#((i need this man to kiss me after making me suffer through DAYS as an apology)) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

snoowpee · 2 months

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all mine - s.jy

Pairing ⇾ bestfriend!jake x bestfriend!reader

Genre ⇾ smut, a little bit of fluff

Warnings ⇾ unprotected sex (you know you don’t want kids!), making out, slight food play, marking, ass slapping, pussy slapping, name calling (whore), dirty talking, fingering, mentions of nudes & masturbation, oral (f. receiving), face riding, filming, hair pulling, jerking off, riding, possessiveness, choking. I might’ve missed something but that’s the gist of it, enjoy!

Summary ⇾ being best friends with jake is all fun and games until you get jealous with how sociable he is with other girls.

Word count ⇾ 4.4k words

Playlist ⇾ Summer Walker (feat. Jhené Aiko) - I’ll Kill You.

Science class is boring the hell out of you. You watched the clock on the wall, counting down how many more minutes of suffering you had to endure. Great! fifteen minutes left. I’m going to lose it, if this class doesn’t end soon. You grumbled. Putting your head down on top of your folded arms.

You turned to face the male seated beside you, when you felt a hand grazed the left side of your waist. “The work isn’t gonna do itself,” Jake quietly whispered, not wanting to disrupt the class, he smirked, eyes twinkling with mischief. You discreetly flipped him off. Jake bit his lips to prevent a grin, but failed to do so.

“Do you have soccer practice afterschool?” You asked, changing the subject to suppress the rising thoughts in your head.

“Yeah,” Jake nodded.

“Bummer, I was gonna ask you to re-teach me the whole lesson today,” Jake knew you meant a whole different thing by the way your eyes lit up.

“I can swing by your place after practice, how does that sound, princess?” Jake whispered, mouthing the pet-name, careful even in his hushed tone to not let anybody hear.

“Sounds good to me, Jakey,” you shrugged. He scoffed at the nickname while your mouth stretched into a smile.

The clock ticked a few more times until the bell finally rang, indicating that class was over. You and Jake both packed your stuff, heading in different directions after. Just have to get through English class. You grumbled again, wanting school to end, so that you could lay down on your bed.

English class wasn’t so bad for you, knowing that you had friends to keep you entertained during it. The whole day, you assumed that time seemed to pass by very slowly, but to your surprise, it flew during English class.

After bidding goodbye to your friends, you made your way to the school’s field, where Jake was at. As soon as you realized that the weather was pretty nice, you decided to watch his practice for a bit.

When you reached the field you saw Jake and his friends talking to a group of girls. You recognized that a few of the girls are from your History class, and some are friends with your friends.

As you sat on the bleachers, Heeseung and Sunghoon noticed your presence, excusing themselves politely before taking long strides towards you.

“We felt bad seeing you all by yourself, so we wanted to keep you company while Jake’s getting his cock wet.” Sunghoon snickered at Heeseung’s remark.

“Man, you gotta see how many of the girls are asking for his socials. Man’s famous,” Sunghoon said as he took a seat beside you, Heeseung following ensuite.

“It must be so tough to be friends with a whore,” Heeseung feigned sympathy. Before you could respond with a witty remark, a familiar voice spoke.

“You better not be hitting on my best friend!” Jake shouted from where he was standing. Heeseung and Sunghoon bursted out in fits of laughter.

“No way, he’s still calling you his best friend?” Sunghoon teased. “Damn, I wouldn’t be calling you that if I were him, especially after blowing your back,” Sunghoon gave you a knowing look, you shrugged.

“I don’t know, Park. I don’t kiss and tell,” you teasingly smiled at him.

“You two need to get this shit sorted out…” Heeseung butted in. “…cause from what I’m seeing, you two are basically best friends who are lowkey fucking each other, but sometimes you two act like you’re in a relationship, and it’s madly confusing. I don’t mean to pry, but trust me it’s that obvious.”

“You should tell your buddy,” you shrugged again. “I know what I want. I’m not too sure about your teammate, though.”

All three of you turned to look at the soccer coach, your talk being interrupted by hearing a whistle blow.

“I’m pretty sure he’ll figure it out…” Sunghoon stood up. “…or maybe he did already.” Sunghoon said before he and Heeseung both waved goodbye to you.

You watched as the whole soccer team gathered, in the form of a circle, to debrief the events that took place from their last game, which didn’t take too long.

When the coach ordered the team to warm up, your mouth watered at the sight of Jake’s hot, focused expression, eyes blazing with competitiveness.

Afterwards, the team was split into two groups, one group wore a green mesh pinnie while the other wore a blue mesh pinnie. You heard the whistle blow again, signaling the start of a practice game. It took awhile for the game to end but you couldn’t deny that it was a little bit entertaining.

Once boredom overcame your senses, you fished out your phone, texting Jake to let him know that you were leaving already. You made your way to where your car was parked and drove home, which didn’t take too long.

When you arrived at your place, you changed into comfy clothes, before deciding to take a nap.

You woke up to a blanket of darkness surrounding you. You reached for your phone to check the time, seven thirty, Jake was surely done with his practice by now. You unlocked your phone to entertain you while you wait for Jake to arrive.

You were scrolling through Twitter when you heard your bedroom door swing open, “Hey princess…” Jake’s voice was husky, he sighed audibly. “…practice was rough today.”

You paused, Jake had his back facing you, his upper body naked, with a towel around his waist, his black hair a little wet, probably from the shower he just had. He smelt just like you.

“Where were you?” you had to know if he took a shower at your place again. Jake turned around to face you, whilst your eyes wandered to admire his broad shoulders and his toned abdomen, all displayed in front of you. “I mean, when did you get here?” You cleared your throat.

“Like what you see?” Jake bit his lips while smiling.

You threw your phone to the side and walked up to him, you grabbed one of his shirts from his duffel bag, shoving the shirt to his face. Jake chuckled whilst leaning in to wrap his arms around your waist, burying his face where your shoulder and neck meet. You squirm under his touch, feeling his wet bare skin against the fabric of your shirt, his breath hits the skin of your neck and you feel him pressed a kiss on the said area.

“I got here earlier, I didn’t want to wake you up, though. You looked so pretty sleeping,” Jake’s hands traveled down to grope your ass, he playfully slapped it, rubbing it in a circular motion after. “Did you get a new body wash?” Jake kissed your jaw, you hummed in response. “I like it, it smells good.”

“Yeah? You better not finish the whole bottle before I try it,” you teased, kissing Jake’s damp hair while he giggled.

“I’ll try not to,” Jake sighed, inhaling your scent after, your hands busy playing with his wet hair.

“I want ice cream,” you wrapped your arms around his neck. “Get dressed, Jakey,” you pinched one of his cheeks.

“What the princess wants, the princess gets,” Jake saluted, pulling himself away from you to grab his clothes. He gave you a look whilst you stood there.

“What?” you asked confused.

“Are you gonna watch me get dressed?” Jake asked.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” you shrugged.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, princess,” He let out a breath, you snickered.

“I’m just kidding,” you sickeningly smiled at him as he rolled his eyes.

Before Jake can remove the towel around his waist, you turn around and lay on your stomach, busying yourself with your phone. After a while, you felt Jake slapped your ass, catching you off guard.

“Let’s go,” Jake hooked his arms around your waist, lifting you up with ease.

“I’m driving!” You said attempting to reach for Jake’s car keys, his arms around your waist preventing you to do so.

“No, you’re not,” Jake pecked your lips as you pouted, glaring at him. “C’mon, let’s go,” Jake intertwined his hand with yours, leading the way to his car. You tried getting in the driver’s seat before Jake, but he locked the car before you could open the door. “What a stubborn girl,” Jake shakes his head, smiling at your pissed expression.

“Please…” you drag out the word, putting your hands together, while you exaggerate your pout. Jake thought you were the cutest.

“Tough luck, princess,” Jake opened the car door to the passenger seat, motioning for you to get in. You sighed in defeat, rolling your eyes at a smiling Jake before you got in.

Jake got in the car, turning on the engine right after, he drove to the direction of the nearest fast food chain that serves ice cream, pulling up to the drive thru to order for you.

“Can I get one regular oreo ice cream? Yeah, thanks,” Jake drove ahead, the car halting a few moments after.

Jake rolled down the car window, tapping his card on the machine, he rolled up the window handing you the cup of ice cream.

“Thanks Jakey!” You beamed upon eating a scoop.

“Nah babe, I want a kiss,” he smiled playfully as he pulled out of the parking lot, his right hand fell on top of your left thigh. You leaned in, pecking his lips.

“Satisfied?” you raised an eyebrow.

“Nah,” he steered the steering wheel with one hand, the car stopped at a stoplight and he looked at you with a teasing smile. He bit his lip trying to suppress it, but failed. You wanted to slap the eat-shiting grin he had on, losing it when his tongue darted out to lick the corners of his lips.

“You don’t wanna get on my nerves right now, Sim.” He lightly laughed at your ‘threat’ while you busy yourself with scooping the ice cream, feeding it to him after.

“Where do you wanna go, princess?” Jake asked, squeezing your thigh, eyes focused on the road.

You ponder for a while, “Any ideas?” you asked him.

“We can stop by the park? Go straight to your place, maybe watch a movie? If you’re up to drink we can go get liquor? I don’t really know, princess. It depends on what you want to do.” Jake’s eyes go back and forth between you and the road.

“Let’s stop by the supermarket,” you mumbled, mouth full of ice cream. Jake nodded, driving to the direction of the nearest supermarket.

Jake spots a vacant spot, parking the car, when you’ve reached the parking lot of your destination.

You unbuckle your seatbelt, climbing onto Jake’s lap. “What are you up to, princess,” Jake chuckled as you straddled him.

“Nothing,” you mischievously smiled at him.

You pressed a kiss on his lips, pulling away before he gets the chance to explore your mouth with his tongue. “Not so fast, Jakey,” you proceed to eat the remaining ice cream.

“You’re such a tease…” Jake cheekily smiled, “…Do you really want to go to the supermarket?” Jake’s hand caressed your skin underneath your shirt. You shivered due to his cold fingers. Jake found your reaction amusing.

“Well you weren’t gonna pullover when I told you to! What was I supposed to say?!” You reasoned out, Jake snickered. “Can I please drive?” you begged.

“Why do you wanna drive so bad?” Jake rests his head against your shoulder.

“There’s no special reason, I just wanna drive,” you played with his fluffy hair.

“Sorry, princess. Answers still no,” Jake said, you pulled on his hair so you could look him in the eye.

“I will ride your face, if you let me drive,” you deadpanned.

“Tempting, but nope,” Jake pecked your lips, your tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip. Pulling away from him to scoop the ice cream, feeding it to him. Once he had the ice cream in his mouth, you kissed him again, with your tongue exploring his mouth. You can taste the sweetness of the oreo ice cream against his tongue, as the mixture of his drool and the melted ice cream dribbles out from the corners of his mouth.

You placed the cup on the cupholder, your arms wrapping around Jake’s neck to pull him closer, while Jake does the same but with your waist. You both fight for dominance for a while, Jake losing as you grind down on him. You pulled away to lick the dripping drool on the corners of his mouth, Jake groaned as you pressed down on him harder.

“You’re so messy, princess,” Jake bites your collarbones.

“That’s how you like it,” you whispered into his ear.

“Alright, you’re driving,” Jake finally caved in, he sighed as you squealed. “But no over-speeding!” Jake pinched your cheeks.

“I don’t do that!” you defended yourself. Jake gave you a look. “That was one time, Jakey!”

“Sure, princess. What about the other day? Or the day after we went to that party? Last week? When you picked me and Jay up from the mall? Or when you drove us to school that one day?”

“You’re way hotter when you have your mouth shut, you know?” you made a face, Jake looked at you unamused. “Ok, you made your point. I won’t do it again!” you rolled your eyes. “Now, move!” Jake dramatically sighed again.

After Jake moved to the passenger seat, you drove all the way back to your place.

It was safe to say that you made it alive, miraculously without speeding.

You turned on the tv in your bedroom, sitting down on Jake’s lap, while he lay down with his head against the headboard while he had his right arm wrapped around you. As you try to pick a movie to watch, Jake was busy texting his friends, lightly laughing from time to time.

“Hey, man,” Jake laughed. Is he serious right now? you glanced at him but he was too busy to even notice.

“Yeah, I heard. No? Wait, what? You’re kidding?” Jake continued talking through the phone.

You can hear Sunghoon’s faint voice, explaining stuff you didn’t care about. You stood up and peered at Jake. He didn’t even notice. Let’s see if he could keep this up. With that, you discarded your shorts, leaving your purple laced panties on, one of Jake’s favorites.

You climbed back on top of him but instead of sitting yourself on top of his lap, you moved up so that you’re sitting on his chest, making sure to arch your back so he got a view of your ass. This time Jake did notice you, his hand caressing and groping your ass despite talking to Sunghoon. You jut out your ass so that it’s all up in his face, shuffling around to find a more comfortable position.

Once you found yourself comfortable, you had your head rested on your folded arms on top of Jake’s abdomen, your legs folded on either side of Jake, with your ass way too close to Jake’s face much to his liking.

You pull on the strings of his sweats, continuing to look for a movie to watch. You felt Jake pull you closer by your waist, pressing a kiss on your inner thigh, you groaned as he bit your asscheek after.

Jake bit his lower lip, trying to focus on what Sunghoon was saying. He was well aware that you're pining for his attention but he couldn’t hang up on Sunghoon since he was saying such interesting things.

Jake pushed his thumb between your clothed folds, feeling the wet patch on the fabric grow, you whimpered in response to his touches. You moaned when he pulled your panties upwards, creating a friction in between your folds, stimulating your clit with the fabric rubbing against it. Jake does this for a while, leaving some bites on the flesh of your ass as he did so. At his actions, you let out soft moans loud enough for him to hear, but not loud enough for Sunghoon to hear on the other line.

You audibly gasped when you felt Jake rubbed your clothed clit, jerking your ass back to feel more of him. You hear him chuckle, not sure if it’s because of what Sunghoon said or your reaction. Jake pinches your clit, pulling it and twisting, leaving you breathless. He slaps your ass, gripping the soft flesh to spread your ass apart.

“Hey, man, listen. As much as I love hearing how Jay got himself into some deep shit, I have a really important task at hand,” Jake pushed your panties to the side, he sighed when he saw a glob of arousal drip down from your hole to your folds.

“Yeah, is your best friend being needy right now?” You hear Sunghoon say on the other line.

“Fuck off,” Jake simply said, you heard Sunghoon laughed before a beeping noise indicated that the call was over.

Jake threw his phone to the side, he pulled you impossibly closer to him before speaking. “I can’t even talk to my friends without you feeling the need to pull shit like this?” Jake slapped your cunt, a fresh glob of arousal dripping out of your hole from the action. “My cute little whore, running around impatiently wanting to get fucked,” you mewled when Jake shoved his thumb in and out of you. “Don’t I fuck you enough? You want me to always fill you up with my dick?”

“I don’t know, Jakey. You tell me…” you breathlessly spoke, “…Do you always have to look for new bitches to fuck? Knowing you jerk off to the thoughts of me wrapped around you? Knowing how good my mouth feels wrapped around you?” you hear Jake groan, his cock stirring up in his sweats, visibly getting hard.

“Fuck,” Jake bit his lips, replacing his thumb with his index and middle finger.

“You always have to call me late at night, when you’re so horny and desperate to get off? When, you have to send me pictures of your dick, begging me to do something about it? All those videos of you jerking off and putting on a show for me?” You reached for Jake’s wrist, pulling his fingers out of you.

You leaned all the way back until you felt Jake’s plushed lips against your folds. You moaned when Jake licked your folds, tongue dipping in your hole a couple of times before licking your clit after.

“You don’t think I know how you moan my name when you’re all alone humping your pillow? Or how desperate you sound when you whine out my name when you touch yourself?” you grind down on Jake’s tongue, his nose hitting your clit.

“You’re so hot, princess,” Jake said against your cunt, words muffled, he hugged your waist, shoving his lips against your folds.

“Right there, Jakey,” you moaned, toes curling with how good Jake was eating you out. You turn your head to the side, seeing how Jake was holding onto your waist and how he had his head buried in between your legs. The sight looked so hot. You reached for your phone, clicking on the record button before zooming in on the mirror showing the view of Jake hugging your waist while he ate you out. “Say hi, Jakey,” you bit your lips when Jake slapped your ass.

You fully sat up to sit directly on Jake’s face, both of his hands gripping your waist, you reached back to gripped his fluffy hair, pushing him closer to your cunt. You point the camera down, showing Jake under you, licking your folds and sucking on your cunt.

“You’re doing so good for me, Jakey…” the grip around your waist tightened.

Your moans got louder when you neared your climax, seeing white as you spilled all over Jake. He helped you draw out your climax by licking you clean, pulling off of him when oversensitivity reached your senses.

Jake looked like he came out of your biggest wet dream, his swollen lips and chin shiny from the mix of his saliva and your release, fluffy hair all messy.

“Take your clothes off for me,” you film Jake following your orders without protest. He took off his shirt, throwing it to the side, he did the same with his sweats and underwear, leaving himself bare. “Show me how you touch yourself, Jakey.”

Jake looked at you then at the camera, he gripped the base of his cock, slit leaking beads of precum. He spat on the tip of his cock, whining when he stroked himself, smearing his saliva all over to lubricate his cock.

“Who do you think of when you’re all alone, Jakey?” You asked, Jake bucked his hips up when his hand gained speed, he moaned out your name loudly.

“F-Fuck…” Jake noisily whined, “Y-You’re… you’re a-all I think about!” Jake struggled to speak coherently, his hand moving impossibly fast.

It didn’t take too long for Jake to cum, already worked up after eating you out. As he reaches the peak of his climax, white ropes of his cum shoot out of his tip, creating a mess everywhere. Jake gasped for air, trying to regulate his breathing. You stopped filming, dropping your phone to your side to climb onto Jake’s lap. He hugged your waist again, leaning his head back on the head board, closing his eyes.

Jake hissed when you bit the skin of his neck, leaving a bite mark that will surely bruise. Satisfied with what you’ve done, you continued leaving bite marks on the expanse of his neck, playing with his hair as you did so.

“What’s gotten into you?” Jake asked, exhaustion evident on his face.

You take a hold of his cock, pushing your panties to the side to line it up with your hole before sinking down, you and Jake moaning in unison at the feeling of your cunt wrapped around his dick. You let yourself adjust to Jake’s size before you moved up and down on his lap at a fast pace. Skin slapping, lewd moans, and crude language echoed throughout your bedroom.

“Nothing, I’m just claiming what’s mine,” you said, stuttering out each word. Jake’s hands rolled your shirt up, squeezing both of your tits.

You moaned out his name when his thumbs played with your sensitive nipples. You pushed his hands away to roughly kiss him, in response Jake let you explore the cavern of his mouth with your tongue. You barely pulled away, letting him breathe for a moment, impatiently pressing your lips together to roughly make out.

Jake’s lips were swollen and shiny once you pulled away from him, leaving you satisfied. Jake gasped when he felt your right hand crept up to his neck, your fingers wrapped around his throat.

“Fuck…” Jake bit his lips, moaning out your name when you tighten your grip around his neck.

“Who do you belong to, Jakey?” you bounced on him faster, chasing your high.

“Y-You,” Jake felt lightheaded with his peak nearing. “‘m a-all yours.”

“That’s right. You’re all mine, understood?” Jake attempted to nod, your grip on him not loosening.

“Y-Yes! A-All yours,” Jake stuttered out.

Jake rubbed your clit at a speed, the knot in your stomach finally snapping as you creamed on Jake’s cock, triggering his orgasm not long after.

Jake leaned his back on the headboard behind him, catching his breath. You hugged Jake, resting your head on his shoulder, feeling the exhaustion creep in. You almost drifted into sleep with the way Jake was playing with your hair, his other arm loosely wrapped around you.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Jake spoke, breaking the silence. He carried you to your bathroom, setting you down on your toilet to let you pee, he cleaned himself up while waiting for you to finish, lending you a hand when you needed anything.

After changing into new sets of clothes, you lie down in bed with Jake to cuddle. He hissed when you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him close.

“What?” you asked Jake, confused, he didn’t answer, opting to point at his neck. You pulled down Jake’s hoodie to inspect his neck, splotches of marks adorned his neck, your handprint evident, bruising the skin. “Oh my god!” you sat up at the same time your eyes widened, Jake chuckled at your reaction. “Are you ok? I’m so sorry! I got carried away!”

“You’re good, princess,” Jake hugged you again, pulling you close as he kissed the skin of your neck. Your fingers find their way to play with his hair again. “Oh, I meant it by the way…” He rested his head on your shoulder, looking up to hold your gaze. “…I’m all yours.” Jake grinned.

