#i needed wrinkles and age marks

[waugh-bao]

It isn't deranged! I love his crow's feet too. You can see wrinkles, but then when he smiles big you can see exactly where those wrinkles came from. I think we should all be happy to have evidence that we have smiled a lot.

My own deranged take is that I love his adam's apple. His neck and throat do it for me whether its baby Charlie or 90s Charlie and then the adam's apple bobbing around when he talks. Do I usually notice that in men? No. But for some reason with Charlie...

Well, now I've embarrassed myself but I'm still going to hit that ask button!

#this is probably the wrong way to phrase it #but I think Charlie has really beautiful imperfections #most of his wrinkles mark smile lines #a lot of his age spots seem to come from a little too much time in the sun (probably spent with shirley or the stones) #the way the downward curve of his eyebrow kind of faded with age but it just gave them a unique shape instead #not that I could ever imagine him doing it but I’m glad Charlie didn’t do plastic surgery or anything like that #anyway #you don’t need to feel ashamed! #we’re all in the same (deranged) boat here #and at least we can comfort ourselves by saying none of us is quite as bad as some elderly musicians we know #the rolling stones #charlie watts #ask response #anonymous

[lynchiangf]

anyway I love things like having independence, being intelligent, taking pride in my skills, not feigning incompetence, referring to myself as a woman instead of a girl, aging unapologetically, having pores, stretch marks, grey hairs, wrinkles and body fat, listening to my body's needs, eating as much as I need to satisfy my hunger, being bare-faced, wearing comfortable clothes, etcetera

#m

[vivalabunbun]

As We Are, We Will Be

Summary: A nonsensical question is proposed in one singular moment between a stoic and stoic face in one singular universe.

Word Count: 9k (It was supposed to be short and sweet-)

Tags: Alhaitham X Fem! Reader, Smut, NSFW, Fluff, a lot of fluff, slight angst, soulmate au, slow fic, established relationship, married life, Soft! Alhaitham, attempts at comedy, mentions of aging, slightly jealous! Alhaitham, mutual pinning, soft sex, vanilla, safe sex (wrap it up), riding (cowgirl), fingering, slow sex, making love, really bad expatiations of scientific theories and math, just two nerds in love.

Authors Note: Happy belated birthday and Valentine's Day to my favorite dendro nerd. A continuation of this piece, one I hold dear. A thought experiment based on nothing more than the feverish delirium of love.

It was just for a moment. 

A mere pasting instance in the contentious momentum of time when a glimmer caught your eyes in the muddled chatter of a crowd, a silver shimmer like starlight.

Interrupting your contemplation as your eyes impulsively search for the source.

A late morning on a Saturday, the markets and stalls were lively with families replenishing a week's worth of groceries. Bodies veering and easing through the bustle of the busty streets.

The wide breadth of life that moved all around you. Like a collection of small dots within the vastness of a universe. 

But amid the vast collection of blurry faces were the flicker of silvery locks refracting the late morning light. Originating from a pair, an elderly lady and an elderly man, their aged hands intertwined. 

Time had made her marks upon them, and gravity had pulled down on their wrinkled faces. Yet, the ends of their lips were pointed toward the sky. The corners of their eyes wrinkled as their gazes held each other's faces. 

From their view, do they not see the starlight hue of their hair? Instead, do they still see the vibrancy and youth of their locks which age had stolen from them? 

The image of each other reflected in their irises, was it from a time before the hands of gravity pulled on their creased skin and bowed bones? Would you ever be able to find out? 

“I wasn’t aware you had a hobby of people-watching.” A baritone voice ghosts over your ear. 

Jolting your head to your right, you come face to face with the interruption. Or perhaps, your mind finally registered Alhaitham’s presence just off to the side of you. His arms were weighted down with various bags. 

Oh, that’s right, the markets and stalls were lively on the weekend with families restocking groceries for the upcoming week. You and Alhaitham were no different. 

Glancing up at his ashen trestles and then scanning back at the starlight locks of the elderly couple, and then back to your husband. 

“Hmm, not quite. Just noting the fact your hair is the same color as an old man’s, Haitham.” You catch the subtle twitch of his brow. 

“Is that so? I hope you are aware you’re not immune to the inevitably of aging, wife,” Alhaitham returns your jest. 

“Well, with your hair color and grumpiness, I’d say you’re already halfway there.” 

“I needn’t expound on your equivalent levels of grumpiness, it won’t be long before your locks share the same ashen hue.” 

“I guess that’s why we get along then, dear husband.” 

“That’s one theory,” he huffs, a simple tone lacking any bite.

You pan your face back toward the crowd, partly because it’s getting harder to hold the neutral position of your lips, partly because your curiosity aches for an untold conclusion. 

However, when your gaze returned to the ever-bustling sea of people, the pair of starlight hues were nowhere to be found. It was regrettable, but expected, the elderly couple were nothing more than a pair of strangers in a crowd full of unfamiliar faces.

They were just a brief scene that disappeared into the moving tides of people. 

Leaving you with your unresolved musings. 

“Is there anything else we need for the week?” 

Alhaitham’s voice reels your consciousness back, swiftly you check the crinkled slip of parchment within your hand. Scanning down the list of written items, all with a neat little line crossed through their immaculately penned letters. 

“It looks like we got everything we need.” You tuck the list into your pocket. 

“Then it’s best we get home before our groceries are spoiled by the heat.” Alhaitham readjusts the bags in his hands. 

A hum takes its place as your response. Pivoting your body in the direction of your shared home. From the corner of your field of view, his strides were paced to coincide with your shorter steps. 

Studying the numerous bags occupying his hands, you can’t help but think it’s quite convenient to have someone as robust as your husband. Maybe it's these weekly grocery runs that are the secret behind his physique. 

Discreetly, your hand slowly slips between the gap of his arm and body, linking your elbows together. So that your frame and his could withstand the push and pull of the crowd’s contentious momentum. 

The neutrality of your lips had long slipped away, softened by the familiarity of his warmth. Even as your eyes were pointed on the path ahead, you had an inkling that a similar occurrence was mirrored on his lips as well. 

An inquiry your curiosity didn’t need to peek to resolve. 

 

That ache for an untold conclusion morphed into a new musing by the afternoon. 

The silver shimmer from that elderly couple’s hair truly was like starlight. Perhaps that’s the correlation that steered your thoughts down this winding path of pondering. 

Everyone, from those taking their first stumbling steps of youth to the slowed cane-assisted tramps in their golden years, is technically billions of years old. Or more accurately, the atoms and minerals in everyone are billions of years old. 

The carbon in muscles, the calcium in bones, and the iron in blood were all forged in the hearts of bygone stars. When those bright beacons burned out they exploded in one last finale, expelling those materials across interstellar space. Stardust that found its way here. 

Here within you, and here within the slow breaths of the man in front of you. 

After being around for billions of years, does stardust ever get exhausted? 

That would be a sensible explanation for why Alhaitham had snuck away amidst hanging up freshly washed laundry. 

His tall frame stretched the expanse of the couch as his starlight lashes were shut, shamelessly relishing in a nap under the streams of sunlight trickled in from the window. 

Squatting down you observe the guiltless expression plastered over his resting face, still deep in the trenches of sleep, a small huff passes through your lips. Well, this morning you did have him carry all the groceries from the market back home.

Your husband does deserve this little nap.

Trailing your eyes down his neck you note the lack of a pillow, then as your gaze travels further you note the absence of a blanket as well. Internally, your mind tsks at this forgetful habit of his. 

Although his body and yours still have youth coursing through your veins, it doesn’t mean they’ll remain as impervious as they are now later down the line, especially if preventative measures aren’t taken.

Like having a pillow to support one’s neck, or a blanket to prevent chills from plaguing the body. 

Standing back to full height, you retrieved the missing artifacts, returning with a plush pillow and light comforter.  

Even when his head was momentarily lifted to make space for the pillow, and when the spare comforter was draped over him, Alhaitham didn’t stir one bit. At times you can’t determine if he’s a light sleeper or if his stubbornness refuses to leave the plain of dreams. 

It’s a true wonder of life how Alhaitham’s able to sleep so soundly at night given his extensive naps. 

The vivid sunlight illuminated patterns upon his cheeks and trestles, causing the ashen strands to dazzle in their refraction of the afternoon light. A sight your eyes just couldn’t help but be enraptured by. 

Maybe you could blame the warmth of the sunlight, or maybe the serenity of this quiet Saturday afternoon, or perhaps even these fickle inquiries about his naps for the yawn that left your lips. Now might be the prime time for some research. 

Lifting up the comforter just enough for an opportunity to slip through, your body settles in the space right against his. It’s crowded on the couch, the cushions unprepared for two bodies to occupy its entirety, the open edge looming against your back.

Even after all the shuffling and pressing against his dozing frame, your husband didn’t budge a bit. 

Leaden lashes still shut and lips set in that all too familiar line, chest rhythmically rising and falling in time with yours. The very image of unperturbedness under the blessing of sleep. 

“You really are like an old man.” 

At that mere jab, the corners of his lips tugged down while his eyes remained closed. A quick slip that confirmed your earlier suspicions. 

“Who knew you were so talented in acting, Haitham,” you snicker. 

A muscular arm soon enveloped your form, further pressing you against his chest as if to silence any more sardonic quips from entering his ears. 

It was quite the challenge to stifle those giggles before they could erupt from your lips. Peeking up, there’s an ever-so-subtle lift at the corners of his mouth. An express which yours mirrored. 

Studying the details of the lips just a breath away, a new musing worms its way into your thoughts:

 When the hands of gravity and time start to pull down on his skin and yours the same, leaving wrinkles and creases in their wake, will the edges of his lips still curl like this? 

Would yours mirror the same? 

A second yawn sneaks past your lips as your lashes grow heavier with each fluttering blink. Claiming a corner of the pillow to lay your head upon, the seconds between each subsequent blink grew longer and longer until your lids were too heavy to lift. 

Perhaps the stardust in your bones was exhausted, craving a short rest in his warmth. 

--------------------------------

There’s something against your back and your legs are tangled in something, sensations which gradually alert your dozing sense back from the fog of slumber.

At first, you only had the strength to peek open one lid, then promptly shut it. But in the nothingness behind your eyelids, something was halting your limps from stretching the weariness out from themselves. 

You tried again, this time fluttering both sets of lashes apart ever so slightly. There’s a dry film coating your throat and mouth, feeling the impressions of the couch cushions and bundled comforter imprinted into your skin.  

What time was it?

Blinking away the haze of sleep just enough to notice how the golden rays of a star were missing. A gray overlay was plastered over the living room despite the ticking clock hands displaying that it was late afternoon.

Peering back through the window behind, observing the congregating insipid clouds blocking out the azure sky. 

A sure sign of rain despite the morning forecast. Rain… wasn’t there something left unfinished on the clotheslines outside? The groggy recollection of responsibilities creeps into the forefront of your mind. 

The reign of your weary limbs slowly returns, and your legs languidly attempt to stretch out from the reveal they were caught in. However, their movements only caused a pair of longer limbs to ensnarl them further.

Alhaitham’s legs promptly caught yours, stifling any prospect of escape. 

Your displeased whine was responded with a disgruntled groan by the man keeping your body locked against his. 

Wasn’t your back looming just about the edge of the couch when you fell asleep? So why are you in this position now?

Your body wedged between the plush backing of the couch and his solid frame, the comforter swaddling you also didn’t aid in your immobility. Brawny arm draped over your waist, halting your feeble squirms at freedom. 

“The laundry,” you mumble.

“Later.” A blunt interjection from a groggy voice. 

“It’s going to rain.” 

“Less than a 30% chance.” 

“Haitham…” 

Your husband simply burrows his head deeper into the leveled pillow, likely an attempt to leverage the cushy material to block out your grievances. His ashen lashes still stubbornly shut, much to your displeasure.

“Alhaitham.”

No fluctuations in your volume nor tone, but it was enough for one teal eye to peek out from under ashen lashes. Trailing up to a subtle frown to the furrow between your brow, then finally meeting your unamused stare.

“Laundry,” you try again. 

A silent stare down, one stone face gazing upon an equally stoic face, like an immovable object pressed against an equally immovable object.

Which one will defend their title of most stubborn today? 

His chest expands with a deep breath, grasp enclosing around your waist before his teal gaze shamelessly vanishes behind closed lashes. Robust frame pinning you further to the back of the couch as he continues to ignore your huffy floundering. 

“Release me, don’t you dare-” 

Your grievance was soon muffled by a gentle hand pressing your cheek into his palatial chest. A move that stupefies the irksomeness bubbling within until it falls defeated into placidness. 

“Whether it be now or later, they’ll be clean regardless, it’s quite comfortable right here.” The resonance of his voice vibrates in his chest. 

You respond with a humbled grunt. In terms of strength you’d always lose to your feeble husband, wouldn’t you? 

There’s no point in peering up, for the pleased satisfaction of his resting face would bring a sour taste to your tongue. Thus, you merely adjust your limbs, coiling your arms around to his back and pulling his form closer.

It’s crowded on the couch, it’ll be troublesome if Alhaitham were to slip off the edge if his back were to stray any further. 

At this distance, entangled so closely together, the soft beats of his heart in time with yours like a rhythmic lullaby beckons the heavy to return to your eyelids.

The gentle drumming of his heartbeat coaxes out a final sigh from you, lashes descending down as your vision dims back into the realm of slumber. 

Slow breaths and heartbeats homogenize into a tender duet, tranquil enough to distract from the sporadic pattering against the glass and gradually increase in consistency. 

A less than 30% chance of rain doesn’t mean that there’s a greater than 70% chance of no rain. It’s merely a statistical probability of 0.01 units of more precipitation at a given area in the given forecast area in the time period specified. 

Known as the precipitation probability, calculated based on two factors: 

The forecaster's certainty that precipitation will form or move into the area X The areal coverage of precipitation that is expected, then multiplied by 100. 

Thus, if the forecaster were 90% certain that 30% of the forecast area would receive rain, then the forecast displayed on screens would read as a 27% chance of rain.

A crucial bit of information that seemed to have slipped his mind midst a quiet afternoon. 

A troublesome miscalculation Alhaitham tsks at internally as he wrings out the pillowcase into a sink before tossing it back into the washing machine. Button-down shirts and blouses, wrinkled from the process of twisting out as much rainwater as possible, sat in damp piles awaiting their turn to be rewashed. 

As he measures out the detergent he can hear the rattles and clanks of the pot and pans from the kitchen. A late dinner in preparation, a task which was supposed to be his this week.

When he woke up to the pattering of rain drumming against the window panes, the afternoon long gone, it stirred an ever-so-sinking pit of dread. Second only to the unamused stare of his wife as she replicated an overconfident statement:

“Less than a 30% chance, Alhaitham?”

How unfortunate it all was, that the area where this quaint house resides was part of that 30% of the forecasted area.

Teal eyes watch the bedsheets whirl and fumble as they spin in the wash, contemplating the circumstance and further action. 

There is only one spare bedding set in the closet, so it’d be wise to allow you to have it for tonight as all the sheets and covers get rewashed and dried.

