within the past. His sentiments hadn’t changed, but he didn’t think he brought anything to the table, admittedly.

The job.

A security gig of an obliterated restaurant franchise where the animatronics were operated by the spirits of dead children — that job? Even after the revelation delivered to him by his own sister days prior, he still felt drawn to that place, as if he needed to be there. Abby had fun whenever he took her there — it was comforting to see her laugh and smile again.

“Yeah, the security gig.” A lump formed within his throat. He wanted to tell you all about the haunting at Freddy Fazbear’s, but it almost seemed too unbelievable. He didn’t expect you to believe him anymore after he’d grown distant from you. “It’s going. The pay is horrible, but it’s the only place that’ll take me.”

Mr. Raglan was often attempting to lure people into this security position at Freddy Fazbear’s — it must’ve been a profession with an abnormally-high turnover rate. You recalled one instance of him trying to barter with some older man to take the job.

Your memory of Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria was wonderfully vibrant — some of your favorite memories were spent at that restaurant as a child. Friend’s birthday parties, end-of-school summer celebrations, and your own birthday on a handful of occasions. Though, even with brighter times, there was always a splash of darkness.

One of your childhood friends had gone missing — everyone knew about the tale of the disappearing children. Your parents forbid you from going back to that establishment after law enforcement swarmed the place, with detectives scouring it from top to bottom. With a place as family-friendly as Freddy’s being involved at the center of child disappearances, it shut down.

“Freddy’s?” You asked, shifting within your seat. Mike’s countenance held a little spark of uncertainty intermingled with fear — enough for you to mention something about the restaurant’s gruesome history. “It’s supposedly haunted. You haven’t encountered any paranormal activity at night, have you?” You teased, head canting to one side.

Mike couldn’t help but smile — a sardonic, somewhat bemused expression that happened to evoke your curiosity once more. “Something like that.” It was difficult to discern if he was joking or not, truth be told. “Working the night shift, you think you see things — the mind playing tricks or something.” He was afraid of telling you the whole truth right away.

That explained his haggard, sunken look — the disheveled tresses and forlorn stare. He must’ve been exhausted from working nights. You never had the experience of a third shift, but you didn’t envy him. “You look tired,” You chimed, and then, a proposal came to fruition. “Would you want help with watching Abby?”

Max stopped answering her phone, as if she’d become wholly disinterested in babysitting altogether. He couldn’t really blame her — he hadn’t paid up and Abby could be just as reclusive as he was. “No, no. You don’t have to do that. Between you and me, I’ve been taking her to work with me. She likes it there.”

A gentle smile fluttered across your features. The animatronics were adorable — you imagined that Abby liked them quite a bit. “Sure, Mike. If you need help, don’t hesitate to ask. I have some downtime with my job, I don’t know if you can say the same.”

Mike’s heart skipped a beat, chocolate hues captivated by your softened visage. Your smile was mesmerizing — that was still a constant about you, it hadn’t changed whatsoever. Those inklings of affection were spiraling into tidal waves, as if he were back at the mall again, fawning over you from afar as you handed out pretzels.

“Thanks, I really appreciate it.” He chewed at the inside of his cheek, debating on whether or not he should invite you to come with him to the next shift he worked. It wasn’t a good idea — the animatronics were hostile toward adults, he realized. Maybe Abby could remedy that. “So, are you …” He trailed off.

Were you seeing anybody?

Did you enjoy your job?

Did you want to come over to his place for pizza?

Were you still planning on going to university?

Akin to a deer in the headlights, Mike’s fingers curled into the rough fabric of his jeans as he pondered on what exactly to ask you. He wanted to fully catch up, away from the public spotlight of a run-down, dingy diner — not that his house was any better, but he could clean up.

“Are you going to university?” It was a cowardly option — he could’ve chosen the emboldened route, but it felt too soon, inquiring about details of your personal life. You didn’t owe him anything. You’d talked about going to the University of Utah countless times.

Part of you wanted to inquire about the intricacies of his own life — about his Aunt, about Abby, and perhaps delving a little deeper. You really liked Mike, especially when working at the mall together, and after all this time, nothing had changed. A soft burst of laughter escaped you, followed by a wrinkling of your nose.

“No,” You sighed, tapping your fingers against the ceramic mug sitting on your left. “I don’t know if I can go and realistically afford it. I don’t want to run myself into the ground just for school, you know? I’m trying to save up as much as I can.” Your dreams were still present — just seemingly out-of-reach.

Mike could see the flicker of frustration settle into your features, and he felt for you. He’d thought about trying for engineering at one point in time, but with his parents passing away and the weight of responsibility falling upon his shoulders, it all fell through. “I understand,” He scratched at the top of his hand. “You’ve always been too smart for me.” He mused.

“That’s not true,” You protested, playfully rolling your eyes as you nudged at his shin with your foot. “You’re just as intelligent, if not more. Do you remember when you helped me fix the salt dispenser?” A sense of giddiness rippled through you when Mike smiled — nearly tangible, oozing with warmth.

“I remember,” An inkling of humor crept into his tone, accompanied by a fluctuating smile. “I don’t think you knew what the word ‘twist’ meant.” He prodded, dark eyes twinkling with mirth as the two of you engaged in banter about work — back then, at least.

A scoff left you, but your smile remained ever-present, dimples forming at either corner of your mouth. “In my defense, it was needlessly complex. You can agree with me.” You laughed, glancing outside once more. The day was still young, trees swaying with the breeze as patrons came in and out of the diner.

“Sure,” Mike chuckled, pearlescent teeth flashing in the brief hint of a grin before it began to wane. It was a disappointment, really — you would’ve liked to see more of that. “I do miss the free pretzels.” He mused, voice having lowered to a more amiable tone. Part of him yearned for the days back at the mall — it all seemed a little easier, back then. His Aunt wasn’t trying to take his sister away, and the money was better.

The Mike that you knew back during your time in the mall was laced with a wisecrack humor, as smart as a whip, and often full of conversation. You could tell that he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders — it was his eternal burden, it seemed. Selflessness and compassion were ingrained into him, a second nature or instinct, and you admired him all the more for it.

“I missed you, Mike.” You confessed, gaze seemingly forlorn as the two of you lamented about the not-too-distant past.

It was as if you’d stolen the air right from his lungs, ripped it away with your bare hand. Goosebumps formed along the column of his spine, prompting him to shift within the cracking leather of the booth. You’d rendered him speechless, enough to where he felt the need to try and recuperate, lips parting as if to speak — words turned to ash upon his tongue.

Mike missed you more than words could properly describe — he couldn’t convey whatever it was he wanted to say. He’d kick himself knowing that he let this go, let you go, when it could’ve been his all along. A bevy of emotions stirred within his chest, prompting him to dig the heel of his palms into his legs.

Maybe that lifeline, that support — it was something that he sorely needed. That was his justification, his excuse to say he needed you in a roundabout way. Finally, he allowed himself to relax, jaw clenching and unclenching within the same breath.

“Yeah,” Mike nodded, gaining the courage to look you in the eyes this time. “I missed you, too.” His confession hung heavy, like a weight dragging the both of you back into this unspoken sentiment. Whatever courage was instilled in him, he decided to go the extra mile. “You should come over sometime.”

Exhilaration happened to be a mere understatement for whatever it was you felt in that moment — it was borderline ecstasy. You were wholly prepared to launch yourself at the opportunity to spend time with him again, but you composed yourself, keeping any giddiness at bay as you nodded.

“I’d like that — I’d like that a lot, Mike. It’d be nice to see Abby again, too.” You smiled, excitement dancing across your features, barely restrained as you cleared your throat. “I don’t want it to conflict with your work schedule or anything.” You blurted, hoping that he’d be able to keep up with sleep, too.

He couldn’t recall the last time he’d invited someone over, but this was you — Mike had already squandered your friendship once before, and he wasn’t about to repeat the past again. It weighed on his conscience enough. “It won’t. Promise.” He reassured you, unable to keep from smiling this time. “Tomorrow night?”

Heat crawled across your features, sinking into your very bones as you cleared your throat. “Tomorrow night works perfectly.” You checked your watch out of habit, nearly cursing yourself when you realized what time it was. You had fifteen minutes to spare before you were officially late for work. “Shit. I’m going to be late for work.”

“I understand. Walk you to your car?” Mike offered, gesturing toward the weed-laden parking lot as you scrambled to toss a crumpled twenty-dollar bill onto the countertop.

“Of course.” Each night after work, he’d walk you to your beat-down, shitty Acura, making sure that you were safe and sound in the dark parking lot. It was comforting to know that his habit hadn’t changed in the slightest.

Once outside, Mike stuck close to your side, hands slipping back into the pockets of his faded jacket as he walked with you to your car. Trash billowed through the parking lot like a tumbleweed, narrowly missing the front of your Acura. “She’s still running?” He teased, patting the top of your decaying vehicle.

“Hey, don’t be mean to the car. It’s still chugging along. That’s more than you can say about your Accord.” You snickered, tossing your bag inside of the passenger door before turning toward Mike. Awkwardness welled inside of you — it wasn’t like you hadn’t hugged him before, but something nagged away at you this time.

Mike let out a huff of laughter, head canting to one side. “Touché.” He mused, visage softening as he looked you over. You were pretty — too pretty for him, but he decided to skip over the brief bout of self-depreciation. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” His voice trailed off in something of an inquiry.

“Absolutely. I’m excited,” You beamed, and without thinking this time, shuffled closer to give him a hug. Much to your delight, he reciprocated, arms wrapping tightly around you, bringing you in against his chest. You could’ve stayed that way for an eternity — but now, you had ten minutes to spare before work. “Thank you, Mike. For everything.”

He was completely and utterly undeserving of you, but Mike counted his lucky stars that you still wanted to stick around. Instead, he accepted your gratitude, wanting to hold you just a little longer — if only. He reluctantly relinquished his grasp on you, gaze oozing with a saccharine warmth. “Yeah,” He nodded. “Drive safe.”

You smiled, exuberant and chipper before you squeezed his hand. “See you tomorrow.” You mused, hopping into the driver’s seat of your rattling, sputtering Acura as you sluggishly pulled out of the parking lot and out onto the road.

Mike lingered in the lot, glancing toward the fading pavement, and then toward the sky — he had so much cleaning up to do tomorrow.

“Help me clean up around here, and I’ll buy you new crayons.”

It was the only viable bribing he could do to get Abby to help him with picking up around the house. Given his chaotic work schedule and the newfound circumstances with the haunted animatronics, there was little time to keep the house tidy.

He’d gone to work that night after you’d departed from the parking lot, slept a little bit while Abby entertained herself with her friends, and went home when the sun came up. He was tense after the first few times he’d taken Abby to the Pizzeria — the animatronics were still dangerous, but nothing bad had happened.

Yet, anyway.

“Who’s coming over?” Abby asked, collecting remnants of trash and crayon pieces from around the living room, depositing it all into the trash can. “Why do we have to clean up if it’s Aunt Jane?” She mumbled, somewhat dejected as Mike scrubbed the dishes.

“It’s not Aunt Jane,” He cleared his throat, visage swarming with heat as it turned a light shade of pink. “You remember Y/N, right? From the mall — she worked at the pretzel place. She gave you the sugar pretzels.” Mike hoped that his sister would remember you, but there were no guarantees. It’d been awhile.

Abby gasped, realization glittering across her features as she grinned — toothy and mischievous. “You like her,” She prompted, standing by her brother as he tediously made his way through the stack sitting by the sink. “Is she coming over for a date?”

“No, it’s not a date, Abby.” Mike groaned, flicking a wad of soapy bubbles at her. She squealed, smacking at his arm before he gestured toward the closet. “Need you to run the vacuum around, okay?” He sighed, wondering if he’d end up regretting this.

“Okay.” Abby sighed, begrudgingly making her way to the storage closet, haphazardly untangling the cord to the vacuum before plugging it in. “Can we get pizza?” She asked, standing beside the couch, vacuum sitting next to her. “Please, Mike?”

“We’ll get pizza, Abs.” He hesitated, swiveling upon his heel as she sat atop the arm of the couch, watching him finish up the dishes instead of vacuuming. “Does the floor clean itself?” Mike teased with a grin, prompting his sister to hop off of her perch, starting up the vacuum as she began to run it around the living room.

By the time Abby finished vacuuming and he’d gotten the kitchen into a near-spotless state, he focused on tidying up his bedroom and getting the laundry together. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone through the entire house like this on a whirlwind just to make it tidy for you — and he’d do it all again if he needed to.

As he tucked the corner of his blanket underneath the pillow, he heard a knock at the door. Mike assumed that it was the pizza guy — or so he hoped. He wanted everything to be perfect, considering that you hadn’t really hung out together since the mall.