“I know,” you said sporting the same expression the boy had in front of you. “You’re all mine.”

“I’m sorry for making you jealous, princess.” Jake pouted. “But I can’t guarantee that it won't happen again,” Jake teased, pointing at his neck.

“You little shit!” you flicked Jake’s neck in annoyance, making him scream at the sudden pain.

“I’m sorry! I was just kidding!” Jake hugged you tighter.

You woke up the next morning with a note from Jake, apologizing that he had to leave for practice early in the morning, not forgetting to promise a hang out with his girl after. It was safe to say that you went back to bed with a smile on your face after reading the note.

Jake felt bad for leaving you, but it was either that or deathly exercises assigned to him by his coach.

When he arrived at the change room, he spotted his friends by their designated lockers. Jay already changed into his jersey, Heeseung groggily changing, and Sunghoon stretching.

“About time you arrived,” Sunghoon said. “We were just talking about Jay’s dumbass. What took you so long to get here?”

“I had to stop by my place to get my shit,” Jake simply said. “Hey man,” Jake dapped Jay up. “So, what did your dad say?”

“I don’t know, man. He said he’s gonna get my car fixed, but guess what? This dude’s gonna intern at his company,” Jay pointed to himself, looking unamused.

“Yikes, you poor soul.” Jake said, pulling up his hoodie to change his clothes. His friends collectively gasped.

“Dude, you’re not gonna go out looking like that,” Sunghoon said, shocked.

“Yeah, no. Coach is gonna think you got into a fight or something,” Heeseung said mouth agape.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Jay pointed at Jake’s neck.

“Oh, this?” Jake arrogantly smirked. “My girlfriend happened.”

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kneelingshadowsalome · 5 months

Text

Christian Woman

(König x Nun!Reader)

Word count: 6.4 k Tags/warnings: Pining intensifies, religious despair intensifies, minor injuries, treatment of wounds, crying, enthusiastic kissing, König gets a few boners. 18+ for eventual smut in this story.

A/N: Don't tell me you wouldn't get horny scared too if you saw this tall guy suddenly emerging from the shadows in his full war gear :) There's a cute date night and a lot of angst in this chapter too, I tried to summon an actual plot here... As always, I need to explain why they’re bonking! But smut is coming, next and last chapter will be full of fluff and steamy first times (Reader is virgin!)

Part 2

You have a feeling that this is the last day you’ll see him.

The stranger from the Austrian Alps, the kindest mercenary you’ve ever met – the only mercenary you’ve ever met – the giant soldier who now carries a piece of your heart with him. You wonder if he even knows he owns it.

The morning prayers and mass are a chore and bring you no comfort, and the usual dawn bliss is gone. You find no delight in singing with your sisters, and withdrawing to your cell for solitary prayer feels like stepping back inside your own personal purgatory.

You’ve been in heaven and in hell for days now. Maybe since the moment you met him...

But at the same time, you know it must’ve been the Lord who brought you together. There must be a reason for God to make you two meet, you refuse to think it’s only because He wishes to tempt you. There must be a bigger plan; the connection, as sinful and carnal as it is, has to serve some higher purpose.

And you wonder if you’re going mad, because your most sinful thought is that you actually see God in him. It’s just your lower instincts speaking, a demon of some sort that tries to misguide you because no man is like Lord Jesus.

And yet, don’t they always preach that you meet Him in every person you meet? And that through you, other people meet God too…?

This reasoning feels much better. It solidifies the mercy you’ve longed for during the brief weeks you’ve known this man who brashly calls himself König. You want to believe that he carries a spark of the Divine in him, and that you hold a grain of the Virgin Mary’s compassion and love in you.

You decide to hold on to this thought: that you were meant to meet so that you could come to know God through each other. For in König, you see a suffering God, a crucified Christ who rises against evil by offering himself to the cruelty of men. Somehow, the image of him as a mortal man starts to twist into a divine, dark trooper, someone who battles the forces of the evil in this world.

And this reasoning leads you to think that it is only natural that you, a Sister of the Faith, have helped him find some rest and relief in the middle of his work. It’s pretty clear that König has found some solace in your company, and even if things have ventured into a forbidden area of low, simple lust, it’s not dark enough to taint the beauty and grace you've felt together. As long as you hold on to this purity, nothing can go wrong.

While praying for both of you that morning, you find yourself replaying the smiles and touches König has given you these past weeks. You know you will drown yourself in memories after he's gone because they are all you’ll ever have of him.

And they're more than enough.

Or at least they should be…

You feel a tiny dagger of guilt push into your heart, the place reserved for Christ, when you’re assigned to do some spiritual reading instead of helping out in the kitchen or organizing the small library. The appointed texts are about falling into temptation and sin, reminding you about the consequences of such actions. You read the passings with a heavy heart and then slip out to meet König, possibly for the last time.

You wear your everyday clothes to the café, and König says nothing about your sudden moral choice, only gives you another longing, enamored once-over. You keep him at arm’s length, both physically and emotionally, and the effects of this unexpected cold shower are immediate. The man doesn’t even try to disguise the sad, puppy-eyed stares he shoots your way.

You hate it that the bright, playful air of your meetings is gone, and your heart is tearing itself apart in your chest because the only thing you wanted was to spread joy into his world. Even the Lord seems disappointed in you being so cold-hearted, and you can’t bear to see His sadness and suffering in König’s eyes.

You get offered not one, but two coffees today, and a large piece of dark chocolate cake that tastes of pure sin. He talks about how he would love to write to you, but you tell him you can’t be in correspondence with a man who isn’t your brother or father. König isn’t even married, so it would only raise questions – you would find yourself reading spiritual texts about lust and sin until it drives you crazy.

“I’m leaving early tomorrow,” he finally reveals with a voice thick with sorrow. “Can I see you before I go...? One last time?”

“I’d love to, but… I’m sort of being watched,” you say, slowly coming out of your shell to make it clear that you’d want to spend the rest of your life with him, but you simply just can’t.

Your weak, apologetic look is like a dose of confidence shot through his veins because the face opposite of you brightens immediately. König’s whole posture gets a hopeful uplift.

“Just for a little walk...? To see what the city looks like in the evening?”

“I don’t know if I can make it… I have to work until six... And attend the evening prayer at seven. And then silence starts at eight…”

You’re wringing your hands under the table while you explain, hoping König will come up with a solution to this dilemma.

“We can go for a walk after silence, then,” he shrugs.

“I–I can’t just escape from the window.”

“...Why not?”

You look at König; he looks straight back.

The man’s serious about you sneaking out your window at night; he’s actually serious, even if there’s a dark, playful smile rising on his lips.

“I can help,” he grins.

Your heart cracks open, it shoots full of light only more and more with that smile. König doesn’t need to ram a door down and shoot his way through your chest; all he has to do is sneak inside your heart and take the place that belongs to God. You don’t even feel the difference as he makes himself at home.

Well, actually, you do... It’s like your Christ’s love and mercy have finally come to flesh and blood before you. They're materialized in the man sitting opposite of you, bouncing his knee excitedly and grinning like the most innocent little devil on Earth.

You find yourself whispering “Ok”, and the whole world shifts.

You take a step towards something forbidden but great, your whole heart starts to sing along with life. You haven’t even done the actual thing yet but you’re already filled with bubbling laughter and excitement. If only your friend could see you now, about to do things she probably did when she was fifteen...

But everything feels so right that it can’t be a sin – if it is, it just so happens to be the most natural, most divine thing to do too.

If this is the last day you’ll ever see him, you can surely steal a tiny moment for yourself and forget about rights and wrongs for a moment. Just forget about the rules, and live in the actual world for a few hours, breathe the worldly air, see what normal people do and pretend you’re one of them, for just one night.

…

You feel like Cinderella when picking clothes for the evening.

You rummage through the only closet in your room – during the time that should be spent in silent prayer before bed – and notice you still have your old jeans.

They’re light blue and still fit; actually, they fit more than well... You know that König’s eyes will be glued to your butt when you’re not looking.

You have completely forgotten how nice you look in jeans, and it’s the Devil talking, making you admire yourself in tight denim like this. You never cared about how you look before; you certainly never gave much thought to how men see you or if they’re checking out your butt or breasts. Now you’re grooming yourself like never before, trying to decide what to do with your hair as if your life depended on it.

You choose a simple, black t-shirt to pair with the jeans and not make it too obvious that you’re trying to flaunt yourself. It hugs your form but is otherwise plain, and for some people, your choice of clothing is probably their regular work outfit. To you, it feels like you’re about to go out to seduce everyone.

Everything’s so tight and earthly; everything’s so… there. Visible... Touchable.

Lord, have mercy on me. I know I’m weak. But please let me have this, just this once…

And König has seen you without makeup all this time, so what on earth has possessed you to lament the fact that you don’t own a single case of lipstick? You’d kill for a few sweeps of mascara, too, just to bat your lashes at a silly man.

It’s not a date, you remind yourself.

It’s not a date... It’s not a date. You’re just going to have a short walk with him.

And you fear that accepting König’s “help” was a mistake. If you get caught with a man on the convent perimeter, you’ll get your ass thoroughly whooped…

Can a man of his size even keep quiet?

He probably suggested it so that you wouldn’t chicken out of this. If König is at your window by 8 and there’s no sign of you, he’ll probably just come in, throw you on his shoulder and jump out. He knows where your window is located now, and surely has some questionable skills due to his profession, skills you know nothing about, but you’re still about to have a panic attack from pure excitement when the clock strikes 8.

You push the window ajar and settle on the sill to keep watch, gasping when you hear his familiar accent down below as soon as the window is open.

“Kätzchen...”

“König…?”

You peek down and meet his stupid, grinning face – God, he’s so happy to see you kept your promise. His eyes are shining, his fingers interlock to help you have something to place your foot on.

“Here, kitty, kitty…”

You could easily jump out the window without hurting yourself, but of course he wants to help you since you were so kind to tell him where he could come and "pick you up".

But to see that playful smile and hear him trying to coax you out like you’re some skittish little kitten…

Could a grown man get any more silly?

You wiggle yourself out the window, trying to ignore the fact that he’s probably staring at your butt, still grinning like crazy while you do it.

SupportING your entire weight like it’s no trouble at all, he helps you down. You’ve never been this close to him since you bumped into him: you have to take support from his shoulders as you search for a footing, and he scoops you in his arms the minute both your feet are safely on the ground.

“I knew you’d come,” he purrs with joy, and you place your hands on his chest – not to keep him at bay, but to touch him in a way that is as appropriate as possible when a man is hugging you like this.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you whisper, still unsure if this is the best or the worst decision of your entire life.

“Kitty… Live a little, hmm?”

You have to crane your neck to look up at him – you’re not sure if you’re in the embrace of Jesus or Lucifer because the warmth of those eyes compare to the love of God, but they also make you weak and helpless. Whenever you’re with your sisters, the feeling is pure, pristine love, not a surge of complex emotions and thrill like it is with König.

“You’re a bad influence,” you breathe – König only laughs, and the grip around you tightens.

“My lady. You’re the one who climbed out the window.”

“Because someone would’ve probably thrown small rocks on it if I hadn’t…!”

“Natürlich. And if that didn’t work… A serenade or two. Do you like love songs?”

You look down at his chest, smiling, heart fluttering at the thought of a silly Austrian man serenading under your window. You have no trouble imagining him singing something syrupy in German, waking everyone up with his racket.

“You’re crazy, did you know that...?”

“Sure. They tell me that all the time at work. Aber du… Du bist süss.”

“...What’s that?”

His smile only widens as he takes in your lips, your neck, the tight shirt that finally gives him something more to look at.

“You’re cute.”

…

The whole evening is heavenly.

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted from a date and more.

He doesn’t take you for a short walk, oh no. He takes you out to eat, at some lively restaurant where they serve delicious, artisan, wood-fired pizzas. You have créme brûlée for dessert, and König gives you his strawberries when he notices you eat them first, but only on one condition: you have to let him feed them to you one by one.

He buys you a rose: a big, red, plump one. No man has ever bought you flowers before, and even if you love lush, abundant bouquets, the fact that he chose you a single red rose after you’ve spoken about the beauty of simplicity, doesn't escape you.

König hasn’t only listened to you these past few weeks: he gets you. And how symbolic is it that he chose a rose that’s also tied to all the mysteries of God?

You walk the streets with a flower in one hand and his palm in the other. It's a holy trinity of him and you and the Great Mystery, it’s passion and it’s thorns, it’s blood and beauty and pain, and you feel like he just gets you; he knows you through and through.

You pass by an outdoor bar with live music, and the place is so crowded that people are dancing on the streets. No cars honk as they slowly pass by the scene, the music and the laughing, dancing pairs make even the grumpiest passersby smile.

It shouldn’t be a surprise that König pulls you to him before you get to escape the scene. You’re drawn flush against his chest, hips colliding with his, hands finding each other in a slow sway that has never even seen the steps of Latin dances.

“Nuns are allowed to dance, no?”

He smiles dreamily, enveloped in the same sweet haze as you.

“Not with a man,” you correct, but don’t even bother to push him away. Instead, you let König guide his hand down your waist and draw you closer. If this isn't a date, you don't know what is...

“I can take the blame,” he says. “You can tell everybody it was me.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” you laugh.

“Why not?”

His eyes are glued to yours, making you warm all over, so much so that you feel like you’re burning from the neck up. You guide your stare down to his chest, then over to the quick heartbeat on his neck.

He's nervous, too... Your cruel soldier is nervous, and kind, and shy because he's pressed against you.

You rest your head there on his chest, watching the golden sunset far away, painting the rooftops with a genial glow. Your heart is made of molten gold, too, as you allow yourself find a home in his embrace.

“I can take your sins,” he promises above you. “Jesus did that too, right?”

“You’re not Jesus,” you smile against his shirt – black, always black...

“Are you sure? I would go to hell for you.”

Your dance comes to a halt as you swallow and lift your gaze. The smiles are gone now, both yours and his. He’s so close now he could touch your lips with his if he wanted to.

And he does want to.

You don’t shy away as he leans down to kiss you. It’s chaste at first, a slow exploration, but then he opens your mouth with his, demanding, hot, intoxicating. You melt in his arms, and he somehow supports you through it all, turning the dance into an embrace and the decent little kiss into a full French one.

It’s hot and wet and slow, so, so passionate that your knees are about to give in. You devour him back, feel how he grows hard against your stomach – the swelling erection makes you dizzy before you come to your senses, but only barely.

You break away an inch, panting into his mouth while he’s panting into yours. What a blessing that you don’t own any lipstick; both of your lips are red without it…

“This is–”

“Inappropriate?”

His voice is husky, and sends a flood of wetness down between your legs. Your heart is racing, but you can’t even note how terribly alive you are before he attacks your lips again.

The kiss is even more desperate than the first one, and the slow urgency is gone. His mouth leaves you without air, and then – he wraps his arms around you and picks you up from the ground like you weigh nothing. Your hands get squished somewhere between you, naturally coming to cup his face as you kiss him back.

It’s eager, pure lust, so powerful and needy that it scorches through your chest and ties your heartstrings into tight little knots, makes your brows knit together, too.

He grunts into your mouth, sensing you’re more than up for this after all. You let him see the full depth of your hunger and your lust, just waiting to be released and taken – made love to until you’re both sore and messy and limp.

God… This is better than God…

You hear whistles and whoos in the distance, some men yelling, “Let’s go!” and “Get a room” while they pass by. Realizing you’ve fallen into a dream trap of strong arms and needy lips about to depart tomorrow, you know it's something you could have had years ago, perhaps, but not anymore. You'll lose everything if you break your vows tonight: basically, you’ve already broken them, but no permanent damage has been done.

You can still turn back if you turn back now…

You push yourself away, push him away, heart clenching when you see his adoring, love-drunk, half-lidded stare.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, fighting back tears as you come down from your high. “I just–I can’t…”

He breathes labouriously, still clutching you against him, holding you in the air like you’re the thing he has searched for his entire life and now, finally discovered… Only to be told that he now has to put it back where he found it.

You’re crying by the time he sets you down, and you have no heart or will to pull away. Instead, you bury your face in his chest and cry your fill in his shirt. It’s soon damp from your tears as König hugs and supports you through his own stoic heartbreak.

“I’m sorry... I’m sorry…”

You repeat it until you can’t repeat it anymore, bawling in his chest while the world around you continues to spin despite your heaven and hell, despite your vows, despite your stupid devotion. The world revolves like it always has, as you choose a crucified man over the one who’s flesh and blood and holds you through your pain.

“Kätzchen, don’t cry,” he pets your hair while you sniffle and tremble in his embrace. You know this is not the last time you will cry your heart out over him, but knowing it doesn't help you when he offers you his last, bittersweet comfort.

“It was a good dream while it lasted...”

…

The rose withers in your cell.

You turn it upside down and tie it to the curtain rod to prevent it from dropping its petals. It dries beautifully and keeps its bloodred colour, now reminding you of both Jesus and him.

There hasn’t been a word from König in months, and of course there hasn’t. You denied his wish to write you, and the dried rose is the only thing left of your time with him.

In the first weeks, it’s hard to keep up a charade. You show up to prayer, work and mass with red eyes, revealing to everyone that you’re going through a loss of some sort. Somewhere during the first week, the abbess summons you to meet her and you brace yourself for a scolding.

God knows you don’t need the rebuke, and when you close the door and turn to face the symbolic mother of the convent, you end up breaking into tears right in front of her.

“Whatever you were up to, my child, I am glad that it is over now,” she says with all the gentleness of the world.

“Me too,” your voice breaks, and when the abbess extends her hands, you go to her, fall to your knees, and have another heartwrenching cry with your face in her lap.

You’ve denied yourself love and mercy for days, expecting to be expelled or shamed or ridiculed, but mercy is what you’re offered now, even after you’ve sinned.

The abbess caresses your hair just as softly as König did just days ago, and the fact that her kind gesture reminds you of some silly, infatuated soldier, only makes the breakdown worse. You bawl like a little child who’s deprived of candy, and you don’t even have the strength to berate yourself for it.

“I hope you haven’t done anything irredeemable...?”

“No... Nothing happened,” you sob and look out of the rose window, desperate for sun while your head rests on a gentle but distant lap.

Nothing happened except the most sinful, beautiful, lustful kiss of your life... Nothing happened except that you saw this man every time you could, held hands with him, swam in his smiles and affection, and went to bed with thoughts inappropriate for any human being.

“The world tests us in many ways... But Lord never tests us. He only loves us.”

Something in that sentence finally quenches the neverending flow of tears. Your muscles start to relax, and you remember that this is the eternal truth: to surrender, over and over again, to a power far greater than you.

The abbess never asks for details about what you have done. She never tells you you have sinned; you don’t need to be told that. The punishment has been dealt already: whoever ties herself to this world and its temptations will suffer exactly like this when the passion and excitement ends. The key to escaping its grip is to simply let go first, once and for all, surrender to the love of God, and trust that everything fill fall into place eventually.

“You must offer your mind and body to work now,” the motherly voice speaks above you. “Work, time and prayer will ease your pain.”

…

Work, time and prayer do ease the pain.

They ease all pains, but it takes almost six months to stop thinking about him every hour of every day.

You’re proud of yourself when you find out one day that you haven’t thought about him at all. He just now crossed your mind when you remember how he used to smell: of salty seabreeze mixed with intoxicating musk, the scent of excitement and safety all in one.

You could almost swear you catch a whiff of that particular scent in the yard when you go and water the flowers one evening, but it can’t be: he’s gone, and there’s nothing you can do about it, nothing you even want to do about it because you already made your choice. This path leads you to greater peace of mind in the long run, and you know you made the right decision even if it hurt you and König.

Sunsets still remind you of him, the colour of rose and gold mixed with endings, but the memories are now laced with bittersweet love rather than blunt despair and pain. The times you spent with him are a collection of brief, blissful moments, and you treasure every single one of them in your heart. You still pray for him, not every day, but nearly every day. You touch the rose when the hurt reaches its peak, but the last time you did that was almost a week ago.

And you thought you had forgotten his scent, but apparently, you have not. In fact, it seems to drift to your nose again, which is odd because you’re outside, after all…

“Kätzchen.”

A whisper is hissed from the shadows just as you’re about to straighten and investigate, because either you’re going crazy or then there’s someone here who smells exactly like him.

You startle and almost drop the watering can, staring straight into the shadows under your window. The tallest man you’ve ever seen steps out from the dark in full combat gear, and while you can’t see his face because it’s covered with a draping black hood, you recognize it’s him simply from the way he moves.

“Don’t be afraid. It’s me,” he rasps and tries to straighten from the slightly hunched position he’s in, but immediately falls back, then slants to lean on the wall. His gear is dirty, and he holds the side of his stomach with one hand, the lively blue eyes either drunk or very very tired.

“Dear God… What happened to you?”