Your bed is about the same size as his, so two bodies wouldn’t have an issue fitting. At this rate, the two of you just slept in whichever bed was the most convenient. 

However, given the current state of things, Alhaitham wonders if he should prepare himself to brave tonight on his bare mattress with a flimsy spare blanket and pillow.

He might as well return to the couch for tonight if that was the case. 

The accumulation of all the years of science, mathematics, and research, Alhaitham wonders if there was ever a bright mind who came up with a formula to calculate how displeased one’s wife is.

What would be the factors plugged into the equation? And how accurate would it be? 

More specifics needed to be gathered, something the man couldn’t do in the refugee of the laundry room. Thus, Alhaitham must brave a journey into the kitchen. His slipper-clad footsteps are slow and methodical as the kitchen appears from around the corner of the hallway.

Sights honed in on your back as you stood by the stove, a rich aroma wafting through the air. 

Sleep still dusted your hair, evident in the few unruly strands sticking up erratically on your head, you made no attempt at fixing it. One hand is too occupied with stirring the pot on the stove, and the other set upon your hip.

Your stance wasn’t exactly tipping the scales in his favor. 

Cautiously, Alhaitham made his way to you. Stopping just a few paces as your eyes peer over your shoulder, stoic gaze halting him in place just a few paces away. The faded imprint of the crumpled blankets and couch cushions on your cheek.

His hand twitches with the urge to run his thumb along the impressions, but rationally warns him of the consequences. 

“The laundry?” No discernable tone in your voice. 

“Everything has been collected and wrung out, I’ll rewash everything tomorrow.” It’s best to answer your questions this time. 

“Hmm, they were out in the rain for quite a while now. They were dripping out onto the floor when you brought them in.” 

“I’ve mopped away any rain and mud tracked between the back door and laundry room.” Teal eyes quickly checked the aforementioned area to ensure they were pristine before returning to you. 

“Hmm.” You turn back towards the stove. 

The soft ticks of the clock accompany the waning drums of raindrops against the glass, the kitchen hood whirring as a ladle continues to stir in a pot. A quiet lull engulfed the home. Treading on the side of caution, Alhaitham inhales deeply. 

Without opening the box, one will never be able to confirm to fate of Schrödinger's cat. 

“What’s for dinner?” 

“Hmm? Well, it’s raining tonight, what better to eat on a rainy night than some Sabz Meat Stew, no?” 

He’s careful to not sigh too audibly, lest he goes to bed with a stomach half-full of instant noodles and that miffed stare of yours.

Alhaitham decides to hold his tongue as teal eyes continue to watch you add more spices to the pot. Studying how nicely the apron is tied around your waist. 

But it wouldn’t be wise of him to stand so close when the fabric of his shirt was still damp with rainwater transferred to him by the soaked laundry and sky. 

His chain of thought was interrupted by the chimes of your phone on the countertop, catching your eyes as well as his to peek at the over. A certain name is displayed across the screen. It’s as if the hands of fate wanted to throw more salt into his face. 

Bahram (Manager)

It’s a Saturday night, for what reason would an employer need to contact an employee so late?

Alhaitham’s focus shifts to your gaze which is still honed in on the screen. A bitter tinge crawls up the tip of his tongue, threatening to spoil his appetite. Perhaps, he wouldn’t mind settling down in his bare bed with just a spare comforter without dinner tonight.

“Can you reject the call for me? He can wait until Monday to get me to resolve whatever he messed up,” you scoff before rolling your eyes back to the stove. 

Swiftly he swipes to decline the call, let your voicemail remind Bahram of the concept of ‘off time’. The phone whirs again right after the first rejection, but he simply swipes decline again.

Pushing the device away with a bit too much satisfaction in his veins. 

Glancing back at your frame, he lets out a sigh as he relents. Resting his head into the crook of your neck, careful to leave a bit of distance between your bodies and to not hamper your shoulder’s movement. 

“Hm?” You hum expectantly. 

“It was my oversight tonight.” A string of words a bit unfamiliar on his tongue, but stubbornness hasn’t been in his favor tonight. 

“And?”

“I’ll be more cautious regarding naps.” 

“Hmph.” 

The lull returns, him resting his head on your shoulder and you continuing to watch over the stew. Teal eyes on you and your eyes on the stove. Until your shoulders raise with a deep inhale. 

“Go get changed out of that wet shirt then set the table, this bastardized version of ‘soup’ will be ready in 20 minutes.” You reach for a skillet just off to the side. 

He hums this time, the liberation from treading in suffocating lull tugs at the end of his lips. He surmises that laying his head against you for a few moments more won’t be so consequential. 

The patter of raindrops still splattered against the glass panes of the window, drops which warped and blurred the scenery beyond the glass. Not that there’s any scenery to look at, not with the dreary clouds crowding the sky. 

A heavy sigh huffs through your nose, curling onto your side as you adjust your pillow. 

A filling dinner, a warm shower, and soft comforters. Factors that should contribute to a restful night’s sleep, or at the very least make your eyelids weary with the weight of lethargy.

Yes, perhaps those components should’ve granted you entry into the reprieve of a dream. 

If it wasn’t for the fact you’ve intruded into the domain of slumber twice already today. 

And the tempter who lured you to do so currently has his arm wrapped around your waist. 

Alhaitham’s chest rises and falls against your back, soundly asleep without an ounce of guilt over the predicament he’s partly responsible for. 

Lifting your head off the flattened pillow, your body twists around to fluff the stale stuffing back up before settling back to your position.

His body rested against yours just as it would any other night. But there’s a weight at the corners of your lips, one only grew heavier as your ears witnessed each content exhale resounding from the man who seemingly stole your sleep. 

If you were crueler, you would’ve exiled Alhaitham to the couch or his barren mattress. 

However, he’d probably sleep just fine regardless. 

Canting your head up, you flip your pillow to the other side once more. 

Your rolls and rhythm were abruptly interrupted by the clasp of two harsh hands pulling your hips into his, the contours of his rigor now digging into the plush of your ass. Forcing a stunned gasp up your throat.

“It seems like my wife has quite a bit of energy.” His timbre deeper from grogginess. 

Ah, all the twisting and turning you did just to adjust the troublesome pillow must've disturbed him. 

The softness of your ass cradled against his pelvis through the thin material of a button-down, an item borrowed from his closet that you’ve designated as sleepwear, and his sweatpants. 

‘Serves him right.’ 

Your attempts to twist out from his iron-clad hold only ground your ass more against the stiffness, earning a grumble from his lips. 

“Oh? And who’s fault is it?” You retort, still protesting in his hold. 

Snaking one hand downwards Alhaitham presses against your lower stomach to arch your ass further into him. Leaning his face closer to yours. 

“Do you want me to take responsibility?” His whisper ghosts over the shell of your ear.

You could feel the pads of his fingertips tracing under the loose button-down.

“Shouldn’t you resolve the issues you’ve caused?” A huff leaves you.

The outline of his shape pressed along your skin, the plushness of your bottom contrasting against the rigidity. 

“I can say the same to you.” 

The pads of his fingers trail up your heated skin, crawling along your torso, feathering touches alighting your senses like sparks. Massaging the tired yet restless muscles. You sigh in contentment.

The billowing button-down dragged up by his vascular hand, unveiling your skin to the cool sheets. Wandering touches slow as they rest in the valley of your breasts. His fingers enclose around one mount, gently twisting the defenseless nipple.

“H-hey! Hmph-“ Barely catching a moan before it fled past sealed lips. 

“Hm?” His lips are now right next to your ears. “Surely you foresaw this, I’m just helping my wife with all her excess energy.”

His forgotten hand made its presence known as it kneaded your hips, cunning touches breaching under the feeble defenses of your panties. Effortlessly brushing them to the side, long fingers encroaching closer to their destination. 

Your thighs react, squeezing together to prevent him from venturing further. Unfortunately, it was all in vain, for his fingertips already dipped into an all too familiar sap.

“See, you seem quite eager,” he taunts.

Stubbornly, your body attempts to buckle away from his influence. Face firmly pointed away from his lest he peeks at your heated cheeks. 

Alhaitham abandons the perch on your breast, two large hands attempting to tame the bucks and rolls of your hips. He releases a slow sigh into the crook of your neck. 

“Are you not feeling it tonight?” His hands remain where they were, but the strength missing.

At the lack of resistance, your hips seem to have lost interest in their writhing, staying within his yielding hold. Internally, you chiding your body for being so straightforward. The only thing blocking an answer from exiting your throat was that fickle ego of yours. 

“Won’t you allow me to make up for my blunders today, wife?” He soothes his hand along your leg.

With that stubborn ego of yours still biting down on your tongue, you simply nod your head. Feeling the heat of your cheeks reflected to you by the pillow. 

Permitting your thighs to give into the tow of his grasp. Allowing the grip of one large hand to pull your bent leg open, exposing your vulnerable cunt. Shielded from the view of the raindrops by a mere blanket. 

The hand snaked under your waist took swift advantage of the oppurtunity. Sliding one firm finger down to part the fold of your slit as his warm hand cups your greed. 

Alhaitham continued with the caresses of his fingers. Your lashes and lips pressed tightly shut, your leg still held in his tender hold. His slow breaths brush ghosting your skin. 

He spreads the slick along your slit, the tips of his fingers ever so often knocking against the bud at the very top. Teal eyes catch the sudden jolts of your body every time it happens. 

He moves his fingers downwards, slowly parting the now soft folds of your core. Feeling the subtle puckers of your entrance as his touch traced closer, more wetness dribbling out from the honeypot. 

The tip of his finger now encircles the fluttering hole. Your hip subtly bucked into his hand, as if to lure him in a soundless plea. 

Breaths getting deeper as your eyes follow his touch, the warm pad of his index finger twirling against your clit. Stoking a burgeoning fire with each slow circle. Your placid sighs fill the lull. 

His middle finger ventures past the entrance of your satin walls welcomed with a lewd squelch. Curling his finger against slick walls to test the give, he wonders if this hidden oasis is etched into his shape yet.

Diligently, his digit continues to sink in and out of your weeping hole, making your teeth sink into the flesh of your bottom lip. The squelches increased in volume as trickles of nectar began pooling on the sheets. Walls clamping around a lonely finger, it wasn’t enough to quell that mounting heat within. 

A second deft finger joined in, sliding past a hungry entrance. A tangled dance amongst gummy walls as they curled and stretched the space. The lewd squelches resounding in your ear, a whimper trapped in your throat. The heel of his warm palm now pressed flat against the soft mound of your cunt, every movement of his hand resulting in a grind against your clit. 

Each grind causes a hot flash to shock throughout your body, starting from your curled toes to the very top of your head. The jostling of your hips and legs gradually expels the blanket off the bed. 

“Mmph!” A whine from a sudden surge of bliss when his thick fingers curled against a spongy patch deep within. 

“T-there! More there!”

Your body writhes, no longer docile under the white searing pleasure frying the ends of every nerve within your being. 

He gladly obliges. Unrelenting rhythm slipping in and out of your convulsing walls. Ensuring to grind against that spongey patch.

 Your body twitches and flails in reaction. Trying to find some way to handle this surcharge of sensations. 

Legs instinctively wanting to shut together as if to cease this turbulent sensation, unfortunately, your pitiful strength gave no resistance against his rigid hold.

Piqued by the sweet tune, Alhaitham watches the scrunch in your trembling brows. He repeats his actions, another mewl leaves your lips as your head leans further into his shoulder.

The mellow pace of his fingers suddenly amps up, retreating out only to clap back in as his palm presses into the twitching bud. 

“Ah! Haitham.”

A pressure mounting up, a sirens call beckoning you closer and closer to a hazardous cliff’s edge. The only foundation for your sanity is thousand-count fabric, thus you twist the silk fibers as tremors overtake your body.

Walls clamping down to trap his thick digits inside as it spasms. Muscles tensing and quivering as your back arches away from his chest, parted lips with nothing choking past them. 

Three thick fingers sink deeper into your pussy without a hint of resistance, as a reward he makes sure to roll your overstimulated clit in firm circles with his palms. Judging from the violent tremors in your legs, it seemed you were almost there. 

Just at the cusp of rapture when your hand tangles into his ashen-locks, canting your head back so that your panting lips could capture his. Alhaitham returns to gesture with just as much fervor in his kiss, swallowing down your sweet mewls for himself. 

With a singular gasp, the siren’s call had beckoned your sanity to drown in the murky depths. It’s as if you lost control of your body to the possession of pleasure.

Eyes rolled back and lips broke away as breathy moans escaped the prison of your throat, a haze heavy over your thoughts, pride long lost amongst the gale of an orgasm. 

The beckoning depths of euphoria welcome your descent. 

Your limp frame rests against him. A light layer of sweat coating your panting chest, blurred vision merging and blending the details of the ceiling above the bed.

Alhaitham coaxes the contractions of your core, riding out the waves of their squeezes and sucks against his fingers. Earning an addictive whimper from you when his digits pulled away. Entranced by the glimmering string of nectar stretching between his fingers and your oasis. 

Trailing back up to your face, he notes the return of your hazy irises from their ogle of the bedroom ceiling. 

“Better?” Teal gaze watching the pants of your chest as they steady. 

‘No, not at all’, a statement just at the tip of your tongue, but your lips were busy attempting to grasp deep breaths. The surplus of vigor festering into unquenchable desire. To be closer, deeper, more. You needed more. 

Where words fail, action must take its place. Even before your mind finishes up the scheme brewing within, your lips catch him off guard, plush lips embracing his in a tender waltz.

Your body rolls back so that your breast can press against his chest through the thin fabric of his stolen shirt.

At the tender caress of your kiss, teal eyes disappear behind ashen lashes, the clasp of his grip loosening. Allowing you the mobility to finally pull your body on top of his, lips never once parting until you were finally settled atop his broad body.

A certain stiffness makes its reintroduction against your roused clit.

Breaking the seal of the kiss as a line of salvia stretches between your tongues, arms pushing against his firm chest to prop your body up as you gaze down at him.

“Still have too much energy?” Haughty eyes peer into yours, yet you can see the ardor oh so thinly concealed behind the brilliant teal. 

“What do you mean? Aren’t you the eager one?” You hum, rolling your hips against the rigidness trapped behind the prison of sweatpants.

“Hmm.” He sucks in a breath through his teeth. 

Large hands feel down along the plumpness of your ass as they drag a flimsy bit of fabric down your thighs. Daintier hands pull down the hem of sweatpants and briefs. 

A fair exchange. Him helping you out of those ruined panties, and you freeing him from a compressed prison of cloth. Discarded and forgotten along the floorboards as the fog of passion obscured them from further consideration.

His vascular hands slide down the curves of your body, settling on your hip as your legs plant themselves on either side of his body. Alhaitham coaxes the hem of his stolen button-down just above your midriff. Sharp eyes surveying the puffiness of your clit, glistening with temptation. 

Lowering your hips a breathy sigh leaves his lips and yours as the ridges of his cock drag against your slick folds. A few slow rolls starting from his leaking tip sliding down, thick veins skimming against your swollen clit. Precum mixing with arousal in a sinful concoction along his length. 

Perhaps he should convince you to participate in more naps if he knew it’d make you this excitable. 