“Mike! Pizza!” Abby called out, sitting at the dining room table with a handful of crayons and sheets of paper. She was drawing another picture for her friends — it was all of them in a field of flowers, accompanied by a bright sun and plenty of birds.

It gave him an opportunity to check over the house as he made his way to the front door, ensuring that everything looked spotless. Admittedly, it was the best the house had looked in several months — a twinge of pride rippled through him as he opened up the door.

After Mike handed him a very weathered twenty, the man reluctantly handed the pizza boxes over before hopping off of the front steps.

The timing was perfect — ten minutes later, and the guttural lurching of your Acura could be heard pulling into the driveway outside. Mike placed the pizza onto the table, tossing a handful of paper plates beside it. Abby leaned over, peering toward the door as he lingered close by.

You were nervous — you couldn’t explain it.

Part of you felt wonderfully ridiculous, having worn something that you considered cute to his house, applied a splash of makeup here and there. As you sluggishly made your way to his front door, you smoothed your hands over your blouse, hands knitting together. You waited a beat, and knocked on the door.

Mike was there instantaneously, as if he’d somehow teleported to that very spot. The door flung open, and you were greeted by his beaming countenance. It was the happiest you’d seen him in some time, which was something of a relief. He looked attractive — the emerald sweater suited him perfectly.

“Hi,” You greeted, offering him a brief wave as you stepped inside, only to be swarmed by Abby in the process. “Abby!” You giggled, stooping down to return the girl’s hug. “You’ve gotten taller, haven’t you? You’re going to beat your brother in no time.” You teased, lips twitching into a grin.

“Did you bring any pretzels?” Abby asked, staring at you with those large, doe-like eyes. A pang of guilt struck at your stomach — you hadn’t worked at Auntie Anne’s for several months now.

“No,” You sighed, shaking your head back and forth. “I don’t make pretzels anymore. I put away lots of paperwork now.” It sounded less appealing when you said it outloud. “I did bring something else for you, though.” You unzipped your bag, revealing a very fuzzy, stuffed rabbit.

Abby gasped, taking ahold of your gift as she squeezed it against her chest. “He’s so cute!” She giggled, showing off the bunny to Mike, who couldn’t help but smile. You’d always been very good to Abby, able to forge a bond with her that he envied on occasion. “Thank you!”

Laughter bubbled forth from your lips, mirth sparkling upon your features. “Of course! I hope he keeps you warm at night.” You mused, glancing towards the pizza boxes organized in a neat row on the dining room table. “You got Greek’s? You’re spoiling me.”

As Abby hopped toward the table to dig into the cheese pizza, Mike gestured at the kitchen. You followed him over, removing your jacket as you hung it on one of the pegs along the wall. “Want something to drink?” He asked, noticing the bemused expression you wore. “I don’t have anything stronger than Dr. Pepper.”

Your nose wrinkled in amusement as you leaned against the countertop, glancing over your shoulder at Abby. The rabbit sat soundly at her side, crayons and paper scattered on the empty side of the table. “I’ll just drink Dr. Pepper.” You chimed, having a gander at your surroundings. You’d been to his place several times before, but it was abnormally spotless.

“Sure,” Mike mused, handing you a can of soda before clearing his throat. “Abby wants to watch Labyrinth, if that’s okay with you.” He’d watched the movie a hundred times before — it was one of her favorites. Unfortunately, he’d memorized most of Bowie’s quotes throughout the film.

“Absolutely,” You chuckled, popping open the drink with a soft hiss. “I wouldn’t say no to that, anyway. It’s a certified classic.” With a bright smile, you and Mike returned to the table, joining Abby as you ate pizza together. The atmosphere was beyond comforting to you — you wondered why you were so anxious to begin with.

It felt like home.

“You don’t like it, do you?”

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to tell that Mike was completely and utterly bored with Labyrinth. The two of you sat a comfortable distance away on the couch, Abby laying on the floor, dozing in and out of slumber. You kept your voice hushed, knees tucked toward your chest as a playful smile tugged at the corners of your mouth.

“Do you know how many times I’ve seen this movie?” Mike whispered, rolling off of the couch as he stooped down to pick up Abby, making sure to grab her rabbit, too. “I’m gonna put her to bed.” He murmured, and you decided to follow, making sure to retrieve her crayons and half-drawn doodles.

As Mike slowly crept into Abby’s room, he tucked his sister into bed, making sure that she had her stuffed animal, blankets neat around her. You stacked the crayons and drawings back onto her desk, standing at the fringes of the doorway.

Crickets chirped outside as dusk settled like a cool blanket, stars spattered across the night sky. It was peaceful, especially as you watched Mike press a kiss against the top of Abby’s head.

Once he closed the door behind him, the two of you returned to the living room. You were more than happy to help him clean up the pizza remnants and any dishes, folding up the boxes to put into the trash until you were both back on the couch again.

“I’ve had a lot of fun tonight, Mike. Thank you for inviting me over — and for buying me dinner, too.” You mused, the two of you a little closer than before. Labyrinth provided a simple background lull, the volume barely above silent. “Do you want me to pay you back?”

“I’m glad we got to do this again,” Mike felt butterflies erupt within the pit of his stomach. The sudden realization of being alone with you was tantalizing, at best. Gooseflesh spread across the back of his neck, one hand poised atop the arm of the sofa. “Don’t worry about dinner. It’s on me.”

“Okay,” A soft huff of laughter left you as you tilted your head back against the plush material, one hand within your lap as the other dangled uselessly at your side. “Could I ask you something?”

Mike nodded, swallowing the growing lump within this throat. A nervous excitement flared up inside of him, as if a match had been struck. A slick perspiration broke out on his palms — he wanted to tell you everything. About the animatronics, about Garrett, about how he felt about you — and yet, he was afraid. “Anything.”

You briefly chewed at the inside of your cheek, adjusting your position to look at him fully. “Did I do something wrong to cause you to pull away from me?” You asked, voice dropping into a soft lull. It was a question that had been on your mind since this whole rekindling.

“Absolutely not,” Mike blurted, and immediately shook his head. “It’s just — after what happened at the mall, I was afraid of what you’d think of me.” He confessed, dark hues echoing with shame. “Legal issues piled up, I was out of a job. It’s been a lot.”

What do you think of him?

Mike Schmidt was the center of your world for the longest time — and now that he was back, it was as if the Moon had come back into orbit, bright and full again. He was perfectly imperfect in your eyes, and you wouldn’t change anything at all. “Mike,” You mumbled, reaching for his hand as your fingers closed around his own. “I don’t think any less of you. I never have.”

Your skin was smooth, velveteen as he adjusted his grip, fingers twining together as you sat on the couch, closer than ever before. The distance between the both of you was steadily declining, and he didn’t mind. “I felt like I ruined things between us before,” He murmured. “I shouldn’t have pushed you away.”

Your heart thrummed within your chest, beating erratically beneath your breast. A subtle gasp hitched within your throat, producing only a sliver of sound. “You didn’t ruin anything. You’ve been through so much, Mike. I can’t blame you for needing space.”

“I felt like I lost what could have been.” He confessed, voice growing abnormally thick. Mike stared at you with those round, dark eyes of his — they were impossibly beautiful, like an inescapable maze. You wondered what he meant by that — what could have been.

Whatever he meant, you hoped that it meant one thing — something unspoken, the sentiment that lingered between the two of you. It was as if a flame had been stoked, roaring to life again as it steadily consumed the both of you.

“What could’ve been, Mike?” You whispered, absentmindedly rocking closer until your chest nearly bumped into his shoulder.

A saccharine affection glistened within his warm stare, enough to burn a hole right through you as he squeezed your hand. “Us.” He exhaled, jaw clenching and unclenching, a nervous habit of his.

Your lips were melded to his before either of you had a chance to properly absorb the weight of the moment. He was a gentle kisser — so sweet and oozing with compassion that you wanted to drown in it. His week-old stubble scratched against your visage, a sign that this was all very real.

Experience wasn’t a foreign concept for you, but Mike was — he was so tender, as if any movement might break you into pieces. Even his kisses were sluggish, as if he were really taking his time. You couldn’t complain about that whatsoever. You rocked forward, untangling your hands as your digits twisted into his sweater.

“Hey,” Mike breathed, doe-eyed and dazed as he withdrew, mere inches apart from you. “Are you okay with this?” He asked, ensuring that you were comfortable before going any further. He hadn’t had sex — maybe everything before, but nothing further.

“Yeah,” You nodded, keeping your voice low as you felt his arm wrap around you. “Are you? I don’t want you to push anything if you aren’t comfortable.” You murmured, and he shook his head, pressing another soft kiss against your mouth.

His fingers swept across your cheek, caressing along your jaw as he cradled your face within his palm. “I’m fine,” Mike reassured you, but his heartbeat said otherwise. Exhilaration and excitement were mere understatements. Everything else had paled in comparison to you in that moment. “You’re really beautiful.”

A soft wisp of air tore past your parted lips, gaze becoming half-lidded as you repositioned your hands, one slipping against the nape of his neck. The other remained stationary atop his chest, and you leaned in again for another passionate kiss.

Mike was warm — he was everything you’d ever wanted.

Distance became slim, next to nothing as you crawled into his lap, slotted atop one of his thighs as you continued to kiss him. It turned sultry, charged with a more intimate element as one hand settled against your hip, digits toying with the hem of your blouse. His scent was that of cologne and fresh linens, perhaps a hint of something sweet.

He switched the television off, holding you close, chest to chest as you broke away from the kiss. The way he looked at you was mesmerizing to behold — Mike stared at you as if you were some diamond in the rough. You pressed your lips against his cheek, reveling in the way he keened into your embrace.

Your mouth peppered a string of kisses along his jaw, tugging some of his sweater down as you made your way along his neck. A soft, simpering groan escaped him when your mouth met his neck, enough for you to shiver with delight. His hands began to skim underneath your shirt, feeling along your curves.

“S’nice.” Mike mumbled, able to feel the tangible imprint of your smile against his jugular. Admittedly, he hadn’t been kissed like that — he nearly asked for you to do it again, tugging you closer as your mouth crept back up, lips seamlessly melding against his.

He was sweet — you thoroughly enjoyed the way he touched you, with a gallant certainty. There wasn’t a singular domineering bone in his body, and you were all the more grateful for it. You nearly flew out of his lap when you heard a noise from the kitchen.

“Bedroom?” You whispered, watching as Mike nodded, moving up from the couch as he reached for your hand this time. It was a very short skip to his room, which happened to be impeccably clean, just like the rest of the house. It was dark and nondescript, but before you could analyze it all, you felt his hands fly back to your blouse.

You lifted your arms, feeling the weight of the fabric leave your body. Goosebumps followed like a tidal wave, scrawled across your flesh as Mike kissed you again. It never lacked passion — it wasn’t rough nor desiring dominance, just complete and utter sweetness.

Mike was hesitant to confess to being a virgin — it didn’t necessarily matter, but it came back to the whole notion of what you would think. He wasn’t clueless in the slightest, but you deserved to know. Maybe you’d be disappointed.

As you sank down onto the edge of the mattress, he followed suit, clamoring with you until the both of you ended up tangled together atop the pillows. Every kiss was heartachingly sweet, fused together with a blistering tenderness. Your heat tilted, deepening your entanglement as your hands clutched at his sweater.

“I’ve never done this before,” He murmured, prompting you to pause, feeling the weight of his body partially draped on top of you. “Does that bother you?” Mike asked, earthen hues scanning your expression for any sign of hesitancy.

“No, it doesn’t bother me.” In fact, you found it to be endearing — it made everything sweeter. “I’ve done this before. Does that bother you?” It wasn’t something that you wore as a badge of honor. He was a shitty guy anyway, but what happened, happened.

Mike gently shook his head, feeling your fingers slip underneath the hem of his sweater. “Not in the slightest.” He replied, voice barely above a whisper. His hands stilled for a moment, stomach sloshing with excitement and a newfound sense of giddiness. “Can I touch you?”

His asking for consent was sweet — perhaps it was the doe-eyed, affectionate look he had or the soft tone of his voice, or both. Nonetheless, you found yourself enticed, feeling his hands dance around the waistband of your jeans. You were the emboldened one, wriggling out of the snug garment without warning.

“Yes,” You uttered, giving his sweater another urgent tug, wanting to feel more of him. Mike obliged, kneeling between your legs as he removed the emerald-colored garment, letting it join the pile amassing at the foot of his bed. “You’re so pretty.” You sighed, and he blushed.

The compliment did wonders for him, and he became visibly smitten by your words. He was all lean muscle, nothing bulky or grotesque, broad shoulders layered in a light smattering of freckles. “Thanks.” It got him to smile again, dutifully returning to you as he swallowed the growing lump within his throat.