You abandon the watering can and rush to him; it’s useless to ask if he’s injured when, clearly, he’s trying to prevent himself from slumping to the ground.

He’s enormous and intimidating even when wounded, a soldier loaded with ammo and weapons and protective paddings and guards, wearing a hood and a helmet and a radio of some sort, his tactical gloves bloody and eyes droopy. The weapon by his side is almost half as tall as you, and God – is that a grenade strapped to his vest?

“I got compromised,” König looks down at the wound but doesn’t remove his hand. He looks so different, like another man entirely when he’s not dressed in his customary olive green pants and a casual black t-shirt. He seems even buffier now, even taller, so terrifying that you wonder if you ever even knew this man.

You must look like a frightened deer because König mistakes your horrified look as sweet, simple concern.

“Don’t worry... They have it much worse, I assure you,” he says with his usual grin – you can hear it from the way he says it that he’s smiling. But it’s so weary now, so exhausted and frail compared to his confident, playful laughs and that husky voice with which he spoke to you after your kiss.

“I came to ask for help,” he continues under his breath, wobbling even when leaning against a wall. “You’re the only one I can… trust.”

“Of course, anything. I will do anything I can.”

His eyes smile down at you from behind the executioner’s veil. It’s that same devoted stare you’ve been trying to dispel for months now. You give yourself a quick mental shake, then tell him to wait here while you go in and call for an ambulance.

König bounces off the wall and seizes your hand, telling you he can’t go to a hospital and that, if anything, he must avoid any kind of public places. You don’t ask any further questions, even if you know you’re in a pickle now, and not only because those glacial eyes are making your knees weak again. There’s nothing much you can do: he’s wounded and still in danger, saying he can’t trust anyone else. Of course you have to help him in any way you can. If he says it’s not safe, then you must help him get somewhere where it is safe.

And besides, aren’t you a nun? You’re supposed to help those in need.

So when he asks you if there are any motels or a bed & breakfast nearby, you say you know just the place.

It makes your heart bleed that König takes support from you while you slowly make your way down the street. A man of his size, a body trained to withstand whatever his job throws at him, seeking support from a frail little nun… It’s a joke, indeed, and a horrid one.

When you get to the small place run by a humble old man, you don’t know who to feel more sorry for: the elder behind the counter or König, desperately trying to stay on his feet.

“I mean no trouble,” he says while pushing an unnerving amount of money across the table. “I just need a place to rest.”

The receptionist’s eyes dart to you, then back to König, who still has what you suppose is a loaded rifle dangling by his waist. The safety is on, probably, but there are also knives and grenades strapped to his person, and with that hood, he mainly looks like a terrorist of some sort.

“She’s here to help. See...? Bride of Christ. Even less trouble than I am.”

You try to smile reassuringly as the man risks a better look at you now instead of being fixated on König or his weapons.

You must make an odd pair, a soldier and a nun... The old man probably has a ton of questions in his head right now.

“No shooting,” he says to you, but his words are directed at König.

“No shooting,” he promises. “No mess if no one knows we’re here. Ok...? You’ve never even seen us.”

The receptionist nods. Then he extends a trembling hand and takes the money, and hands out a key without taking any check-in information.

You go to König and help him up the small stairs and into his room paid with bloody money and a menacing appearance. The fitted carpet is old, and floral patterned, the room small and adorable and meant for visitors far more petite than König. The bedspread is old-fashioned and floral too and has never even seen blood, of that you are sure when König lays himself down with a grunt.

You spend the next minutes – or hours, you can’t tell – in a tunnel-visioned fog as you do exactly as he says.

You help him out of his gear and weapons and lay them aside quickly but gently, you cut his shirt with an ugly-looking knife, then get a watered towel for him to press against the wound. You rush back to his tactical vest and search for a first aid kit and some medicine, and start to treat his wounds per his advice.

The sun sets in the window, and you patch up your injured soldier with care, trusting his word when he says it’s only a flesh wound and that it looks far worse than it is.

“I should get shot more often,” he purrs when you’re cleaning the rest of the blood off his skin.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you scold, trying to focus on your task and not the vast plates that make his chest. Or the thick abs, right there under your fingertips… Or the fact that he has incredibly narrow hips, and a luscious breath of dark hair leading from his navel down and underneath the waistband of his pants.

You suppose this is what your friend calls a happy trail...

And it does make you very happy.

You don’t dare to look beyond that because the pants he usually wears aren’t as tight as these, and you fear he’ll catch you checking out his junk in an attempt to see if your friend was correct about his size.

To your blessing – or your curse – you don’t even have to look straight at it to see he’s having an erection. You can actually see from the corner of your eye how König grows hard while you’re treating him – it’s right there, a robust tent that rises beside you while you concentrate on wiping off the blood.

“Pay no mind to that,” he says thickly and completely without shame. “It just happens… Can’t control it.”

He breathes a bit too heavy for someone who’s lying down, and you fear it’s because of the blood loss. But then you start to suspect it’s probably because all the remaining blood has gone between his legs… He doesn’t even try to tone down the heated, obsessive stares he shoots your way, and you suppose he’s either missed you very much, or then there’s a fever rising after all. You’re not sure if you’re glad or disappointed that the bullet didn’t scrape his leg instead.

“I missed you,” he says like he just read your thoughts. He whispers the sentence slowly and with purpose, saying it like a long-withheld secret.

“I missed you too,” you whisper back.

Gosh… Here you are, a silly little nun who’s tried to get over a crush for six months, crying after him at night and caressing his rose during the day. You’ve been petting a withering flower some mercenary gave you in hopes of getting into your pants, you’ve fawned over memories of a few smiles and a kiss, all the while the said mercenary has killed people for money and now got shot. He came here to work again, but never sent a message, he only came to see you when he was injured…

...And you’re glad he did. If a bullet was needed to bring him back to you, then you’re grateful for it, no matter how horrible it is.

“Did you ever… find someone?” You ask while keeping your gaze fixed on his navel instead of the raging bulge in his pants.

“Someone, who?”

“Someone to hold hands with.”

He gives a strained laugh. “Ah. No. No time for that.”

You swallow, and slowly guide your eyes to his.

“Are you still happy with your crucified man?”

Ouch.

“I… I don’t know.”

His brows knit together; you can see it even in the dim light of the table lamp, you can see it even if there’s some godforsaken black war paint all over his face under that hood.

There’s a distant hurt in his eyes before he blinks softly, slowly.

“I wrote to you, Braut Christi... Many times. Never sent the letters… They’re still in my room, at the base.”

Your heart skips a beat.

He hasn’t had “time” for women, yet has written you letters all these months. He’s written letters while you’ve caressed a rose….

You wonder if hearts can find each other, even through a distance, and if you’ve felt the urge to go to the flower he gave you at the same time König has gotten the desire to write another letter to you. It’s bittersweet, like this whole thing between you two, the mystery that both brings you together and rips you apart.

“I wish I hadn’t… I wish I...” you start, but can’t bring yourself to finish.

“Liebling. I should’ve sent them anyway.”

You go get rid of the bloodied paper towels before you start to cry in front of him.

God… You’re not only in a pickle, you’re neck-deep in trouble, and you only notice you forgot to wash your hands when you return to him.

He reaches for your hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. Peace settles in, even if there’s blood on your hands and the man you adore is lying next to you, patched up with the help of a first aid kit when he should be lying in a hospital, receiving treatment and care.

There’s a knife and a pistol tucked under the bedspread, next to his hand, and the fact that he’s still prepared to fight anyone who tries to come through that door underlines the fact that you two come from very different worlds. König is more than just a rose buying, coffee offering gentleman, he's more than just a silly guy who threatens to sing serenades under your window if you don’t come out to play with him.

You’re not sure if you’re more enamoured or scared.

“You’re an angel,” he rasps from the bed as you try to swallow the tears that refuse to go down.

“No I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

A teardrop falls on the innocent floral bedspread as you wish you were in this room as a married couple instead of an injured, horny soldier and a childish nun in love. Spending your honeymoon or something, getting some rest after an eventful day in town, choosing this absurd old Bed & Breakfast as your place to stay for the night.

You wish you were doing anything else than treating his wounds, lethal or not.

“Are you crying?”

His voice is gentler than you even remembered. Six months of despair have turned him into a dark, alluring trickster when he’s really just a man, a big, amazing, tender man who’s multifaceted, multitalented, and always kind.

He's about to fall asleep, and it’s no wonder. The events of the evening have left you drained, too. You kneel beside his bed, too tired to even sit on a chair, wondering if he’ll die from his wounds tonight or get hunted down by the people who still want him dead.

“I wish you would stop killing people... I wish you would stop getting killed.”

You must look silly, kneeling beside a giant soldier’s bed, crying and holding his hand between yours as if praying. But his eyes smile at you, and while you’d want nothing more than to see his face again, you realise you kind of like König this way. Masked and menacing and mean to his enemies, but stripped down to his soul when he’s with you.

“I wish you would stop praying... And start living,” he mutters gently.

“Praying helps sometimes,” you whisper.

In truth, you wish you’d start living, too. You always thought you were brave when you said ‘no’ to the world. Perhaps you were only running away from it…

The hand is warm but not feverish. His breaths start to even, and his lids get heavier; his thumb gives you a small caress before he drifts off to sleep.

“Perhaps that’s why I’m still here, Kätzchen.”

#könig x reader #könig x you #könig fanfiction #konig x reader #konig x you #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig x fem reader

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daemour · 17 days

Text

Pairing: roommate! San x f! yn

Word Count: 10,664

Warnings: cursing, alcohol consumption, smut warnings under cut

Genre: Angst, fluff, smut, f2l au, college au, M for mature audiences

Summary: As the resident fuckboy San's best friend, you're legally obligated to be his hype man. It's only fitting as you're one of the few who can resist his boyish charms. But when he's set his sights on someone you cannot stand, perhaps you need to dig a bit deeper into your feelings after all.

Smut Warnings: masturbation (f), voyeurism, sexual fantasies, oral (f), missionary, protected sex, very slight breast play, overstimulation, cowgirl, some cumplay, dirty dirty talk, fingering, slight body worship ig?, praise, I literally have no idea I wrote it at a time when I should've been in bed so lmk if I missed anything

this is for the jackson wang party fic collab finished with @mingsolo (hella good) @flurrys-creativity (Pygalgia, Effervescent, and Abience) and @sanjoongie (trouble) <3 I still have one more to go but we'll ignore that LMAOOOOO I added too much plot :') flurry was a dear and helped me sort out my thoughts and I managed to write 8k of it in one day lol.

hope u all enjoy and sorry I'm a professional yapper there's no shutting me up

“Going out again?” you ask your best friend and flatmate, San, as he walks past where you’re seated at the kitchen counter, suffering through your essays.

“Yep,” San answers easily, popping the ‘p’ and leaning over to take a peek at your laptop screen. “You misspelt ‘dextrorotatory’, you wrote it as ‘dexrotatory’.”

As your eyes find the typo, you groan and plant your head on the table. “I give up,” you declare dramatically, “I’ll drop out and become a taxi driver.”

San laughs. “First of all, you can’t drive that well. Second of all, you’d make more money as a stripper.” He dodges your smack with ease. “Third, you’re smart and you’ll ace these like always. You’re just a little mentally constipated. Why don’t you join me tonight?”

You think about it for a minute. While you probably do need a break from staring at your laptop, you know how wild the parties San goes to can get from personal experience. And you don’t think it’s a good idea when it's the end of your semester and the final year of your master's program. You just can’t afford to do that. “I’ll pass this time,” you sigh. “Maybe after exam season.”

San hums. “All right. Make sure to take a break, though,” he reminds you, dropping a quick kiss on the top of your head. “See you later.”

He soon disappears out of the door and you turn your focus away from your best friend to your homework. You feel bad for whoever his new conquest will be at the party.

In your opinion, it’s best to keep San at arm’s length when it comes to a romantic relationship. Not that you like him, but you also don’t want to be another notch on his bedpost, and you most certainly do not want to ruin your eight-year-long friendship. It’s not hard to see that San isn’t interested in a long relationship, not right now at least.

You honestly find it amusing that so many girls and guys still throw themselves at him and then get upset when he doesn’t give them a second glance after the initial night. His reputation precedes him, especially in your small town, and yet there will always be a line out the door for him. You don’t even know how he knows so many people.

With a sigh, you clear out your thoughts and refocus on your organic chemistry work. You’re lucky your job offered to pay for your master's classes, but the workload is killing you inside. You’re incredibly happy you’re almost done, and with newfound motivation, you hunker down and start writing out your notes again.

It’s almost two in the morning when you finally yawn and start putting your books away, and it’s almost three when you hear the front door open and the sound of San stumbling into the shoe rack as he always does. “You’re home already, Sanah?”

“YN!” San stumbles his way into the bathroom where you’re combing your hair, wrapping his arms around you and tucking his flushed face into your neck. “You’re still up?”

You laugh, tapping him on the head with your brush. “Yes, but I’m about to go to bed. And you should too, you know.”

San groans, his hold on your waist tightening and his words slurring together. “I don’t wanna,” he whines, “the bed's too cold.”

You sigh fondly. This happens almost every time he drinks, and usually, that’s why he doesn’t drink too much when he’s by himself. He gets too cuddly with people and you’re usually the one to keep him from bedding everyone he sees. You suppose he somehow didn’t end up with anyone in bed and he’s disappointed now. “Do you think you’ll ever ask to sleep with me nicely, or will you just settle for wrestle-cuddling me into my own bed?” you ask, rolling your eyes as San does not answer, just pulling you towards your room. “There’s my answer.”

You’re too used to his drunk antics and just let him move you around. It’s comforting in a way, that he’s comfortable enough around you to do this with you, and it makes your heart warm whenever he throws his arm around you and presses his face in your neck.

You’d never admit it, but it’s nights like this when you sleep the best. With his warm breath tickling your neck, you let your body relax and your eyes flutter shut.

“God, I’ve got a raging headache,” San groans when he sees you enter the kitchen with a mess of bed hair. “I went so crazy with the soju last night, I think I’m going to die.”

You laugh, reaching for the pot to make some oatmeal for him. “Don’t be so dramatic. Why did you even drink so much anyway? No bitches?”

San snorts but immediately whines from the sharp pain that probably shot through his skull. “You’re so mean to me! No, I got no bitches, but that was from my own choice anyway. I don’t want to fuck around anymore.”

Both your eyebrows raise into your hairline. “No? What changed things, hm? Finally decided your one true love is Byeol?” As if on cue, your shared cat meows and curls around your ankles, and you bend down to scratch behind her ears.

“Never had to decide that, we all know she’s the real number one in my life. No, I think I’m interested in someone.” You stop your petting of Byeol, who meows in protest and runs off to pout somewhere. “Come on, don’t act like you just saw a ghost.”

“Who?” is the only question that comes out of your mouth. Of course, San has had a crush before, but he’s never stopped screwing around unless he was actively dating that person. He’s a fuckboy, but he’s not a piece of shit at least. This is new.

“Lee Yeseul. I met her yesterday at the party, and she’s so sweet. She was so out of place at the party, and not in a mean way. She just…has such an aura around her.” San’s voice is soft even just talking about her and you get the feeling he’s being serious. “We’re meeting up for coffee today.”

“That’s…amazing, Sanah. I really hope it goes well for you,” you smile at him, pushing a bowl of oatmeal over to him. “Don’t forget to let me make a speech at your wedding.”

San chuckles, rolling his eyes at your jokes. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t you have study group today? Go there and stop bothering me.”

You ruffle his messy hair before planting a kiss on it and pinching his cheek. He blindly reaches around to smack at you but you dodge him easily, laughing as you head out to grab your keys. “See you later, Sanah. Have a good da-ate.”

San grumbles at you but ultimately returns to his food. You think you can hear him muttering about you being a pain in the ass and you smile to yourself. You don’t have the heart to tell him you know Lee Yeseul…and she’s a major bitch. You sincerely hope she’s sweet to San at least—he deserves the best. But you find her absolutely draining, especially with how often she talks about herself and doesn’t pay attention to anyone else ever. If she cries in your class one more time you think you might smack her yourself.

You still remember the time you had gotten a call that your grandfather had died, and after overhearing your conversation, instead of comforting you, she started talking about how “so many of my family members died in the past ten years.” Sure, maybe she was trying, but you’ve known about her antics enough that it was clear she just wanted to make it about her.

But if San likes her, who are you to interfere? He has a pretty good eye for who has a good personality so maybe Yeseul has changed. You’re not one to stop him. Not that you ever could. When he first started going out to party, you would tag along to make sure he wouldn’t make any bad decisions, but your efforts seldom paid off. You’re pretty sure he must be blessed since he somehow hadn’t pissed off anyone majorly enough to have them call a hit on him.

Shaking your head, you rid yourself of these thoughts and go to the library. There’s no use dwelling on it, the more you think about it, the worse your feeling about his crush on Yeseul gets. He’s a grown man, he doesn’t need you to parent him.

“Woah, who pissed in your cereal?” You should’ve known you wouldn’t be able to hide your bad mood from your study buddy, Hongjoong. Although you only see him for studying, you’re confident enough to call him your closest friend other than San. “Are you okay?”

You sigh, dropping your books on the table. It earns you a harsh ‘shh’ from the librarian which you apologise half-heartedly for. “Do you remember Yeseul? Lee Yeseul?”

Hongjoong’s brows raise high into his hairline. “The professional bitcher? What did she do now?”

“San’s into her, and with her personality, she’s probably loving the attention from the professional heartbreaker.” You groan, glaring at the cover of your organic chemistry textbook. “It’s none of my business if he cares for her, but damn, I wish he could’ve picked anyone else.”

Hongjoong hums, leaning forward and poking at the top of your head. “Look, you’ve been his friend for years. I think you have a bit more of a reason to poke your nose into his business than most. Give it a few weeks, and if it truly bothers you, then you can bring it up to San.”

You sigh. “Maybe.” You say nothing else on the topic and Hongjoong knows not to broach it anymore. Sometimes you wish he wasn’t so smart.

“YN, I didn’t know you knew Yeseul!” is the first thing San says to you one week after he returns from one of his many dates with her. “When I mentioned you being my roommate she told me you were in the same class as her.”

You wince to yourself as you take a long swig of your coffee. “Mmh, I didn’t think it was that relevant,” you say. You can practically hear Hongjoong rolling his eyes at your excuse. You know you should tell him your qualms about Yeseul, especially since the gross feeling in your gut has only gotten stronger. But you’re not sure you want to tread those waters. San’s sweet, but he’s loyal to a fault and probably wouldn’t like you talking badly about Yeseul.

San narrows his eyes, clearly suspicious but not willing to pry. “Well, maybe if we ever find you a date, we can go on a double date.” He moves on pretty quickly, though, walking over to lean over your shoulder and look at your laptop. “Still going on that paper?”

You hum, cracking your knuckles. “Yeah, it’s due tomorrow so I need to pump it out today and then get Hongjoong to look it over.” You lean back, letting your head rest on San’s torso as you yawn. “I can’t wait for this to be over so that I can graduate already.”

San laughs, leaning down to rest his chin on your head. “You’re smart. You can do this. And when you’re done, I’ll take you to a party and we can celebrate.”

You groan, shifting forward and putting your hands back on the keyboard. “Well, in that case, I should get back to writing this.” As you start typing again, you hear the buzzer ring and the warmth of San’s body leaves you as he goes to check who it is.

“Oh, hey, Yeseul! Come on up!” Your eyebrows raise into your hairline and your head snaps up. Why would Yeseul go to all this trouble of coming here? Didn’t they just see each other?

You close your eyes and take a couple of deep breaths before facing the dragon herself. You can hear the tell-tale sound of her voice pitched up to sound more sweet, although it’s grown to be grating on your ears. “Hi, Sannie,” she purrs and you have to refrain from retching. “I was on my way home but I realised it went right by your apartment so I figured I could come say hi. It doesn’t look like you’re too busy, right?”

“No, not at all,” San replies, and you hate how sweetly he talks to her. “YN is in too, she’s writing her final paper. Wanna say hi? She could probably use the distraction.”

No, I don’t need the distraction, is what you want to scream out, but your mother did not raise you like that although you wish she did. Instead, you just smile politely at the girl entering your kitchen. “Hello, Yeseul. Good to see you again.”

“Hey, YNie!” Her cheery nickname for you has your eye twitching. “How’s the paper going? I finished mine a few weeks ago so I’m home free. Just need to submit it.”

“That’s great, Yeseul,” you say, tone slightly more monotonous than you wanted it to be and San shoots you a look. “Hopefully you get a good grade on it.”

“Hey, would you want to join us for dinner?” San cuts in and you can already feel a headache starting to pulse behind your eyes. “I was going to order pizza since it’s my turn today and I’m not nearly as good of a cook as YN.”