“Oh,” you hum aloud, pausing your hips as you reach over to the bedside table.

Pulling open the drawer and rustling about a box followed by the crinkling of foil. Holding up the corner of the packet to your lip, tearing the foil while your gaze held his. Taking your time in dragging the condom out from its package. Easing it down his length while your fingers traced along, feeling each twitch and shudder. 

“You sure do know how to test my patience.” 

“Hmm?” You feign innocence. 

A pair of shaky breaths mingle as Alhaitham helps position his engorged tip at your dripping entrance. Your hand guides him while raising your hips.

Other hand pressing his chest down for support as your thighs sink back down, a shameful squelch accompanying heavy breaths as your walls welcome his cock’s fat head.

Weeping pussy engulfing his girth in bit by bit until you clit kisses his pelvis. Sending jolts of searing pleasure that caused your satin walls to twitch and tighten. 

Releasing a breathy sigh as you gather your senses.

Drawing out his cock inch by thick inch, sloppy trails of arousal caught on each ridge before dropping back down. Earning low grunts and sighs each time your satin walls swallowed his girth. The rhythm of your hips is paced and controlled despite how Alhaitham’s fingers dug into your skin. 

A whine living your drooling lips with each slap of his skin against your clit. Pushing each tantalizing inch to stroke your starved walls until his skin claps against yours with a wet kiss. The bedframe creaks with each calculated movement, back and forth, back and forth the wood sings along. 

Your head was light, intoxicated by a feverish potion of lust and desire. Feeling him reach the deepest depths, fat tip grinding against those spots which made your legs falter momentarily each time.

Utilizing the strength of both your arms now to support yourself. However, the jolts of pleasure that shot up your spine with each roll of your hips were too maddening to stop. 

His calloused fingers massage circles into your hips. Squeezing the plush flesh to ground his sanity, watching your lewd face as you shamelessly bounced on him for your pleasure. Observing the subtle ripples with each slap of your hips and the jumps of your perky breast. 

The ghostly touches of your fingers skim across his lips, prompting his eyes to connect with yours. Lush and glossy lips parted with your deep pants as your lust-hazed eyes peer down at him, unspoken plea inscribed within them. Who is he to not fulfill your desires?

Lurching his upper body up, he answers your plea, capturing your lips with his. Swiping his tongue against your bottom lip, deepening the kiss. A messy and feverish tangle as if to replace the air in your lungs with his. 

Mewls and whimpers muffled by his skin, your hands moving to perch themselves on his broad shoulders. Your quivering legs grew limp as the strength of his hands took over. Barely processing the sweet nothings whispered as your core relishes in the fullness. Like an ache that’s been finally satisfied. 

He wondered if tonight’s excessive vigor was fraying his control, or if your body was just this addictive. 

By now any notion of decency and integrity has long left you, your hand clawing into his shoulders, marking him with the scars of rapture. A harsh thrust of his hips recoils through you, a wanton moan reverbing off the walls as it forces your tangled lips to part. 

Tongue unable to produce anything other than strained moans, your head nods into his broad shoulder as your hips ground against his. The wet squelch announces the reciprocation of your walls. 

The intervals of those unrelenting rams increasing between the tender thrusts, half-lidded eyes trained on the shivers of your body. Cock sliding against satin ridges of your wall. Grunts and pants reverberate through his throat, teeth clenching as your heat engulfs him again. Reaching deeper into your welcoming core as your lips fall open. 

“Is this not enough?” You could feel the mirth in his whisper. 

Closer, deeper, more. You want more. Walls aching for more, for his girth to jostle your core more, to extinguish this all-consuming heat within you. Hips floundering in harmony with breathy mewls. 

Pressing libidinous kisses along his throat feeling the vibrations of his grunts and pants, a deep chuckle was soon felt against your lips.

“Good grief you are a greedy little thing aren’t you.” 

A deafening slam of skin resounds through the heavy air, swiftly followed by another and another. A new tempo in this waltz of passion takes over like a wave sweeping both of you out to a sea of indulgence.

Possessed by the desperation of chasing a white light, your hand rakes deeper into his toned arms. Seizing anything to prevent your mind from abandoning your sinful body as his girth twitches within your velvety folds. 

Sanity like a foolish sailor who’s beckoned by the lure of a siren’s voice, uncaring of the rocks which will sink them to the very bottom of the bemused tides. Keening against your husband shamelessly, a shameless wife on the cusp of her second fall into ecstasy. 

The heavy scent of lust, the smothering heat, his unrelenting and unshakable thrusts amalgamating into the spark that lit your nerves alight. Toes arched into the air and eyes reaching the back of your head. Sobs and incoherent babbles resounding through the room. 

Your devious walls clamped around his dick with maddening convulsions, gummy muscles suckling against his girth eager to quell your aching greed. It was too much. 

His fingers claw into your soft hips, pressing your cunt flush against his hips with a sloppy slap of skin. The bulbous tip prodding against that weakness deep within you. Bruising grip holding your body in place as his lips crash back into yours.

Swallowing down his breathless groans with your sweet mewls and praddles.

A heat is spilled into the rubber, making your greedy walls quiver amidst the aftershocks of ecstasy. Alhaitham’s hips twitch with each subsequent rip of his orgasm, thrusting his length further into your crowded cavity with each one. The filthiness of it all prolongs your sinful depravity. 

Chest expanding with pants, your lopsided shirt falling further down your shoulder. Your eyes return from seeing blinding white, exhaustion drenching each fiber of your body.

Limp figure crumbling against your husband as his back lays back on the creaking headboard. Even before your worn mind could conjure a coherent thought, your hands caress his starlight tresses. 

As his own breath evades him Alhaitham releases one hand to cup your cheek, thumb brushing softly against your smoldering skin, guiding your lips back to his. 

Basking in the warmth forged between your bodies, between drumming heartbeats and breathless lungs. 

Two bodies lay under silken sheets, skin freshly wiped clean of sweat as the crisp breeze brushed against the curtains gradually erasing the sinful haze. The cool air aids your rising and falling chest to pace itself. 

Muscles and bones heavy with fatigue, yet your eyes couldn’t bring themselves to retire behind shut lids. Not when those dreary clouds have finally retreated. 

The moon hangs high in the sky, finally free from the shroud of rain clouds, she sits among the twinkling dots. Twinkling dots were in actuality brilliant stars, some even larger and brighter than the beloved sun. 

Glimmering lustrously as they traverse through the contentious vacuum of space and past other nameless stars. A scene from a late-morning market trip wanders its way back from the depths of your memory, bringing its musings with it.

“Something on your mind?” A timbre voice beckons your conscious mind back from its trek.

Teal eyes set upon yours as your heads rest on plush pillows, just a breath away from one another.

“Hm, just senseless musings.” Your gaze shifts away from the window. 

In a changed world with millions of hands will your hands and his find each other to make two pairs of hands?

In a different time with a million pairs of legs, will your steps and his steps still coincide in time with each other 

In a new life with a sea of new faces, will a stoic face and another stoic face spot each other in the crowd? 

What is the likelihood of those odds? 

“If you keep letting your thoughts fester, it’ll only bring trouble upon yourself in the morning from sleep deprivation.” He shifts his position, supporting his cheek on his fist as he stares down at your face. 

You sigh because he spoke exactly what those whispers of rationale were urging you, but the scoffs of pride had deemed these rampant inquiries ‘childish’. However, it’s a bit hard to avoid his eyes now. 

“I was just musing about the soulmates concept again,” you confess. 

Alhaitham hums in curiosity. 

“Do you…” You take a deep breath, forcing the hard-to-vocalize question from your tongue. “Do you think we’ll only be together in this life?” 

He’s silent. Just the muted chorus of Summer crickets rejoicing over the conclusion of a rainstorm resounding through the space.

“In a different time, a different universe, or the next life, do you think we’ll be soulmates again?” You muster together the courage to peer up at his face. 

“I don’t recall ever reading an article or paper related to this topic, so it’ll be convoluted to get an answer.” He brings his other hand to his face, signifying his musings. 

Right, there isn’t even a definitive answer for what happens after life passes, an afterlife, a cycle, or nothing, no one knows. Was this the only universe where life exists or are there infinitely many far out there in the stars? Does anyone know?

Your hand pulls your blanket up to your face, partially to cover the growing shame creeping up your face. That haughty voice within was right, these baseless questions are silly and childish. Perhaps even too morbid to bring up so unprompted on this weekend night. 

What were you expecting Alhaitham to even do? Did you want him to give you an answer? What can he even do? A question you can’t even begin to understand, why would you even expect him to have some solution prepared? 

What to do now? Can you just take back your previous words from his memory, so he’ll just forget what you said? Maybe just ask him to quell any more mindless musings from plaguing you tonight by placing his lips on your forehead? So that you could finally drift into the realm of slumber. 

However, is that temporary solution enough? Enough to stifle the contentions and riddles clattering together into a clamorous ruckus in your head? Could sleep even spare you from their tumult? 

“The Membrane Multiverse Theory or reincarnation, hm, do you have any personal theories you’d like to share?” The sensation of his fingers grasping yours brings you back to reality. 

Glancing at him with a quirk in your brow, you wait for him to continue. 

“Who knows, maybe we’ll be the first to publish something for this topic.” His thumb runs along your knuckles. 

“So, is there a speculation or possible rationale you feel particular to?” Teal eyes reconnect with yours. 

“Well…” You sigh, relishing in the warmth of his hand as you concoct a half-baked theory. 

“There’s stardust from stars that had burst billions of years ago, that have somehow ended up on this planet. Subsequently, every being on earth has the atoms of stars in them. So, naturally by the law of conservation, the earth is where the atoms of the human body will return.”

“Based on the law that atoms cannot be created or destroyed?” He drones. 

“Yes, they all had to come from something before them. The carbon in muscles, the calcium in bones, and the iron in blood. The atoms that make up you and I might become part of something else, or even of different people too.” 

“Hm, that sounds probable.”

“But, then this brings up a whole new host of questions, such as, if the new people our atoms become a part of are even ‘us’? Will they ever meet? What if you become a tree and I a rock? What if the atoms of you end up on one side of Teyvat and I on the other end?”

You peer into his irises, but you were just searching for an answer that isn’t there. 

For his beryl irises were impassive. But it was the impassive foundation you needed to ground your rambling thoughts and nonsensical musings into the desolate truth of it all.

The warmth of his hand slips away.

“Never mind, I suppose it’s the most logical to conclude that we’re just soulmates in this instance of time, in this universe, and only here.” Your hand closes over the empty space he left. 

Maybe it’s wise to dismiss it as silly rambling and then withdraw from his indecipherable eyes. Is it too late to put this plan into motion now?

The weight of a muscular arm is draped over your waist, hand pulling you closer unlike your ploy to escape. 

“But I have a few theories I haven’t shared yet.” He glances out toward the bedroom window. 

“While the theory of reincarnation currently doesn’t have any solid scientific backing, in some way, the law of conservation of mass does give a bit of merit to that notion.” Alhaitham draws circles into the small of your back. 

You hum in response. 

“The atoms that created us will return to the earth after us and become a part of something or someone else’s molecular structure. A tree or a rock, a human or a beast, it’s all probable. However…” Beryl eyes return to meet yours. 

“What’s stopping them from repeating the same molecular structures as right now?” He asks. 

Maybe it was his turn to peer into your eyes to search for an answer, an answer currently brewing and forging between your united gazes. 

“What’s stopping these atoms from returning to these exact molecular structures in the future? In a different time, the atoms of us now could one day in the far future come together again and make ‘us’ once more. Maybe just you, maybe just me, or maybe both at the same time.” 

He frees his other hand from the duty of supporting his head, broad body settling down into the bed and blankets, allowing his face to move closer to your level upon his pillow. 

“What’s the likelihood of those odds? Me and you again?” You ask. 

Alhaitham pauses. All the bright minds of science, mathematics, and physics, have yet to come up with a formula to calculate such a thing.

What would be the factors plugged into the equation? And how accurate would it even be?

The ashen-haired man wasn’t sure, but there was at least a statistical observation that would provide some basis. 

“A true 0% chance is an absolute impossibility, just as nothing can be proven absolutely 100%. Since we don't know the absolutes of time, existence, or physics. So, there’ll always be a non-zero chance.” Feeling the drums of your heartbeat against his chest. 

“Then, when they do, I think I’ll spend my life pondering what could fit into the spaces between my fingers like this.” He slips his hand into the gaps of yours, intertwining them. 

Then finally, he saw the smile he’d been yearning for rising on your lush lips. The ends of your eyes crinkle as it make its way to your irises as well. Your grip mirrors his as you nestle your face closer to his. 

“You won’t get tired of this stoic face?” You taunt.

“Will you get tired of mine?” He counters. 

Your shoulders quiver with stifled giggles. 

“No, no I won’t,” you promise him. 

“Then I won’t,” he promises back. 

His larger hand brings yours closer to himself, all the while your attentive eyes watch failing to keep the curl of your lips under control. 

“Any thoughts on the Membrane Multiverse Theory? How will your astute mind surmise the possibility of us laying like this somewhere else in the stars?” Honeyed-voice mimicking awe as your face inches closer.

“I believe I’ve shared enough, I’d much rather hear what your brilliant postulate is.” His tone casted with mirth, but the bite missing from teal eyes. 

Letting a soft hum, your mind rifling through all the paragraphs and journals your hands had ever thumbed through.

The soft rhythm of his breaths kept time. Stringing the words together on your tongue, you hope this monologue of yours will provide some amusement for him. 

“If universes are randomly put into 2 boxes of ‘yes’ and ‘no’, then on average the number of universes in each box would be the same. For every universe I’m not with you, there’ll be equally as many where I am with you.” 

A coin toss, perhaps it was all just a coin toss after all. Whether or not the Akasha paired a stoic face with another stoic face, for the gaps of your fingers to fit his so perfectly.

It could have all been a coin toss, for one half to stumble upon the other half cruelly parted from them by the hands of unseen gods. 

“Something akin to a bijection existing between both sets of universes?” He cross-examines. 

“Maybe… If we were to assign one type ‘yes’ to a positive integer, and the other type ‘no’ to a negative integer, then perhaps we can construct a bijection from the positive and negative integers.” Your brow furrows in contemplation. 

“If we submit this theory do you think the Akademiya would publish it?” 

“Not likely, bijections are usually made between sets of elements like numbers, not sure if bijections can be applied to something like whole universes. I’m just hypothesising nonsense,” you sigh.

“But they did publish the nonsense known as The Lifespan of Love,” he interjects. 

“Hm, then maybe there’s a non-zero chance they’ll publish our nonsense too.” You stifle a scoff. 

“Hm,” Alhaitham hums in amused agreement. 

His free hand pulls the covers further up over your frame then smoothing out the wrinkles. Observing the growing delays between your slowing blinks.

“Only you and I would turn pillow talk into an academic deliberation.” You couldn’t hold back the giggle any longer. 

He sighs in agreement, nestling his head closer to yours on the plush pillows, teal gaze never once leaving yours. 

“It’ll make any romantic keel over and die from how dry it is, wouldn’t it, Haitham?”