Before you had time to conjure up a playful remark, his mouth was against yours, body closer than before as his hands felt across your form. Your arms draped themselves around his neck, fingers roaming through his dark tresses as you gave them a light tug. It elicited a soft noise from the back of his throat.

He kissed you until your lips were swollen, chasing after that sensation. Even kissing you made him aroused, cock pulsating with a dull throbbing as his thigh nudged against your clothed core. It became increasingly hot and less tactful, kisses devolving into a mess of need — teeth, tongue, and want.

It was his turn to layer the column of your throat in a myriad of kisses, stubble tickling the silky flesh of your neck. Your knees squeezed at his hips, feeling one of his hands knead into your clothed chest, gently groping at your breast. A low moan escaped you, and you only wanted more.

“Keep going.” You encouraged, voice breathy and wrought with a sultry tension. You reached back, hastily fiddling with the clasp of your brassiere, flinging the garment aside. Mike’s visage was permanently tinted with a shade of rose, lips parting as he resumed his touching.

Instead, his hand skimmed lower, and he searched your countenance for any signal of disdain as it dipped beneath the waistline of your panties. Mike’s breath hitched within his throat when he touched you, fingers finding your cunt, already slick with arousal. “More?” He asked, seeking a little bit of guidance.

“Yes,” You groaned, hips canting forward into his embrace, desperate for friction. He provided it to you with a swiftness, hunched over you as two digits slipped past your folds, stroking along your slit. “Mike!” Another simpering whine left you, one hand clutching onto his shoulder.

He was so sweet, like sticky, oozing honey as he pressed a string of kisses along the side of your face, pressing himself closer as his fingers found their rhythm. They slid against your aching core, one circling around your clit, causing you to lurch forward.

Mike appeared surprised when you reached for his belt, hastily unclasping it with one hand. Another pang of excitement struck him as you delved beneath his jeans with a neediness that he so desperately craved. He was starved for contact, ministrations slowing when your hand slipped into his boxers.

His cock twitched, bleeding heat into your palm as you felt around, experimenting at first. There was a dazed, needy look in his eyes, chocolate hues glazed-over by a sheen of want. Desperation was a mere understatement — he was starving, needing the contact like he needed air. You provided, amiable as ever.

“You — You don’t have to,” Mike mumbled, attempting to mask the complete and utter bliss he was feeling in that moment. As your soft palm wrapped around his cock, he let out a guttural whine, forehead pressed into yours. “Jesus.” He groaned, trying to keep his volume at a reasonable octave.

“Don’t stop,” You huffed, feeling him sink lower onto you, heat radiating from your entangled bodies. “Mike, please.” Another moan left you when he resumed in full swing, barely able to focus on pleasuring you and his own state of enjoyment.

As his thumb pressed into your clit, his other digits sought to gently prod at your cunt, beginning to work themselves inside of you. It was perfectly in-tandem with the slow strokes of your palm around his erection, pumping at his length with a scorching level of desire. He was panting in your ear, hips snapping forward into your hand.

It was heat and desire and passion that blossomed between the both of you, like a thick, inescapable haze. His flesh felt dewy beneath your fingertips, which found residence against the nape of his neck, grabbing a fistful of his disheveled tresses.

He was borderline rutting into your thigh, lurching forward into your fist, cock throbbing with a dull ache as you continued to stroke him off. Mike wanted to be loud, but there was a risk involved in that. A needy, sonorous moan left him, ghosting above the shell of your ear as his fingers gently pistoned in and out of your tight cunt.

“You’re perfect,” He breathed, mumbling an incoherent string of sweet nothings into your shoulder. Perspiration crept along the column of your spine, knees occasionally squeezing at Mike’s hips as the two of you touched one another as if it were your last time. “Perfect.” Mike mumbled again.

You tugged on his hair, dragging him closer for another sloppy, obliging kiss, to which he happily reciprocated. You could hear another whimper leave him as your lips clashed, causing you to shudder in delight. He was thrusting himself into your palm, tendrils of precum slick against your fingers.

“Want me to stop?” You mumbled, and he nodded against your shoulder. Mike knew that if you kept it up, he wouldn’t last — and it seemed completely and utterly pathetic if he did so this early on. Your grasp began to slack, hand slipping out of his boxers.

A twinge of disappointment ripped through you when his hand ceased, but it dissipated just as soon as it appeared. Mike’s hands curled into the waistband of your panties, gingerly easing them down along the length of your legs, body slipping lower as he did so. His gaze silently begged for your consent, and you weren’t about to refuse him.

“Is this okay?” Mike murmured, shuddering in delight when your head bobbed up and down several times over in an enthusiastic nod. He hadn’t done this before, but thankfully, it wasn’t difficult — and he was a quick learner. He pressed a trail of benevolent kisses along your thigh, stubble tickling your flesh in the process.

Your throat became thick, feeling his broad shoulders push past your legs, keeping them parted. “Mike,” A sigh of passion left you, hand clamoring to grasp at his tresses yet again. One hand kneaded into the pliant flesh of your thigh, the other splayed atop your hip bone until your fingers found his.

Nervousness swelled within him as he inched closer, feeling some nagging pang of hesitation. He was terrified of disappointing you, but he remembered what you’d said earlier — you’d never think less of him. “Tell me if it’s too much.” A soft utterance emerged from him before he dipped inward, breath hot as it fanned across your thighs.

Not in the slightest.

His tongue raked hot embers across your cunt, stoking the flame that burned bright within the pit of your stomach. Mike’s head became foggy with lust, swimming with desire as he kept a more exploratory pace. Your honeyed scent wafted around him, dragging him in again as he laps at your slit.

You were in disbelief — he hadn’t done this before? It almost prompted you to ask, but his mouth happened to rip those thoughts right out of your skull. A soft barrage of licks lashing against your cunt had you squirming, hips rolling forward into his mouth. A low moan left the both of you, fingers perusing through his mop of dark curls.

A myriad of whimpers left your parted lips, causing Mike to shift against the mattress, hips grinding forward to relieve some of the friction. His cock strained against his boxers, finding pleasure just in giving it all to you.

A thin layer of dewy perspiration broke out along your flesh, provided by the continuous wave of heat drifting between the both of you. Your thighs quivered as warmth pooled between your thighs, and Mike was there to kiss it all better, tongue trailing over your cunt again and again, stubble prickling at your soft flesh.

He wanted to be inside of you so bad — there was an ache present, one that only you could cure. Mike wanted to savor you, drunk upon your very being as a soft groan left him. Your digits continued to tug on his tresses, causing him to keen forward, lips pursing around your clit.

“S—Shit, Mike!” You mewled, attempting to keep your volume at a hushed octave. It was proving to be increasingly difficult, writhing against him as he hunched inward, nearly forgetting to breathe.

Mike inhaled, kissing the inside of your thigh as he dutifully lapped at your slit again. He alternated between your wet cunt and clit, suckling on the sensitive clutch of nerves. His jaw clenched, hips jolting into the mattress again as he haplessly tried to relieve some of the mounting tension.

Your chest heaved with a myriad of throaty, high-pitched whimpers as he sucked on your clit, stars rippling past your vision. No one had ever gone down on you with such reverence and passion before, but now that you’d gotten a taste, you wanted more.

Jesus — his resolve crumbled with every sound you made, each cant of your hips as you rocked into his mouth. Mike let out a whimper — he almost hoped that you didn’t hear how pathetic it sounded, continuing to lap at your core until you were seeing white.

That coil began to unfurl, blistering heat coursing through you, a white-hot rush of sheer ecstasy that caused you to moan and cry out. Mike continued to sweetly embrace your cunt, lips lightly kissing at your clit. Your body rattled like a leaf, tremors of your orgasm shooting through you.

“I need you,” Mike huffed, his voice strung-out with lust, hoarse and throaty as his fingers clamped into the pliant flesh of your hips. “Please.” You were on the cusp of cumming, hopelessly aroused by his sweet pleas as you lifted his head away, enough for him to look at you.

Those sweet, doe-like eyes of his were dilated with desire, his expression one of sheer desperation, breathing having sped up. You sat up on your elbows, enthralled by the way he hovered between your legs like a ravenous man. “You can have me,” You murmured. “Always.”

Mike sprung into action, hastily tearing his jeans off as he crawled up the length of your body, pressing a string of appreciative kisses against your velveteen skin. “You’ll stop me, right?” He inquired, nearly rendered speechless when you hitched a leg around his waist, fingers grasping at his shoulders.

“Yeah,” You nodded, feeling his fingertips ghost along your hairline, idly pushing disheveled strands aside before he stooped in for a kiss. You had no intention of stopping him whatsoever, reciprocating his affections before you plucked at the waistband of his boxers. “Just go at your own pace, okay?”

He was filled with longing, bursting at the seams as he freed his cock from its confines. He feared that he wouldn’t last long at all if he went this extra mile, but there was no turning back. Mike didn’t want to turn back, either. A moan rippled through him as he dragged the head of his length through your folds.

It reminded you of a feral animal — his countenance glistened with an ardent sensuality, pupils blown-out with lust as he slowly pushed himself inside of you. Admittedly, you loved that Mike was so needy — and he wasn’t ashamed of it, either. He lacked a single ounce of dominance, even if he was on top of you.

“You feel so good,” You moaned, forehead pressed against his own as he began to move, hips awkwardly snapping forward. It was a rocky, unstable rhythm, but you didn’t mind it in the slightest. “Mike,” A wanton sigh left you as your hands found his tresses once more.

Mike’s mouth brushed against yours, thrusting himself inside of you as he gained a rather sluggish pace. His cock throbbed uncomfortably, yearning for a release as he rocked forward again. Another low-pitched whine left him when you tugged on his hair. “I—It’s perfect.” He panted, flesh searing and damp.

His head dropped toward your collarbone, face buried within the crook between your neck and shoulder. A shudder rolled down the length of his spine as you coaxed him close, hips occasionally grinding into his pelvis, creating a friction that he wanted to chase after.

A string of incoherent babbles escaped him, enigmatic and so very breathy, hot skin melding against your own body. His pace became borderline erratic, as if he didn’t know what fit — he just wanted to be inside of you. It felt euphoric, feeling your cunt tighten around his cock as he rutted into you.

Ecstasy blistered through him like a tidal wave, and he almost felt dizzy, fucking into you at a constantly-shifting pace. He alternated from sluggish to swift, unsure of what felt right, but you were mewling into his ear. You showered him with sweetly-spoken praises, mouth seeking his lips for another messy kiss.

Mike’s hips continued to snap forward, cock aching as he neared his release. Your hand snaked between the both of you, thumb circling your clit as he bucked forward again, releasing another groan. “M’close.” Mike huffed, giving you ample forewarning as he kept up the pace.

“Please cum for me,” It was needlessly filthy, the command that tore past your mouth, but it certainly evoked a strong reaction from him. He stammered, letting out a whine as he fucked into you with a lazy passion. “Cum in me, Mike.” You moaned.

He didn’t know if he heard you right, but he rutted into you again and again, cock pulsing with warmth as he came. Mike pulled out halfway through, painting your thigh in hot ropes of his cum, flesh blazing with embarrassment.

Even in the blissful aftermath, he couldn’t help but apologize for the mess. “Sorry,” He was blushing, chest heaving with excitement as he regained his composure, slowly but surely. The rush and exhilarating thrill was still present as he rolled off of the bed, scrambling to retrieve a washcloth from his bathroom. “Here.”

His apology was endearing — sickly-sweet, too. You cleaned yourself off, making sure that the cloth ended up in the dirty laundry. You were sitting up just enough for him to press in behind you, feeling his lips pepper themselves along your spine.

You twisted around, curling into his arms as you draped yourself on top of him, swollen lips coaxing him in for an achingly tender kiss. It was pure bliss — it lacked the crazed desire from earlier, lust dissipating into affection instead. “Are you sure you’ve never done that before?” You mumbled against his mouth.

“Positive,” Mike assured, hiking the sheets up over the both of you, watching as you wormed your way into one of his t-shirts. “You’re really beautiful.” He murmured, digits stroking at your hair, caressing around your temples as you perched your chin atop his chest.

“So are you.” Your smile became saccharine, entranced by your brown-eyed paramour. “Your eyes are pretty,” You uttered, hands splaying themselves out against his chest as he held you close. “So warm.”

Crimson saturated his features as he accepted your doting compliments without question. He wasn’t used to it, but he could adjust. Your lips were swift this time, melding together in a seamless kiss as he took his time, committing every detail of you to memory. “Stay with me?” He murmured, palm lightly caressing at the back of your head.