“Oh, that would be lovely! I don’t mind whatever toppings,” Yeseul claps happily. The urge to punch her in the face increases bit by bit for you. San nods happily, stepping out into the living room to place the call. After a moment, Yeseul turns to you with puppy eyes and you brace yourself for whatever she has up her sleeve. “Could I trouble you for a glass of water, YNie?”

You try your best to keep your composure as you get up to fetch her a glass of water. She takes it without even a thank you and you decide you’d much rather die than deal with her any longer so you close your laptop with a sigh. “I’m actually meeting with a friend for dinner, but you definitely should stay and have fun,” you say, smiling as plausibly as you can. You do not have dinner plans but you’re sure you can figure it out.

When you go into your room, you’re drawing blanks. You’re still going out, but you’ll probably just end up calling a friend to complain. As you leave the room and grab your keys, San meets eyes with you and frowns. “Where are you going?”

“Ah, I promised to have dinner with a friend so I’m heading out. Enjoy your time with Yeseul, though.”

The furrow between San’s brows deepens. “But I already ordered the pizza.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I can bring the leftovers tomorrow for lunch. Sorry, I just forgot to tell you, but I really have to go now. Bye!” Before he can say goodbye as well, you slip out the door. The suffocating feeling that is encompassing you lifts and you sigh in relief, but then you somehow feel worse at the idea of San and Yeseul having fun and giggling and cuddling.

You shake your head again, trying to clear your muddled thoughts before setting down to go find your dinner. Fast food was the easiest option, and you figured you could at least sit in your car and wallow in self-pity.

After you receive your order you park and pull out your phone, scrolling through your contacts. You don’t want to call your family because as much as you love them, they can be a bit over-protective and probably will offer to help you find a different apartment and that would be a bit dramatic. In the end, Hongjoong is probably the next best option.

He doesn't pick up immediately, and you’re just about to hang up when the phone crackles and Hongjoong’s voice comes through. “Why are you calling me?”

You can’t help but bark out a laugh at his disgruntled tone. “Hongjoong, it’s a perfectly reasonable hour to call, don’t blame me for your shit sleeping schedule. Are you actually free though?”

Hongjoong sighs and if you focus you can hear the sound of him rolling over in bed. “What’s up?”

“It’s about Yeseul again. She came around today, and it was just…so suffocating. Like, why did San have to pick her? There’s so many girls, and out of them all he picks her? The most bitchy one I know?”

Hongjoong hums. “Why does it annoy you so much?”

You groan, leaning your head back and taking a long sip of your drink. “She’s self-centred, bitchy, and she’s just so fake. I don’t think this relationship will end well, Joong. Clearly he’s just blinded and she’s so manipulative.”

“But why are you so bothered by this specifically? I mean, sure we’ve had bad interactions with Yeseul, but you’re pretty nonchalant about the shit San gets up to and you like to let him deal with the consequences himself.”

You frown glaring at the phone although you know he can’t see it and you pop a fry into your mouth. “I don’t know. It just feels different. I feel like I should interfere this time. I mean, he’s a lot more serious this go around.”

Hongjoong hums, rolling once again as he yawns. “YN, be totally honest with me. This is a shot in the dark, but I think this is pretty important.” You hold your breath in anticipation. “Do you like San?”

“Oh sure, he’s a good friend–”

“You and I both know that’s not what I meant.” You bite your lip, stiffening in your chair. “YN, you need to be honest with yourself. The way you talk about San, you interact with him, it’s not how just roommates, just friends interact. You kiss each other's heads, YN. And it can be platonic, but I’ve rarely seen San do that to his female friends, and I’ve never seen you do that, period. You don’t even kiss me.” His voice turns teasing on the last bit but you’re too shocked to register.

Do you like San? You love him like a friend, of course. But when you think about him being with anyone else, even if it wasn’t Yeseul, something in you aches. When you think about San’s smile being directed to anyone else, you can feel a burning in your gut. The answer is clear, whether you like it or not.

“I…yes. I do.” The confession comes out quietly. “But I don’t want to do anything about it. Like you said, it’s up to San whether he likes Yeseul enough. I can’t interfere.”

You can practically hear the look Hongjoong would be levelling at you. “Why not?”

You shrug. “When San likes someone, nothing can stop him from liking someone unless he wants to. I’ll just let it run its course and hopefully my own feelings will vanish in the process.”

“That doesn’t sound very healthy, YN.”

You let out a despondent laugh. “Sure, probably not. But who knows? Maybe I can find someone else in the process.” You let out a sigh before glancing at your now-cold sandwich. “I gotta head out, but thanks for talking, Joong. I’ll see you in class.”

Hongjoong can barely say goodbye before you hang up the phone and lean back. This is going to be difficult. The more you see Yeseul, the more you know you’ll accidentally slip up and something will tip her and San off. Your headache is pulsing behind your eyes and you take a small bite of your sandwich, your appetite diminishing. You miss being a child and your biggest worry is that San sneezed on your lollipop.

With another groan, you wrap up the sandwich and just go for a late-night drive instead to clear your head. It’s something that has never failed to calm you down and keep your mind level. San always berates you for driving alone at night, but you’d like to say you’re pretty safe. Plus, even he has agreed that it’s pretty calming when—you frown, forcing thoughts of San to leave your brain.

You don’t really know how long you’ve been out, but it’s surely long enough that Yeseul has left. As you carefully open the door, there’s a long silence, and you sigh, happy you made it home free. But as you’re about to call out for San, you hear a high-pitched moan come from his bedroom. And it certainly is not San.

You almost turn tail and head right back out of the apartment when you hear San’s reverberating moans fill the house. Against your better judgment, you take off your shoes and step closer towards his bedroom. His bedroom door is cracked open and curse him for putting his mirror right in view where you can see him leaning back on his bed, his lower half hidden off the edge of it and you can only see Yeseul’s knees.

And in your head, you know it’s wrong. But your heart is beating out of your chest and you can feel heat building in your core. And, well, you’ve always worn your heart on your sleeve. You keep yourself pressed against the wall, staring at the way the muscles in San’s neck strain and the way he moans with every snap of his hips. You’re sure your panties are soaked through by now, and your teeth sink into your lower lip to keep yourself quiet. The taste of copper enters your mouth but you couldn’t care less.

It’s only when San sits up, probably to fuck into Yeseul better and he disappears from the mirror that you rip yourself away and escape into your own room. Not another thought enters your brain as you strip your leggings and underwear off, flopping on your bed and closing your eyes as you let your hand trail down to press against your slick pussy. It doesn’t take long for you to sink your fingers into your sopping cunt, turning your head to bury your face into your pillow.

The guilt in the back of your mind is quickly sent away as you imagine San’s hands fucking you instead. He’s always had well-worn hands, and your brain fogs up as you imagine him leaning forward to mouth at your neck as he fucks you.

Your brain flips back and forth between the idea of him eating you out so well and fucking so many loads into you with his thick cock that your stomach swells and you whimper into your pillow as your core tightens and you come onto your fingers. You feel tears prick your eyes as you get up to wipe your hands of the cream coating your fingers and toss the tissue in the trash. You’re not sure how you’ll be able to face San or Yeseul again after that.

You can feel the shame burning inside of you and you close your eyes and cry yourself to sleep silently.

Waking up is disorienting, your eyes red-rimmed and your bottom lip raw and blood dried on it. You feel like death and you’re pretty sure you can’t attend class like this. You lean over and grab your phone, yawning as you send your professor a text with a weak excuse. You don’t really care how plausible it is, Professor Jeong usually is quite understanding so you don’t worry about that for too long. San had texted you an hour ago, asking if you had come home, and you choose not to answer it.

You can hear mumbling in the other room, probably Yeseul and San sharing goodbyes, when you hear the door shut behind her. Unlike you, she’s probably happy to go to class and tell all her friends about her night with the campus fuckboy.

It takes another thirty minutes for you to finally roll out of bed and put some lotion on your face, hoping for the traces of the questionable night you had to erase from your face. Once you’re satisfied with your appearance, you venture out into your living room where San is standing by the door. “When did you get back?” he asks without even turning around. “I texted you like, an hour ago.”

You shrug, avoiding his eyes as you move into the kitchen to find breakfast. “I only just woke up, San.”

Your roommate gives a short huff, following close behind you. “Don’t you have class? Yeseul just left so you could walk with her.”

You try not to roll your eyes at the idea of that. “I’m not feeling well so I don’t think I’ll go.” “You’re not feeling well?” San’s voice deepens in concern and as you grab a yoghurt, he places his hand atop your forehead. “You are feeling pretty warm.”

At his touch, too many memories of last night flood through your brain and you shake away his hand. “Yeah. I’ll just go lie down for a little. Have a good day.”

Before he can say anything else, or realise your suspicious behaviour, you dodge past him and head off back into your room to hide. “I left your pizza in the fridge,” he calls after you and you just grunt in thanks before barricading yourself in your room.

You lean against the door for a minute before you realise you didn’t even grab a spoon. Unwilling to go back out there, you’ve resigned yourself to licking it out of the container like a cat when you hear a gentle knock at the door.

“I got you a spoon,” San’s unsure voice filters through the wooden door, and you squeeze your eyes shut.

“Thanks, San,” you murmur, turning to open the door a crack and take the proffered utensil. “Sorry for being short with you.”

His lips quirk into a half-smile, a silent acceptance of your apology. “I get it. Just get some rest, YN.”

You close the door again, this time a warm heart in your chest mixing with the guilt you still feel in your gut. You’re not sure how on earth you’re going to get over your feelings for San.

Avoiding San goes well for the most part. You are in your finals week anyway, and you’re spending most of your time at the library or in class. Your college’s library stays open for 24 hours during the last week of school anyways so some nights you’ve just been staying there until morning. Hongjoong disapproves heavily but doesn’t say much about it and you appreciate his support either way.

Avoiding Yeseul proves much harder. She seems to always find her way to wherever you happen to be, interrupting you and Hongjoong’s study sessions with a perfect smile and narrowed eyes. You don’t know what she wants from you, and you aren’t pleased with her presence.

But one evening, you’re about to leave the library to have some dinner when she corners you. “YN, let’s talk,” she says in that sickeningly saccharine voice of hers, looping her arm into yours and pulling you down the street. “I have some things to ask you.”

Unwilling, you try to tug your arm out of her grasp, but the girl is stronger than you expected. She pulls you all the way to her dorm on campus, sitting you down on her leather couch. “What is your relationship with Choi San?”

Her question comes so suddenly you need a minute to register. To her credit, Yeseul waits patiently for you to gather your thoughts. “He’s my friend and roommate?” you say as truthfully as you can muster, although you know it’s an absolute lie, and judging from her expression, Yeseul doesn’t believe you either.

“Don’t take me as a fool, YN. The way he talks about you is undeniable.”

“That seems like something you should be talking to him about,” you say, attempting to get up from the couch but Yeseul just pushes you back down.

“I’ve tried. He just tells me there’s nothing to worry about and I don’t believe that,” Yeseul grits through her teeth.

And you have to give it to her. She did try to come to San about her worries. But the way she refuses to trust him grates on your nerves. He stopped his fuckboy activities to be with her, and yet she’s worried about you, one of the few girls who isn’t all over him at any moment. You arch a brow. “Do you not trust him?”

Yseul scoffs. “Of course not. He’s a fuckboy. But I like the status I get with him. I just don’t want to end up embarrassed.”

Well, that will be inevitable, you can’t help but think to yourself. No matter how much your relationship with San is strained, you’re not about to let Yeseul talk shit about him like he isn’t genuinely trying for her.

“That’s where you come into play,” Yeseul’s smirk turns sharp. “I’m going to call San. Ask him to choose between us. If he chooses you, then I want you to stay far, far away from him.”

You shrug. No matter the outcome, it’s not like you’re not already keeping your distance from San. In the end, you’ll just tell him to break up with her and let him deal with the chaos himself. “Go ahead,” bitch.

San picks up on the first ring. “Yeseul?” He’s cheery and your heart aches at the thought of Yeseul breaking his so easily. “What’s the occasion?”

“Hey, babe, I just have a quick question, and I need you to answer truthfully for me, okay?” At his pause, she takes that as a go-ahead. “Who would you pick? Me or YN.”

There’s a long silence on the phone. “Yeseul, we need to break up.”

Only one thing unites you and Yeseul in this moment, and it’s your shared confusion for San’s reaction. “What do you mean?” her voice turns panicked. “Isn’t that a little far?”

“You’ve been stuck on this, and I don’t know how much I have to reassure you, Yeseul. I haven’t even seen YN for the past two weeks. And she’s my closest friend. I’m not dropping her for a two-week relationship. I hope you have a good time, Yeseul.”

Before you can react at all, Yeseul screeches and points an accusing finger at you. “This is all your fault, YN!”

Your jaw drops at her absolute audacity. “My fault? What are you on? I was just trying to live peacefully when you dragged me into this plot ignoring my advice. I told you to talk to him, to just fucking trust him. God, you’re an idiot. And I’m going home.”

Without another word, you leave, still fuming over that interaction. Couldn’t she just have made the call without you? You’re happy you don’t have to do all the convincing for San to leave her, but that just complicates things for you. Would he really so easily drop Yeseul just for you? From what you’ve heard, he was practically head over heels for her.

With another sigh, you head back to the library. You need to finish that exam.

“Pens down, and turn in your exams,” you hear the professor call, and you don’t think you’ve ever gotten up so fast. You’re so, so fucking happy that you’ve finished your last year and now you’re free.

As soon as your professor accepts your paper you race out of the lecture hall, only stopped by the cafeteria when you hear someone call your name. Lee Juyeon, someone you’ve started growing closer to, waves you down. “Hey, YN, congrats on finishing!” he smiles at you and you can’t help but smile back, the giddiness contagious.

“Thanks! You too,” you say, pulling him into a hug. “It’s so nice to be done.” Practically nothing could dampen your mood, especially seeing Juyeon. He’s sweet, and you have an inkling he likes you. And you’re not opposed to it.

“It really is,” Juyeon agreed cheerfully. “Look, I have to go celebrate with my family, I just wanted to say hi. But hey…there’s this end of the year party on Saturday, and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me.”

And your suspicions were right. You think about it for a moment. You’re not the biggest party person, anyone knows that, but Juyeon is sweet and just what you need, so you accept eagerly. It doesn’t take long for the two of you to exchange numbers and for him to promise to send you more details before he runs off. And through your excitement, you know you still have to go meet with San who’s probably waiting for you just outside. He wanted to see you as soon as you finish your exams, and you didn’t have the heart to decline.

“Congratulations on finishing your last exam, YN!” San cheers as soon as you exit the college building. “I’m so proud of you!”

You’re too tired to complain when San sweeps you up into a hug, just letting yourself relax in his firm arms. After all this work, you think you’ll let yourself indulge in his affection. “Thanks, Sanah. I appreciate it.” You let your chin rest on his broad shoulder, closing your eyes and letting the exhaustion take over you. “Can I go to bed now?”

You hear him chuckle, the vibrations from his chest comforting you. “Yeah, yeah. We can celebrate later. Come on.”

He tugs you all the way to your apartment, dropping you on the couch and quickly curling right up next to you. You can’t bring yourself to care. “I’m proud of you,” he repeats into your hair as he tucks your head into his neck. Your eyes flutter shut.

When you reopen them, it’s bordering on evening. San is no longer wrapped around you, and you can hear him moving about in the kitchen. “San,” you call out, voice raspy from having just woken up. “What are you doing?”

“Ah, I’m making dinner,” he responds, his voice too warm for your liking, your heart beating just a little faster. “Come and eat.”

With a bit of difficulty, you rise from the couch and move to the kitchen, taking a seat at the counter. “Japchae? When did you learn how to cook this?”

San chuckles. “Wooyoung taught me the other day because he was bored. I figured it’d be a nice surprise for you after all your hard work.”

Your lips twitch, unsure if you should smile or pout. “That’s sweet. Thank you again, San.”

As you start eating the noodles (there’s a little too much sesame but you don’t have the heart to tell San that), San clears his throat. “So…I promised to take you to a party.”

You vaguely remember this conversation. “Ah, yeah. What did you have in mind?”

“There’s this end of the year party, it’s supposed to be the biggest one, hosted by Jackson Wang.”

“Ah–” you shake your head, eyes apologetic. “I promised someone else I’d go with them. I didn’t know that was the party you wanted to take me to. Maybe we can do something else on a different day?”

San’s lips turn downward the slightest bit. “That’s okay. There are other parties. Who invited you, by the way?” His tone is casual, and yet you still feel like you’re walking into the lion’s den.

“Ah, Lee Juyeon from college. I think he’s in Hongjoong’s philosophy department, but he’s a year behind. He’s cute so I figured I’d give it a try.”

“It’s a date?” Your brows furrow at the heaviness in San’s voice but you pay it no mind and nod. “I see. Well, have fun.”

The rest of the dinner is filled with silence, San picking at his food and you in no mood to try and dissect his mood. He takes your empty bowl and starts doing the dishes, and you mumble out a thank you before running back to your room. He’s clearly not willing to talk more and it’s best to give him space.

As you lay in bed, you can’t help but worry about what is so grating on his mind after you mentioned your date. You can’t think of anything that would cause him to be angry—as far as you’re aware he has no grudges against Lee Juyeon, much less met him. Shaking your head, you try and fall asleep. It’s best not to dwell on it, you can just ask him tomorrow.

It’s Saturday, and you’re in a foul mood. San hasn’t spoken to you in the four days leading up to the party, avoiding you like there’s no tomorrow. The only saving grace comes in the form of Juyeon’s excited texts, telling you all about his outfit for the party, and you respond with matching enthusiasm. When you meet with Juyeon in front of the large house where the party is held, the thought of San isn’t even on your mind. Instead, you just take Juyeon’s offered hand and follow him into the party.

You weave through the bodies, reaching the counter where shots are being passed around. “Want vodka or tequila?” Juyeon asks, his voice pitching higher to be heard over the bass. Without answering him, you just reach for the bottle of tequila, pouring the two of you shots. “Good choice,” Juyeon laughs, throwing his head back as he downs the alcohol, you following suit shortly.

“You know, I never pegged you for a college party fan,” you lean in, laughing. “Maybe I should hang out with you more.”

Juyeon chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Maybe you should. I know great party-throwers. Although I’ve heard you’ve been to your fair share, what being San’s friend and all.”

You shake your head, a smile on your face. “Maybe at first, but you know, organic chemistry isn’t an easy major to balance with a party life.”

Juyeon laughs loudly, bumping you with his hip. “I understand the pain. Philosophy falls into that category of majors too. Another shot?”

You take the second shot happily, letting the alcohol burn through your veins as you stumble alongside Juyeon’s wandering through the crowd. Whatever you’re doing is a blur, all you can focus on is Juyeon’s smile and his warm hand holding yours.

It feels like barely a moment has passed when Juyeon pulls you into a nearly empty room of couches, only a few other couples lingering in the corners. “I hope you’ve been enjoying yourself,” Juyeon starts, his eyes sparkling as he takes in your appearance. “It’s been fun hanging out.”

“I did too,” you agree with a small smile, looking up at him through your lashes.

He leans in, and you lean in, and your lips brush. It’s a sweet kiss, one that you lean into as Juyeon wraps his arms around your waist. It’s warm and you smile into it. And then a familiar face pops into your head. You wonder to yourself how San would kiss you, if he would do it as sweetly as Juyeon or if he would devour your lips like it was his last meal.

When Juyeon pulls away for air, you feel guilt burning in your stomach again. Why would you think of other men when Juyeon’s right here in front of you? As Juyeon leans in to kiss you again, you almost move back before a hand grips your shoulder and pulls you into a broad chest.

“Hey, man, I’m going to have to talk to YN if you don’t mind.” You’d recognise your best friend’s voice anywhere, and it only serves to fill you with annoyance. Sure, you weren’t as into Juyeon’s kisses as you expected, but it doesn’t mean you’re thrilled to be interrupted by the man who’s been ignoring you.

Juyeon takes one look at San, and something changes in his eyes. A mix of reluctance and acceptance, and with a short nod and smile towards you, he slips away from you. You turn to San, frowning at the sharpness in his narrowed eyes, not one you’re used to seeing or enjoy seeing. “Why would you kiss him?” he spits, and your annoyance grows with confusion being added to the mix.

“What do you mean, ‘why kiss him’? I told you, San, I was on a date. Why the fuck did you interrupt us?”

“I like you.” Those three words would be a dream for you to hear from his mouth…if you weren’t so pissed.

“No, fuck that. I do not need to hear that from you right now. Not when I was enjoying my night with Juyeon. What was confessing supposed to do for you, San? It’s too late now. I wanted to enjoy this party, and now I have to go apologise to Juyeon for you.” San opens his mouth to speak, but you shake your head, pushing him away from you.