“I say let them.” 

Scoffing and shaking your head at his crude declaration as a yawn slips past your lips, a conclusion to this nonsensical academic deliberation.

With one hand still intertwined in the tender grasp of another you pull Alhaitham closer. So that the spaces of your body could lay against the spaces of his. 

The warmth of his skin mingling with the warmth of yours, pressed against one another. You drawing mindless shapes into his back, his hand tracing senseless ruins into yours.

Perhaps, an illogical attempt to echt memories into the stardust in your bodies. 

So he and you could imprint the memory of each other into the very fibers of your beings. Then maybe someday when these atoms return to these exact molecular structures, they’ll remember this too. 

The law of conservation of mass, the probabilities upon probabilities, and bijections used in an inconsequential pseudo-academic ramblings to no one but an audience of silent stars.

Alhaitham’s certain no academic publisher would spare a glance at them. 

But this nonsensical instance in the continuum of time, feeling the rhythm of your heart on the other side of his chest next to his own, is his most precious epiphany. 

Fin~

©️vivalabunbun DON’T PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS. 

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[tipsyleaf]

Yearn | '24 Alphabet Challenge

Leon S. Kennedy x Fem!Reader

Summary: You break off your FWB relationship with Leon after being feed up with his lack of commitment. But even after years of being apart and marrying another man you realize moving on was a lot harder than expected. An the feeling might just be mutual.

Words: 7.3k

Content Warning: 18+ content, pet names (sweetheart, angel, baby), cheating, possessive behavior, desperate Leon, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it please!), cream pie, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, praise, degredation(if you squint), spit and marking.

Authors Note: Listen... This is my first time ever putting something like this online so please be nice to me. I tried and think I did decent enough.

"You want a drink?" Leon asks, pouring whiskey over some ice in a lowball glass. Looking up at you in your seat in one of his armchairs

"No, I need to go soon. Wouldn't be a good idea."

This has become the norm for you two. You come over to his apartment on the weekends. Both of you have packed schedules due to working for the D.S.O. and being on the same team. But coming over usually meant it lead to much-needed stress relief in the form of sex.

Something mutually beneficial for both of you. Leon wouldn't have to worry about you getting attached, since you knew the dangers of your job. And you... Well, you didn't really get much out of this arrangement except to stay connected to him in some form. Even if it wasn't what you wanted.

Leon wanted no string attach, no commitment. No feelings involved in the deal.

But you failed miserably in that department. Already having some kind of undefined feelings for him before starting these weekly meetings. Repeatedly getting hurt by your own actions, knowing full well how he was with this arrangement and what you agreed to.

"You got plans?" His eyebrow rises as he sips his whiskey, rounding the corner of his kitchen island and sitting on the arm of the couch next to you. Sipping his drink leisurely.

"Actually yes." You smile to yourself, gaze meeting Leon's as you look up at him. Finally, feeling happy at the thought of moving on, possibly.

"I have a date with a guy from the office. Shepard from accounting."

Leon nearly choked, covering his mouth with his arm as he coughed. Clearing his throat, his expression shifted to one of annoyance. His eyes fix on you, glaring sharply and unable to hide his obvious jealousy. Something he hasn't felt in ages now.

"And... you just decided to tell me now? What about our agreement?"

You raise a brow, confused by his reaction.

"We agreed what happens in our private lives is our business unless it directly affects one of us."

"But if you date someone, that's my business. You don't think that doesn't affect me too?" His nose wrinkles as he stands up from the arm of the couch, setting his glass on the coffee table.

He can't believe he has to even have this conversation with you. He thought it was obvious enough to not have to say anything.

"I haven't kissed him, slept with him or even held his hand. No germs or possible diseases have been swapped. How is this your problem exactly? We aren't together, we're just in a..."

You stop to ponder for a moment, really thinking about how to phrase this without coming off as a total bitch.

"We're friends with benefits. No exclusivity."

"And if you're seeing another guy, that would stop. I really don't feel like looking for someone else when what we have is good right now."

The thought of replacing you was disheartening and uncomfortable. It took him long enough to open up to you to begin with. Starting at square one again just wasn't an option he wanted to take. Your arrangement was just what he wanted, what he needed to keep his shit together.

"And what exactly did you expect of me, to just sit around and cater to just your needs?"

Your face turns to a scowl, eyes burning with a certain kind of fire that hardly anyone gets to see. You glare at him, hard. He can feel the tension rise between you two.

"I can't just wait around for someone who 'doesn't do relationships,' Leon. I have the right to be happy with someone."

"I didn't say-" He cuts himself off, swallowing the lump in his throat as he feels his face heat up. The irritation in him bubbled up in his very soul as your eyes met. He stares you down trying to get you to crack and look away first, but you don't back down.

"I didn't say you had to wait around for me. I just..." His glare faltered for a second, irritation turning to discomfort at the accusation. "I thought I'd have more time. Not just have you spring this on me so suddenly."

"Why do you think I told you? He just asked me out today, and it was out of the blue. He's a decent enough guy, so I thought I'd give him a chance."

You stand up from your chair, grab your bag from the floor and slide it over your shoulder.

"It's not like you caught me sneaking around, I told you before anything could happen. You're just pissed because you don't want to lose the only connection you have with someone outside of work that gives you the tiniest shred of normalcy."

As much as he hates to admit it, you're completely right. He knows you're right. But he's definitely too stubborn, closed off and selfish to admit it. Stepping in front of the entrance to his apartment, he crosses his arms, determined not to let you leave until everything is settled and hopefully in his favor.

"Listen, I know I'm not a relationship guy. But I'm human. I have feelings and... And needs still."

"So am I." You turn, crossing your arms as you stare back at him.

"The only reason I agreed to this situation to begin with is because... I just wanted to be closer to you and I knew you didn't do relationships." Your own words sting, admitting what you felt. And even with the new revaluation, you looked hurt over the situation.

"And I can't just sit around hanging on to the tiniest shred of hope that you'll change. That's not healthy... So I think it's time for, whatever we have, to just stop and for me to move on. And finally get fulfillment out of a relationship someone can commit to me in."

But your words cut deep. You were completely justified, Leon knew that. Despite knowing you were in the right, Leon couldn't help but feel like he was being slapped in the face. Like all the time you spent together was just nothing.

"You're just going to throw us away then? For some guy at work... What was his name? Shepard? What the hell kind of name is that!?"

"I'm not throwing it away for some guy, I'm walking away for my own sake." Your brows furrow as you glare at him again, not wanting to be hostile, but at this point it only feels like you can get the point across this way.

"I thought you of all people would understand what it's like wanting to move on from something that hurts you constantly. But I guess I was wrong."

You feel the burning behind your eyes, trying to ignore it. You sniff, blinking repeatedly to keep the tears at bay.

"All I want is not be in a situation where I know someone can't or refuses to love me like I want to be. Not anymore. I don't think that's too much to ask for."

Leon feels like he's shrinking seeing your eyes glaze with tears. He didn't even realize he was causing this much pain. Even if he hadn't intended to, he strung you along with the hopes of something he wasn't even considering. Not until now at least.

"Listen..." Taking in a deep breath, he frowns, looking into your teary eyes, "I'm sorry. I didn't know I was hurting you. I wasn't trying to hurt you."

"Trying and doing are two different things. That's why I want to call it quits now... Before I end up resenting you or... Or we feel bitter towards each other. We still have to work together, and I'd rather not think about how much I hate you every time I have to look at you."

You sniffle again, a few tears escaping before you can wipe them away and step towards him.

"It's just best if we just go back to being only colleagues."

"So that's it? We're just..." He stops himself again. It's not worth arguing, you've clearly made up your mind, and he should just be the bigger man and respect that. His head hits the door as he looks up at the ceiling, feeling a pain wash over his chest. He's not ready to let you go, and it's clear to him that even he got attached.

"Fuck... Okay." Rubbing his eyes, he steps away from the door, not blocking you from leaving anymore. "You're right. I'm sorry."

Reaching the door knob, you clutch it tightly as he jerks towards you. Not stepping in front of you but making sure he's visible.

"Wait. Can... Can we have one last kiss? For old times sake."

Every part of you is screaming no, but you tighten your shoulders with a nod.

"Yeah... I can do that." Moving in, you slot your hands onto his biceps, leaning in. Your lips land on his, applying a light pressure. Nothing remotely close to some of the more passionate kisses you've shared over your time together.

For Leon, it takes everything in him to not give in and kiss you exactly like he wants to. To wrap his arms around you and suffocate you completely with him. Make his last mark on you before you go your separate way. Show you how much he loves... the company you give him.

But this is for the best, to just go back to normal like nothing ever happened. His hands meet the small of your back as he takes in one last long look at you. Not wanting to let go until you step back.

As you pull back, you look up at him as his eyes meet yours. Almost like they're silently pleading for you to stay. Giving a quick rub to his biceps, you step past him, a small smile meeting your lips.

Saying goodbye just feels wrong to you, so you settle for a see you later.

"I'll see you at work on Monday..." Opening the front door, you give him a quick nod, closing the door behind you as you leave his apartment one last time.

He stares at the front door, hoping you'll come back any second now and just tell him it was some kind of fucked up joke you're pulling. You never do.

Walking back over, he slumps over on the couch, holding his head in his hands. Trying to think of where exactly he went wrong with this entire thing. Glancing up at the coffee table, he spotted his whiskey, swiftly picking it up and downing the almost full glass with a dissatisfied grunt. All before he gets up and makes his way towards his liquor cabinet once again.

You're not paying attention when one of your coworkers is droning on about whatever to Shepard next to you.

Connie? Chloe? Cassie? Whatever her name was, it wasn't important right now. What was important was the glances being thrown at the end of the sturdy brewery table.

"Are you okay, hun?" Your trance was snapped, eyes shooting back to your husband as his smile filled with concern.

"Yeah." Your voice is half-hearted and still slightly dazed. "Just thinking too much."

Thinking too much about the blue eyes burning into you from a few seats down.

You didn't blame him, it's been 4 years since you two had any real conversation outside of work. Being married for 2 years, you've tried to respect your husband and steer clear of Leon at any point. Shepard didn't know your past, and you wanted to keep it that way.

But now that you're all in the same place due to a work retreat. You don't know how long that's going to stay hidden. Who knows what could happen?

You quickly smile, as you've trained yourself to do, as you look at Shepard. He smiles back before sipping his rum and coke. Looking back at the brunette across the table talking.

"What were you saying, Cassidy?" Shepard asks. The woman nodded, sipped her wine and set it back on the table.

"I asked, are you happy she's changing departments? I bet it's unnerving having your wife risk her life every time she leaves and not knowing if you'll see her again."

"He is, he always hated how much I was away or just scared something would happen, y'know?"

"I'm always worried about my special girl. I love her." Shepard squeezes your thigh with a smile. Rubbing his thumb across your bare skin.

You feel nothing when he touches you. You never have and probably never will. He always talks about this spark between the two of you, but you feel no spark at all. Not even a little buzz.

You just smile back at him and continue to sip your wine, glancing down the table at Leon, talking with one of your other colleagues. You feel uneasy but still somehow calm. Even after being apart for so long, he always seems to draw your attention.

Leon's having a conversation with another coworker. Or at the very least tries to have a conversation...

He's watching you out of the corner of his eye, observing with a Stoic expression as it usually is these days. But to the trained eye, he's completely obvious. He honestly can't help himself from looking at you.

Just as beautiful as the day you left...

His mind wanders as his side glance lingers too long, he's still so in love even after all this time. He thought it faded from your separation, but if anything, it's gotten worse with such little contact outside important assignments or the occasional workplace banter.

It's slowly driving him nuts that sometimes he wonders if this isn't just an obsession but physically seeing you brings him right back to earth. The thumping in his chest became harder to ignore.

God, he wishes he was Shepard. To spare him the looks you gave your husband. The thought of being able to touch your thigh again without care nearly gives him a hard on.

But he catches himself. Teetering on the edge of his mind, wandering too far. He swallows it, forcing it down. Knotting the pit of his stomach to not let it show. He takes a long sip of the whiskey sour in his hand and tries turning back to the conversation.

You try your hardest to put on a fake smile as you listen to Cassidy and Shepard rattle on. Sipping your wine, you feel that familiar rubbing.

Glancing down, you see Shepard's hand gripping your thigh with a firmness you've felt before. His large hand dawned with the wedding ring matching yours staring back at you as his thumb glided across your bare skin.

For any other woman, this would be an instant turn on. But for you, that's all it is, just a hand. Nothing special or thrilling. But you look at your husband as he gives you that sultry look he thinks is flirtatious, but it just makes your skin crawl.

And not in a fun way. This is getting to be too much.

"I think I'm going to go for a smoke." You cut off the chatty Cassidy. Shepard's head turned to you with a smirk.

"You want me to come with you?" Shepard sits forward, ready to stand when you put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

"No, no. I need to make a phone call anyway. Could you watch my drink though?"

He nods as you take your phone off the table and step back from your seat. Shepard clears his throat as you lean over giving him a kiss, almost as if you've been trained to do so.

Finally, you walk out of the brewery, past tables filled with chatting people and around the side of the building to the secluded smoking balcony. Surprisingly empty as you show up. Grabbing one of the two chairs, you have a seat in front of the railing.

You lean back against the seat, looking up at the dark night sky full of stars, mind wandering to the man inside.

Not your husband...

"Fuck..." You mumble, pulling the pack of Marlboro's out of your jacket and slipping one of the sticks between your lips.

You retrieve your lighter, flicking the button repeatedly. Only a tiny spark igniting with a soft click. You groan in irritation, trying again.

"This seat taken?" You nearly lurch out of your seat, quickly turning to see Leon standing next to the empty chair, drink in hand.

"Jesus Christ! You scared the shit out of me..." Putting your hand on your heart you feel it pound from fear, glancing up at Leon you almost swear you could feel it skip for a split second.

"Is that a yes?" He asks, his lips curling into a smirk as he looks down at you.

"Yeah, sit. I don't care." You flick your lighter repeatedly, finally getting it to light as he sits. You make brief eye contact, slipping your lighter back in your pocket.

"Following me isn't really a great look for you, Kennedy." Leon scoffs, brows knitting as he takes in your figure far longer than appropriate.

“Can’t a guy just enjoy sitting next to a beautiful woman for a while?” It's your turn to grin, taking in his old cheesy way of talking. Your eyes start to linger now, taking in his appearance.

You can see the once lively eyes he had now grown into tired and strained. Hair darkens with age to match the beginnings of crows' feet. But he still looked handsome as ever. He always will.

"It's a free country, I can't tell you no." You continue with the banter, turning your attention back to the cigarette as you take in a drag. Glancing at him, you exhale, thinking of a way to break the building tension.

"So..." You knock some ash off your cigarette into the tray between the chairs and look at him again. "How've you been? I heard you're taking my spot as team lead. Congrats."

"Thanks, I'm doing okay." His hands move as he tries looking anywhere but you. Licking his lips, he finally looks at you again.

“What about you? You're happy about the change? Being off the field completely and all.”

"If you like sitting behind a desk all day slowly rotting from the inside out, sure... You know I'm a woman of action." You wince at your own bitterness and sigh.