“Of course.” You settled, limbs tangled together beneath the sheets as you made yourself comfortable within his arms. It was something that you weren’t bound to forget about anytime soon, dozing off to the sound of his steady breathing.

It was the best he’d slept in ages.

#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #fnaf x reader #fnaf x you #fnaf x y/n #mike schmidt x y/n #fnaf movie #fnaf fanfic #slasher x reader #fanfiction #josh hutcherson

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yzzart · 5 months

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"𝐀 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫."

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x F!reader.

summary: how does a snowflake carry so much possessiveness?

warnings: explicit content, explicit words, playing with nipples, mention of erection, and mentions of manipulation + take a look at the masterlist!

word count: 944!

The smell of wet wood accompanied by the typical aroma of fresh earth invaded your nostrils; It was a new situation and coexistence, but it was pleasant and welcoming. — A cozy home.

Together, the sounds of wood being trampled upon with disoriented, blind footsteps with a possible goal of reaching the old-fashioned bed of the place had surrounded your ears. — That definitely bothered you. — There were unstable and old parts of the floor that complemented louder noises; it sounded so unacceptable and abominable.

But absolutely nothing could take away or take away the attention and disposition you received and gave from Coriolanus' lips. — Lips that were wise, sapient and so sweet, with cautious and dignified words; and also so dangerous. — You delighted in the sweet and poison of Snow's mouth.

Coriolanus kissed you with a flaming passion, a description so ironic, that it slowly burned your proud and dissatisfied chest; he kissed you as if his life really depended on it. — And for the Snow boy, these words were part of an affirmation in his heart and soul.

A mixture of feelings, sensations were involved and welcomed in that kiss, something easy to analyze. — Snow never knew how to explain what he actually felt or saw in his veins and heart, so when he met you he discovered how he could do that.

Your tongues moved in such a sudden way, fighting against a space that would not be properly used and animalistic; this strong word was in the right place to be used. — Not to mention the distress of contact between your teeth. — God, it seemed like it was the first time you two kissed.

For the first time, at that moment, there was a mediocre separation between your lips and those of Coriolanus; the empty, incorrect and cold sensation walked through your mouth. — Your mind closed, distressed by the absence, and a taste of despair expanded on your palate.

Those blue eyes observed your lips, already red and shiny caused by the mixture of saliva; they demonstrated desire, possessiveness and something very deep. — You didn't know how to decode what it was, at least not at that second. —But it was mesmerizing, a trap set for you.

"I have you." — He whispered with a distant and small smile, an action that used delicacy in your eyes along with the hot and uncontrolled breath that debated against your face; Coriolanos was giving you all the affection that coursed through his thin and surviving body. — "I'll always have you, right?"

Perhaps those words were an affirmation, a certainty that was written in an honorable and never disrespected book; or also a cryptic or wrong assumption? — You didn't know, much less had an answer that justified it and you didn't care about your trivial assumptions. — Your only action was to nod in silent agreement, earning a proud smile from your lover.

"My good girl." — A constant chill revealed itself in your belly when you heard that, then it was replaced by the relief of feeling Coriolanus's lips touching your again.

The kiss had much more pressure and strength than the previous one, there were conflicts in the middle of it; however, more desire, pleasure and intensity. — Emotions, feelings and reasons mixed between both sides. — A delightful tension.

Coriolanus, who was guiding your to the old and poorly cared for bed, reached his goal without releasing or interrupting the kiss. — God, you mentally thanked me for that. — And, quickly, he got comfortable on the mattress; placing his large hands on your waist in order to direct you to his lap and you didn't waste a single second.

The roughly worked fabric of Coriolanus's pants scraped your thighs and, surely, afflictions would appear later in the day. — In addition to feeling the bulge of his erection punctuating the thin noble fabric of your shorts; he had a privileged opportunity to feel a moistened region in that place. — Coriolanus would go mad and you were the cause of it.

While your arms were around his neck, a way of supporting yourself and getting deeper into him, the Snow boy directed one of his hands through the edge of your thin and noble shirt. — Passing under your, feeling your warm skin that avoided his cold fingers, until he stopped at one of your nipples.

Of course you were scared, it was surprising, in a pleasant way, and in the middle of the kiss, a few low whimpers were released from your mouth. — Like a bird on its singing day. — Snow was pinching your nipple, enjoying the soft, appetizing flesh; It wasn't easy for you.

"Coryo…" — A moan, this time loud and clear, with his name was the first thing you said when you stopped kissing him and it was the only thing that happened that day, little head. — Another pinch followed by a simple and frank affection.

Coriolanus's thumb walked along the tip of your nipple as if he were playing with a shirt button. — A very precious and rewarding t-shirt. — He was a damn man.

"Oh, Coryo…!" — Moving your head involved in such pleasure and excruciating pain, your neck was exposed and it didn't take long for you to become a fragile target for the Snow boy.

Small kisses, as if they were an apology that in reality they were not, prolonged seals and exultant bites filled the area. — Coriolanus marked you with vigor and exuberance, in a seductive passion; a prey that fell in love with its hunt. — He applied his scent to you, such an animalistic action.

It was sick, unhealthy and over the top. — It was the love that Coriolanus felt for you.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #corialanus smut #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus #snow #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes

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nani-nonny · 8 months

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Ch.11: Whispers - Whispers of Distant Souls

*blasts Yeah Sure Whatever by Ben Schwartz because I need a mood booster after this tiring, hot-as-balls week I swear I’m sweating just sitting down*

Did I skip out on finishing a graph for my chem class because it looked boring? Yes. Did I finish writing this chapter to avoid doing that graph for my chem lab? Yes again.

I’m responsible I swear.

Also (spoilers?) vvvvv

Cue author aka me staring at this photo realizing I made an oopsie:

#whispers of distant souls #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt fanfiction #rottmnt future leo #future leo au #future leo returns to the past with casey au #peepaw multiverse

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hatchetno1 · 3 months

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frustration and anger.

creepypasta/mh x reader in which they get frustrated or angry, or, in BEN's case, are frustrating themselves. word count: 2.1k cw: abuse, descriptions of anger, arguments/quarrelling.

EJ doesn’t often get angry.

in fact, it’s hard to even frustrate him. Even when faced with particularly difficult patients to suture up—ahem, Jeff— he shows no sign of being fazed.

well, perhaps that’s because he’s used to living with Jeff and his reckless, barbaric antics.

but when he does get frustrated, it’s like a gradual intensification.

you like to split his frustration into three phases.

phase 1: EJ starts to seem a little off. Quieter than usual, less responsive, and more distant. Almost as if he’s in his own world, deceptively peaceful.

phase 2: EJ starts to show actual signs of being frustrated. You notice that it is at this point he may start to snap lightly at others, but with you, he tries his best to keep it to a minimum.

phase 3 is the climax before the drop. On occasion, he may raise his voice slightly and openly express irritation. But he always drops, hard and fast.

“I am so sorry, Y/N, I am so sorry,” he whispers, rubbing circles gently on your back. Though he has to bend over quite a bit (he’s a gentle giant at a height of 6’6 or about 2 meters), you find it to be very soothing that his frame envelops the entirety of yours.

oh, but that doesn’t mean he’s incapable of getting angry.

no, the anger you heard in his voice was undeniable as he roared at another member of the household to stay the fuck away from you.

you’d startled at the sheer sound of it, and quickly those trembles descended into violent shaking as you cried—his roar was simply not…human.

you flinched as he picked you up, just as gently as was the anger intense in that dreaded noise he made, a stark contrast in behavior, a jarring change in your body, mind and soul.

but other than that, you knew your darling EJ was back.

he plopped you onto his bed, surrounded by his sweet yet musky scent, nuzzling your neck and your face.

“I’m sorry”s were whispered countless times in your ear that night as you dozed off in the safety of his arms.

jeff

gotta put a trigger warning on this one. you know what to expect, but just in case you don’t, TW: Jeff is literally a murderer with abusive tendencies and anger issues.

at the start of your relationship, Jeff had been…well, to say the least, not the best partner.

he often got mad at you, whether it be keeping him waiting or spilling a cup of water.

yeah. spilling a cup of water.

but you understood why he was the way he was. he just couldn’t help it. but that didn’t mean you were going to stick around for it, no matter how much you loved him.

one day after a particularly huge argument, you found him crying in his room. his sniffles were unmistakable, but you knew you’d have to pretend you hadn’t heard from ten feet away.

turns out, angsty little Jeff here wasn’t completely unaware of himself.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he had sobbed as quietly as he could. “I know I’m a bad boyfriend, I know, I keep lashing out at you and I’m so sorry.”

your relationship could have very well ended that day if you hadn’t found Jeff crying on the floor.

but even though he’d hurt you so many times, you took him back into your arms.

and so you taught him to manage his anger, though it took you immense effort, energy and bravery.

he’d always help, though, by reminding you it was okay to yell back at him. you chided him lightly for it, saying that it’d just cause a back and forth.

“oh, right. my bad. sorry, doll,” he had said with a sheepish grin.

today, you are proud to boast that you trained your bloodhound boyfriend to be a tame dog. hell, he even does whatever you tell him to now, albeit sometimes reluctantly.

but he understands that if he loves you, he must make sacrifices upon sacrifices. you did that for him.

now it is his turn to sacrifice himself for you.

masky - tim

it’s not really uncommon that Tim gets angry.

but his anger is almost always the quiet kind.

he will “hmph” and huff lightly, a mild kind of anger you both can still joke about, though his face will redden at it.

you can’t help it though, the sass he gives you when he’s lightly frustrated is too good to let slip past.

oh, but when his anger gets loud—

it’s no longer a harmless little nip.

it’s been directed everywhere. everywhere, his teammates, the table, the card game he’s losing a bit too embarrassingly to Toby who’s being an unbearable little ass about it.

but never you.

okay, it was one time.

but Tim decided it was one time too many. (as he should)

he’d raised his voice at you, more so out of frustration rather than anger.

and you flinched.

and oh, how that little flinch broke his heart.

he shut up immediately, gathering you into his arms, whispering “oh, I’m so sorry, darling”, and “you’re okay, you’re okay”.

he never did it again. ever.

now, when you both get angry at each other, it always devolves into stupid little giggles and kicking.

hoodie - brian

Brian doesn’t really get angry, nor does he get frustrated.

normally, at least.

something shines in his eyes when he is defied, a shadow of a grin, a curl of the lip—

you spend a couple days investigating this, defying him little by little.

“Y/N, could you pass me the water?” “No.” and you’d say it with a cheeky smile on your face to match this strange expression on his.

it evolved into much greater things, “Y/N, come over here for a bit.” “Nope!”

“Y/N, help me up.” “Nope!”

your gleeful defiance doesn’t have a complete zero effect, either. with each silly little “nope”, the glint in his eyes grows brighter. and you know that the cup you’ve slowly been filling the past few days is about to overflow.

it’s one fateful day that you happily defy him once again, and—

oh. something’s grabbing at your jaw, and your lover’s face is so close to yours.

he smiles so gently at you, so purely. but his grip on your jaw says otherwise.

firm like iron, reprimanding, but not harmful or venomous. you know he isn’t going to hurt you, but oh, he isn’t letting you go either.

“Y/N,” he says calmly. “You’ve been a little more uncooperative than usual.”

the shiver it sends down your spine isn’t one of fear. excitement, rather.

he lets you go, but guides you to the bed. “Sit,” he commands.

so you do. what else are you to do when your lover commands you so well?

“Good girl.”

so you never say no to him again, not when it comes to harmless favors.

Brian does not get angry or frustrated…at least, not like the normal person does.

toby

Toby becomes a very bitter cynic when upset, spitting sarcasm wherever he goes.

his BPD only makes it worse. his relationship with Tim is already strained as it is, with the latter trying his best (as much as a man with anger issues can), and his relationship with Brian being almost entirely carried by the older man.

and his relationship with you, oh his sweet vogel, his darling dove— he doesn’t know what to think of it. some days he lets loose around you, tickling you and blowing raspberries against your cheeks, and others he’s withdrawn, curled up into a ball in his bed, and so you dive in with him, nuzzling him against his sheets long overdue for a change.

but if it’s neither of those, he’s lashing out. sometimes you can’t even look at him when he walks into the room bringing dark clouds over the atmosphere. that’s when you know you can’t look up at him.

and when you make the mistake of looking up, your smile meets a scowl.

“what are you looking at.” he’ll spit, and then storm off, as if he can’t stand your eyes on him.

and it’s true, your eyes gaze at him with such gentleness, he can’t bring himself to stare back sometimes. especially when he’s in a bad mood, because he breaks inside as he sees his own eyes burn the love in your eyes, reducing them to ashes of fear.