You leave San standing by himself as you search for Juyeon, your mood immediately souring. Why would he fucking do this to you? You can feel tears burning your eyelids and you abandon your search for Juyeon, searching instead for some liquor to take away your embarrassment.

As you pour yourself another shot of tequila, you notice a familiar face, Hongjoong talking to a girl you recognise as someone he hangs out with sometimes. They look like they’re getting it on and you feel a little bad, but you need his advice. “Hey, Kim Hongjoong!” you call out to him, waving him over. Hongjoong’s eyes brighten and he makes his way over, leaving the girl staring after him longingly, but her attention is soon taken away by two other guys. You recognise one of them from the cafeteria but you don’t remember his name.

“Hey, YN, what’s up? I didn’t expect to see you here, did San take you?” Your face falls and Hongjoong realises he stepped into dangerous territory. “Okay, what happened?”

“I can’t believe San is mad at me for kissing someone at the party,” you groan after explaining to Hongjoong the events leading up to now. “Sure, maybe it wasn’t the best move on my part but he’s had like, twenty million one-night stands, and yet I can’t kiss someone else? He hasn’t even talked to me after I mentioned going on a date. And yet he looked positively murderous after he saw me kissing that other guy.”

Hongjoong tilts his head, confused. “Isn’t that what you wanted, though? You like him.”

“I did! I do! But I’m so sick of waiting around for him, and I could’ve had a chance at liking someone else. He’s all over the place, and I don’t know if that’s what I want in a man.” You’re lying to both Hongjoong and yourself, and Hongjoong knows it, raising an eyebrow.

“Honestly, YN, it just sounds like you need to talk to him.” Hongjoong crosses his arms, tapping his foot and eager to back to the girl was with, but also not wanting to ditch you in your time of need. You feel a little bad for pulling him away, but your mind is swirling with so many thoughts, you don’t know if you can sort them out by yourself and drinking to erase those thoughts is not something you like to do. You’re not San.

And speak of the devil, you smell his familiar cologne before his hand lands on your shoulder and pulls you into his chest. You whirl around out of his grip and glare at him. “Get off me,” you snap. “I’m in the middle of a conversation right now, Choi San.”

With one glance at Hongjoong, he raises his hands and winks at you. “Have that talk, YN. It’ll do you more good than harm.”

Oh, you’re going to kill that traitor after the party. You turn your attention back to San, your mouth twisted into a frown. “You make this quick or else.”

San has the decency to look a little ashamed as his eyes shake. “Can we talk on the patio? It’s too loud in here.”

With a dramatic sigh, you grab his wrist and pull him through the crowd to the back door, practically slamming it behind you. You can see the eyes of people interested in the drama through the windows but you pay it no mind. “Speak. You get five minutes before I go back in and you don’t talk to me again for the rest of the night.”

San’s face falls and his lips pull into a pout. But no matter how subconsciously adorable he is, you refuse to fall for his charms this time. The heat of anger is still curling in your gut when you think about the argument from earlier. “YN, come on, I had a good reason.”

You shake your head, ignoring the strands of hair that fall into your eyes. “No, San. Confessing to me is not a good reason to fuck up my night. You didn’t even apologise. You’ve been ignoring me for days after I mentioned my date, and the moment I kiss Juyeon you get all angry and jealous? Be for real.” You pause for breath, glaring daggers into his eyes. “You are not owed my time, especially after that shit you pulled. Yeseul’s jealousy is why you broke up with her, so why are you like this to me?”

San’s gaze intensifies and you can see him actively trying to reign in his temper. Although he does his best to remain calm, if tempers are rising, he can be intense. “YN, what was I supposed to do? Watch you go out with him? Watch you slip from my fingers just like that?”

“Yes!” you all but scream at him. “If I could sit by and let Yeseul take each little bit of your heart, you could’ve done the same! I was going to be happy, San! I wouldn’t have to sit behind and watch you from the sidelines with my heart slowly cracking. But I don’t get that same courtesy.”

You step forward, poking his chest with a finger as you let loose your storm of thoughts. In your anger, you don’t even notice San’s arm moving until it wraps around your waist and pulls you into him. The action shocks you enough that you stop mid-sentence, your finger still pressing into San’s flesh. “You love me?” San leans in, his nose brushing against yours.

You can feel heat flare up in your face as you stare wide-eyed at him. It takes you a moment to register your compromising position and you stumble back, pushing at his chest. “Don’t do that,” you hiss, turning your eyes away. “I don’t like you, San. Not anymore.”

“You’re lying.” San’s voice is firm. “Look at me in the eyes and tell me you don’t like me anymore.”

You don’t know where you got it from. You’ve never been good at lying, not to San. Maybe it was the alcohol burning through your system, mixing with the shame and anger you feel. But this time, you stare him directly in the eye and say the four words that might’ve been the biggest lie in your life. “I don’t like you.” San’s brows furrow and he shakes his head.

“No–”

“Yes, San. You cannot just waltz around and expect me to keep the patience I had for you. I’m sick of being pulled around like a puppet. Maybe at first you didn’t know. But refusing to give me space when I asked for it?” You shake your head, glancing back at the party. “I’m going back in. We can talk about the apartment lease later.”

Without glancing back, you re-enter the house. And maybe it hurts a little that he doesn’t go after you, but at this point, you’re too numb and all you want to do is go home and cry. But home is not an option, not when it would probably be the first place he would look for you. Fighting back the tears threatening to fall from your eyes, you slide into your car, staring blankly at the wheel for a long moment until you feel composed and sober enough to drive.

And drive you certainly do. You’re not quite sure where you’re going, and you’re plenty aware that this is a bad idea, but you just let yourself go around and calm yourself down first. The crisp breeze paired with the warm spring air does wonders to clear your head and paired with the late times, there are not too many cars out. It’s peaceful.

You’re not too sure how long you were out, but it’s long enough for the blurry memory of the argument to clear and you groan, pulling over to park by the side of the road and let your head hit the steering wheel. You went too far. San had always been the more emotional of you two, always wearing his heart on his sleeve. He must’ve had a hard time with Yeseul, and although it doesn’t excuse him, you never gave him a chance to properly apologise.

With a sigh, you check your phone to see five missed calls and twenty texts from San asking where you are. He somehow even got your neighbours (a sweet couple in their twenties who babysit Byeol sometimes) to ask you if you’re okay. As your finger hovers over the call button, debating whether to call him back, bright headlights shine behind your car and you stiffen. Your hand hovers over the pepper spray you keep in the dash as you press the call button in a panic. No matter what the disagreement was about, you know San would still come to your aid if you needed it.

“YN, open the door. I’ve been worried sick!” San’s voice crackles through the receiver and you spin around in your seat, squinting at the figure standing behind your car and your shoulders sag in relief.

“God, San, you scared the shit out of me!” you scold, leaning over to unlock the passenger seat and push the door open while hanging up the call. “Get in here.”

A haggard-looking San slides in, his eyes red-rimmed and mouth pressed into a thin line. The car that drove him turns and you look back in confusion before San starts explaining. “I wanted to give you space so I stayed at the party,” he starts explaining after a moment. “But I got worried and went to the apartment to find you. But you weren’t there, and I asked all your friends. I’m lucky you left your location on, and my friend gave me a ride.”

You wince. You forgot about turning off your location, although you’re glad you didn’t as it would’ve been more dangerous otherwise. “I’m sorry,” you mumble, turning your eyes to look out the windshield. “I just needed to clear my head so I went for a drive.”

There’s a long period of suffocating silence between the two of you when San finally speaks, his voice quiet. “I’m sorry,” he starts and your head snaps towards him, eyes wide. Of all the things you expected to fall from his lips, an apology is not one of those things. Not tonight, at least. “I was too pushy. I shouldn’t have ignored you, or interrupted your time with Juyeon. I should’ve talked to you like an adult.”

You laugh, resting your head on the steering wheel. “What an astute observation, San. However did you come to that conclusion?” Your exasperation is evident in your tone and San sucks in a breath at how done you seem. “Look, San. I’m sure you didn’t mean it to be that bad. But I’m just…tired. I’m tired of always wondering what is running through your mind, where I am in your list of importance. You date Yeseul, but break up with her over me. You give me the cold shoulder when I go on a date, but suddenly me being on a date is unacceptable. I just don’t know how to take anything.”

Against your will, tears start to drop onto your thighs, streaking down the skin and you sniff. “Shit,” San panics beside you. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.” He hands you a tissue and you take it with shaking hands, pressing your face into it as San tugs you closer, guiding you to lean against him.

He repeats soft little ‘sorry’s and leans his head atop yours, his tears falling onto your hair. The two of you stay in this position for a long while, no words are needed to understand the emotional moment.

“Let’s go home, YN,” San mumbles, his voice vibrating deep in your heart. “Let’s go home and we can talk tomorrow.”

You sniff again, tears run dry as you sit up and wipe your eyes. “Okay,” you whisper out. “Let’s go home.”

San stays attached to you throughout the drive home, his hand gripping onto your own hand whenever he can, and quickly wrapping you into a back hug as you walk up to the apartment. “I…cuddle with me tonight?” you ask, eyes flitting away from his face, missing the brilliant smile that spreads across it.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he hums, walking with you to his room, and he lets you slide in first, the smell of his detergent filling your mind and your eyelids flutter shut already. San crawls in next to you, pulling you close.

“Good night, YN,” San mumbles as your breathing evens out. As you drift off into sleep, you swear you feel his soft lips on your forehead but you dismiss it as wishful thinking.

When you reawaken, San’s still curled up, your body covered by his, his breathing slow and gentle. You can’t help but blink a couple of times to make sure it isn’t a dream when his arms tighten around your waist and he shifts. “YN?” His morning voice is as rough as always, rumbling low in his chest.

“Hey, Sanah,” you greet him quietly, leaning up to meet his eyes blinking slowly at you like a cat’s. “Good morning.”

“Hi.” He dips his head to nuzzle into your neck, breathing in your scent. “I should probably explain myself.” His voice vibrates against your neck and you giggle softly at the ticklish feeling.

“That would be nice.”

San huffs, but he can’t complain about your snark. “I like you, YN. I don’t know when I started to, and I definitely didn’t realise I did until I started dating Yeseul. I did like her, but not as deeply as I thought I did. It was so easy to break up with her as soon as she made me pick between you and her. The answer came to me without a doubt in my mind as soon as the question left her lips, and yet I still didn’t realise my true feelings.” He laughs self-deprecatingly, and you stroke his hair comfortingly. “I didn’t realise why I was so pissed about you going out with Juyeon, and that’s why I was avoiding you. It’s a stupid reason, I know. But I just didn’t know why, not until I saw you at the party kissing him. I just wanted to be there instead of you. And I’m sorry, and I understand if you don’t like me anymore, but–”

“I love you.”

His head snaps up to stare at you after your sudden declaration, and after he registers your words a smile spreads across his face. He puffs out a breathy chuckle and you know his answer before he even says it. “I love you too.”

His eyes shine like you’ve hung the stars in the skies, and when they flit down to your lips, you know an unspoken question when you see it. You lean forward slowly, letting your eyes close once more when your lips meet his.

And damn, you were right about how San kisses. In a second, he deepens the kiss, bringing his hands up to cup your face while his tongue swipes at your lips. Shyly, you part your lips and he dives right in, licking into your mouth and biting at your lips.

“Sanah,” you gasp into his mouth, the sound swallowed by his plush lips. “Sanah–”

You repeat his name like a prayer as his lips travel down to your neck, littering wet kisses and bite marks all over your sensitive skin. “Fuck, baby, you’re so sweet to me,” San moans against your body. “Please, please, let me treat you right, make it up to you. Let me worship you.”

You whine as he laves his tongue over your breasts spilling out of the crop top you had worn last night. Any other time you would’ve stressed at how gross the clothes were but right now you could hardly even think about it. “Fuck, yes, please,” you beg when San nips at your cleavage, leaving a mark.

“Ah, already begging for me,” San groans, his hips pressing into your legs. “You’re so perfect.” His voice grows whiney as his sucks on your nipples, making your back arch.

His kisses move down your body until his breath is ghosting over your stomach and his hands are pawing at your pants, shoving them down as quickly as he can. He doesn’t have the same amount of minimal patience for your panties, and before you can react, he’s ripped them off your legs. “Choi San!” you scold, shifting to try and sit up but his grip on your hips stops you from moving too far.

“I’ll buy you a new pair,” San promises before diving right in and sucking at your clit without another moment’s hesitation. Your hips jerk and your core tightens at the sudden feeling as you throw your head back and moan so loudly it’s bordering on a scream

His ministrations on your dripping cunt have you wordless. His fingers are pressing into your hip bones, the sensation making you squirm. As soon as his tongue breaches your clenching hole your hands fly down to grasp at his hair. “Fuck–” you squeal, your legs attempting to close but San just pushes them apart again, busying himself in your folds.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” San groans, the vibrations sending shivers up your spine as he lets his teeth scrape against your clit. You can hardly focus on anything at the barrage of sensations filling you up, San fucking his tongue into you so well. Your thighs are shaking as you can feel yourself grow wetter and wetter against his face.

When you tilt your head down, he meets your eyes as he moves one of his hands to push a finger into your hole. “Shit–” your grip on his hair tightens impossibly. “Sanah–”

“Come for me, love,” San groans, and you let the dam break, screaming out his name until your voice is hoarse, and San licks up your release through it all.

When he finally pulls away from your twitching and sensitive core, his lips are covered in your glistening slick, thick globs of it sitting pretty on his chin. Without thinking, you pull him down and crash your lips against his, tasting yourself on his tongue. San groans as you lick his face clean, shoving your tongue deep into his mouth.

“Fuck, I need to fuck you right now or else I think I might go insane,” San growls, blindly fumbling in his nightstand to pull out a condom as he shoves down his sweats to reveal his hard, red cock. Without another thought, he opens the pack with his teeth, rolling the latex down his length with ease thanks to the precum dribbling down it.

He lines up, the tip of it kissing your hole, when you groan. You’re much too impatient for this, reaching down and holding him steady as you shift your body to sink onto his thick cock. “Shit, YN,” San grits out as you take him deeper and deeper until your cunt kisses his crotch. “You’re too much.”

You pant, shifting on his cock as you try to get used to the stretch. He’s not the longest you’ve had, but he’s thick and the stretch is almost too much. “You’re fucking talking, you fill me up so fucking well, Sanah.” You hiss as you throw your head back, the stinging melting into pleasure. “Fuck me already, San. Or should I go and find Juyeon to–”

You’re cut off by San thrusting into you so violently that you swear the bed shakes. “I don’t want to hear that fucking name out of your mouth anymore,” San commands, leaning forward until his body weight pins you down and your eyes roll back as he starts fucking into you with short, quick thrusts.

With every movement, you feel like you may break apart. You can hear every slick sound, the sound of it obscene, and yet all you want is more. Your previous release coats his cock so well, thick strings of it attaching to his hips.

His arms wrap around your waist, and before you can protest or do anything, he hoists you up until you’re sitting in his lap. You swear this angle makes him impale you even deeper, his cockhead kissing the perfect spot deep inside you. Your head drops to San’s shoulder, moaning against the fabric of his shirt. “Fuck, San, you’re so deep,” you moan high-pitched. “You’re so fucking good for me.”

San growls, pressing a kiss behind your ear. “You’re so tight for me, so much better than Yeseul. I saw you in the mirror, you know,” he whispers conspiratorially and you gasp and clench, snapping your head to look at him. “You’re not as sneaky as you thought, love. Did you touch yourself to the thought of me fucking you so well?”

You whine, words failing you, and San’s hips slow to a stop. You try your best to grind against him but his hands grip your waist, keeping you still. “Please–” you try to beg but San chuckles and nips at your earlobe.

“Answer me, YN.”

“Fuck– Yes!” you cry out, so eager for him to start moving again. “Wanted you to fill me with your cum so well until it was spilling out of me. Please, please, please, fuck me.”

“Hm.” And without any warning, San jerks his hips up into you, biting into your neck like a fucking vampire and you scream, hips stuttering as you come on his cock. You don’t think you’re making any coherent noises, just babbling into his neck as your bones become jelly from the overstimulation.

If you thought the sounds were obscene before, you swear they’ve become ten times worse as you lay limp against San’s body. He’s moving you up and down his cock like a doll and you pant, squeezing your eyes shut as you still feel aftershocks from your orgasm.

“Shit, you’re so warm around me, I’m gonna come,” San moans in your ear, his rhythm breaking as he drops your weight on his cock. You can feel him twitching inside you as his teeth sink into your neck once more. “God, I want to fill you up so badly, but that’s just going to have to wait, my love.”

After a long moment, he pulls out, groaning at your come coating the condom and his thighs. Without thinking, he dips his fingers in the mess and brings it to his mouth, licking it off like it’s the most delicious thing in the world to him. “Come here, baby,” he says in that beautifully raspy voice, and you lean forward, meeting his lips in another kiss.

This kiss is sweet and soft, but the lingering taste of your shared releases still permeates your taste buds. You sigh, leaning your head against his shoulder as he lays against the wall with you in his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he apologises again, pressing another kiss to the top of your head and it’s almost like he hadn’t fucked you like it was your last day on earth. “I won’t ever leave you again.”

You hum, turning your head to pepper kisses over his neck freckles. “I should be the one saying that. I love you, San. And I’ll always run to you with no hesitation.”

679 notes · View notes

yorsgirl · 29 days

Text

Grant me a wish

Levi Ackerman x Reader

Synopsis: In which, Levi takes it upon himself to fulfil that one wish of yours.

Trope: Angst, fluff, established relationship.

Warnings: Post Canon, implied nsfw, kissing, no mentions of y/n.

Word count: 1.3k

A/N: Nothing just me milking my daydream with this fine specimen of a man. Fuck you Isayama for making my man go through all that shit 😭 (jk, thank you for writing this amazing story for us)

Levi never said that he loved you.

In all the years you've spent with him neither did he once speak those three words. He never said those words while you were in the infirmary being treated for your broken ankle.

Neither had he ever urged you to skip any expedition nor did he push you away when you were adamant to fight this war alongside him.

Perhaps, his love is not to be heard. It's meant to be felt.

It was felt when you were the first one he looked for after every expedition. It was felt when he'd ask you to stay back for training. It was felt he himself strapped the harness of your ODM before an expedition. It was felt that after submitting the paperwork he'd take a trip to your room. It was felt when he told you about his past; revealing each and every darkest secret as you shared a cup of tea under the starlight. To know the hands which caressed your form every night with tenderness were the same hands stained with the red of death.

Amidst this never-ending war, the concept of a blooming romance was like a far-fetched dream. And there was a hint of fear. Fear of you suffering the same fate as everyone he loved.

For everyone he loved had been taken away one way or another.

It wasn't on any special day that it happened.

The air was humid and you could hear the crickets chirping outside your window. The sun was setting down the horizon slowly when Levi asked you that question.

"They died for us..." He had said, gazing out the window before shifting his form towards you.

"Would you live with me for the rest of my life?"

There was no bit of hesitation on his face but you could sense a subtle hint of fear when his voice turned heavy. Fear of what might be your answer. It wasn't a question on impulse or one of reassurance you had answered previously.

He didn't kneel before you nor did he voice out any of his feelings. It was a question, as simple as that. Yet, it was the most important he had ever asked of you.

When you didn't answer for long, he was prepared to apologize as his shoulders slumped down. But before he could conjure those words, your lips met his. It was unlike any other kisses you had shared until that day. Your lips didn't move against his, it stayed like a touch of a petal.

It was a kiss to shush him from wringing an apology (what was there to even apologize for), one to convey your answer.

He brought out a ring from his pocket. Nothing fancy, just a silver band on first inspection. In the second look, you found his initials engraved on the backside. He slid it on your finger without any further ado.

Next, he had passed you another identical ring and forwarded his hand to you. You found your initials engraved on its backside as he urged you to put it on him.

"I could only afford this." He confessed, meeting your gaze. There was a subtle disappointment lingering in his voice. He could have gotten you something more intricately crafted or one made of a more valuable metal.

You offered a soft smile, intertwining your fingers with his. The pad of his thumb rubbed circles upon your knuckles, the silver ring glinted as the sunlight reflected on it.

Only if he knew, you needed no ring for you had him by your side.

Each step towards the altar was a step-down memory lane.

Clad in a black suit, similar to the one he had worn to all the meetings in the survey corps. You always told him he looked like some nobleman wearing such an outfit.

You noticed the slight change in demeanor when he saw you walking down the aisle in your white dress and a bouquet of white lilies. He was standing before the priest; waiting for your arrival.

That caused a frown. His knee was still damaged and from the medical reports, he needed to rest it as much as possible. You remember repeatedly chiding him to use the wheelchair but his stubbornness was evident. You were sure to give him an earful after this was over.