"I took the new job for Shepard. He's been on my ass about taking care of myself since we..." You stop yourself, looking down at the wedding band, just another reminder of what once was between you and Leon.

"I just wanted to make him happy." You slip the cigarette between your lips again, looking down at the phone as it goes off in your lap.

Leon bites his tongue before saying the first thing to come to mind and nods instead.

Yeah, if she took that job for Shepard, she probably wouldn’t be pleased with it.

He can probably guess how much you do for him by that reaction alone.

“So... you do love him, then?”

You're mid-drag when the coughing starts, caught off guard by the sudden question. Your head snaps to Leon, coughing into your closed fist.

"Excuse me?" Leon shrugs, looking unbothered by your reaction.

"You took the job for his sake. So you must love him... Or at least want to keep the peace between the two of you. But you've always been a pretty good actor."

"He's my husband, isn't he?"

You almost sound defensive, not really giving him a yes or no response. You know the answer. Leon took note of the lack of one.

"Why are you asking?"

"Just curious." He takes a sip of his whiskey sour, shaking the glass, loose ice clanking against the misty sides as he stares down at it.

“I just thought, maybe... you were looking at me earlier. During dinner, during cocktails. I know I was staring at you. And the way you looked at Shepard. It seemed like you were almost... bored with him?”

You both loved and hated how perceptive Leon can be sometimes.

"Wow, I had no idea you were suddenly an expert at what I wanted. Little late for that, don't you think?" Your tone was sarcastic, but you knew what he was saying was true to an extent.

Even if you don't want to admit it.

He takes in your response, sipping his drink again as he nods. He has your down pat and the smirk forming on his face says he's completely aware of it.

“So am I right?” He asks, not really expecting much of an answer.

"Leon, you can't..." You look away, scrunching your nose, frowning at his question.

“Accuse you of settling? You just sort of settled on Shepard? Because he’s safe? Because he’s a good guy?” Leon continues, setting his drink down next to the ashtray. He leans forward, trying to get a glimpse of your face.

"It's not fair of you to ask that. Not from you of all people." But it's true, you settled for Shepard. Knowing he loved you and was looking out for your best interest.

"He loves me and I..." You stare at the street below, unable to finish what you started saying. The ring on your finger starts to feel heavier as it weighs on your hand and conscience.

The obvious truth was that you didn't love him, you tried. Really, really tried to but never got the same kind of attachment to him like you did with him.

With Leon...

"Sweetheart."

God no, his voice is so charming still...

"You don't love him, do you? You've... Never loved him." Finally, you look at him again, wanting to curse him out desperately.

But he's so smug, the look on his face says he already knows how to make you admit it. And you both know he'll drag the truth out of you one way or another.

"I hate that you can read me so well still." You finally answer, unable to keep up the lie. Taking in a deep breath, you extinguish the cigarette, leaving it in the ashtray. You look back at the street below, feeling Leon's eyes on you still.

"We both know how well I know you sweetheart." His voice is barely above a whisper. He leans in watching your eyes flicker at him. That natural shine he's used to seeing back again, to greet him like an old friend from years past.

It's enough of a greeting that you both know how this could end, easily.

You know that look all too well, feeling your heart thumping in your chest, harder than it has in years now. You know exactly what he's thinking about.

"N-No Leon." Your voice can't even carry a stern tone as he makes you weak in the knees with a single look. Your stomach does a flip as he just stares, look unwavering.

"I'm married!"

"You think I'm not aware of that?" He leans even closer, his hand sliding onto your thigh.

You say nothing, watching him put his hand on you, squeeze you like Shepard does.

Like when you feel nothing...

You know it's wrong, you should stop him from touching you. But the familiarity is so comforting as his thumb glides over your silky skin.

God, it feels so different with Leon... So good... So wrong, but so right at the same time.

The feeling of fireworks fills your chest and butterflies materialize in your stomach. That same feeling from years ago is rearing its ugly little head to claw its way back around your heart again. You just stare at each other, not saying a word.

“You’re married,” he speaks again, just repeating what you said. “But you’re still in love with me, aren't you?"

You swallow again, the gulp making an audible noise. Almost like you just sucked down a golf ball.

"I want to hear you say it." His voice sounds like he's on the verge of begging for it. You grab his shoulder and push him back to arms length.

"Leon, no... It's wrong. Happy or not."

"But, I want you." The words slipped out of him so easily, making you ache.

Ache in a lot of ways, in a lot of places you definitely shouldn't for someone who isn't your husband.

"Please... Just one kiss to see if the sparks are still there." He's quite literally begging now, grabbing your hand.

"Honey?" You shoot up from your chair the second you hear his voice, yanking your hand away. You quickly step past Leon as Shepard appears around the corner.

"Honey, hi!" You sound unnaturally excited to see him.

"Hey Shepard." Leon stood from his chair and sounded cold. Honestly, not caring to cover his bitterness about the situation.

"Oh, hey Leon." Shepard greets him, noticeably a bit intoxicated by how he's standing. "I didn't know you smoked."

"He doesn't!" You blurt out, gaining your husband's attention again. "He was just asking me for advice about being the new team lead. Just helping a co-worker out."

"Aww, that's so sweet of you, baby." Shepard smiles sheepishly at his wife, not even realizing you're lying through your teeth. "Speaking of baby... Could you help me get Cassidy to stop talking about her kids? Pretty please?"

You sigh with a fake chuckle. "Yeah just... Give me a minute."

Shepard nods, giving you a kiss on the cheek and walks back into the brewery.

"So, you're okay with that?" Leon crosses his arms, gesturing between you and the door.

You glare at him, not bothering to hide your annoyance.

"You're insufferable..." You rub your eyes thinking before you speak.

"Look, I don't... Love him... But I don't want to hurt him either. He's still a good guy..."

“A good guy, huh?” He whispers, stepping forward, taking your hands in his.

“But not enough to make you feel anything when he’s around. That's strictly reserved for me, yeah?” You feel your skin warm up as you pull your hands away.

"Jesus Christ..." His cocky attitude makes you groan in irritation.

"I could honestly choke you right now... I swear."

"You know, I know what buttons to push to get you all riled up. Just to come right back into my arms."

You roll your eyes looking back into the brewery, seeing Shepard start to wobble in his chair slightly. You know that he's at his drink limit now.

"Leon... Just... We'll talk later." You start walking away towards the door to inside the brewery when he grabs your wrist. Not painfully tight, just enough to get you to stop walking.

"Or we can talk now." You sigh, thinking of a solution, as Leon let go of your wrist.

"What hotel room number did they stick you in for the work retreat?"

"Why?" He grins, leaning in again. "You're going to drop by for a special visit later?"

"To talk." You emphasize, getting more irritated as you lean in closer "And only talk..."

"Fuck, you're so hot when you're mad." You groan watching him bite his lip as he looks you up and down.

"Room number Leon. Now."

"Can't ever let me have my fun, can you? Room 407." Your eyebrows furrow, of course he'd only be two doors down from you.

"I'll be over at midnight."

"I'll be waiting with bated breath." You shoot him a glare, making him chuckle as you walk back into the brewery.

Collecting your husband, with a lot of effort and his cooperation, you make it back to the hotel in a good amount of time. Unlocking the door, you help him over to the bed, laying him on his side.

Getting him plenty of water and making him take Tylenol before he inevitably passes out to avoid the hangover you know he'd definitely be having if it weren't for you.

Soon it's midnight, and you make your way two doors down. Knocking on room 407.

You hear heavy quick footsteps coming towards the door. Leon opens the door, his hair messy and his shirt's top three notches unbuttoned. This was starting to feel really reminiscent of your old hook-up days.

“Come on in, sweetheart. I was starting to think midnight would never come.”

You push your way into his room, shutting the door behind yourself, so none of your coworkers see them together. You glare at him, crossing your arms over your chest.

"You got a lot of nerve pulling the shit you did earlier."

"Oh I'm aware," Leon locks the door, stepping up to you slowly. His eyes trailing your figure again, "you'd be lying though if you said you didn't like it."

"So you think betraying his trust is better than cheating on him?"

"Y'know, I hate how you keep avoiding what I've been asking you today." His hand comes up, caressing your cheek, you grab his wrist to move his hand, but your eyes meet with his. His thumb runs along your jawline, leaning in closer, his voice becomes warm against your ears, a sultry tone tickling you in all the right ways.

"He doesn't get you like I do. Make your knees weak with a simple touch or feel how easily your pussy throbs if you're called the right name in bed... He doesn't know that side of you."

He smirks, feeling your skin become warm underneath his fingertips.

"I fucking hate you." Leon snickers, bringing himself closer to you.

"No you don't. You love me." His eyes flick from yours to your lips. Lingering for a split second before you speak.

"Do you have it in you to love me like I want?"

"Of course I do." He's known since you left how he felt.

"Prove it. Tell me how you feel then."

“I love you." He speaks without hesitation, running his thumb across your bottom lip.

"I’ve always felt this way. I get that feeling in my stomach when I look at you, that feeling whenever I touch your skin, I’ve needed you for years now. I’ve known it almost as long as you’ve known you don’t love Shepard... I miss you." Your breath hitches, hearing what you've wanted to for so long. Leon drew closer, lips centimeters from each other.

"Do you miss me?" With that question your little shred of resolve disappears.

"I miss everything... How you make me feel. Your touch... How you always know exactly what I'm thinking even when I can't put the words together..." You frown, looking at him before leaning on him. Wrapping yourself around his entire being.

Your noses touch, lips slightly parted as you look deeply into each others eyes. The beautiful blue in his eyes surrounding your reflection, encasing you completely.

"Tell me how much you want me." Your body quivers, hearing his borderline demanding tone.

"He loves me, but he's never made me feel like a woman. Not like you did before... And I want you so badly, I can feel it in my bones."

Your lips glide over each other's. Not able to hold back much longer.

"How badly do you want me?" You ask, watching him pull back from your lips. Smug smirk staring at you, almost like he's watching his next meal.

He reaches out, brushing the back of his hand across your cheek, feeling the warmth of your skin radiate into his. His hand moves down to your chin, tilting your head up towards him.

"I could show you instead, if you'll allow me." He stares into your eyes, waiting for a response, any sign that you'll let him in again.

You give in with a short, simple nod.

His lips are on you, fiercely pressing his tongue against your lips, possessively pushing his way in. His hand goes to the back of your neck, hitting the hotel room door with a loud rattle.

Your hands fly to paw at his open chest, his hands prodding at your thighs under your dress, pulling your legs around his waist. Hands gliding up to your ass, squeezing it while you're carried to the bed.

He breaks the kiss, pushing your body to the bed. Leon pulls off his dress shirt, popping buttons as he rushes, tossing it to the side as he climbs on top of you. Soon, his hands are back on you, gliding up your thighs, pushing your dress up past your hips to pool at your waist.

"Well, I'll be damned. My favorite pair." Leon breathes out, sounding like a laugh as she looks at his favorite pair of blue lace panties covering your lower half. His lip curls up as he kisses above the edge of the fabric. Making your hips jolt for a second, acutely aware of how wet you actually are.

His hands travel up, pushing your dress up and over your head. Sitting up on his knees, he takes you in. Biting his bottom lip as his eyes wandered, wondering where to start first.

"I missed this body so badly." Leon traces his lips across your skin, starting to kiss under your ear and down your neck. His hands gliding under you to unclasp your bra, freeing your chest.

"Do you know what I want to do to you right now?" He growls into your ear, making you whimper in response.

You try to think straight at the moment, but all you can focus on is his strong hands roaming down your side, slowly towards the wetness pooling between your legs.

"To fuck me like you'll never see me again." He smirks against your ear, feeling your warm breath against his cheek. He chuckles darkly, knowing exactly what he wants, what you both want as his hands pull your panties off, dropping them on the floor with your dress.

"Good girl. You've always been so smart, angel." You watched him sit up and undo his belt, pulling it through the loops of his pants. Quickly making work of his pants and boxers, he stands over you naked. His thick cock standing at attention against his lower stomach.

Your legs come together as he pulls you towards the edge of the bed, grip tight around your thighs as he sinks to his knees. He spreads your legs, eyes landing on your wet slit, he playfully leans over, kissing your knee as he puts your legs over her shoulders.

His lips roam, kissing down your inner thigh. Reaching up, his finger spread your folds open. Watching the wetness from your arousal glisten against your skin, Leon let out a throaty groan in satisfaction.

"Fuck, you're so perfect like this. Ready as ever for me aren't you, sweetheart?" His lips turn to a smirk as he leans down, licking a slow gentle strip up your folds. Forgetting how much he enjoyed the sweet taste of you.

A soft moan erupts from your lips, arching off the bed to grind into his mouth, Leon placing a calloused hand on your abdomen to keep you in place. His other hand digging his short nails into your plush thigh.

With a final lick to your fold, Lean spits your juices back in you entrance, burying himself in your pussy, nose on her clit and deep in your tight hole with his tongue working your g-spot expertly.

As if he never forgot where it was in the first place.

The ridiculous amount of squelching alone would be embarrassing, but it felt too good to care. You hadn't felt like this in years.

Leon feels your walls convulse around his tongue as his eyes flick up to watch you quake in pleasure. A moan leaving your lips as your fingers bury themselves into the silky hotel bedsheets. Shaky breathing breaking as you feel his mouth pull off you. Your eyes shoot down watching him lick his lips clean of your juices.

"Fuck I missed making you feel this good." Leon lines up 2 of his fingers with your core, gliding them inside you. Feeling your walls clench around his thick digits. Eliciting a moan from him as he curled into the spongy spot.

"Could have you gushing on my fingers like this forever." Leaning down nibbling at the sensitive flesh of your thighs. Leaving behind subtle teeth marks. Not caring in the slightest if your husband saw it or not.

You're finally his again, and he'd be damned if he wasn't marking his territory this time. Staring at them for a moment makes his cock twitch.

Leaving one final bite, he focuses back on your pussy, his tongue slips from between his lips, gliding across your clit. Lips move to latch on and suck gently. Your legs quiver, shaky breathing signaling you're getting close to release. His fingers move in perfect tandem with your body.

"C'mon beautiful, cum for me." Your eyes roll back, glazing over as you bite down on your lower lip muffling a cry of pleasure. Climaxing on Leon's fingers and hand as he works you through your orgasm. Feeling your body relax, tension leaving as relief washes over you after what feels like forever.

Panting softly, you lift yourself onto your elbows to watch Leon lick his slick fingers clean, savoring the taste before diving back into your dripping entrance to clean things up properly as you watch him with a close eye.

"I've been thinking about this moment for years. Been dreaming about being buried deep inside this tight little pussy again." Pulling away and licking his lips, he kisses your thigh once more.

"Has he ever made you cum like that? Or has he been depriving my angel?" Your head spins at the question, swallowing hard as you try thinking of an answer as he caresses your face.

"No, never as good as you..." He moves, pulling you up onto the bed, putting you up against the pillows, crawling on top of you. Moving to kiss your collarbone up to your ear. His full weight pressed down on you, cock pressed against your inner thigh.