“vogel,” he’d whisper at night, lying next to you in your bed. “i’m sorry.”

he apologizes so much and so often you no longer make a big deal out of it, but this time, his soft whisper is laced with such heavy guilt, your arms move before your mind thinks, pulling him into a soft embrace.

oh, but this bad mood is nothing compared to his jealousy.

Jeff gets close to you? Jeff is suddenly on the ground, blood leaking from his head and EJ hurriedly dragging the former away, admonishing him about not messing with Toby’s precious human.

Tim comforts you about Toby’s outbursts? suddenly he’s against the wall, Toby growling and spitting in his face. if he can’t be there for you, then no one else gets to be there for you either. though, he knows this is selfish.

if he could help it, he’d let you go to whomever you wanted for comfort. but oh, his heart aches so.

and his jealousy is nothing compared to how angry he gets at himself, bashing the walls of the manor, crying out at night, because he can’t be there for you like a normal boyfriend.

he doesn’t know this, but you’re in a corner too, muffled sobs, tears, nose dripping and all.

so at night, you crawl back into bed before he notices you, and lie awake till he comes back.

as his breathing settles and his snoring begins, you hug him just a little bit tighter, your sweet vogel with broken wings.

ben

you have to admit, BEN is really, really freaky.

in the way he plays his games, the way he treats his archnemesis Jeff, in bed—oops.

but particularly, in the way he seems to have an endless tolerance for things that would usually upset someone.

he just. fucking giggles.

“aww, my sweet Y/N is so cute when she’s mad~”

context: he pissed you off and you’re currently in the middle of admonishing him with your whole heart and soul.

conversely, you’re the one who gets mad right back at him.

within the hour, he presents you with a tiktok with two cats that says: me when i’m venting and all my bf does is make jokes

he cackles to the ends of the earth and proceeds to make even more jokes

frankly, when the topic of frustration comes up with BEN’s name in the same sentence, you pretty much just think of him being the frustrating asshole in the relationship.

“BEN, give me my fucking phone back.”

he’s dangling it over your head, using the fact that he’s a floating apparition that can somehow interact with physical objects to his advantage.

once, you got so frustrated at him that you cried.

thankfully, he had the decency to pause, panic, and reflect on his actions.

“oh.” five seconds passed and your crying didn’t get better (what did he expect?). he repeated himself. “oh.”

“actually say something, you idiot!” you sobbed. and this is what snapped BEN into action. (you can’t believe you actually had to tell him to comfort you.)

“oh.” then he realized he’d just been saying “oh” like a broken record. “um.”

so he wraps you up in a blanket like a burrito, and holds you close to his chest.

“i’m sorry.”

“promise not to do it again?” you look up at him with your best puppy eyes.

“…i can’t promise.” you can tell he’s holding back a cheeky grin.

you whine and hit him lightly.

but you know very well that he loves you; this frustration merely comes with him as a package.

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unmarlou · 23 days

Text

i know you.

pairings. luke castellan x daughter of zeus!reader.

summary. when luke starts sneaking back into camp to see you, he’s changed.

lacy says. being a daughter of zeus isn’t relevant at all to the story i just needed an empty cabin to use LMAO.

· · ౨ৎ · ·

you thought back to the first time you noticed it.

it wasn’t the first time he visited, or the second, or even the third. it was right around when you got comfortable with him again, when you began to forget that luke was no longer welcome here and that you’d be a traitor all the same.

the sheets of cabin one were never scratchy so long as he lay in them. his bare rising and falling chest was rhythmic underneath your ear, the only sound being a mixture of leveling breaths and a distant wind chime hung at the big house.

minutes had passed and still he was wordless. breaths kept hitching as if he were going to say something, but suddenly thought better of it and let go.

his delicate hands rested on your body, one hand mindlessly moving up and down your exposed back, the other on the forearm of yours that was strewn across his abdomen. this was typical of his visits, though the lack of conversation was not.

not that he’d tell you much, he was always reluctant to give answers or explain himself, something you had to adjust to from being so used to a luke who’d divulge all his secrets from just the bat of your lash.

but he did love to ask about you, what were you up to? what new skills had you learned? did you miss him?

the answer to the latter was always, of course. and on cue he’d lean in closely, a lovely hand on your chin to make your eyes meet, and whisper, “soon you won’t have to, i promise.”

but tonight there was none of that. he was silent and as much as you tried to ignore it and simply enjoy the time you had, it plagued your mind. shifting your eyes to see him, his gaze was fixed on the wall ahead, his expression indiscernible.

fully lifting your head from its place of rest, if he wasn’t touching you, you would’ve thought he didn’t even know you were there. the spaced out look on his face was slightly unnerving, causing your hand on his stomach to reach up to his cheek. leading his face to yours, his eyes slowly peeled off the wall to you.

there was a pause in time, where it seemed like he was just looking through you. windows to the soul were facing each other but his were boarded up and sealed off. concern rose in your chest while also feeling slightly dejected, though it might’ve been selfish to think that way in the moment.

with a soft and kind face, your thumb ran tenderly along his scar, the way you used to do all those years ago. like a shift in the tide, he immediately awoke from his trance, closed his eyes, and heaved a great sigh.

the smallest bit of relief came to your aid in knowing that trick still worked. he was still your luke.

upon opening his eyes, they shot back and forth between yours, his hands miraculously remembering you, and flexing for a stronger hold. though you were in his arms, something told you he was still worlds away.

he reached forward and brushed his lips to yours, with the gentleness of handling porcelain. the warmth of his skin was a brief reminder that despite your worries, blood circulated his body, he was here; he was real. he guided you back to his chest, and now, even the wind chimes were silent.

he’d wait for you to fall asleep before he left. however, a secret you’d take to the grave was that you never were sleeping- only pretending- in an attempt to savor his touch, his scent, his very essence. you never did know the next time he’d grace cabin one.

the light had gone out long ago, moonlight now clinging to the walls. his flesh left yours, and your distorted gaze fell on his back. it was littered with scars, mostly old but a few noticeably new- you suddenly understood why he’d insist on holding your hands when sharing a bed.

you watched his large frame lean down, acquire his shirt, and slip it on. as routine he’d sit on the edge of your bed, tying his shoes, readying to creep out the door and away. he once again wore that disturbingly blank expression.

he then did something out of the ordinary: he continued to sit. you tried your best to maintain an even breathing pattern, to raise no suspicions, but it didn’t seem to matter- he hadn’t cared to look back at you a single time.

moments passed on before his head fell to his hands. you could make out the arch of his spine beneath his shirt as his face pressed into his palms. he labored multiple breaths and you fought the urge to take him in your arms, to cradle his fretting mind.

more and more time passed and you found yourself genuinely dosing off, the long day- and now night- catching up to you. your eyes inherently closed and your mind half gone, you finally heard the distant sound of luke’s footsteps and a familiar creak of the door, before allowing a world entirely of your own take over.

the crunch of the underbrush made your stomach whirl with each step.

“luke-”

“shhh!”

he was a fair ways ahead of you, weaving through the trees with stealth. he wore a long sleeve underneath his t-shirt, indicative of the chill in the air; you were in pajamas, indicative of just getting out of bed in a rush.

you were tossing and turning this night, unable to forge comfort in your bed, when you heard the snaps of twigs in the distance. the last wordless visit from luke still reeling in your mind, even after weeks, allowed you to peek out of the window, just to be greeted with the far shadows of familiar broad shoulders. so here you were now, trailing behind him in the woods.

the lack of light made it hard to pinpoint where you were exactly, but it seemed familiar enough not to panic. luke was here, he’d never let anything happen to you.

“luke!” your plea was as hushed as you could make it, still hoping for him to stop.

his turnaround was harsh, almost deliberately so. “what?”

his voice ran through the gaps in the trees, causing him to peer around quickly, fearing he’d been too rash. he took a deep and silent breath before stalking back to you.

standing in front of you, the moonlight streaming down encased the two of you just enough to create an illusion of privacy.

he repeated, “what?” he spoke just above a whisper.

“i w…” he practically winced at your tone, a silent reminder alongside his eyes bearing into you with expectance, “where are we going?”

luke had an affinity for being unable to conceal his facial expressions, especially when he was met with a question he thought was stupid. you hated being the subject of this look.

“i just need to check some things out, i’m not staying.” his bluntness would’ve been a sufficient distraction of its own had it not been accompanied by obvious impatience.

with best efforts, you ignored this, always finding it in your heart to be rational and sympathetic. your manner softened as if handling a temperamental child while giving him the opportunity to reciprocate, “i just,” a breeze brushed hair over his shining eyes, “i miss you.”

he was once again boarded up and sealed off. the lack of acknowledgment written on his face was equally hurtful as it was frustrating. seconds passed with his unfazed expression searching yours, and finally, unable to take the haunting gaze, you reached a hand up to brush his moon-illuminated cheek.

without hesitation he maneuvered away, fervent with avoiding your touch. he cleared his throat, “you should go back to your cabin.”

slowly recoiling and folding your arms in front of yourself to conserve what little warmth you had, he didn’t take a second look back before starting on his trek again.

you couldn’t even begin to feel hurt when anger was seeping in and taking over. years of relentlessly critical thoughts came flooding back all at once; how passive he was, how much you were willing to risk for him, how his face would fall to dissatisfaction when he thought you weren’t looking.

unable to help yourself, you called after him, “what do you want from me, luke?”

his halt was abrupt and he peered over his shoulder, “what?” he sounded incredulous, like the proposal of this question was just as stupid as before. his head whipped back to you, his eyes fixed and dark.

tension that had been built over time was boiling now, “you’re shutting me out! you left!” hopelessness was rising in your chest as his jaw clenched in challenge, “what am i supposed to make of that?!”

wind whistled passed trying to take your clothes with it. his familiar nose twitch gave away your getting to him, though he was quick to relent. you spoke again, “tell what it is that i’ve done. tell me what you expect of me.”

“i don’t expect anything of you. i’m not here for you.”

you were staring into his eyes, desperately scouring for something more yet you were met with stone. gods he was so beautiful. why was he breaking your heart?

with a release of pained air, your face remained carved with fury; you were not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry. you began taking steps back, feeling your head shake slightly but being set on letting that be the last words that hung between you.

turning to leave, he was quick to grab your forearm, his grasp tight and unwavering despite your flexes. you were met with an unnerving glint, “don’t even think about going to chiron.”

the most painful part all of this was luke believed you could betray him just as he did you. never once did the thought of telling cross your mind.

the fatal flaw of loving luke castellan was that even now, looking up at him for a fleeting moment, there was a longing for his comfort. eyes flicked to his chest and you felt as though you could fall right into it without conviction. but the trees rustled above, and reality swept in.

you wrenched your arm from a hand that was once so loving, and unable to stand his gaze much longer, followed the path of least resistance back to camp.

the smell of campfire engraved itself into your clothes.

stepping onto the marble stairs leading up to your cabin, you bid a goodnight to the friends you’d be leaving behind for rest. the echo of laughs and avid chatter filled the cul-de-sac of cabins, the camp turning in for sleep with spirits still souring after a night at the amphitheater.

the hearth in the center of your earth raged on, casting everyone in a homey glow. shouts of sleep well! and don’t let the stolls bite! were strewn across porches. giving your final farewells to the outside world, the door of cabin one was opened.

immediately you saw him. to be fair, it wasn’t like he was hiding, and it wasn’t difficult to spot the only person inhabiting the whole place. he sat on the edge of your bed, facing the door, his head hanging into his hands. you felt as though you’d seen this before.

“luke?” your voice seemed impossibly small in the expansive room.

his shoulders instantly tightened as he looked up. catching his full appearance, you took a discreetly sharp inhale of surprise; he was pale, an indescribably striking pale, accompanied by a tear stricken face. his cheeks were glossed from leaking eyes, and his hair was slightly tousled, like he’d been running his hands through it too many times.

this was unlike anything you’d ever seen before, let alone from luke. straight edge, always tidy, never-let-them-see-you-at-your-worst- luke.

you began to thank every god quickly and individually that none of your friends had asked to come back to your cabin to continue the fun, as they usually did after campfire.