You never took Levi as the one to want a traditional wedding ceremony. You were sure he'd want to just sign the papers in court and be done with it. That's what you thought.

Until he asked you to pick a dress and a location. Informing you he had sent word to your union to the needful people. So you did, chose a dress to your liking and the spot which held both of your memories—the survey corps headquarters.

Walking between all the guests you reached him. A lot of guests weren't present to witness this matrimony. Only his remaining squad and the queen made a graceful appearance with her daughter - Ymir. But they were your family. The very family with whom you had fought a war alongside. The ones who held witness to your laughs and tears, who had your back through thick and thin.

A family brought together by tragedy.

Levi helped you up the stairs, offering his hand which you took gratefully. Standing before him, all the doubts that plagued your mind previously faded into thin air. There were no regrets, no second guesses, no jitters, nothing except the love you held for him. Looking back, there were a lot of things he didn't say but his actions conveyed proof of those unspoken words.

Everything felt right when you looked into his eyes.

A sense of tranquillity settled on you. Your loud heartbeat seized to a comforting pace when he held your hand. Gazing at you with no bit of hesitance whatsoever. There was a ghost of a smile adorning his lips.

He never looked more beautiful than now.

====

"Grant me a wish, Levi."

"What kind?"

"To speak of your honest feelings when the right day comes."

====

You were the strongest in his eyes.

Humanity's strongest soldier, they called him. He carried loads of expectations behind his back; and carried the hopes and dreams of every soldier who gave up their life for this cause. For a chance at freedom which was so valiantly fought for till the end.

And now, he stood before you. You, the woman who stuck by his side till the end. To not keep a distance when he revealed his vulnerabilities and shared about the darkness residing in him. Quite the contrary, you closed the distance into an embrace.

Surreal to know, you were here and not some vision in the air. You were here, right before him. And this war was over. The bloodshed, the death, the conflicts, everything was over. Hence now, he decided to live. Live a life with you which you used to speak about. A normal life.

He honestly didn't know what the future held. Neither was he aware of how this decision will turn out. He never had but he knew if you were with him; he'd figure it out.

The priest's voice reached his ears.

"State your vows."

Vows. He was never vocal about his intentions. Not the one to make sweet, empty promises. But here, he wished to say something which he always meant to express.

He took a deep breath, clutching your hand tightly in his. Each syllable of your name rolled off his mouth in an agonizing slow pattern.

And after a long time, he saw tears slide down your eyes. For once, these tears were not of sorrow but of happiness. The absolute bliss to hear him speak of his feelings for you. He granted your wish on this very day.

Those words...

"I'll always be yours."

#levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi #captain levi #aot #snk #aot x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #levi angst #levi fluff #capatain levi #levi fanfiction #levi ackerman angst #rivaille ackerman #shingeki no kyojin x reader #shingeki no kyojin #levi drabble

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mactavishsgfandwife · 3 months

Text

141 When They’re Sick

bilingual privilege is using your second language to scribble down notes for your tumblr fanfiction in class with the reassurance that no one else will be able to understand what you’re writing 😋 pure fluff (not proofread)

Johnny ‘Soap’ Mactavish

soap has such man flu vibes

i just know he will have a little cold from never dressing appropriately for the english weather (he thinks he can tough it out) (he can’t) and then lays on the sofa for a week, miserable and constantly pining for your attention

he loves a cup of tea when he’s sick but he also swears that irn bru has magic restorative qualities, and "that’s how i keep m’physique, bonnie"

Johnny groans, rubbing his face with his palm as he lays stretched out over the sofa, his feet resting on one arm and a hot water bottle flopped lazily over his stomach. For the most part, the grunts and sighs seem genuine, but you could swear that he makes sure to emphasise his suffering when you walk past, just to let you know what a big strong boy he’s being for dealing with his sore throat and slight headache.

"Head hurts…" he groans, holding a forearm over his eyes to shield them from the light.

"I know, honey… you want a paracetamol?" you pat his head, trying to hide your little, sympathetic laugh.

"Nah, only just had one… Y’could gimme a kiss, though," he grinned up at you, his tone lightening a little.

"Ew! Stop, I don’t want your germs," you laugh, pulling your hand away from his hair.

"Aww, c’mon… might make me feel better," Johnny teases, sitting up a little (he wasn’t really that weak in the first place) and holds your wrist so you can’t escape. When you see the stupid, irritating grin on his face, you know you don’t really care about germs. You just want to kiss him.

Captain John Price

price, when he’s feeling ill, likes to be looked after - the number one cure for ANY of this man’s problems is a warm bath

he loves it when you act like a little housewife for him, running him a warm bath and bringing him a constant stream of cups of tea - sometimes he’ll pretend to be sicker than he is for a little longer than he has to just for a day or two more of being doted on by you. not that you don’t do that anyways.

but he’s a menace when you try to go off shopping or to work - he lays a strong, hairy arm over you, mumbling something about being sick and needing you to stay

if you massage his back and shoulders when he’s feeling sick, he will be so happy. it takes a little longer than when he rubs your back because there’s just more of him, with his broad shoulders and muscular dad-bod (yum)

You have John laying on his front, on the bed, arms crossed under his head. His hair is damp, getting the bedsheets a little wet beneath him, and he has a soft white towel wrapped loosely around his hips - he smells strangely like lavender (he definitely used your shower gel instead of his because yours is nicer - you pretend not to notice, as your hands gently move up and down his sore back).

He’s managed to come down with a bad cold the day after an intense workout, so his body is totally exhausted and nothing really appeals to him other than laying down. Being as fit as he is, you wouldn’t expect him to be in such a state, but the man needs a break and it’s plain to see.

The soft light from the nice-smelling candles that you’ve lit on the bedside table plays in his wet hair, which you gently comb your fingers through.

"You been using my products again, hmm?" you grin with a gentle tone, leaning in closer to him.

"Sorry love…" he starts to respond, his voice a little hoarse.

"It’s okay," you laugh softly, nuzzling your face into his back as you lower yourself on top of him, like a weighted blanket. Your soft hands wrap gently around his scarred sides, as little sighs of contentment leave your mouth.

"What happened to my back rub?" he teases, feeling your body laying against him. Still, he doesn’t a muscle to stop you from cuddling up to him.

As you keep quiet, enjoying the warmth of his body, he chuckles and pulls himself into a more comfortable position below you.

"That’s alright, sweetheart…" he replies to your silence.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

simon would try to be an unphased tough guy but he’d have little moments of weakness

he’d insist that he’s not that sick while taking paracetamol and drinking tea constantly, pulling you close to him as often as he can and being clingier than usual (he’s always touchy, but he is particularly reliant on you now)

he’s in a terrible mood, but just resting his head on your shoulder or holding you while you work helps him… better yet, he loves it when you’re sitting on the sofa and working on your laptop, or watching a film, and he gets to lay down with his head in your lap - with your soft fingers occasionally brushing through his short hair

he’s a tough guy, but when it’s just you and him, he can just lay down with his girl without worrying about being ghost. he’s just simon - poorly simon, with his sweet girlfriend taking care of him.

Phone in your hand, you quietly text your friend about her crazy ex boyfriend and the dress that she’s going to wear out tonight - the red one or the other red one, with the different neckline? You look up to the doorway to see a tall, tired man walk into the sitting room - 6’4", dressed in an old grey hoodie and a pair of pyjama bottoms, ruffling his hair and looking utterly exhausted.

"Thought you were asleep, Si…"

"Can’t sleep," he mumbles gruffly, silently moving towards you and finding a spot to lay his head - right in your lap, his feet resting on the opposite arm of your big sofa.

Understanding his fatigue, you sigh softly and stroke his head as it lays against you. His skin is pale, showing his sickness, and his eyes look tired and dry. A little groan escapes his lips as he shuffles on the sofa, trying to make himself comfortable.

"Love you, darling…" he whispers softly, his eyes shutting in preparation to finally sleep.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick

i feel like kyle’s love language is food

if you make that man a curry or a good spag bol, he will secretly be making plans to propose to you as he eats it

and that’s all the more true when he’s ill or tired out - some comfort food home cooked by you would mean the world

Gaz had a bad cold and had been hibernating in bed all day, mostly asleep but occasionally watching the football or texting Soap to complain about how sick he is. As you walked into the room, brandishing a bowl of spaghetti carbonara, his eyes lit up.

"Hey, what’s this?" he grins, his voice a little hoarse.

"Carbonara. For you," you chuckle, placing it down on his bedside table, "I have some work stuff to finish, I-"

"Y’could just stay with me instead. I’ve been locked up in here all day," he teases.

"You’ve been asleep all day! I really need to… well…"

"Come on, baby."

You struggle to hide the grin that’s creeping onto your face, not wanting to procrastinate your work any longer (this wasn’t the first time Kyle has stolen you away from typing up emails) but he got what he wanted when, a moment later, you were cuddled up to him. Wearing his tshirt and your underwear, with your head resting on his shoulder.

"Oh my God, this is so good!" he chuckles, eating, voice still strained from the sore throat. He’s mostly just happy to have you next to him (oh, as well as the pasta).

gaz is my babyyyyyyy i don’t think you guys get it 😣😣😣 this took an age and a half to write i hope it’s up to standard thanks for reading!! xx

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scoutswritingcorner · 2 months

Note

i was wondering if I could request a fem reader x ángel dust, but where it’s platonic? Like, she’s friends with him and always comforts him after a bad day at work. Forehead kisses and hugs abound?

Work Day Blues

Angel Dust X GN!Reader

Platonic

A/n: Hihi friend! Thank you for requesting this, I left this GN as it’s what I’m most comfortable writing! Also sorry if this a little short!

TW:Talks about Valentino (ew), a little angst, crying.

BEFORE ANYONE GETS ON MY CASE- I WILL ONLY WRITE ROMANTIC FICS WITH A MALE READER FOR ANGEL DUST. I KEEP PLATONIC FICS AS GN SO EVERYONE CAN READ.