"Can I fuck you? Need to be buried inside you, feel you around me again." His voice sounds borderline desperate as he asks, your eyes turning away.

"You should let me show you how good it could be to be claimed as mine again," his hot breath trickles against your ear. He moves his hand down to grip onto your chin firmly, making you meet his hot gaze again.

Desperation not only poured from his words, but his expression too.

"Tell me you'll let me have you again, so I can make you mine... Fully. Just like we both know we want." You know you want to, you feel nothing for Shepard.

Nothing comparable to what you feel with Leon.

Your lips part as you give him an answer.

"I'm yours, only yours, Leon. Every part of me." His eyes lit up, leaning in and pulling you into a passionate kiss. Happy to finally have you again in every way.

"Do you remember how good I used to make you feel?" He moves forward, positioning himself at your entrance, ready to claim you completely.

"You're mine and mine alone." Sliding into you, you feel that familiar fullness of his cock inside you. Digging your nails into his shoulders as he huffs into your neck, your legs wrap around his waist out of instinct.

"Fuck, I forgot how good you feel." He mumbles against your neck, leaving a trail of kisses down your throat to the top of your breasts. A deep groan leaves his chest as he rolls his hips into your tightness.

You feel your walls contract around him, almost like your molding to perfectly fit him and only him.

"Oh fuck, Leon." You breathed out, hand running up to the base of his neck, pulling at his hair.

"Feels too much like home," Leon's voice is thick with pleasure as he continues to drive into your wet pussy, feeling every bit of your heat surround him, "he definitely hasn't been fucking you right... Of course not. He's not me. Doesn't know shit about your body like I do, does he?"

He grunts into your neck, body trembling at the effort it takes not to cum immediately from how good you feel against him.

Reaching down, he grabs your ass, pulling you tighter to him, starting to pound into you. Moving his hand, he lifts your leg, hitting that angle that turns you into a hopeless puddle beneath him.

You let out a string of broken moans, louder than intended, but you're at the point of no return. Feeling the intense knot in your stomach building quickly. You can see his face getting red as he pulls back from your neck to look in your eyes.

"Close, so close." He watches your face contort in ecstasy, smirking.

"Mine to take care of, mine to pleasure, mine to claim... " He reaches in-between your bodies and starts to circle your clit, his voice becoming more unsteady as he gets closer to his climax.

He feels that quiver around his cock, your nails digging into his back and pulling at his roots as you finish around him.

"Fuck, fuck. I'm-" His voice breaks, burying himself deep inside you, he fills you, a pathetic moan slipping from his lips as he collapses on top of you.

You're both panting heavily, his head on your chest listening to your heart thump against your ribcage. He smiles, still trying to catch his breath, kissing over your chest. Your hand weeds through his hair, pushing his bangs back from his face.

"I didn't even know you could make a sound like that." He grumbles against your skin, biting your chest lightly. You giggle as he rolls over off you, bringing you to his chest.

"Shut up." But he smiles down at you, watching how easily you curl into his side. Bringing your hand up, you caress his cheek, brushing over the bone with your thumb. He takes it, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. Taking note of your wedding ring.

"Are you okay?" He questions, voice sounding a bit worried. "I wasn't too much?"

"No. You were perfect. Are you okay?" He just nods in response, rubbing his hand across your lower back slowly.

"Why don't you take a nap before heading back? You look tuckered out." His smirk returns, you simply nod, cuddling up to him. Nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck and putting your arm around him as he holds you close.

He knows he's going to struggle to let you go again.

"I don't see it out here either." You say, look around the hallway. Shepard raises his head from dragging your luggage out of the door. He slides the card into the door, locking it before turning back to you.

"Baby, it's fine. We'll get you a new one." His irritation is obvious as he walks past you towards the elevator when one of the doors in the hallway opens. Out stepped Leon from his room, bag over his shoulder as you lock eyes. He smiles before noticing Shepard, his face dropping to its usual Stoic expression.

"New what?" Leon questions, watching your husband turn his head.

"She lost her wedding ring." Shepard pushes the button, calling the elevator as you and Leon walk up behind him.

"You seemed pretty drunk last night. Maybe she lost it helping you back to your room?" Shepard looks at Leon, his face dropping and irritation evaporating in an instance.

"Was I that bad? Jesus, honey, I'm sorry." Shepard puts an arm around your waist. You look at Leon from the corner of your eyes.

Leon's shooting daggers at Shepard, who's none the wiser.

"Just check the lost and found before you leave." He suggests, looking back at the elevator doors as they open. You all step in, stuck in-between Leon and Shepard.

Leon fidgets next to you, he stares straight ahead. Trying to ignore your skirt tapping his leg, or your perfume taking over his senses from how close you are.

But in the end, he can't help himself.

His pinkie finger pops out, brushing against your fingers, fully expecting rejection in the form of your hand pulling away.

Thankfully, he's greeted with your pinkie, interlocking with his until the door rings again. You walk out ahead, Shepard, carrying your bags. You spare him one last glance and a smile before leaving around the corner to the hotel lobby. Leon smiled to himself, stepping out of the elevator.

Shoving his hand in his pocket as he walks, feeling the cool metal of your wedding ring brushing against his fingertips.

All the while knowing, he isn't losing you this time.

#🌿 ivy writes #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy smut

[elegantsplendour]

Once Upon A Time, A Dragon Met a Swan

Summary: After the Greens have won the war and Aegon’s passing, Aemond is crowned king. You, a high born lady he fell in love with during the Dance when he served as Prince Regent, became his queen. Years after your marriage, you’re still in love with each other as ever. One day, you discover age had a surprise for you.

Contains / warnings: fluff, king! Aemond, queen! Reader, smut, pregnancy, brink of death, happy ending

Comments and reblogs are always appreciated 💌

Masterlist

Taglist: @marvelescvpe @theroyaldixon @buglyberry @aemondx

Word count: 2k

Amidst the grand feast held in honor of your first born son Rhaegar's nomination as heir, the King and Queen of Seven Kingdoms adorned themselves in opulent attire, captivating all eyes. You wore a gown that sparkled with the brilliance of a thousand stars, its black and white hues revealing the elegance of your bare shoulders. Aemond's robe, a tapestry of red and black, was meticulously embroidered with golden thread, each stitch a testament to the Targaryen dynasty's resplendent might, emblazoned with the three-headed dragon.

As the solemn ceremony unfolded, the weight of destiny hung in the air, but it was the magnetic pull between you and Aemond that whispered a more primal truth. With each step on the dance floor, a current of enthralling energy surged through your veins, igniting a passionate flame that only grew stronger as the night wore on.

As the final notes reverberated through the hall, Aemond drew you into an embrace that spoke of a deep longing. His voice, low and husky, caressed your ear, "I need you tonight, my queen," A sly grin curved on your lips as his plea awakened a burning ache inside you.

The mighty Aemond Targaryen, pleading for your touch.

Not that the king and queen were not intimate in the privacy in their chambers.

Whispers have it that the queen has an insatiable appetite for her king.

You leaned close, the warmth of your breath grazing the skin of his neck, "There hasn't been a night when I haven't yearned for you," you teased, "Your Grace."

The air crackled with anticipation as Aemond caught his breath, captivated by your formality. Leaning his head against yours, he murmured, "You are insatiable as ever, my queen." A seductive glimmer sparkled in your eyes as you whispered back, "Then chase me to our chamber, my king." Leaving him burning with desire, you gracefully slipped away from his grasp, your sway like a seductive siren's call.

As the grand feast approached its final moments, Aemond hurried to your chamber, his heart pounding with a mix of longing and urgency. There, he found you standing near the balcony, the moon casting a gentle glow upon your exposed back. Slowly, he closed the distance between you, his hands encircling your waist as his lips found the tender skin of your neck. A smile curled your lips, radiant with adoration and a hunger that mirrored his own. "Is that a wrinkle, Aemond?" you playfully remarked, planting a soft, teasing kiss where the mark of time would be.

Aemond cupped your cheeks, his deep chuckle resonating through the room. "Unfortunately, I lack the immunity to aging that you possess, my love," he confessed. Undeterred, you drew him into a fierce kiss, the intensity of your love blazing like a wildfire. "Nonsense," you purred against his lips, the fire in your eyes mirroring the heat between you. "Your Valyrian blood grants you such… an eternal grace."

With a surge of passion, Aemond's hand ripped away the fabric of your gown, leaving you gasping in delightful surprise. He swept you into his arms, carrying you to the bed with a mix of tenderness and urgency. His kisses trailed a scorching path down your body, igniting every nerve with searing pleasure. "Fear not, my love," he assured, his voice laced with raw desire. "Age brings with it a wealth of experience." As his lips traced down your neck, your breasts, your belly, and eventually down your core, your lips quivered with restrained moans as you pleaded, "Aemond, seal my lips with yours, otherwise I’ll lose control!”

You heard a barely audible chuckle before an overwhelming pleasure incited a loud moan, “Gods, Aemond.” His tongue worked expertly between your folds, his movements demanding yet tender.

“Beg for me, my love. I will give you what you want and more.”

“I want you inside me,” implored as you arched your back, showing him shamelessly how your body longed for him.

“Hmm,” Your king lifted his head, his good eye and sapphire piercing through you with amusement, “Here I thought my insatiable queen preferred some more torment.”

You left out a gasp as his rough movements transformed into a series of soft kisses around your most intimate parts but never really reached there.

His strong arms held your thighs in place as your body trembled and squirmed under his magic.

“Your Grace, please,” this time, your voice laced no more with desperation, but seductively while feigning innocence, “Spoil your poor queen.”

With a satisfied grin on his face, he hovers over you while giving a tight squeeze on your buttocks, “Is that what you want, love? To be so thoroughly ravished that you can’t even walk tomorrow?”

“No,” you breathe, uttering each word clearly,“I want you to make me unable to sit tomorrow.”

With that, Aemond finally crashes your lips, muffling your desperate moans as he thrusts into you forcefully.

Hands pinned by his muscular arms above your head, all you can think of is the sinful slapping of your skins, his growls amidst the mind-blowing pleasure crashing your core.

As Aemond felt your walls convulse, he grinned, “Let it out, my love. Let them hear you. Let King’s Landing know that the blood of the dragon runs hot.”

With a loud cry, you reached your peak together.

As he collapsed on your body, you didn’t waste a second to roll yourself on top of him, tantalizing him with your gentle yet teasing kisses.

Bathed in the exhaustion of love-making, he held you in his arms. Silence reigned over the bed chamber, the moon light casting an ethereal glow on both of you.

“I am the happiest Targaryen ever lived,”he pressed a kiss on your forehead, “If not the only one, thanks to you, my love. Before we met, I never thought a life like this was possible. With my father’s negligence and the Dance, I convinced myself that power was my only way out. For a time, I felt I was beyond redemption,” he confessed, hands tracing your jawline.

You held him tighter, cupping his cheeks, “Aemond, you are not like that anymore. You are strong. You have become a man your father never was, a man Aegon never was,” your unwavering gaze full of conviction, “You carry people, you carry the realm, our children, you carry me.”

He planted a kiss on your cheek with a contented sigh, “You are my life.”

After a peaceful silence, Aemond hovered on you again with a mischievous glint, “Ready for round two, my queen?”

You burst in laughter, “And here you said I was the insatiable one.”

The next morning, Aemond and you, hands tangled together, sneaked into the garden with a book in hand; the fresh moments before the Small Council’s meeting have become your morning ritual, reminding you both of the liveliness of your younger days.

Your children, unknown to you, gossiped while observing you from a distance. Baelon, the most mischievous of them all, rolled his eyes and whispered, “I am glad that our parents still behave like two newlyweds, but I simply wish that they would make their methods of maintaining their youth…” he paused in suspense, “Less audible.”

Elaena giggled uncontrollably. Even Rhaegar, the ever dutiful and serious son, couldn’t help but to chuckle, “It has been a long time since the realm has seen the king and queen so fiercely in love and devoted to each other.”

Just as the siblings giggled in secret, they heard a loud thud.

“Y/N !” Aemond screamed as you fell on the ground, “Call the maesters!” He picked you up and rushed to their chamber. As the royal family gathered nervously at the bedside, the maester turned around, smiling, “Congratulations, Your Grace, the queen is with child, again.” Aemond’s eye opened in surprise and joy but quickly it was quickly replaced by concern, “Is her health strong enough for delivering another child? I do not wish to risk her life, ever.”

The maester nodded, “Her Grace’s condition is impeccable for pregnancy. It is a rare thing for a woman her age.”

Relief washed over Aemond’s face as he traced your unconscious features. Elaena, fascinated by Aemond’s devoted gaze, whispered to Rhaegar, “If my future lord husband doesn’t look at me the way father looks at mother, I don’t want him.”

Rhaegar smiled, his eyes shimmering, causing Elaena's cheeks to flush. "I have absolute faith in you, my dear," he whispered.

Ten moons went by as fast as a wheel, but your labour was not nearly as easy as the maesters had described. You screamed in agony as the maesters informed Aemond regretfully, “Your Grace, Her Grace most likely may not survive, but there might be a way for the child to survive.” Aemond's eye blazed with fury, understanding the implications behind their words, "What you speak of borders on treason! I want her, the queen. If she dies, I will have every one of your heads."

The children trembled at their father ‘s roar, they had never seen him so much in despair and anger. their innocent hearts shattered by the sight of his despair and anger. They wept, clinging to one another, seeking solace in their shared fear and sorrow.

Aemond gripped your hands, tears falling down like a torrential downpour, “Fight for me, love. You are my life. It’s all my fault, I should’ve given you the tea…. ” You manage a painful smile , “It’s not your fault, Aemond. I… I had a wonderful life. You are… you and our children are at far the best thing that has ever happened to me. I’ve never believed in destiny before, but… this is my time.”

Aemond held your hands desperately, “No, don’t you dare leave me, y/n! Don’t condemn me to an eternity of misery.”

In that moment of agony and farewell, the door to the chamber was forcefully opened.

“Rhaegar, you’re here,” You sobbed, the staggering pain muffling your words, “I thought… I thought you were at Highgarden visiting your betrothed.”

Rhaegar clasped your hands, his gaze fixed on you, “Mother, I have faith in you. Fight for us, please.”

Your boy, your first born, has grown into a fierce warrior, future protector of the realm. As you locked eyes with his violet gaze, a rush of distant memories flooded your mind, intertwining with the present moment.

The Dance had just concluded with a realm ruled by ashes, uncertainty and the Targaryen line shattered.

Where was the Prince Regent?

Pentos, in the arms of his beloved lady.

Amidst the blood-red dawn, a dragon and a swan sought refuge from violence and destruction, swirling on the shore of the Narrow Sea. Their laughter and love filled the air as if no one else existed in the world, with only the gods as witnesses to the passion of their love. Under the watchful eyes of the Seven, their bodies entwined, sealing their destiny until the end of time.

It was at that moment your first little dragon, Rhaegar, came to you.

Clinging onto the most cherished memory of your life and clenching your fists in the sheets, you let out a primal scream that seemed to reverberate through the entire Keep, pushing with a ferocity that defied your destiny, your determination burning like a flame refusing to be extinguished.