“i’m-” his voice was hoarse, “i’m sorry, i…” he shook his head, not finishing his thought before shutting his eyes in an attempt to stop his tears.

you stood frozen at the entryway, still taking in the sight. you truly didn’t think you’d be seeing him again, or at least not like this. you’d been trying your hardest to beat down any remaining soft spot for him after his dismissal of you last time, trying to hold true to your anger.

he wasn’t making it easy.

the air had become stiff despite a breeze sweeping through and a sour taste was advancing on your tongue.

he lifted an arm off his knee and extended it to you. such a small act, yet it incited an internal battle between your heart and your mind. you weren’t sure when the dense pit in your stomach had arrived but were sure it was here to stay.

your eyes on his- they seemed a harsher brown than you were used to, in contrast to his newly stark complexion- they were filled with the most desperation one could have. he was pleading.

he slowly became closer and closer, yet he hadn’t moved from his place on the bed, and you found yourself no longer in the entry way. your heart had presently won. it hammered in your chest, shouting words once spoken aloud, i’m here regardless of the pain, a promise.

reaching his strong hand, placing fingers in his palm, irreverent shock jolted you into the moment. he was cold to the touch, iciness spreading up your arm and tying itself around your neck.

it made your next action quick and practically thoughtless, taking an immediate seat on the edge next to him, still holding his woeful eyes. his heavenly face trembled with more emotion than it could handle, and he fell hastily into your shoulder with a heart-shattering sob.

he clung to your torso like a lifeline, tears warming through your shirt. you deemed the feeling of his shivering body against yours the worst you’ll ever know.

as if his torment was a weight now on both of your shoulders, you two slipped onto the floor, melting into the foundation. but your arms never relented from his. the hiccups of his cries seemed to echo in the vast space.

“i’m sorry.”

“i know.”

“i’m so sorry.”

“i know.”

and so this continued. his consistent beg for forgiveness and your incessant declaration of understanding, repeating it so many times it didn’t even sound like english by the end.

cradling him and his fretting mind now, the way you were sure may castellan had when he was young and scrapped his knee, making claims of knowing the pain he was experiencing.

a hand reached down to his cheek and led his face to yours. as a pure act of admiration, your thumb ran tenderly along his scar. watching him intently, you saw a flicker- if only for a second- of the boy you loved, once not hurt by the world he was subjected to.

a whispered, “i know.” meant you did, a solemn swear. it meant don’t tell me to go away from you because i know. it meant his anguish was not his to bear alone.

it meant you knew him regardless if he could recognize himself while looking right in the mirror.

“i know you, luke.”

· · ౨ৎ · ·

704 notes · View notes

natsaffection · 23 days

Text

Mafia's Mistress pt. 1 | N.R

MafiaBoss!Natasha x Civilian!YoungerReader

Warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI! Age gap (Natasha is 32 = reader ist 22), kinda manipulative Nat, Oral and fingering (r receiving), restraints, begging, edging and normal stuff :v

Word Count: 4,8 K

A/N: First of many parts is here! I want to post about it every Sunday, so if you want to be tagged, let me know and have fun! 🫱🏼‍🫲🏻

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Never in your wildest dreams could you have imagined that you would be sitting in such a large penthouse, with hundreds of security guards around you who only have one order: to keep you safe.

Never would you have thought that you would no longer have to worry about money, or what you would do if you were running low at the end of the month. Never would you have thought that this one person would turn out to be the strongest and most feared woman in the world.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ Six Month ago ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

In the heart of the bustling city, where neon lights painted the streets pink and blue, you hurriedly made your way through the crowded sidewalks, your heart pounding with excitement and fear as you clutched your books tightly to your chest.

The rhythmic hum of the city enveloped you, a symphony of car horns, distant chatter, and the occasional street performer's tune. As you rounded a corner, your hasty steps faltered, causing you to collide with a figure cloaked in shadow. A gasp escaped your lips as you stumbled back, your books slipping from your grasp and scattering across the sidewalk like fallen leaves.

Your heart was racing in your chest as you looked up, your eyes widening in surprise as you met the piercing gaze of a woman in front of you. She stand tall and imposing, her dark hair cascading around her shoulders like a waterfall, framing a face that exuded an aura of mystery and danger. Your breath caught, a mixture of fear and curiosity swirling inside you like a tempestuous storm.

The woman bore into you with a piercing gaze, studying you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. The air between you crackled with unspoken words, the tension thickening like syrup as the world around you seemed to fade into the background.

"I-I'm so sorry," you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

The woman's expression remained invisible as she raised an eyebrow ever so slightly, her gaze still on you. The silence between you stretched, full of unspoken questions and unspoken emotions. “You don’t need to apologize,” her voice was a melodic blend of honey and ice, each word carefully weighed and imbued with a hidden depth that sent a chill down your spine once again. Her eyes, a mesmerizing shade of emerald green, had an enigmatic glow, as if they could see through your innermost being and unravel the layers of your soul with a single glance.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

As you and the woman settled into a cozy corner of the bustling cafe, the scent of freshly brewed coffee enveloped you in a warm embrace. You couldn’t help but cast coy glances at the woman in front of you.

“So,” Natasha, how she introduced herself began with silky elegance as she took a sip of her coffee, “What made you offer me a coffee as an apology?” You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, the weight of guilt once again weighing on your heart. "I just felt really bad about bumping into you," you admit, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "And I wanted to make it up to you somehow."

Natasha looked at you with a knowing look, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, you certainly know how to make a first impression," she said, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "I have to admit, I was a little surprised by your offer." You couldn't help but feel a wave of relief at Natasha's words, your fear melting away like snow under the warm spring sun.

"I'm glad you accepted," you say, a genuine smile spreading across your face. "I was worried you'd find it weird." Natasha giggled softly, which was music to your ears. "Believe me, I've encountered far stranger things in my line of work," she said cryptically, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "But I have to admit, this is a first for me." As you both talked, Natasha's phone buzzed incessantly in her pocket, a constant reminder of the world outside her little bubble.

With practiced ease, she discreetly checked her messages, her expression unreadable as she absorbed the information being relayed to her. You can't help but notice the subtle change in Natasha's demeanor, the way her expression softened ever so slightly as she glanced at her phone.

Before you could think about it any further, Natasha pocketed her phone and turned her attention back to you, a small smile playing on her lips. "So, tell me more about yourself. What do you do when you're not bumping into mysterious strangers on the street?"

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment at the question, your fingers tightening around your coffee cup.

"Um, my name is Y/n, I'm a journalist.." When you told her, Natasha's eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise, her eyes widening with interest. "Journalist?" she exclaimed, her voice filled with curiosity. "That's.. fascinating. Why did you choose this profession?" Your heart skipped a beat at Natasha's genuine interest, a warmth spreading through you as she realized Natasha was genuinely interested in you. "I've always loved telling stories," you explain, your voice growing more confident with each word. "As a journalist, I can shed light on important issues and give a voice to those who need it most."

Natasha leaned closer to you, her eyes shining with admiration. "That's incredibly noble," she said seriously, her words making you tremble with excitement. "I have to admit, I've never met a journalist before. This must be quite an adventure." As they continued to chat, you felt her opening up to Natasha in a way she hadn't with anyone else. Natasha's genuine interest calmed you down and made you feel valued and appreciated.

You gathered up all your courage and decided to ask Natasha's question herself, "What do you do for a living?" Natasha's smile disappeared for a split second, a barely perceptible hint of hesitation crossing her face before she regained her composure. "Oh, I work in marketing," she answered smoothly, her voice betraying none of the uncertainty that lingered in her head.

"That sounds interesting too," you say in a polite tone, trying to hide your lingering curiosity. “What do you like most about it?” Natasha’s smile widened, relief flooding through her as you accepted her answer without further questioning, “I love the creative aspect of it,” Natasha replied, her words flowing effortlessly as she slipped into the role of the confident professional. “Coming up with new ideas and strategies to promote products and services is a challenge, but a rewarding one.”

As the two of you continued your conversation in the cozy corner of the busy cafe, Natasha couldn’t help but notice the genuine warmth and innocence you exuded. Despite the complexity of her own life and the secrets she kept, Natasha found herself drawn to the simplicity and sincerity of your interaction.

It was rare that she let her guard down and had a conversation without the weight of her past weighing on her, but with you, it felt effortless.

As your conversation reached its peak, however, Natasha’s phone buzzed with an urgent message. Her expression remained stoic as she looked at the screen, "Y/n, I'm sorry, but I have to go," Natasha said in an apologetic tone as she quickly packed up her things. "Something came up at work."

Your heart sank at the abrupt change of plans, but you nodded in understanding, hiding your disappointment behind a polite smile. "Of course, I hope everything is okay?"

Natasha smiled reassuringly at you, although there was something unreadable in her eyes. "Everything will be fine," she said with more conviction than you expected.

Before you could even offer to pay for her coffee, Natasha quickly reached into her purse and pulled out her wallet.

"Let me take care of this, as a thank you for the time," Natasha insisted, her voice firm but gentle as she approached the counter to settle the bill. Despite the haste in her movements, Natasha's demeanor remained calm, her actions swift and purposeful.

You watched in surprise as Natasha paid for both coffees, a small gesture that spoke volumes amidst the chaos of her abrupt departure.

"Thank you," you say quietly as you walk towards the door. Natasha smiled warmly at you, her eyes softening with genuine affection. "It was a pleasure, Y/n," she replied in a soft voice, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

And with that, Natasha disappeared into the busy streets of the city, leaving you standing alone in the entrance of the cafe.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ Later this Day ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Dark clouds loomed over you as you moved stealthily through the deserted alleys of the city, your camera at the ready and your senses on high alert. You had received an anonymous tip about illegal dealings taking place in secret, and you were determined to gather evidence for your next story.

As you carefully snapped photos of the desolate surroundings, you didn't notice the figure lurking behind it until it was almost too late. With a startled gasp, you stumbled backwards, your heart racing as you turned to face the unexpected intruder.

To your surprise, Natasha stood before you, a shadowy figure in the dimly lit alley. Your breath caught as you met Natasha's piercing gaze, a feeling of unease settling over you like a thick fog.

"N-Natasha?" you greet carefully, your voice tinged with suspicion as you eye the woman in front of you.

Natasha's expression softened as she looked at you with amusement, a playful glint appearing in her eyes. "Well, what a surprise to see you again," Natasha remarked with a wry smile. "Are you following me by any chance?"

Your suspicion grew at Natasha's light-hearted remark, your head racing with questions about the woman's true intentions. "I could ask you the same," you reply, your tone tinged with skepticism as you watch Natasha's every move.

Natasha's smile vanished for a moment, a hint of uncertainty crossing her face before she regained her composure. "Touché," she replied with a giggle, although there was a hint of tension in her voice. "Maybe we're just two ships passing each other in the night."

As raindrops began to fall from the darkening sky, Natasha's demeanor changed and a mischievous glint came into her eyes. "Looks like it's about to pour," she remarked with a mischievous grin. "Why don't we leave this desolate alley and find somewhere more.. inviting?"

You nod, still stunned that you've met again. As you make your way to a slightly brighter area, you can't shake the feeling that Natasha is looking you up and down and you speak up again,

"So..." you begin, your voice laced with suspicion as you glance sideways at the enigmatic woman next to you. "What were you really doing back there? Looking for your next victim?"

You try to lighten the mood with a mischievous joke, although the tension between you was somehow palpable. Natasha chuckled softly, her eyes flickering with amusement as she considered your joke. "See through it..." she replied ironically, her voice laced with a hint of desire. "But I'm afraid the truth is far less exciting than you might think."

Your brow furrowed in confusion, your mind racing to decipher Natasha's cryptic words. "Less exciting?" you repeat, your voice laced with uncertainty. Natasha nodded, her expression carefully neutral as she met your gaze. "Yes," she replied quietly, her mind preoccupied with the image of you in her bed. What?

"You know, I was... hoping to find someone and I seem to have gotten a little carried away and ended up in the right place at the right time." Natasha's excuse and lie took a completely different turn than she had originally intended. But better this way than that.

Your eyes widened as you realized what Natasha had said and your cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. "Oh," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. "I... I understand." Natasha's desire burned even hotter at your reaction, her head racing at the thought of having you all to herself. What is wrong with her?

"How about it?" Your breath caught in your throat as you fought to keep your composure. Your mind was clouded by Natasha's proximity. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... I mean, I shouldn't have... um, whatever." But Natasha's desire burned too fiercely to be ignored, and she couldn't resist the temptation to take what she wanted. "You know what?" she said suddenly, her tone dripping with seduction. "Since you're already here, why don't you come to my place? I could make us something to eat and then we'll see where it takes us, what do you think?" Your eyes widened in surprise at Natasha's unexpected invitation, your heart racing with excitement and concern.

"Oh, I don't know..." you begin, your voice full of uncertainty. But Natasha's desire burned too fiercely to be suppressed, and she couldn't resist the urge to push you further. "We can just eat. Continue our conversation from the coffee shop.” she said now in a gentle tone so as not to push her away

And when you hesitated for a moment and uncertainty flickered in your eyes, Natasha's unwavering gaze and her energetic tone convinced you to take the leap into the unknown. “But you promise me not to kill me in secret, okay?” Natasha rolled her eyes inwardly, your sweet little manner does something to her. “Promise.”