Angel comes back after a long day working for Valentino, but not to worry cause you have the best cure known to man.

~~~

You looked at your phone as you let out a loud yawn, everyone had gone off to bed already . Which had left you alone at the bar nursing a bottle of water Husk had graciously given you before he took his leave for the night. It was currently 2 AM, 4 hours ago Angel Dust was supposed to be back from his work. You would’ve gone after him to check up on him but you promised him to stay away from Valentino and not get twisted in his little game. You didn’t want to see him upset at you.

The front doors of the Hotel opened causing you to look over but the words died on your tongue as you saw how upset and tired Angel Dust looked. Putting your phone in your pocket you got up and walked over to him motioning for him to follow you wordlessly. He let out a loud sigh but followed you back to his room where Fat Nuggets was waiting for him. The little pig oinking happily and running around his Papa, you smiled and led both of them to Angel’s bed.

After helping get his ruined makeup off of his face you had sat next to him as he cried, “I fucking hate him- he kept me hours after the showing cause I missed one line in the script.” He sobbed out into your chest, running your fingers through his hair, “I’m sorry, Angel..I wish I could help.” You whispered before placing a gentle kiss on his forehead as he looked at you, “There’s no way, Toots..I just got to suffer.” He replied between a sob, his shoulders shaking. “I bet you there is..Maybe I could turn off the lights and beat the shit out of him. Moths are blind, I could make this work.” You said confidently, puffing your chest out making Angel burst out laughing, “Think about it, cut the lights off and keep him occupied as I take a bat with nails to his knees.” You teased (you weren’t but Angel didn’t need to know) causing Angel to laugh harder laying back on his bed.

“No wait! Get bug spray, Angel!” You yelled out over his laughter ignoring your exhaustion from earlier, “Not the fucking bug spray, toots!”

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel imagine #angel dust imagine #angel dust x reader #hazbin angel dust #angel dust x you #gn reader

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indigosunsetao3 · 3 months

Text

You Have A Few Minutes Before You’re Missed

How do the COD men use that time?

Female reader perspective

NSFW - Minors DNI

Idea came to me because I took a quick weekend trip and have only had a few minutes here and there to sneak away and write. Excuse typos/grammar, literally been writing this in ten minute spurts over a few days.

Alex

“They’ll never miss us.”

You grin as Alex leads the way down a deserted hallway, his hand tightly gripping yours. His body is tense with anticipation and need but he keeps the boyish grin on his face as he walks. His steps only pause to check a door, which is locked, before moving on.

“Alex, maybe we should…” you start as he halts at another door and tries the handle. Locked.

He curses under his breath, breaking the calm exterior look to show the desperation underneath. His eyes cut to you standing there, still holding his other hand and smiling so prettily.

“One more?” He asks, his voice a slight plea as he tugs you closer to him. “If it’s locked we’ll go back and I’ll just suffer,” he grins and gives you a chaste kiss because if he does anything more than that he’ll combust in the hallway.

You had been teasing him all night, knowing he had to keep it together. It was an award ceremony after all and that required decorum. But fuck, seeing him in his dress blues all cleaned up and decorated did something to you. So when he sat next to you at the table your hand wandered a little too high up his thigh. And as he leaned over to pour you more wine you had whispered how badly you wanted him to fuck you while wearing this specific outfit he almost spilled the red liquid all over the table.

“One more,” you agree with a laugh as Alex all but jogs to the last door, dragging you behind. Your heels click on the tile and despite playing coy you’re also hoping he finds an unlocked door. The way he’s desperate for you has only added fuel to your own fire.

Making a show of it Alex grabs the last door handle, pauses for dramatic effect, then twists. It’s unlocked. He doesn’t waste another second as he drags you into the long abandoned office and slams the door shut by pushing you up against it.

“What was that about me in my dress blues?” He asks as one hand grabs your thigh through the slit in your floor length dress and yanks your leg around his waist. He’s already hard and pressing into you, causing you to gasp at the friction as he rolls his hips. “Don’t get all shy on me now,” he chastises as you blush and whimper at his ministrations.

“I want you to fuck me while wearing them,” you gasp out, one hand sliding up his chest to gently tap one of his medals. “You look so fucking good in these,” your hand slides to play with one of the buttons.

“I’m always eager to please,” Alex answers as he gathers the rest of your dress and shoves it out of the way, allowing you to undo his pants for him. When he springs free your hands are instantly on him, pumping him quickly as he shudders and gasps against your lips. Alex is a vocal man in bed and you would do anything to keep him panting and groaning in your ear.

“I need you,” you demand after a few minutes of rushing him toward that edge. “Now,” you add sliding the head of his cock through your folds and laughing at the look of shock on his face that you weren’t wearing any underwear. “I didn’t want the lines,” you answer with a gasp as you line him up with your entrance and he pushes just the tip in.

“How do you want me?” Alex asked, ever the gentleman giving you what you needed first.

“Fuck me against the wall Alex. Hard and fast,” you demand, grabbing his hand that was braced in the wall and guiding it to your backside. He knows what you want and gently grabs you to lift you up so you can wrap your legs fully around him and lock your ankles.

Alex gives you one second to get ready, your hands braced on his shoulders, before he follows through with your command. He takes you hard against the wall, the filing cabinet a few feet away rattling with each thrust, the medals on his chest tinkling as they knocked into one another.

Your perfect soldier and fiancé always took care of you without hesitation. He was breathless and sweating as you hit your climax but he made sure to ride you through it before letting himself release into you. His hands grabbing hard at your ass to grind you down onto him and keep you filled up with him, not wanting to waste a drop.

“We’ll have to go back eventually,” you say as he rests his forehead against your shoulder, still fully inside you. He always liked to stay connected for a bit. Enjoyed feeling your flutter around him in the after shocks of your orgasm and to make sure he doesn’t drip down your leg too fast.

“Just another minute,” Alex answers as he twists his head to kiss at your neck.

Gaz

“This skirt is a goddamn tease. You wore it on purpose just for me, didn’t you?”

You had, in fact, worn it on purpose. It seemed decent enough when viewed in a proper manner that you were careful to display around the other men. But the moment you knew only Gaz was watching from the bar, the rest of the men busy with a game of pool, you bent over at the waist to grab a drink from one of the tables. Felt the slide of the pleated material up your legs to reveal the lacey tops of your thigh highs. If you bent and leaned much more he was going to get a pretty view of your matching lace panties.

He had seen through innocent look you gave him as you stood up and walked over. Gaz’s eyes seemed to be ablaze as he spun to face the way of the game you were pretending to watch as his hand slid up just under your skirt without missing a beat.

He was subtle and slow about his movements to give you the chance to bat him away but you didn’t. You’ve been pining for this for weeks and when you don’t push him away you feel his fingers slide under the lace tops and pluck one to snap the elastic against your skin. The movement elicited a small groan from you that had you sipping on the beer to cover it.

“You still haven’t answered my question,” Gaz stated as he let his fingers trail to your other leg, careful to not let on to anyone else what he was doing. If Gaz was anything, he was great at playing casual. “Did you wear this on purpose for me?” He pinched the back of your thigh at that and you nearly dribble your drink down your chin, causing him to laugh lightly.

“Maybe I did,” you answer sounding bolder than you felt. It was one thing to playfully flirt from a distance, playing the game you two did to rile one another but never quite getting to the next step. But when he was this close with his hands so dangerously far up your skirt in public where anyone could see if they looked hard enough it was different. You felt meek and maybe a bit self conscious despite being the one to start the whole thing.

“And why did you? There had to be a reason you thought of me when you put it on then gave me a little show. What is it that you want?” His voice is silky smooth as his hand slides up the curve of your ass to toy with the barely there lace. You haven’t dared to look at him, your eyes locked on the game of pool that Price is dominating without even trying. But you know he’s got a smirk on his face as he continues to run his hands over you.

“You,” you finally say with a smirk around the beer bottle. “I had to get your attention somehow.”

“You’ve always got my attention,” Gaz replies simply as he sets his drink down on an empty table next to him. “You should know that by now,” his fingers are dangerously close to sliding between your legs and you huff lightly. “Anytime you’re around I can’t take my eyes off you,” he pauses in his words pretending to be interested in the pool game as his fingers dip down and you instinctively shift to open your legs a bit more for him.

“Then what took you so long?” You ask a bit breathless as his fingers barely ghost over your center. This was dangerous. The bar hid your lower half from view of anyone unless they came around the back but it doesn’t hide your face and you have a terrible poker face. “I was a bit worried you weren’t interested,” you tack on, hand squeezing the glass bottle hard to keep from squirming.

“The best part is the anticipation,” Gaz answers, still sounding completely unbothered. “I never meant to seem disinterested, just wanted you to pant a bit,” he grins and dares to reach a hand out to turn your face to look at him. “And I think you’re finally there,” he smirks watching your face as his fingers slide up to gently rub circles over your apex through the panties.

Your lips part at that and he quirks an eyebrow as he slides under the lace. His neutral face slipping a bit as he feels the wetness on his fingers and he slides them back to your entrance to gather more.

“Fuck love, maybe I had you waiting a little too long,” he says as he continues to rub his fingers over you, watching you squirm. “The game is almost over,” he breathes out as he pushes just one knuckle into you, causing you to bite your lip and shut your eyes. “They’re going to come back over here and I’m going to have to take my hand away,” he slides his finger a little further in and you hear his appreciative groan as you shift your hips back toward his hand.

“Then buy us more time,” you answer not wanting him to stop as he pushes his finger fully in so his palm is resting on your skin. You whimper and bite your lip as Soap looks over, oblivious as to what is happening, to ask Gaz if he wanted to play next.

“I’ll catch the next game,” Gaz answers simply as he slides back out and runs his glistening finger back up to your clit to rub it gently. He knows you’re struggling to keep it together as he plays it cool with the guys. Soap nods and turns back to rack up the game again, Price heading to get another round of beers and Ghost picks out his cue to play.

“We’ve got about ten minutes before Ghost wipes the floor with him,” Gaz says as he shifts a bit in his chair. “I bet I can have you come all over my hands before it’s my turn to play.”

He’s not wrong.

Ghost

You’d been working a tail for three days now as a pair. Following them wherever they went and it seemed the guy really enjoyed hole in the wall dive bars and lounges. These three days with Simon had only amplified the desire between the two of you and you secretly thought Price assigned this task to you both to finally get you both to act on it.

The touches and banter had been casual and subtle at first. Ones you could pass off as just friendly interactions between colleagues. But the more and more alone time you spent together the more obvious it was that this wasn’t coworkers friendly. There was more. More in the way Ghost watched you work, more in how he always insisted on sitting next to you and how you always felt the need to touch him. Even if it was just a leg brush under the table or arms resting comfortably against one another on the couch.

It had come to a head this evening at the little jazz lounge. The dimly lit floor made it easier to touch and feel one another, using the excuse you were portraying a tourist couple on their honeymoon. Maybe you had been a little to handsy that evening, leaning on him in the velvet booth, draping your legs across his lap or whispering in his ear so your lips brushed the skin there. You needed to sell your cover though and Simon hasn’t pushed you away and even played into it as well. His hands running over your shins and chalves, up to the back of your knee, fingers playing over the nape of your neck as you talked.

When you insisted on another drink Simon followed you to the bar and stood behind you, his hand resting on your hip as he looked around the club. When more people walked up to the bar while you waited Simon gently moved you to lean back on him to make more room. His fingers holding your hips a bit tight so you could feel his length pressing into your backside as he held you close. You swallow as the bartender continues to work taking drink orders and they still hadn’t come over to you yet.

“Mark is on the move,” came a voice in your earpiece. They were meeting someone here and Gaz had infiltrated the club staff so he could monitor the exchange. Effectively giving you and Simon a little reprieve from babysitting duty. “I’m moving in,” Gaz answers a moment later,

Leaning your head back you look up at Ghost who is watching you with an intense look as if waiting for an answer to his silent questions. His fingers are flexing against your hip bone and when your gently roll your hips back into him he takes a sharp breath. He doesn’t wait after that. He all but drags you from the bar, knowing the rest of the team will be busy watching Gaz for a few minutes. Ripping his ear piece out to end the chatter he drags you toward the coat closet that the attendant had abandoned and pulls you inside.

It’s too dark to see anything but you don’t bother with the light switch as Ghost snatches you up and kisses you roughly in the dark. He isn’t slow about it as his hands find your backside and he lifts you up to wrap your legs around his waist. The air leaves your lungs in a rush as he pins you between him and the wall, his mouth never leaving yours as his hands slide down your sides to find the hem of your shirt.

“Fuck,” Simon breathes out as his hand finds the soft skin of your breast. He completely bypasses your shirt and bra and is incessantly kneeding the skin, hard enough you know it’s going to bruise but you groan in satisfaction, not pain. “I’ve wanted you like this for goddamn weeks,” he grounds out as his other hand grabs your waist to grind you down on him. The whimper you let out feeling him pressed against the thin fabric of your leggings is pathetic but it only seems to push him along.

“Then don’t wait any longer,” you breathe and Simon laughs a bit against your lips as he lowers your feet down to the ground. He doesn’t give you a chance to orient yourself before he flips you around so your stomach and chest is flat against the wall. You can hear the rustle of his pants and belt and your move to pull your own pants down, practically shaking with anticipation, before he pins you again.

You can feel his length prodding at you, demanding and a bit slick now that it was free of his clothes. Your mouth is dry as Simon kicks your legs open with precision, even in the pitch blackness of the closet, and his hands slide around your front.

When his fingers find your aching core you moan loudly, arching your back against him as he literally slips between your center. If you weren’t so fucking needy for him you’d be embarrassed by how wet he made you. You can feel the appreciative twitch of his cock against you as he starts working you up into a frenzy of little pants and moans. His fingers are quick to get you to that edge, right as you’re about to come he stops, pulling his hand away and grabbing your hips.

You whine as the loss of contact but it turns into a filthy groan as he notches himself at your entrance and slides into you without hesitation. You can hear his cocky chuckle at your reaction and how easy it was for him to seat himself fully in you without resistance. He rolls his hips once, twice, for you to get used to him before he starts fucking you at a brutal pace. His hands gripping hard to leave matching bruises on your hips.

Your hands are pushed against the wall as you arch to him, begging him to keep going while whining from the pleasure. At one point you hear someone outside the room and you quickly shift as if to pull away from Simon to get him to stop, hissing that someone is outside and what if they hear you? But he doesn’t take well to that. He shoves you harder against the wall so you have nowhere else to go and can’t get away as he rocks his hips into you.

“If you keep making those noises then, yes, they’ll hear you,” Simon answers as his fingers slowly, lazily, play with your clit. You shudder and push back into him to get him to move again. This was the second time he had pushed you toward that blissful edge then stopped. “Think you can keep quiet?” He asks as he leans down to kiss at your ear, “or are we going to have to wait to finish when I can get you alone?”

Fuck waiting, you’ve waited too long. Your hand scrambles to grab at his ass and pull to get him to move. He takes the hint and picks up his pace again, your hand moving to cover your own mouth to drown out the noise but his hand gets there first. His palm and fingers close tight around your lips as he bends your head back and continues to fuck you against the wall not caring about the obscene skin slapping sounds that fill the room.

There is movement and sound outside the room still but you don’t care. He’s got you right on that edge and a final, brutal, thrust combined with him biting down on your shoulder you fall apart. You come hard around him, your hands grabbing at the wall for purchase as you clamp down around him and all but scream into his hand. You can feel the telltale twitch of his cock in you as he finishes, his hips still working to ride out his high and fill you.

You stay locked together for a little bit, breathing and trying to stay standing as you come back down. Simon peppers your neck with kisses as he gently pulls out and right as you’re pulling your pants back up a voice comes in your earpiece.

“Where are you guys? Deals done and they’re leaving,” Gaz’s voice sounds a bit pressed.

“We’ll be there in a moment,” Simon answers as he grabs your hand and yanks open the coat closet door. “Got a little tied up with something,” he finishes looking back at you still red faced and sweaty.

Price

“What’s the use in being in charge if I can’t break the rules?”

You smirk as he slams the door shut to the blacked out SUV in the parking lot. It’s parked between a few other vehicles in a neat little row, inconspicuous and easy to look past.

“True,” you answer as he settles himself in the middle of the bench seat and motions you over. “But you’re a Captain, you’re supposed to be setting the example,” you continue as you shimmy your way over and throw a leg over either side of his lap. “And you’re supposed to be presenting your findings here soon,” you tack on glancing at his watch.

“If I’m supposed to be showing them how to behave, I’ve failed miserably from the start,” Price answers as his hands run up and down your side and legs. “I’ve got time before all that,” he mutters before sliding a hand up into your hair and pulling you down for a heated kiss.

You knew his resolve had snapped the moment you walked into the meeting and your hair was down by your shoulders. Price always loved running his fingers through it when he got you alone, and pulling on it hard as you sucked him off at his desk.

It had been a secret affair for months after you had met him when MI6 and the 141 had teamed up. He had taken a shine to the quiet analyst and while it wasn’t forbidden to have relations, it was frowned upon. So it was just easier to meet in private and steal moments away here and there.

Price had been away on a mission for over a month this time and the need was so strong you nearly threw caution to the wind when you saw him sitting there at the table. Watched him shift in his seat at the sight of you.

“Not too much time,” you counter as you roll your hips onto him making him groan. “Maybe fifteen minutes before everyone realizes the guest of honor has disappeared. That’s what you get for being so…” you don’t finish as Price captures your lips again and grabs hard at your ass.

“Stop analyzing everything,” he counters as he bucks up into you, “and do something else with that pretty little mouth.” He bites at your lip and pulls it gently between his teeth.

You know what he wants and you’re more than happy to oblige him. You’ve missed him. The feel and taste of him and of course the sounds you can elicit from him. He’s not shy with what he wants or how he wants it, and always shows his appreciation.

“Move over then,” you instruct as you slide off his lap and shift as he puts his back up against the door. Price is a big man so it takes some shuffling but you end up kneeling on the floor, thankful for the fact the rest of his team was also huge and required ample leg room.

He’d already helped you remove his pants and you nearly hum with excitement as you see how hard and fucking swollen he is for you. Without much warning you’re on him, you mouth already drooling in anticipation as you take him deep to the back of your throat. He huffs letting you set the pace before his hands brush away the hair from your face, gently pulling it into a ponytail wrapped up tight in his hand.

“Fuck you look so pretty,” Price compliments as your eyes flick up to his to watch his face. Your hands are like vices on his thighs that only tighten at his praise. “Even prettier than when you walked into that meeting room all done up. I like you on your knees for me, drooling and gagging,” he smirks as you whine, moving to slide your hand from his leg to give yourself some relief in the ache between your legs.

He stops you and grabs your wrist and you whimper as he pulls the hand back to rest on his thigh.

“Not yet,” Price admonishes, “that’s my job.” He smirks as he pushes you down on him until you sputter a bit for air and he releases bobbing your head on him at the pace he wants now. “These seats will be ruined by the time I’m done with you,” he smirks as you twist your legs a bit to rub your thighs together for something. Anything. He lets you get away with that because he knows it’ll just make it worse not better.

His moans and bucking tells you he’s close and you move faster, your hand moving to cup his balls and squeeze lightly. Just how you know he likes without him even having to say it. His restraint is gone as he grabs the back of your head with both hands and he spills into your mouth, straight down your throat. You swallow it without hesitation, satisfied with finally tasting him again.

“Fuck,” Price breathes as he watches you lick your lips and roll back on your heels. “You’re already wrecked and I haven’t even touched you,” he teases as his thumbs wipe away some remnants of himself from the corner of your mouth. “How much time do I have to get you out of those pants and screaming?”

Just as you’re about to answer your phone buzzes. It’s your boss and they need you urgently before the next meeting starts and your face falls. “Shit my boss,” you mutter quickly wiping at the makeup you know is running down your face, disappointment all over your expression. “I have to go,” you breathe as another message comes in from a different coworker asking where you disappeared to.

“Now who’s more important?” He asks before helping you clean up and smooth your hair. “Get through this meeting and I promise to make it up to you,” he prompts obviously feeling a bit guilty but still smug as hell that you got on your knees for him first. “I’m still going to get you to make a mess on this fucking bench. Even if my team has to walk home,” he promises as his hand roughly reaches down to rub the seam of your pants for a moment just to get you to whine pitifully before he’s helping you out the door and off to the next meeting.

Soap

“I can’t wait to get home, now shut the door.”

You laugh as you shut the door to the bedroom behind you, doing your best to ignore the fact it’s Price’s. He had invited everyone to his house for a bit of fun bonding and Soap wasn’t about to waste his quick leave with you to just sit with the boys all night. He had dragged you along and despite the fact the other men were keeping him engaged and you chatted along as well, his eyes were boring into you all evening.

“This is your Captain’s bedroom,” you hiss though it’s not a real fight as his lips find the soft skin above your pulse and his hands tug at the thin little straps on your sundress. “What if he walks in?” You ask as the cool air hits your breasts for a second before his calloused hands cover them.

“Then he’ll get a show,” Soap answers with a small chuckle as he nips at your shoulder. “I know you’ve been thinking it all evening. And it’ll be rude to leave before Price’s nightcap,” he explains before tugging harder at your dress to get it bunched around your hips. “And I’m tired of knowing what’s been under this dress and unable to touch it.”

“You barely let me out of bed this morning,” you answer, the ache still pleasantly sore even now as you had sat on the hard picnic chairs. “You’d think you’d have some more restraint,” you continue to tease as you help him out of his zipper hoodie and yank hard on his belt buckle. You currently had no restraint either as you stared blatantly at his chiseled chest and arms, unable to get enough of him even after all this time.

“I think you were the one that dragged me back before my shower,” he answers with a quirk of his brow as he grabs your hips and walks you backward until his knees hit the bed allowing him to sit and pull you to stand between his legs.

“That’s besides the point,” you answer before dropping your head back with a satisfied sigh as he sucks a nipple into his mouth and bites down just enough to send a shock of pain through you that you enjoy. “You had already pinned me down twice before that,” you manage before his knee pushes its way between your legs and he drags you down to sit hard on it. His jeans are rough against the sensitive spot behind your light cotton panties and you shudder as he pushes up and rubs.

“You weren’t complaining when you came all over my face,” he states, smirking as you roll your hips to get more from him. “And I don’t think you’re truly complaining now,” he adds as you continue to ride his thigh without his help, your hands gripping hard on his shoulders.

“You’re just a bad influence,” you answer a bit breathlessly as the bed creaks at your movements. You freeze for just a second realizing you are riding your boyfriend’s thigh on his bosses bed. There has to be some sort of explanation for how fucked up you were both being, especially since you weren’t stopping. “Johnny, maybe we should head back,” you groan out as his hand slides up behind your head to tug a bit at the hair there to pull your head back and making you arch on his leg to hit that sweet spot longer.

“Mmm no lass,” Soap answers as he watches you rock backward and forward chasing a release. “I think you need to ride me until you come and we’ll go from there,” he states though his tone is a command that you’ve grown to love and crave. “Don’t you dare stop,” he orders, eyes flicking to your breasts to watch them bounce with your movement, “until you soak my jeans.”

You whine, feet digging into the floor to give you better leverage as you move on him. He’s not helping you, just watching you use him to work for your own pleasure which makes you bite your lip. You loved when he watched you, how his eyes devoured you when he demanded you touch yourself while he stared from the bedroom door. Or how he requested videos of you for his long trips away, wanting to watch getting yourself off while moaning his name anytime he pleased.

“That’s it lass, I can tell you’re close. You get that cute little hitch in your breath as you’re about to come apart,” he states before gripping your chin gently tilt your head back to look at his face. Your mouth is slightly open as you pant, the release right there and when Soap gives you that crooked cocky grin you explode.

He helps you ride through it before lifting the edge of your skirt up to find a small wet patch. You flush crimson at the sight but Soap seems so proud of himself as he gently helps you off his leg.

“If you’re done, Price is waiting for us,”comes Gaz’s voice from the other side of the door causing you to jump. You can hear him laughing as he walks away back down the stairs and you are mortified right out of your climax high as you look back at Soap.

“It’s nothing he hasn’t heard before,” Soap explains as he gently pulls your dress back up and sets the straps correctly. “It’s not like the tents we stay in have walls, and you’re not exactly quiet on those videos,” he explains at your shocked face with a smirk, “I think they like hearing your little breathy voice as much as I do. Gets a little lonely out there just the few of us.”

“Have you…shown them?” You ask curiously though the excitement is evident in your voice. The thought almost thrills you a bit, that enjoyment of being watched seemingly not limited to just Soap.

“No,” Soap answers with a small tilt of his head. “Do you want me to show them?” You don’t answer feeling suddenly shy and he presses on, “because I will if that gets you excited. I don’t mind showing off what is mine. Making them wish you were theirs but knowing only I get it.”

“Show them one we make when we get home tonight,” you answer before you can back out with a small smirk, the thought already making you ache again.

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caelisblade · 7 months

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¡! praisin' you | wanderer

kinktober, day one: hate sex + praise kink

“oh, fucking hell”, he moaned into your ear as he thrusted back into you, “now, tell me, how much do you like me fucking you like this?”

scaramouche couldn’t help the dry chuckle leaving his throat as he saw your absolutely wrecked face and tear-filled eyes, burying his face into your neck as he planted rough kisses and bites all over your neck.

“shut the – god, fuck up”, you cried out after a particularly hard thrust he delivered, his own frustrations and pent up stress making tonight’s fuck session much more intense. “just fuck me.”

“mh, so bossy”, he chuckled before he increased his pace again, having you sob out as the pleasure rushed through your body. “and so fucking gorgeous underneath me with my cock in your pretty pussy.” the last part was nothing but a whisper, just before he distracted you with some hard thrusts to keep you off of questioning his sudden compliment.

scara hated your guts. both of you being researchers of vahumana, competition wasn’t avoidable. and it showed – by how you would always fight for dominance when he’d finally join you in your dorm and fuck the shit out of you out of frustration for doing slightly worse than you in an exam or project.