Your husband clutched you in his arms, his body seemed like an anchor to your life. Aemond gritted teeth as yours sank into his skin, his shoulder bearing the imprint of your bite, almost drawing blood. He longed to share your pain to shoulder the burden in your stead.

In a miraculous moment, you gave birth to a fragile little infant daughter. Tears streamed down your face like a river. You laid on the labour bed, trembling with both relief and agony, cried like a child while Aemond held you with all his might, “Aemond, it hurts.”

“It’s over, love. You’re so strong, so brave. I love you. I love you beyond everything,” his confession quivered, a testament of close call of losing you.

Shortly after, you drifted to slumber out of exhaustion.

Centuries later, in a scroll of healing account kept in the Citadel, the miraculous birth of Princess Daenyra Targaryen and survival of the Queen Y/N, wife of King Aemond Targaryen I, defied all reason, a baffling enigma to Westeros' maesters. Defying all signs of demise, love and hope emerged victorious even against the gods’ will.

Bedroom scene imagine

(From 1:45 makes me🤤🥰🤭）

“And a lust for life,

Keeps us alive.”

“And if I only could

I'd make a deal with God

And I'd get Him to swap our places.”

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond the kinslayer #hotd #aemond stannies #aemond one eye #aemond x y/n #aemond fanfiction #aemond x original female character #aemond x you #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x reader #aemond imagine #aemond #aemond fanart #aemond targaryen smut #aemond x fem!reader #aemond fluff #aemond targaryen x reader #prince aemond x reader #aemond smut #hotd smut #house of the dragon x reader #hotd imagine #house of the dragon aemond #aemond x targaryen! reader #Spotify

[trashmouth-richie]

the boy is mine // ziggy’s version ♡

@carolmunson prompt

♡firstly, i’m so excited about this, for the unification this could have for all of us fandom wide— hopefully there are more ideas like this in the future 💕

tw: depictions of hard times, established relationship, blue collar (?) vibes, money troubles, but you’re in love so it’s a non issue. fluffy, illusions to smut but nothing mentioned.

1.3k

the scene: a romantic night in at the trailer.

props included/mentioned (in passing or can hold bigger meaning): a throw pillow, vanilla frosting, a small notebook.

dialogue included (can be manipulated slightly if needed, can be placed in any order):- "i ran out of like, nice cups, is this okay?" - "aw, don't be like that. that's not even true."- "and you like that?"- "if you don't stop, we're gonna have a problem."

Birthdays.

Something rarely celebrated between the two of you. Even though you both agree every year would be different, every new year’s resolution—sworn to do it, but always falling short.

Until this year.

It wasn’t a pony or a working television, and still with the daily struggle of bills piling up and work slowing down— Eddie promised himself, your day would be special.

He dipped into the ‘broken window’ fund— started when some little shits tossed rocks at the “freak’s house”. It consisted of an empty pickle jar that lived in the same dark bottom cabinet holding the potatoes.

Just a few bucks, that’s all he would need until payday on friday.

The shopping basket was nearly pathetic looking as he scoured aisles for a special treat, realizing he had come up short when he needed an extra few bucks for gas.

Putting back the cake mix, the card, and a pack of twizzlers—Eddie left the store with a single can of vanilla frosting, the off brand kind.

He rushed home, hoping to still have enough time to beat you there before your shift ended at work.

Scrounging for the small notebook you got him for christmas, he flipped through the pages filled with past conversations about the pros and cons of leaving the trailer park, a forgotten list for groceries, and an even shorter list of bills that could be pushed back a few days.

He finally finds a clean sheet, clear of pen marks and gets to work. His hands flew with D&D esque inspired calligraphy, scrawling “happy birthday baby!” with a tiny jagged heart at the bottom with his initials.

A car door slams on creaky hinges and he knew you were home before even hearing your soft footsteps on the worn concrete— giving him only seconds to do a quick sniff of his pits and rake through his hair with his fingers— rings getting stuck along the way.

Your keys jingle on your finger as you lug your purse by its strap, nearly to the ground like you were walking a dog on a leash.

“There she is,”

The same cheesy charmer line he had greeted you with since you were teens meeting between classes by your locker, faces wedged almost as one to kiss as much as you could before being late. Hormones on fire.

Eddie ‘benjamin button’ Munson aged backwards, you were sure of it. Where you looked exhausted at any given hour, Eddie's puppy dog eyes grew bigger every day, not a single wrinkle on his cherub face.

“Hey babe,” you yawned with a hand covering your mouth, “did’y have a good day?”

His smile, all dimples and porcelain teeth stretched a mile wide along with his arms as you walked into them, pressing your cheek to the middle of his chest, arms slung lazy on his hips.

“Always a good day babe, never bad. And..someone, not sure who, has a birthday.”

Lifting your head his chin is dipped to you, “someone doesn’t like their birthday, Eddie— it’s a waste.”

You never had, it was never happy before Eddie— stemming from divorced parents fighting about which one should pick up the cake, and who was buying the gifts because ‘I did it last year’ which ultimately dissolved into you telling them not to worry about it because it was just another day.

“Aw don’t be like that,” Eddie frowns, “that’s not even true.”

You grumble into his shirt tossing your head further into him inhaling his scent. He kisses your hairline and strokes your back before working to remove your coat.

“Five years we’ve been together, it’s time we celebrate shit, sweetheart.”

Mumbling a drawn out ‘fiiine’ into him he tips your chin, with a curl of his forefinger, a little smirk on his lips.

“You’re really cute when you pout y’know it?”

“and you like that?”

His lips slot against yours, and you hum with content, “oh darlin’” he says with a fake southern drawl, “I love it.”

-

The tub was filled with the warmest temperature the water heater would allow— which wasn’t a lot, but still, it felt nice on your sore muscles from your shift at the same plant both Eddie and Wayne worked at, opposite shifts from you.

Eddie’s rings clacked on the plastic edge as he slid his long legs around yours into the water, sitting on the other end of the tub. He had helped you undress, hanging your coat on the back of a chair, giving you the beautiful homemade card that made tears spring to your eyes.

He followed behind you into the bathroom, running the water and putting the drain stopper into the drain before he ran back out to the kitchen returning with arms filled with stuff that he kept hidden from you until you were comfortably sitting in the cramped bathtub.

He plugged in an emerald strand of colorful christmas lights that you didn’t even know you had. It filled the cluttered countertop, weaving around the bar of soap and kitchen cup designated for holding your toothbrushes, lighting the bathroom in a cozy Christmas ambience… in April.

“We ran out of like, nice cups— is this okay?” He asked before pouring a can of Busch light into two red cups that were nabbed from Benny’s before it shut down.

Scrunching your face you move your arms from the depths of the water to reach out for his extended offering of warm beer, “when have we ever had nice cups?”

He laughed shrugging, “yeah, you’re right.”

Sitting square in front of you, long legs bent and wide open, Eddie holds up his cup in a cheers, “to you, my love, my sweet beautiful hotter than hell girl who for some reason fell for my charm, happy birthday.”

Clinking a his cup with yours you both smile before taking a swig of the cheap warm beer.

“mm, that’s nice.. what year?” you tease, never even having wine in your life.

He plays along like he always does, swirling the cup and putting the tip of his nose to the rim, “ah yes, a refined 1989 I believe— a good year for Busch I've heard.”

You both laugh until your sides ache. This is why you adored him, making a normal day special by just being him—corny, cheesy, poor— and you had never been happier.

“Oh, wait!” he exclaimed, reaching out of the tub, ribs stretching taunt against his skin, soap sliding down them.

He grabs a lighter from the counter and opens the tub of frosting. Brandishing a white waxed candle tucked behind his ear with the flair of a magician, he plants it in the center before lighting the wick and sitting down roughly in the tub, water splashing onto the floor.

The flame lit up his features, his tongue poked out in concentration, the yellow light filling his dark pudding eyes with a boyish glee, and then they met yours.

“Should I sing?”

You shake your head, happy tears stinging your eyes, “no, this is perfect,”

“Well make a wish.”

You close your eyes tight not knowing what to wish for because all you’ve ever wanted is right in front of you. Blowing out the candle you lean forward and kiss him square on the mouth, hard and deep.

The beer tipped into the tub and was long forgotten as your lips worked down his neck, wet strands of hair curled around, his arms pulling you in, making you sit on his naked lap, the frosting birthday cake sitting on the floor.

You kiss for awhile, your chest pressed into his, his hands squeezing your ass, the heel of his foot knocking the plug from the drain.

“If you don’t stop,” you mutter between kisses, “we’re gonna have a problem.”

Eddie smirks, dimples poking out, stroking your cheek thumb sweeping your swollen bit lip, “throw pillow is already on the bed, besides, I’m not afraid of a little trouble baby.”

#carols prompts #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson blurb #eddie x you #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff

[yustea]

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Paring: bf Jisung x afab reader (gn pronouns)

Summary: After a long week of stress, work and quick fucks, Y/N and Han are desperate to let off some steam. However, when Y/N comes up with the idea of incorporating Viagra in their sex life, will they be able to handle it when that desperation escalates to drug-induced, animalistic fucking?

Genre: +18 content so MDNI, bf Jisung, slight crack, wild primal smut!, tooth-rotting fluff

Word Count: 2.3k+

Warnings: switch!sub-lean!Han, switch!Y/N, unsafe!use!of!viagra!, Y/N is a MENACE, protected sex (reader has an IUD)!, intoxicated!sex!, dazed!sex!, primal!thoughts(?)!, rough!manhandling!, biting!, marking!, hair!tugging!, pussy!eating!, mutual!masturbation!, rough!fingering!, messy!, cum!eating!, riding!, doggy!style!, creampie! (wrap it before you tap it), pet!names! (babe, baby!boy!, darling, my love, baby, pretty baby), mentions of shower!sex!, possession!, crying!

Please let me know if I’ve missed anything <33

WARNING: This use and representation of Viagra is INACCURATE and UNSAFE to take. Please DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME and always THOROUGHLY RESEARCH and CONSULT WITH HEALTH PROFESSIONALS before consuming ANY TYPE OF DRUG.

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Han quizzed as he squinted at the fineprint upon the box, thoroughly underlining each section of text with a delicate finger. He glanced between the spoons, the scattered viagra pills decorating the countertop of the kitchen and you, who was dividing equal portions to two glasses. You swatted a hand, pooh-poohing his validated concern. “Babe, if I’m being honest, I could give less of a fuck right now,” you waltzed to the sink carrying the glasses and filling them up to equal levels. “It’s been ages since we’ve spiced up our sex life cause of work and other events,” you placed them on the counter, dropping two pills per cup and stirring them vigorously with a spoon. “And frankly,” you squatted down to watch them rapidly dissolve in the liquid, Han following suit. “I need a hard and rough fuck.”

A spluttered cough was sounded to your left, a smirk etching your lips as you glanced at the eruption of rouge gracing his flushed face. “Cat caught your tongue darling?” you battered your lashes, presenting him with your best seductive siren eyes. “Sh-shut up,” he choked out, playfully slapping your shoulder. You chuckled, returning your sight to the now foggy solution slowly swirling around in the glasses. “Yaayyyy, it’s done!!” you jumped up in glee, rapidly clapping your hands in excitement. Hurriedly, you passed a glass to Han, beaming at him with eagerness as he gingerly took the glass from your hand. He swallowed.

“What if something goes wrong?” Han gazed into your eyes, a frown forming as worry and unsurety splayed across his features. You cupped his cheek with a hand, gently caressing his smooth skin. “If it’s that much of an issue, we don’t have to do it,” you assured him. He leaned into your touch, a brief moment passing before he quickly shook his head. “Fuck it, we only live once,” he stated before winding your arm around his to create a love shot. A devilish grin unfurled from your lips as a mischievous glint illuminated your eyes. “That’s the spirit baby boy,” you winked at him. He rolled his eyes. “You’ll be the death of me.” A quiet chortle erupted from your mouth.

“Bottoms up my love,” you clinked glasses and with that you both downed the drinks, grimacing at the bitter after-taste. “That tasted like shit,” Han gagged, cutely wrinkling his nose as he set aside his glass. “Agreed,” your body shuddered in response to the disgusting flavour. A quiet silence enveloped the atmosphere, both of you lost in thought. “Well,” he voiced after a moment. “I guess we’ll see how long this’ll take.”

He drummed his fingers against the counter as you hummed in agreement, anticipation lacing your veins. “I think I’m going to have a shower,” you contemplated, leaning in to place a delicate peck to his cheek. You brushed against his ear. “Don’t miss me too much my love,” you murmured, gently nibbling the cartilage, teasingly pulling away before he could touch you. A frustrated smirk adorned his lips, his grip tightening against the kitchen bench. “You little tease,” he sighed as he shook his head, gaze trailing after you as you sauntered off to the bathroom, flashing him a final wink before locking the door behind you.

Not even ten minutes later cool water sprayed against your heated and tingly skin as thick globs of arousal dripped down your thighs. A primal fog of desperation clouded your logic and senses as you rapidly rubbed your clit. A loud mewl ripped from your throat in need. “J-jisung-,” you panted, now humping your hand in swift, erratic, pulsating motions. As if summoned, an urgent knock echoed the bathroom walls and a meek “B-babe?” was whimpered behind the locked door. You scrambled out of the shower, not bothering to dry off nor change. With jittery hands you unlocked the door and your world paused as your eyes feasted on the sight before you.

There, in the doorway, stood Han. You took in his bare form; gleaming sweat glistened against his rubicund complexion, strips of hair clung to his damp forehead, primaeval lust embellished his virile features as he shamelessly eyed your naked body. His chest expanded and contracted with each heave, his ligaments twitching in agitated desire. Your gaze slowly trailed his sculpted frame, admiring his lean physique and halting at the prize that stood tall and proud between his limbs. The bulbous tip was tinted in an angry crimsoned hue as dribbles of precum leaked from the slit, defining veins protruding from his long shaft. Your breath hitched as you encompassed in the view of his erected dick, your thighs clenching as lewd thoughts swam in your drug-induced mind. An audible gulp echoed as a treacle of arousal slid down your legs. You flickered your eyes back to his.

As if possessed, your mouths collided, inflicting a chaotic battle of tongues and teeth as your hands roamed each other's skin. With a bang, Han slammed the door shut, rattling the condiments on the counter and pinning you against the cool door as he continued to devour you. Choirs of breathy whines escaped your throats as desperation and impatience surged through your bodies. You harshly holstered your legs around his hips, forcing his thigh to wedge between your palpitating cunt. A jolted moan erupted from your lips at the contact, eyes rolling back as you broke the violent transit of kissing. Han dived for your exposed neck, littering bruising bites as his canines lightly pierced your skin. Your mouth gaped in a silent shriek as he continued his nimble ministrations, leaving a stream of red and warm-purple blotches in his wake as he pursued down, down, until he was level with your sopping pussy.