You had imagined her area exactly like that. Natasha seems classy, elegant to you and so does her apartment. Small, simple, modern. Her interior looks exactly like that. She goes into the kitchen, “Are you of legal age yet?” The question threw you off track a little, was that ironic? Did she mean it - “That was a joke... loosening up, you're stiff.” You smile nervously. Maybe it all happened too quickly for you. Natasha puts two wine glasses on the table and brings a bottle of water, "Take what you want," she leans across from you. You sit on the plush sofa and wait for something. Anything.

"You know, I'm not used to getting to know people." You were glad that she finally said something, so you could at least carry on a conversation now, "That's it. You're going to kill me." You answer sarcasm-wise. Natasha grinned again, "What makes you always think that?" You unconsciously bite your lip and scratch the rim of the glass in your hand with your nails. "I don't know...You...Please don't take this negatively, but you look like that sometimes.." As you continue to babble about your own words, Natasha only thinks one thing. That's how it should be.

Natasha laughed softly and put her glass on the table. "Well, maybe I just like to keep the people around me guessing. Am I a killer? Am I just a poor, lonely woman looking for her pleasure in the night? Or something else entirely? It's exciting to reveal who you really are, bit by bit. It's a dance of seduction...and I like to think I'm an artist in that regard."

You felt your pulse quicken and your gaze fell to Natasha's lips. "I wouldn't mind seeing you like this..." You put everything on the line. You want her.

Natasha shifted in her seat, a devilish glint in her eyes. "You say that like you're ready for a private performance," she teased. You met her gaze, the tension in the room running like a wire. "Maybe I am..." you admitted. Natasha's mouth twisted into a slow, knowing smile. With a quick movement, she drank the rest of her wine and raised her eyebrow. "Well, since this seems to be the premiere of a solo exhibition, maybe I should leave the stage and take a bow."

You felt your face turn red. "I-I'd love to," you said, your breath catching. Natasha rose, an aura of seductive confidence surrounding her like a second skin as she walked around the coffee table. You watched, heart pounding, as Natasha stood between your outstretched legs. Slowly, she reached for your water glass and placed it next to her own, her movements deliberate and graceful. "I want your full attention," she murmured, her minty breath blowing against your face.

You nodded, your voice catching in your throat as Natasha lowered herself and your lips met in a feverish kiss. You felt Natasha's hands brush against your sides. Natasha chucked, her voice glowing with desire. "You're so nervous." She pulled back, her piercing green eyes meeting yours.

"Let me help you." Natasha's hands began to explore your body, her touch like fire on your skin. Slowly, she unbuttoned your blouse, her lips brushing against your neck with each button she unbuttoned. You arched your back and moaned softly as Natasha's lips touched your bare skin and her tongue found its way to the curve of your breast.

Natasha teased your nipples with her teeth, pulling and sucking until you were squirming in her lap and your fingers were clutching Natasha's red locks. Natasha's hands moved further down and reached for the zipper of your jeans. She pulled it down slowly, her fingers brushing against your inner thigh. You bit your lip and your hips jerked as Natasha's hand entered your panties and found them soaking wet and ready for her touch.

Natasha teased your opening, her fingers circling your clit in slow, deliberate movements that made you squirm with desire. "N-Natasha.." you gasped, your fingers clinging tighter to Natasha's hair. "Don't tease m-me.." Natasha groaned and her fingers continued to dance over your clit, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. "You wanted a private showing. I'll give it to you," Natasha purred, her fingers dipping into your wetness. She stroked you slowly and teasingly before sliding two fingers inside you.

You moaned and your head fell back as Natasha's fingers began to move in a steady rhythm. Natasha's thumb circled your clit, increasing the pressure inside you. "O-Oh.." you gasped, your hands grabbing Natasha's shoulders. Natasha grinned as she felt the walls of your pussy clench around her fingers. "You like that?" she taunted in a deep, sensual voice. "You like how I fuck you with my fingers and make you wetter than ever?"

You could only nod, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as Natasha continued to stroke you. You felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your body shaking with pleasure. Natasha's fingers were relentless, driving you higher and higher until you were a writhing mess on her lap. Suddenly Natasha pulled her fingers out, making you gasp in need.

"No, no, no," you whimper, your body begging for more. Natasha giggled, her eyes sparkling with pleasure. "Patience, I'm not done with you yet." She stood up, took your hands and pulled you up with her. Natasha led you to the nearby wall, pressing your back against it as you lowered your head to hide your noises from her. She could feel your hands wandering over her body, Natasha's hips grinding against you, searching for friction.

"Do you want me to fuck you, Y/n?" You nodded, your breath catching as Natasha's teeth grazed your neck. "Yes, please..” you pleaded, your voice hoarse with desire. Natasha's lips curved into a smile against your skin and she reached for the button of her own jeans. With a wave of her hand, they opened, revealing matching lacy underwear that left little to the imagination. You couldn't help but stare, your mouth going dry as Natasha stepped closer, your bodies snuggled close together. "Do you like what you see?" Natasha purred, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "Then let me show you more."

Natasha reached out a hand to you, "Excited?" Skeptically, you followed Natasha close on her heels as the red-haired woman led you through her sprawling home. You meandered through the luxurious interior, which was decorated with sleek, modern furniture. Some rooms were light and airy, while others were softly lit with lamps and strategically placed candles.

You reached a room door hidden in a dark, secluded hallway, different from the rest of the house. Your heart raced, and your anticipation grew. This had to be her bedroom.

Natasha turned, looked over her shoulder, and caught your eye. "One thing I want to make sure of. If you feel uncomfortable, we can always go back to the living room, okay?"

Her green eyes shone with dark passion. You swallowed hard and nodded. You were nervous and excited at the same time with the anticipation of what was to come. Natasha smiled, her mouth twisting into a mischievous grin as she opened the door. "Welcome to my playroom," Natasha purred, reaching for a dimmer switch that gently bathed the room in a soft, seductive light.

Your eyes widened at the sight before you. Leather-clad walls were adorned with provocative artwork depicting scenes of bondage and domination. A steel frame loomed menacingly in one corner, and the air was filled with an indefinable, dark eroticism. It was exciting and terrifying at the same time. Your breath caught as you took in the room, your body tingling with excitement and your stomach fluttering. Natasha stepped forward, her heels clicking imperiously on the stone floor. "What do you think?" You look at everything, let a few things slide through your hands and turn back to her, "I've always read about it...but never thought I'd...you know." Natasha smiled gently, "You don't have to be afraid. I promise you'd enjoy it." The voice was hypnotic, her words weaving a sensual spell. You nod, unable to find your voice as you surrendered to the moment.

Natasha moved closer to you, your bodies touching. Her hand reached out, gently caressing your cheek before moving down to her neck and resting gently on her pulse. "There's something about you. You're curious, exciting and open-minded. I want to show you what I like, what I love and what I desire. I want you to trust me and enjoy every moment. Surrender and I will guide you through an unforgettable experience."

Natasha's voice echoed through the room and you felt a surge of lust and adrenaline building in yours. You nodded again and whispered, "I trust you." With a mischievous grin, Natasha led you to the imposing steel bondage frame. She began to remove your clothing layer by layer, revealing your pale skin and the goosebumps that covered your body. Her fingers gently stroked your trembling body, increasing your anticipation.

You stood there, trembling with desire, as Natasha secured your wrists and ankles to a frame with soft, velvety shackles. Unyielding metal surrounded you, holding you captive, but instead of being afraid, you felt an incredible sense of freedom. Your body was at the mercy of this woman, this mysterious and sensual creature in front of you. Natasha moved around you, admiring you from every angle. "You're breathtaking," she murmured, running her fingertips over your torso.

You gasped at the touch, the warmth of Natasha's hand sending shivers down your spine. Your chest heaved, your heart pounding in your ears. Natasha's eyes locked on yours, and you knew that this woman had completely captivated you. "Do you trust me, Y/n?" Natasha asked in a deep and sensual voice.

"Yes," you whisper, unable to hide the desire etched on your face. Natasha's grin widened. "Good." And with that, she leaned forward, her lips pressed against yours with insatiable hunger. Their mouths moved in sync, exploring each other, their tongues dancing with each other like old lovers reuniting after a long separation. You moaned as Natasha's hand moved between your legs, parting your labia and finding your clit. She stroked it gently, sending waves of pleasure through your trembling body.

You whimpered, your eyes fluttering shut. Natasha continued to caress and tease you, moving her hand to gently thrust two fingers into your wet heat. Your hips bucked wildly, your body begging for more. Natasha grinned against your lips and thrust harder and faster, her fingertips grazing your G-spot.

You gasped, your whole body shaking as the familiar pressure of an orgasm built inside you. Natasha's lips found your ear, her voice barely above a whisper. "Don't come yet. Not until I give you permission."

You continued to whimper and your eyes fluttered shut. "Please, Natasha," you begged, your voice hoarse and desperate, getting closer and closer to the edge of your climax. "No, not yet..." Natasha growled. "If you can't follow simple instructions, I'll have to punish you. And believe me, you don't want that." Natasha's voice was heavy with desire, her words silky and coated with promises.

Your body trembled, your breath caught as you shook your head. Natasha's hand moved away from your sex, making you tremble with anticipation. She stood behind you, her body pressed against yours from behind, her hands gripping your hips.

"Good girl," Natasha whispered in your ear, her lips brushing your earlobes. She trailed her lips down your neck, biting and sucking gently. "Please…" you begged, not even sure what you were begging for anymore. Natasha's hands moved from your hips, up your torso, tracing the curve of your breast before reaching up to gently grip your neck.

"Not yet," she said again, her voice a low rumble in your ear. Despite the pain between her legs, you breathed deeply and evenly, concentrating on the heady mix of pleasure and pain coursing through your body. Natasha's fingers on your neck sent shivers down your spine, the metal frame in your back a constant, comforting reminder of your vulnerability.

You were hoarse, desperate and full of longing. Natasha's lips curled into a wicked smile, her eyes shining with desire as she slowly sank to her knees. Her hands slid over your trembling thighs, gently pushing them apart and giving her unhindered access.

Your breath caught as Natasha's tongue darted out and circled your aching clitoris in slow, deliberate circles. You shuddered, the mixture of lust and anticipation driving you wild. With each stroke of Natasha's tongue, your hips bucked, a soft moan escaping your lips. Your breath came in short, ragged gasps, the buildup of your orgasm threatening to overwhelm you. But Natasha didn't let you come yet.

"Beg for it," she commanded in a firm but hoarse voice. The command made you shudder. You were soaking wet and aching for release, but you held back, enjoying the delicious agony. "Please, Natasha, make me come. I'm begging you!!”

But Natasha was relentless, refusing to let you find your release. Instead, she teased you with slow, gentle flicks of her tongue, occasionally sucking your swollen clit into her mouth. Your toes curled, your fingers clenched into fists as Natasha continued her torture. "F-Fuck, Natasha, I'm so c-close.." you whimper, trying to push your hips against Natasha's mouth.

But Natasha's grip on your thighs tightened, holding you still and prolonging her torment. "Do you deserve to come?" Natasha asked, her voice muffled against your smooth skin. She felt like an agonizing tease on your clit, pushing you closer to the edge. "Yes, yes I do.." you gasped, your head spinning with lust and desperation.

Natasha's giggle sent shivers down your spine. With one final agonizing flick of her tongue, she granted you a reprieve, sending you spinning over the edge with devastating precision. “You can let go, Malysh.”

"Yes, fuck YES!" you screamed, arching your back as wave after wave of intense pleasure washed over your body. Natasha continued to tease and probe, prolonging every last tremor until you were left breathless and limp in your bonds. You stand there, panting and shaking, enjoying the euphoria coursing through your veins.

Natasha stands up, her eyes dark with desire, and leans in to whisper in your ear. "You know what I mean, Detka? That was just a taste," Natasha murmurs, her lips brushing your earlobes. "I want to give you more, so much more. Will you let me?" You nod exhaustedly, your breath catching with every word Natasha speaks in your ear. You were helpless, tied up and at the mercy of this woman. You couldn't resist the lure of what Natasha was offering you. "Good girl," Natasha praised, her voice heavy with desire.

#natasha x reader #natasha smut #natasha romanoff #dom!natasha x reader #natasha romanov x reader #nat x reader #natasha romanov smut #natasha romonova #the avengers #natasha

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futureplayboibunnie · 8 months

Text

Aphrodesiacs Pt. 9

Miguel O’Hara x fem!spidey reader

You and Miguel O’Hara were bitten by the same spider…what could possibly happen?

horny and angsty? yes pls.

NSFW. 18+.

Miguel wasn't lying

He didn't let you leave your apartment for the entire weekend.