but neither of you could deny the intense attraction both of you had for each other.

“you’re such a bitch. how dare you score better than me, you fucking slut? wanted me to get angry with you so i’d fuck you good, right? needed me to fuck you so bad? cute. such a needy whore for me, aren’t you?”

the mix of degradation and praise had you in a dizzy state, clinging onto his shoulders as you sobbed, so close to your climax once more; he had previously been edging you before he decided that that was boring and he would more like to see you suffer in overstimulation and dumb on his cock.

“please. i can’t take this anymore”, you begged, tears rolling down your cheeks. “make me come, please. sensitive.”

scaramouche simply could not help himself but chuckle. “poor you. so desperate for me to make you come, aren’t you? what a little slut you are.”

his thrusts got a lot more uncontrolled, he himself was nearing his climax as he groaned into your ear, having you shake and shiver as he finally came buried deep inside of you, making you sob in pleasure.

“fuck”, you whimper, looking at him as he pulled out slowly, laying down next to you as he tried to catch his breath.

both of you stared at each other before you started laughing as you shook your head. “man, i can’t believe we’re supposed to hate each other’s guts”, you mumbled with a smile on your lips as you felt sleep overcome your entire body..

“who said i hate you, hm?”, you only heard him distinctly say, before you were already asleep, not even sure if he really said that or not.

kinktober list

note; some of the days / kink combinations for this year are not yet decided on a character. if you have a suggestion, please be free to share who you think i should go with!

#genshin smut #genshin impact #genshin scaramouche #genshin wanderer #genshin fanfiction #scaramouche fanfiction #scaramouche fanfic #scaramouche smut #kinktober 2023

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grimesgirll · 1 month

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“good fucking girl.”

is definitely not something rick should be saying to his best friend’s girlfriend - especially not with his cock halfway down her throat.

the moment shane had stepped out for a run with glenn and michonne, you and rick were all over each other. you couldn’t handle sneaking into rick’s bed down the hall anymore. you were bound to end up in his lap on the sectional, pawing at him like a bitch in heat.

it’s not that shane didn’t fuck you; he took every chance he got. you’re just enamored with rick. ever since your boyfriend had “shared” you with his fellow officer, rick had been on your mind.

the way his brown constable’s jacket fit against his muscles when they flexed. the glint of his chocolate curls. how good he is with judith.

rick gets you goin’ in a way shane hasn’t for quite some time. he was right when he got you down on your knees back at the rest stop. you did look at rick like you wanted to drain him and then have him bend you over and fuck you silly - and that’s what ended up happening.

ever since that day, shane got off on toying with you and having you sit on rick’s cock in addition to his own. he uttered excuses about the stresses of their new duties as constable but you just slid down your denim skort and squealed the occasion away.

you’re quiet now, nice and muffled on rick’s dick as you swallow around him. the motion has him twitching in your mouth. wanting to finish off inside of you for the night, the thick length in your mouth is withdrawing and suddenly you’re in that familiar face down position again.

“so wet, baby,” rick remarks in awe as his length brushes your slippery entrance.

you’re squeezing your thighs together - trapping him between the pillowy soft surfaces. “rick,” you cry. “c’mon, already.”

“what’d we say?”

you swallow, a tear from how needy you are sliding down your cheek. “please, sir.”

you could care less if shane walked in right now. as long as rick keeps driving his hips into yours and breathing your name like a prayer, you’ll be content. content to get fucked silly by the man before he takes you in his arms and spends the night with a hand on your waist and his nose buried in your hair.

that’s after though.

now, you’re being nearly fucked up the couch.

rick’s just enjoying the way your sweet little cunt grips him like it needs him. the little thing sucks him in even better than your mouth.

and you’re a whole other story. sweat sticking to your glistening forehead, you’re babbling incoherent thoughts, strung out on the cock molding you to his shape.

your slick is pooling around rick like he’s in the fucking atlantic. so close to losing it all over him already, you’re making an absolute mess of the couch that you’ll have to resolve before shane gets home. don’t want him suffering from any fear of missing out.

the man is swept from your mind when rick absolutely crams his cock inside of your clinging cunt. the kiss to your cervix is enough for you to start seeing spots around the older man making you take his cock so well.

every time you park your pussy on rick’s thick dick and come, you ground down, grasp his hand, do anything to get as close as possible. feeling him to skin to skin is second only to feeling him fill you up. the filthy praises coming from his lips come close as well.

“fuck, baby, so nice and tight. you want me to come inside you, huh? have shane come home to this pussy all messy?”

you’re shaking your head like you have any idea what you’re asking for. “yes, rick! i want you to make a mess of my pussy.”

“then come all over this cock, honey.”

“mhmm, rick, i-,”

“that’s it.”

“i love how deep you are, rick-,” you’re bumbling like an idiot and muttering a string of “i love you”s as the dam bursts and you come undone on rick’s cock.

the pulsing warmth beneath you is accompanied by a husky, “i love you too,” and a chorus of your name into your shoulder as rick used his horsecock to fuck you two through your climaxes.

the friction on your clit heightens the heat surrounding you and flooding into you from rick. you’re almost overwhelmed by the bruising kisses rick purples onto your neck as he gathers you on top of him.

“you did so good, honey,” he’s praising you and you’re just nodding, humming, “thank you”s and “i know”s until he’s bear hugging you again. the way he nuzzles into your neck from behind and exhales into your hair is enough for you to forget trudging up to bed and drift off into rick’s touch right there.

you’re already asleep in his arms but he takes the time to stroke your hair and kiss up and down your temples. god, he loves getting this time with you to himself - even if you’re asleep.

with you pressed against him and your heartbeat thrumming, the world is still and rick realizes something - he’s never letting you go.

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writingsbychlo · 1 year

Text

surprise | cassian

summary; on starfall evening, you plan on revealing some big news, and giving cassian a very special gift.

word count; 4581

notes; this week was so insanely busy for me so I fell behind on these fics, but let's try and catch up at least a little bit, so here's day four!

As you stood in front of the mirror, smoothing a hand over the indistinguishable bump on your midriff, the smile forming on your lips was beyond your control. In the connecting bathroom, humming away to himself as he styled his hair was the love of your life, every inch of thick and terrifying General absolutely adorable to you as he prepared himself for the night ahead, streaks of excitement bursting down the bond to you every now and again.

You hoped the life growing inside of you got his passion for life, and his love of all the little things. One of the parts of Cassian you’d fallen hardest for was his ability to always find some kind of silver lining, to find a way to make even an empty glass seem half-full, to put a positive spin on any bad situation. He made every problem a joint challenge, he made every fear a shared worry, he made everything so much easier.

There wasn’t a single doubt in your mind that he would be a wonderful father, just as he had been a wonderful boyfriend for years, a fantastic friend for centuries before that, and a good man for his entire life. If anyone deserved the kind of joy you knew your reveal would bring, it was Cassian.

For almost two years you’d been talking about having children, trying for a little warrior he could call his own, if the adoration he showered down on his nephew was anything to judge by. For six years, Cassian had loved Nyx like his own child, and almost three years ago, after the candles had been blown out and you’d been half asleep, Cassian had nervously whispered his desire for his own child. Three months ago, that wish had finally come true.

It was far too special to just blurt out, and so you’d waited. You’d suffered through every minute of just wanting to burst it out to him, to save it, to make it truly special. Luckily, you’d managed to make it to this evening without your scent changing breaking through, or your bump coming in early.

As Cassian stepped out, eyes scanning over the simple underwear set and somehow managing to make you feel sexy even in that, you tried desperately to fight the sudden burst of excitement. By the time the two of you went to bed tonight, Cassian would know he was going to be a father.

Every nerve seemed to leave your body as he let out an appreciative hum, gaze raking you in the same way you were for him. He’d tied his hair back in a neat bun behind his head, and trimmed and neatened the overgrown hair along his jaw that you loved so much. Dressed in smart dress pants and a black silk button-up that he’d purposefully left undone by a few buttons, chest hair on show, he was a sight to behold. Even more so as you watch him strap on just two of his siphons, one over the back of each hand, expertly clasping them without needing help.

“You’re staring, y’know.” His cocky tone made your gaze snap back up to his face, tongue sticking out childishly, and he only grinned in return. “Shall I pose for Feyre to paint? Then you can stare all day long, and never tire of it. Maybe I’ll post nude.”

Heat flushed your cheeks, but a smile crawled over them all the same, matching his joke-filled attitude. Cassian picked up your dress, admiring it before himself, before making his way over and stopping behind you. His eyes met yours in the mirror, a much more intimate smile on his lips now as his large form swamped yours, and he dipped to press a kiss to each of your shoulders.

With matching kisses all the way down your spine until he was braced on one knee, he unzipped the dress, before holding it open for you to step into. One foot at a time, you did, and he began to smooth the grown slowly up your body, inch at a time. Both arms in and the material settled over your frame, he ran a single knuckle along the trail his lips had traced along your back, to grip the zip at the bottom. Slowly, it crawled up the tracks, getting tighter and tighter around your stomach until it paused.

You’d had the dress made months ago, before you’d even fallen pregnant at all, and even though you weren’t obviously showing yet, you were beginning to fill out just slightly. Last week, you’d been able to get this dress on alone, with no struggle. Now, Cass had to give a little extra tug to keep the zip moving. Your lips flickered at the edges, biting your tongue to hide a comment about how fast your baby was growing, and how large they were sure to be, just like their father.

Cassian, clearly misinterpreting the look on your face, spun you around as soon as the dress was fastened, pulling you in until his lips could brush your hairline lovingly. “All that extra training, doll. Got this pretty ass even thicker for me to hold onto.”

He made a point of squeezing your ass in both hands until you smiled, head tipping up to steal a kiss from his lips. The look he gave you was wrapped in sin and lust, and you had to fight back the urge to jump on him then and there, knowing that look was exactly how you ended up this way in the first place.

Instead, you tutted at him, pulling away and chuckling at his groan, only to reach out to hold his arm in support as you tucked your feet into your heels. Soon enough, your feet would be too swollen and you’d be too unbalanced to wear anything but your slippers, so you fully intended to make the most of these shoes while you could.

With hands wrapped tightly together, you cast one last look at your underwear drawer, a surprise for later tucked neatly inside, as he turned off the lights and led the two of you away to the party.

When you arrived, the rest of your family was already there, but you’d expected as much. Cassian was nothing if not a drama queen when it came to his appearance for these events, even if it was family only. He spent so much time messy, un-groomed, wrapped in dirty leathers and covered in sand and sweat, you didn’t blame him for enjoying a little primping when the time presented itself.

With the greetings done, Cassian turned to you, lips on the shell of your ear, “What can I get you to drink, baby?”

“Just water, I think,” You hadn't thought this far, knowing you had to wait for the right moment tonight, for it to be perfect, and unable to explain any odd behaviour leading up to it. His rear back with raised brows was enough to show you his shock and concern too, and you only shrugged. “I just think maybe I’ll hydrate a little before we get into the real drinking, save myself the hangover tomorrow.”

“Good idea,” His nose nudged over yours before he stepped back. “I make no promises of doing the same.”

Your laughter carried him a long distance from you, and your hand settled subconsciously over the life inside of you as you took a deep and shaky breath. Before even starting to calm your newly raging nerves, Rhysand was making a direct and pointed bee-line for you across the room, your eyes widening a little at his determination. An easy smile sat on his lips, but something calculating in his gaze, and when you glanced to Feyre behind him, she was doing her best effort to look anywhere but the two of you, bashfully.

“You look stunning tonight, my dear,” He placed a friendly kiss on your cheek, a motion which you repeated for him, before pulling away. “Forgive me for my forwardness-”

“When have you ever been truly sorry for that, Rhys?”

He only smirked, shrugging casually as his hands tucked into his pockets, but while his smile said ‘fun’, his eyes said ‘serious’. “You know… me and Fey could smell it as soon as you walked in. Everyone else is going to be able to tell soon, too. You won’t be able to hide this much longer, why doesn’t Cassian know yet?”

Your heart dropped a little, skipping a beat in dismay. Cassian had been hurt before, when Nesta had chosen to marry Eris instead he’d been wounded for years, he didn’t want his brother going through any more heartbreak, and you understood that. You appreciated his loyalty to his brother, and that the same loyalty would be inherited by your child, but you hated the miscommunication he seemed to have created. “I’m not hiding it, Rhys. I was waiting for a special time. I want this to be memorable for him.”

He looked a little bashful, and it was your turn to shrug.

“Take a look.” Tapping one finger to your temple, only moments later, a tap at your inner shield was replacing it. You let the memories pour out; mornings in bed with Cassian discussing the future, moments after you’d babysat Nyx, or seen children out during the summer in Velaris. Every memory of discussions about children, about the picture of the future, and his utter joy at the prospect of having a child. You even showed him the little gift you’d planned, your way of telling Cass the news. “I know how much this means to him, and I want to make every single moment of it something special for him.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Your walls crawled back up as he retreated, a much happier smile on his face. “I love how much you love Cassian, and how much you’ll love your niece or nephew.”

“I’m going to spoil them.”

“I know.” You grinned, watching Cassian begin to make his way back over, your water clutched in hand with just the number of ice cubes you liked. He knew you so well, it made your heart clench. Leaning a little closer to Rhys, you whispered; “I’ll need your help later, with sneaking the gift in.”

“It would be my absolute pleasure.”

“What are we talking about?” Cassian broke into the conversation, handing you your drink with a kiss to your cheek, and you leaned into the arm wrapping around you. You sipped your water for something to do, to occupy yourself so you didn’t have to lie. You hated lying o Cassian, even if it was an inconsequential one that was for the good in the end.

“Your darling girlfriend was just harassing me on when dinner would be ready, she’s starving. Truly, brother, do you not keep your girl well-fed and satisfied?” You choked on your water at the innuendo, and Cassian only scoffed, squeezing your hip at the insult.

“Trust me, she has no room for complaints.”

“Men.” You scoffed, and Rhys only flashed a cheeky smirk.

“Is now soon enough for food for you?” He clicked his fingers, varied sounds of awe all around as the table filled with food, and you were glad Cassian was distracted, because the abrupt clash of scents in the room made your stomach churn so violently your head spun temporarily.

Thankfully, Cassian was once again caught up with Rhys, never looking your way again until he was pulling your seat out at the table he’d guided you over to, tucking you under with a kiss to the top of your head. By that time, you’d managed to quash the obvious look of nausea on your face.

Across the table from you both Feyre pulled out a chair, and onto it hopped Nyx, his eyes lighting up when he found himself opposite his Uncle Cassian. Almost immediately, the two fell into conversation, the boy telling his favourite uncle all about his week at school, now that he was officially attending the ‘big boy school’ Rhys had been pestered into letting him enrol at. His stories never ended, ranging from playground games to classroom lessons to jokes his new friends had told him, and Cassian ate every bit of it up.

He’s always been so good with Nyx, from the moment you’d first met him and seen him interact with the heir who was just a toddler then, you’d known he’d make an incredible father someday. You were just happy you were the one who got to go on that adventure with him. He reacted in all the right ways, gasping dramatically and laughing loudly and feigning abhorrent shock at the right times. They were always such a sight to observe together.

As food was served, Cassian took charge of caring for Nyx automatically, his large hand leaving your thigh to pull Nyx’s plate over to him, never interrupting the child’s endless excited monologuing, and cutting up all his food for him while still managing to focus. You weren’t privy to the conversation, nor any of the conversations around you as you all ate, far too wrapped up in admiring Cassian. It was perfect. Everything about it, leading up to this moment, this night’s big reveal, couldn't have been better.

Only when you felt a prickle along the side of your face did you pull your attention away, the feeling coming from Rhysand’s stare, a smile on his lips, and he wiggled his brows a little towards Cassian and his son, neither of them any the wiser, and you only shrugged. At the squeeze of a hand on your thigh again, you tuned back, your boyfriend’s attention having moved to you as Nyx was now arguing with his mother about eating his carrots.

“You okay, babydoll? You’ve barely touched your food.”

It was true, one glance at the plate confirmed you’d only taken a few bites, mostly having just pushed it around and considered it. Part of the reason was that you were distracted, the other part was your sudden intolerance and aversion to certain things. It had been nothing short of a labyrinth of poor excuses and lame misdirections these last few weeks to avert his focus on your meals and sicknesses and mood swings. How were you supposed to explain why you suddenly couldn't stand to eat your favourite sandwich fillings without telling him everything?

By the end of the night, that was just another burden that would be lifted.

“M’fine, Cass, don’t worry. Just… not feeling it tonight.”

“But it’s your favourite.” He mumbled, eyes narrowing only slightly, the way he did when he was assessing someone he wasn’t sure how to read yet, putting all that military tactics and body language reading to the test on you. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I swear-”

“Babe.” His tone said enough, one brow raising, and so you sighed. Putting on a smile at his concern you leaned in, his lips puckering to receive the kiss you were offering, but his eyes never closed, telling you he wouldn't be distracted so easily right now.

“I want to save some room for dessert. I’m really craving sugar tonight, and I kinda’ just want to binge out on a lot of cake and pastry and ice cream.” His lips stayed pouted for just a second, this time not for a kiss but out of confusion, before a soft gasp left him.

“Are you… coming up a cycle? You always crave sugar on your cycle. Is that why you’re acting odd these last few days?” It was like a lightbulb went off in your own mind, and you wanted to slap a hand on your forehead for not having thought of that yourself. “That makes so much sense. Why didn’t you tell me, we could have stayed in tonight, cuddled and read in bed?”

“My cycle… yeah. I am, and I just want a ton of sugar right now. But I’m fine, really. I’m just going to wait for the cakes to roll out.” He was far more content now, gaze flicking back to your plate.

“Do, you’re not gonna’ eat this?” You shook your head. “Can I have it?”

He didn’t get a chance, though, because Nyx was down from his chair now and tugging on Cassian’s sleeves with force, clearly desperate for the attention. “Uncle Cassie, Uncle Cassie! Let me show you my new toys now, you said we’d play right after dinner!”

“I know, buddy, but I just need to stay here for a little while.” Subconsciously, even as he turned to the boy, his hand smoothed up and down your thigh slowly, comforting and reassuring. You lifted it in your own instead, kissing the back softly before placing it on his knee.

“Go play, Cass. I’ll be fine here.”

“What? No, I- no.”

“Go. I’ll be just fine. I’m waiting for my sugar rush.” You patted your stomach lightly, all this talk of cake and baked goods really was getting you hungry now, and you could only thank the Mother that you hadn't lost your love for chocolate. “Go be with Nyx.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

He hesitated only a second longer, before letting his nephew take his hand and lead him away to a patch on the floor where you could no longer see them, only the tips of Cassian’s wings sticking up.

While Cassian was distracted, you saw your chance to slip away. A quick walk down the halls, past the flickering sconces and stone tiles, until you were back in your bedroom once again. Hidden away in your drawer, underneath all the socks and bras, was the small wrapped gift package you’d prepared days ago. Swiping it up, your thumbs smoothed over it. Soon, the truth would be out there, and everyone would know.

It would be real.

And you couldn't be happier about that. Smiling, you lifted it, pressing a kiss to the paper and the promise it held inside, before pushing the drawer closed again, and making your way back to the party, before your absence was noticed.

You were barely gone for five minutes, thinking you could slip out and be back in time before anybody noticed. But, your boyfriend had been suspicious all night, and you could hear his panicked voice from the opposite end of the central corridor. With the gift tucked behind your back as you rounded the entry and back into the main hall, your gaze closed in on Cassian. He was questioning Rhysand for your whereabouts, stopping only when he looked over his brother’s shoulder at you.

“Baby, hey.” He all but elbowed Rhys out of the way, stopping before you and smoothing his hand down your arms, eyes searching your face. “Where’d you go?”

His gaze shifted, to your hands behind your back, and so you leaned up swiftly to kiss him before he could look much further. He was gentle, as always, a sweet kiss as one hand smoothed down to your hip, the other large and warm and calloused as it sat on your jaw. Behind you, you felt Rhysand take the packet from your hands to hide, freeing you to put them on your boyfriend instead.

As your hands found him, one gripping his shoulder to pull yourself further up and the other slipping into his hair, scratching at his scalp lightly until he gave a soft groan against your lips. “Don’t think you can distract me with kisses and playing with my hair.”

His mumble against your lips was low and gritty, but your laughter was much louder. His eyes twinkled a little as he watched you. Sinking back down to stand properly, your arms were slung around his neck, his hands smoothing up and down your sides slowly. “There’s nothing to distract, Cass. I just went to freshen up before the stars began to fall, that’s all.”

Those tanned chinks gained a hint of pink, his eyes widening just a fraction, and lips parting. “Oh… sorry.”

“Don’t be, I like it when you worry about me.”

His grin was back, wide and sparkling, and he just tugged you closer in response, until your chests were pressed together. You pressed one kiss to his stubbled jaw, the next one to his cheek, the next was just under his eye. Under your lips, you could feel his smile. Next was his temple, his nose, the side of his mouth, until he was huffing in disappointment and impatience. “Kiss me. Now.”

“So demand-” His mouth closed over yours, far more intense than that first kiss. That one had been a reassurance, this one was a demand, and you yielded to the force of his lips against yours, moaning softly into his mouth. “Cass…”

“Mhm?” He didn’t pull away, instead nipping lightly on your lip until you let out a shaky sound that he was quick to smother again. When he dipped you backwards, a giggle sounded from you.

“Cass, c’mon, everyone’s waiting!”

“Let ‘em wait.” The kisses moved to your cheek when you were too busy laughing to kiss back.

“Alright, handsome, let’s go and watch the stars before you decide to throw me over your shoulder like a caveman.” As if to punctuate how close he was hovering to that border, Cassian left a single smack on your ass, a matching nip to your jaw, before pulling away. A few pieces of his hair were starting to fall loose where you’d played with his hair, hanging down around his face in strands that were beginning to curl in the warmth of the room, and you twirled one around your finger.

“Alright, fine.” He took your hand, raising it to kiss your knuckles. “If you insist.”

“I do.” You tugged him along behind you, until the two of you were standing out on the balcony. Twisting your back to him, you settled into his touch, feeling his arms wrap around your body, wings following to grace your sides and block out the light breeze sweeping over your skin.

The falling stars started only a few minutes later, bright colours lighting up the sky as the souls began to fly past. Your hand settled on your stomach, rubbing lightly at the growing life hidden within you.

“Doll…” Cassian’s voice was gentle, almost too fragile, stubbled cheek brushing against your skin as he left loving kisses to the juncture of your neck. “I’m still worried. Are you truly okay? You can tell me if something is wrong, please tell me if something is wrong.”

This was the moment, you knew it. There was no more denying or hiding it, you didn’t want Cassian to start truly panicking, to put a bad tilt on something that should be a happy memory. Twisting in his arms, your hands lifted to his cheeks, something across the spiky hairs there and smiling at the way he leaned fully into your touch.

Your gaze left his, flickering away just for a second towards Rhys. Cassian followed your gaze, his brows furrowing when his brother untucked the small, neatly wrapped package from his inner jacket pocket. “What’s this?”

“A gift, Cass.” He didn’t seem all that impressed by your joke, however his lips flicked up at the corners, adoration flashing through his eyes, even as his face still read confusion and worry.

“Obviously. But, you should have told me we were doing gifts. I’ve had my eye on this necklace I thought you’d like for weeks, but-” You cut his rambling off with a sweet kiss, one he was quick to reciprocate, lips melding with your own. He was always so passionate, no matter the kind of kiss it was, or the moment or occasion, Cassian never failed to make you feel like the only woman in the world. As he was distracted, you took one of his hands, pressing the gift into it carefully, before pulling back.

“We’re not doing gifts. This is different.”

His brows only rose in response.

“There is something. I’m going to be a little sick for a while, mostly in the mornings. I won’t be able to eat certain foods, or drink alcohol for a while. I’ll probably get some really bad mood swings, just like my cycle.” Your boyfriend smirked at that, you both knew how temperamental you could get.

His hands were shaking, a shallow breath taken in as he glanced at the parcel in his hold. His eyes were starting to shine, ad his throat bobbed as he did, your own growing thick with emotion as the silent message was passed between you both. He was beginning to get it, beginning to understand, tears forming along his lower lash-line as his lips pressed together when the bottom one trembled.

“Open it.”

“I’m nervous.” A watery laugh left him, rubbing a hand down his face before he leaned forward. A lingering kiss on your forehead, his nose dragging along your temple to leave another on your hairline, before he was glancing down at the parcel. Your heads rested together, and you were acutely aware of the group watching on, silence and anticipation.

The stars overhead flashed different colours across you both, lighting up the scene in vibrant hues that made for the perfect setting, and you sniffed through your emotions as he tugged on the ribbon. The bow came loose, the ribbon fluttering away to the ground, and the paper fell open in his cupped hands. Revealed before him was the soft material, pale white and delicate and so small.

He lifted it out slowly, shaking it out, and when he finally got a real look at it, a sob left his lips. Loud and unashamed, and he lifted his head to take in the piece in all its glory. Pinched in his hands, so tiny to fit, was a baby’s romper. Plain white and warm, with a matching hat and pair of socks back in the room, the words ‘baby’s first Starfall’ across the front in sparkling silver thread.

Another sob, and your heart squeezed to the point of pain at the elated expression on his face. Tears were slipping down your face to match, his gaze finding your own once again. “We’re having a baby?”

“Yeah, Cass. We’re having a baby.”

“I’m gonna’ be a dad.” He whispered, voice thick, and stealing a series of happy kisses from your lips, wet cheeks sliding together and salt tasting on your mouth, but it was perfect. When he pulled back, it was to spin to his family. With clasped hands and wide eyes and huge grins, Cassian cheered loudly, hands throwing up in the air. “I’m gonna’ be a dad!”

Rhys whooped, Azriel cheered loudly, wings flaring out, and both leapt for Cassian. In big hugs and flaps of wings and excited pats on the back, they celebrated, Nyx scrabbling in his mother’s arms to join the fray.

Feyre set him free, before making her way over to you, taking you into a tight hug that Mor and Elain and even a reluctant but smiling Nesta joined. You were still crying, as was Cassian, even as he scooped Nyx’s up and tickled his stomach and promised him soon he’d have a little friend to run these halls with.

And as you watched him, watched them all, you knew Cassian would make a wonderful father, and your baby would have the most loving family possible.

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