You definitely weren't complaining but he wore you out tirelessly for hours on end. He fucked you on every surface, christening each space for his own personal fulfiliment. He bent you over, pressed your knees together, threw you to the floor, sank to his knees- he did everything.

"Tell me you're mine. Scream it for me.”

“Always. I always have been.”

The way you said that stuck with Miguel a lot longer than he was expecting or comfortable with, it rolled off of your sweet tongue with an unbridled ease, like you were meant to say it.

“I always have been.” Miguel frowned as his brain placed further emphasis on what you said.

It started on Friday night and now it's Sunday night, he was half expecting you to kick him out but he was still here...lying in bed with you after an entire weekend of fucking each other senseless. It was the most soul-replenishing and fulfilling weekend he'd ever had. The night was starless, grey, and bleak clouds hung over the sky as if to reflect his mood, straying by the second, the rain flooded and pounded against the curtainless window and his senses. As he glanced over your frame, he saw the New York city skyline bean up yellow and red lights. The rumbling of thunder and the flashes of lightning stopped his thoughts in their tracks as he felt the soft inhale of your breath. Your naked body pressed into the mattress, the white sheets covering you in slivers.

Even when you were sleeping you looked so effortlessly beautiful. Miguel glanced at the alarm clock on your bedside table, it was 2 AM. It was Monday tomorrow. That's when reality set in. His work, the pressure of his job, to control that many people and make sure the multiverse was safe. Miguel frowned at the thought. He wanted to spend the rest of his nights here with you, lying in bed with you and watching you breathe. But he loves being Spiderman, he was attached to what he had to do even if he didn't like it, he was so conditioned to doing his job he never once considered what a normal life could be like after what Gabriella- then you came along, destroying any semblance of peace he had left. You mumbled something unintelligible as you sprawled out even further. Your slender hands slid under the pillow, he kept staring at you like a lovesick fool, filled to the brim with anxiety and desperation as he quietly brooded. He felt like you caught him when he saw your eyelashes flutter. A lazy smile played on your lips. You definitely caught him.

“Go to sleep.” You muttered like you were scolding a small child, opening your eyes fully to see Miguel solemn and brooding.

“Can't.” He clipped, raking a hand through his already messy hair. Your mood changed exactly as he did, you flashed him a concerned look. Miguel always found a way to sabotage himself, to find the bad in every spot he was in and you were tired of it. You leaned down on your elbows, pursing your lips in confusion.

“Talk to me.” You say gently but all Miguel could hear was a sensual deity whispering sweet nothing.

Miguel was conflicted, a surge of sadness washed over and tightened his chest but he was very determined not to show it, his eyebrows creased in determination. Trying hard to keep the front he's manufactured over the course of many brutal and unforgiving years, being cold and distant was the only thing he knew to be even if it was you that was trying to pry it out of him. He couldn't just change overnight, not for you, not for anyone but part of him wanted to be better, to be better for you. Miguel's jaw ticked as he mumbled, attempting to conceal the fact that he wasn't particularly in a talkative mood- but you were nothing but persistent.

“Please?” Your hand went to reach out and lay on his chest but he stopped you before you could even touch him, he gripped your wrist and stared at you, his demeanor drastically changing. His grip was tightening and your eyes widened slightly, confused and concerned.

“Don't.” He said softly but stern enough that you got the message, his eyes were gleaming with a faint hue of red. You cocked an eyebrow at his behavior, after an unforgettable weekend, he was acting like you were a stranger- like all your use to him was sex, He was going to treat you like crap when you got to your normal life again. You frowned at the thought as you snatched your wrist back.

“What happens now?” You whisper woefully, a sad look ashening your beautiful face- the moonlight kissed your features perfectly.

"We go back to strangers, hating each other?” You say bitterly.

“What? No.” He shot you a look mixed with confusion and anger as if what you said was stupid.

“So we don't hate each other anymore, we fucked and we're gonna go back to work and act like nothing happened?”

“'I just- I don't know.” His answer didn't dampen your straying frustration at him, you pursed your lips in anger. mere idea.

“This was a one-time thing? So I'm just gonna go back to fucking other guys?” You raised an eyebrow at him, slightly peeved at the idea.

Miguel was internally devastated that you even thought to mention that, his body stilled with rage at the image of someone else touching you the way he did. It was as if his heart was being strangled by your bare aching fists. He wanted to grab you, flip you over and fuck you until his hips fracture but instead, he stayed brooding in silence, a storm brewing in his head.

Miguel's hand shot out and grabbed your cheeks, squishing them together as his talons dug into your skin slightly, you gave him an unimpressed look as he pulled your body closer to his. “No.” He said harshly, completely dismissing the idea of you going out and hooking up with other people like he had that sort of power over you. “Absolutely not.” Although you were pissed at him right now, your body was feeling entirely different, your pussy throbbed. You adjusted yourself, trying to stifle your arousal but it got ten times worse when your nipples brushed and hardened at the slightest contact of the mattress. Miguel was psychoanalyzing your every move, his gaze didn't soften at all, He liked that you were still in heat, even more so when you were trying to suppress it. You were confused when you saw him get up from the bed and then sit at the foot of it, his back facing you, looking more and more pissed with every passing moment.

"Come here.” he turned his head a fraction, enough for you to see slivers of red in his eye.

"Are you kidding?” You scoffed.

“Do I look like I'm asking?” His voice was mean and cold, a ruthless sharp vibration in your ears. Your body ached at the sound of his voice alone.

You were still bitter as you crossed your arms defensively. You rolled your eyes at him and decided to give into his unexplained whims, you got out of the bed with a huff and walked around it, Your naked body gleamed in the moonlight as you stood in front of him, Miguel's eyes were steely and din, unamused by your constant disrespect, asking the questions he didn't want to think about let alone answer, He hated that you brought up the idea of fucking other people and he hated the way he felt about it. This weekend was pleasure and pain combined- he made you feel euphoric, keeping you at that edge and then pummelling you. It was pain but it was perfect pain. Now you were pissing him off and he wasn't in the mood to be delicate and easy. He wouldn't give you the courtesy of telling you what he was going to do to you, he just wanted to do it.

You bit your lip as you stared down at him, he looked up at you like you were a dirty little whore acting unattainable- how ironic.

Miguel's palms traced over the dip of your waist softly and you pursed your lips slightly, acting unbothered. He hated it. we wanted to shock you, his right hand spanked your ass harshly, the sound ripped through the air and you gasped. You were his helpless little whore. Instead of talking about his feelings, he was gonna fuck it out of himself instead.

“Turn around and sit on my lap.” He demanded coldly, the look in his eyes was one of silent fury, His face sere slashes of rough arousal and boiling anger, Your eyes went from half-lidded annoyance to a bewildered shock, he liked it. you unhinged your jaw to say a smartass remark but he raised his eyebrow and that subdued you immediately, you turned your back to him and sat on his lap.

Your back facing his front, your ass nudging his already hard cock. Before you could even properly adjust, he hooked his hands under your thighs and pulled them up, your legs dangling off of his arms. a breathy moan escaped from your throat and Miguel's lips were pressed against your ear.

“I'm going to fuck you like this and you're gonna shut up and not bitch to me, understand cariño?” His hot breath landed on your ear, goosebumps rising at the shell of it. You hung your head back and it landed on his broad shoulder, moaning already.

“Yes, I understand.” You breathed softly. Miguel lowered your down on his cock, plunging into you and stretching you out until the his fangs licked and bit at your shoulder blade. “Ah- M-Mig-“ He pummelled into you roughly, bouncing you up and down as his fangs bit your shoulder blade.

“Run that fuckin mouth again, mention any other guy you fucked and I'll bully your cunt until you're fuckin sobbing, get the picture?” He groans raggedly, biting into your shoulder, specks of blood seeping out of your skin as he bounces you up and down.

“O-Okay! I get it...” You stuttered out, moaning like a bitch in heat as he plowed into you even harder, your slick running down your thighs. Your hands flew back and tangled in Miguel's hair, pulling hard and rubbing his neck.

“You're clenching so hard querida...my horny little bunny g'na make a mess on my cock over and over and over again.” He mumbled drunkenly in your ear, the sound of wet skin slapping against skin echoed throughout the room. His words shot straight to your aching pussy, sweat dripping down the valley of your tits as Miguel kept manhandling you like a little fuckdoll. The tightening coil in your lower gut snapped as you came, dripping all down his cock and thighs. Throughout this past weekend, Maguel had taken you in any which way but he was way more harsh and pissed this time around. You withstood it all happily. As you clamped down harder Miguel's grip had gotten tighter, bouncing you up and down harder. with that one final thrust and clamp, it didn't take long for him to finish, his hot cum spilling out of you. His groans were your favorite kind of music, it echoed through the chasms of his throat.

But Miguel didn't stop, he kept bouncing you up and down, overstimulating you and fucking you through your Earth-shattering orgasm.

“Miguel- It's spilling out.” You warn meekly but your voice gets lost.

“I don't care. I'll be done with you when I want to be done with you. Now shut up and take it.” He grits between clenched teeth, his jaw setting in anger. He kept going and going, stretching you out, hitting that spot he'd hit so many times in the past two days, spot you never even knew existed before him. You milked him dry and he stilled, sparks lighting under your skin.

Miguel's grip on you softened, letting go of your legs, your feet now settling on the ground, his dick still plugged in you. Both of you were softly panting, your breaths mingling as you leaned your head back on his shoulder, mouth slack and lazy. Both of you were still full of conflicting emotions, but it still wasn't properly released. The passion clouded both of you and it made you feel hazy enough to forget about it during the collision of your bodies, but after as you got a chance to breathe- the thoughts and feelings came back up again. Your hair was wild and messy, your body limp in his arms. Miguel wrapped his arms around your waist as you nested between his legs, he softly kissed the shell of your ear but you weren't buying what he was selling. This sudden act of soft affection after he quite literally fucked you full of anger and pent-up frustration- there was something he wasn't telling you but you were afraid to find out.

An embittered look carved onto your face, and that's when you stood up and got off of him, Miguel raised an eyebrow at what you were doing. Your naked body shimmered as the pale moonlight outside lit you up, you were acting unbothered again and he really fucking hated it. “What are you thinking?” He murmured with restraint, leaning back on his hands.

"Gonna take a shower.” you said softly, but your tone was almost as if you were talking to an acquaintance, not a man you gave your entire body to.

You went into the bathroom of your room, turning the light on and then the shower. Miguel watched you intently as you moved swiftly, closing the door- like you were locking him out. A frown settled on his face. He heard you step into the shower, a faint smell of citrus shampoo traveling through the cracks. Miguel sat with himself for a few minutes and decided that he didn't want to stay here alone. Miguel stood up and opened the bathroom door, steam flowing into the bedroom and circulating at the tips of the ceiling.

The glass casing of the shower made for a perfect view of your slick and wet body. Your hands were doing their work shampooing your hair, your ass looked even more perfect. The soap flowed out of your hair with ease, your fingers squeezing out the excess. you heard a slight shift that made you whip your head around, it was Miguel. “Can I join you?” he says uncharacteristically gently.

“Sure.” You said with a lazy smile. He was pleased that you let him get close to you, he loved being near you any way he could, watching you like a lovesick fool. You looked so natural, so pretty.

Miguel slid open the glass door and stood next to you in the shower, in your element, and for a strange reason Miguel wanted to take care of you. You flashed him a bashful look, throwing your head as a signal for him to get under the stream, he did, letting the water flow to all corners of his body, strands of hair stuck to his forehead, he raked a hand through his hair to slick it back. You were gawking at Miguel, seeing how his muscles tensed under the shower, the water flowing down his abs effortlessly. You blinked up at him dumbly and Miguel caught onto It.

“Mind if I-?” Miguel was acting like a horny teenager, even though he's literally fucked you sideways, in an intimate setting like this- he was nervous. He squeezed some shampoo into his palm and rubbed his hands together, lathering it. You nodded softly, turning your back on him, you were still quite far away though. He didn't like that, Miguel pulled your hair back so you could stumble back a few steps, your ass making contact with his cock. Miguel didn't even let you be surprised about it when he started massaging your scalp. It buzzed your body alive, you hummed appreciatively as his big hands raked through your hair.

“Mmmm...I didn't think you'd ever be domestic.” you say with a raised eyebrow, looking slightly defensive and miguel just huffed.

“I'm not..” His tone was clippy and you didn't like it.

"Yeah..”

You shrug him off and go under the stream, twisting your hair so the soap suds and water drain out of it, you didn't give his the privilege of eye contact. You couldn't deny that you were a little sad that once morning rolled around, he would leave and you would go back to working at HQ, ignoring each other.

next chapter is gonna be the last!

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