He inhaled deeply, basking in your alluring scent as a guttural groan resonated throughout his thorax. A carnal, possessive desire infatuated his being as he moistened his lips. “Mine,” he growled before licking rabid strips against your mound. A choked whine cascaded your vocals as he demolished your throbbing heat. You rutted your hips in sync with his beastly motions as your animalistic temperament consumed your entire consciousness. “Ji-Jisu-ng,” you gasped. He glanced up, his brown doe eyes glinting with need as his hand wandered between his legs, hissing in pleasure as he held his seeping cock. His grip on your waist tightened as he began to jack off, setting an undulated rapid pace. He thumbed his tip, earning a desperate mewl as more semen leaked from the angry slit. The vibrations of his vocals rippled against your clit, sprinkling your mind with a euphoric sensation. Your hips became hasty as you chanted his name like a mantra.

“Cl-cl-clos-e,” you breathly whined as your fingers intertwined in his sweaty locks, tugging and pulling at the roots, jolting a loud whimper from his mouth and spurring Han to fasten his motions. “M-me t-too,” he sighed, flinging his head back as he felt the surge of his impending release. He roughly pummelled two fingers into your wet heat, haphazardly scissoring you open, leaving you gaping and breathless. He began toying with your clit, mirroring his antics with the head of his shaft. You both elicited a loud moan at the stimulation, wildly humping your hips as you and Han chased your orgasms. “Go-nna c-cum!” you cried as you fell over the edge of tranquil bliss. Your juices squirted on Han’s hand and pleasure-ridden face, his own cum splattering against your quaking legs and the wooden door, painting it a creamy hue.

In an esurient daze, Han hungrily lapped at your sweet fluid, groaning as the taste flooded his searing tongue. You continued to rut against his mouth, gradually riding out your high. Deep, heavy, pants plagued the bathroom as both you and Han caught your breaths, the scents of your arousals pluming the air as need slowly began to itch at your veins once more. You felt a soft tap below your kneecap and peered down to see the quivering body of Han. Sat perched on his knees, eyes shimmering with a silent plea as his cock was still erected and vibrantly red as a meek whimper chorused his throat. “P-please,” he begged as water glistened his tear ducts. “N-need t-to f-uck you.” He snaked his arms around your waist before gently dragging you down, plonking you onto his cum coated lap, whining at the contact against his tingly skin.

Your limbs shook as you exhaustingly hoisted yourself above his pulsating shaft, drooling at the sight of his tip continuing to seep his semen. You wet your lips. “R-ready?” you horsley cooed. An eager nod was all you needed before you plunged his member deep into your slick chore. You both abruptly gasped, a lewd whine following suit at the sensation. You began to bounce, repeatedly pounding on his cock as the primal fog enveloped you with desire once more. Han’s jaw fell slack as his mouth gaped in silent, intoxicated bliss. Rugged pants reverberated across the confined space, your breaths mixing and intertwining with one another as you quickened your pace. You grazed your hand against his cheek, tilting his head as you pressed your lips against his, exchanging saliva in a sloppy, feverish kiss.

Han angled his face, devouring your mouth as he planted his heels against the smooth surface of the tiles and thrusted. Riveting bursts of pleasure raced throughout your bodies with each smack of your hips as he repeatedly struck your g-spot. Sparks flew in your vision, almost becoming palpable. His nails dug into your skin, embellishing them with crescent-shaped marks. Laboured whines and moans encircled the atmosphere as you teetered on the edge of utopia. “S-so c-clo-se!” Han panted, his pace now rabid in desperation to orgasm. “M-e t-too!” you cried as your wet heat clenched his twitching dick like a vise.

In a sudden lurch, Han flipped you onto your stomach, accidentally thumping the cabinetry in suit as a series of loud clatters tinkered against the counter, sink and ground. Without a care, Han continued to piston his hips into your sopping pussy, now in doggy-style. He gently raked his nails down your exposed nape to the curve of your ass, a lewd groan surging from his throat. “M-my p-pretty ba-by,” he whined as he ran his hand to the back of head and gave a firm tug on your damp hair. You gave a vehement mewl at the sensation, carving your palms with moon-like streaks. “C-cu-m-ming!” you squealed, clouded speckles blinding your vision as you came. Your juices plashed against his pulsating shaft as he gave a final cry before drowning your drenched cunt in his thick ropes of cum.

Filthy whimpers enveloped the room as Han continued to half-heartedly rut into your core. Your filled heat spasmed as overstimulation began to settle in your limbs as you gradually came down from your high, your sight becoming crystal. Once your breathing regulated a little, Han’s arms gave in and he collapsed on top of you, enveloping you in his embrace. He delicately brushed aside stray strands of your hair before placing a loving peck upon your forehead and slumping beside you. “Wow,” he wheezed after a moment’s pause, your chests heaving in exhaustion as you regained your bearings. With quaking limbs you sat up, gazing upon the tarnished bathroom as scatters of health-care and beauty products adorned the floor, some oozing liquid from its fractured encasement.

“We’ve fucked the bathroom,” you gruffly chuckled, wincing slightly as your throat felt like sandpaper. Han propped himself up and his eyes widened as a sheepish grin graced his flushed features. “My bad,” he grimaced before expelling in a coughing fit and laying back down on the cold tile as he closed his eyes and took deep, calming breaths. You glanced at him, a small smile gracing your lips before your eyes flitted to the cum-stained door, some of Han’s essence still dripping onto the tiled floor. “We should really clean that before it permanently discolours it,” you gestured to the ghastly evidence. Han merely hummed before you attempted to stand up, only to have your knees buckle and flop to the ground in exhaustion. A muffled laugh chorused from your side.

“Shut up,” you hissed. “This is your fault.” A small pout formed on your face as you softly slapped his arm in feign annoyance. Han only giggled more before he sat eye-level with you. “Sorry my love,” he grinned before pecking your pouty lips. He stood up with a groan, carefully dodging the fallen objects before returning with a damp towel and thoroughly wiped the edge of the door, chucking it in the bin afterward. “What about me?” you teasingly huffed, gesturing to your leaking pussy as a mixture of both your fluids trickled onto the floor. He playfully rolled his eyes, already retrieving another damp cloth before bending down and delicately wiping away the remnants of your cums. Your breath hitched at the cool touch, sucking on your lip to suppress any audible whimpers.

“You know,” you started after a pause as Han’s eyes flickered up to yours. “With how hard you fucked me, you probably broke my IUD in two.” A startled choking noise sounded from him as his skin ran a deeper crimson. You cackled at his response before cupping his rouged face in your hands, halting his motions as you caressed his warm cheeks. “My shy baby,” you cooed, planting a sweet kiss upon his lips. Your mouths moulded in sync as Han dropped the cloth and mirrored the kiss, sighing in contentment as he held you closer. You carefully broke the kiss, pulling back to admire his handsome features as he reclined into your palms. “I love you,” you whispered. A warm smile spread across his face as he leant in to peck your forehead. “I love you too,” he hummed, staring at you adoringly.

Suddenly, he stiffened. His face flushed a deeper crimson. You felt something prod your core. Han quickly glanced down. Then back at you. Your eyes widened. A bashful smirk adorned his face.

“Round two?”

A/N: Heyyyyy guys I'm backkkk!!! I've been working on this fic for a while now so I hope you all enjoyed it :)) ALSO WE REACHED 100 FOLLOWS!! I'm so happy!! I can't thank you guys enough for sticking around when I haven't been posting much, it really means a lot to me :)). Have a wonderful day/night and I hope to see y’all soon <33

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#han smut #han jisung #han jisung smut #skz smut #skz fic #skz scenarios #skz #skz x reader #skz imagines #skz han #skz jisung #jisung x reader #stray kids jisung #minho smut #bang chan smut #changbin smut #hyunjin smut #felix smut #seungmin smut #jeongin smut #kpop smut #kpop sexy #kpop fic #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids #straykids imagines #straykids hard thoughts #han hard thoughts #jisung hard hours

[soobieboobieee]

forbidden ties - kang taehyun

pairing ☆ taehyun x f. reader

warnings ☆ dom!taehyun, !stepbrother, !degradation, !unprotected sex !use of slut, pet names (hehe) princess, baby, i think that is all. (i proofread but if i missed something/ spelled something wrong oops)

word count ☆ 3.3k

my current bias wrecker lol

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

taehyun pushes you against the wall with force.

"you're such a little dirty slut." he whispers against your lips.

you feel his hands roam up and down your body before finally settling on your ass. gripping it so tight that his finger nails were digging into your skin. you take a mental note to check for marks tomorrow.

"tae, we can't." you whine.

he doesn't listen as his lips make their way to your neck. lightly sucking and nipping at your skin.

"taehyun, you can't leave a mark," you gasp.

"no promises," he smirks against your skin.

you pull his head from your neck, cupping his face. and right before you can crash your lips on to his, he speaks.

"y/n?" he smiles.

"y/n?" he says again.

"Y/N?" you jolt awake and immediately sit up.

your eyes widen as you see your stepbrother, kang taehyun. rubbing them to make sure that he is really here and you're not still dreaming.

you hate being his stepsister. especially because you keep having dreams about him. he was unreachable and you know it. but the dreams wouldn't stop. night after night, you'd only dream about his head between your thighs, or his cock inside you.

that's all you could think about, at the dinner table, watching movies, it doesn't matter where you were, he was always there in your mind. would he be rough or soft? would he call you a slut, his whore, baby? woulf he throw you around like a doll or would he softly lay you down? your thoughts are leading you farther down the road of no return. and you don't know what to do.

you're mom is the only reason you know him and no matter how much you wish it was different, she is happy. after your dad left, your mom was miserable. you didn't even recognize he. she had dark circles, lost weight, and was drinking too much.

it was a coindence that you mom met kang taehuyn's father. she was out on a bender while you stayed at your grandparents. drinking until she couldn't even walk.

he recalls there being a man that tried to take my mother home. that's when he swooped in like a prince and prtected her. fighting off the man. he let her crash in his bed while he slept on the couch, like the gentlemen he is.

and the rest is history.

you move in with the kang's when you were just a junior in high school. it was rough leaving your home and everyone you knew. althought it was only a four hour drive, it still hurt. to add onto it, you lost most of your friends due to th distance and lack of free time.

and now you have a crush on your stepbrother. taehyun is the only person you have that is your age, but you can't help to want more.

to have his hand around your throat while he is deep in your pussy. you shudder at the thought. feeling yourself start to dampen your underware.

"earth to y/n." taehyun waves his hand in front of your face, pulling you out of your thoughts.

he is sat next to you while you were thinking of him. how did you not notice the bed dip?

he is relaxed. head back against the headboard and feet up. like this is a common thing you guys do.

"sorry tae. what's up?" you blush.

"i heard you saying my name." he smirks.

you freeze.

were you moaning his name?

"oh yeah, you were in my dream." your face gets hot.

"sounded like a pretty interesting dream." he cocks his head to you.

you look into his gleaming brown eyes before turning away. smoothing out the wrinkles in your conforter.

that's when, unexpectedly, he grabs your chin and pulls your head to face him again. faces inches apart. you can nearly taste his breath.

"what was it about?" he smirks.

"umm, i don't remember," you blurt out in a hurry, "anyway, i need to get dressed!" you freak out.

pulling your face from his in a hurry. looking back down at the comforter that shields your throbbing cunt.

"okay y/n," he grins, "well your mom wanted me to tell you that breakfast is ready." he climbs off your bed in one motion.

he walks to your door in while you look up. watching his muscle in his thighs flex. wondering what it would be like to ride his thick hard thighs until you cum.

you shake th thought off and just as you were starting to get up to get ready, he stops in the doorway. you look at him with a look of confusion.

"you look so pretty moaning my name." he winks before turning around and walking off.

oh shit.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

it has been weeks since you're incident with taehyun.

and since then you have been in hell.

sneaky winks, long touches, even longer stares, he was teasing you.

you feel guilty. he is your stepbrother. what would mom say if she found out? what would happen to our family? would she hate you? she is happy again. this would break her.

but all that leaves your mind when taehyun walks out of the bathroom. shirtless. all your common sense, all the red flags, all the voices screaming no go slient.

you curse your mom for putting your rooms across from each other. you left you door open on accident wanting nothing more to curl up in bed. and now you are regretting it. it was a bad idea, given that you are currently (and desperately) lusting over him.

he has a tiny black towel wrapped around his waist. his dark brownish-black hair, dripping water doen onto his sculpted abs.

he looks like a greek god. if he was, you would worship him everyday. hell, you would worship him even if he was a normal human. but he isn't, he is your stepbrother.

when you hear his door shut, you jump. snapping back into reality.

but you can't help but feel yourself dampening. wishing for him to come fuck you like you've been dreaming of.

it is a gulity feeling. you knew that you shouldn't be feeling this but it only made you want him more.

letting your lustful thoughts, you're bring your fingers down to your panty line. sliding it down to touch yourself through the soft cloth. rubbing slow delicate circles on your aching clit.

this is when you decide to be brave, looking at his door as you rub your swollen nub. l

you know is risky but you want him to see what he is doing to you. want him to watch you as you fuck yourself.

you imagine him standing in your doorway. watching you before coming into your room and closing the door.

keeping eye contact with you as he slowly walks to you.

"you like that baby?" you nod.

"touching yourself while the door is open? where anyone could see, your mom, my dad, me?" he grins.

when he reaches you he starts slowly climbing over you. making sure to place kisses over your clothing.

you speed up your pace even more. whimpering softly as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

his face is so close to yours as you lay back.

you throw your head back with a moan, arching your back off the bed as you grind onto your hand. wishing your imagination was real.

"such a pretty girl." he whispers in your ear, "i wonder if your pussy is as pretty as you."

you purr, "taehyun."

feeling your orgasm quickly approaching, you start rubbing at an insane speed. making your wrist ache.

"gonna come?" he smirks.

"oh my god! yes tae! i'm gonna cum." you moan.

"let's see it then, princess." you hear his actual voice.

and this time you aren't imagining it.

you didn't even hear his door open, but when you open your eyes, he is standing in your door way with his arms crossed.

"keep going," he growls, "dont let me stop you."

you oblige as you keep up the pace.

arching into your hand, you feel the knot in your stomach become increasingly tight before exploding. leaving you a whimpering mess.

"fuck!" you moan.

you throw your head back in pleasure. legs spasming in result of the intense orgasim.

he laughs at you but you are too busy in your euphoric state to notice.

"keep it up," he chuckles , "maybe i will just fuck you."

before you can say anything he turns and walks away. closing your door.

oh fuck.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

with each day that passes, your need for taehyun only grows.

to be on your knees, to have him on top of you, for him to sneak into your room, it was a constant battle with yourself.

you finally snap when your parents decide to take a week long trip overseas.

it was "spare of the moment," when they bought the tickets. it was a couple's bundle, so you and taehyun are stuck at the house together.

"taehyun." you knock on his door, shaking with anticipation.

"hold on! i'm playing a game. i'll be out there is a minute." he shouts from the other side of the door.

"okay, i ordered pizza," you shout back through the door, "i'll be downstairs,"

"i'll be down in a second." he yells before cursing something to whoever he is playing with.

as you make your way downstairs you start to think about the decision you are making. your mom and his dad just left. is it a good idea to continue with your scheme?

you shake off the thoughts. no way they would come home, they were super excited for this trip.

you decide to just go along with the plan.

you are bent over the counter, playing on your phone.

your white skirt is pulled up, revealing your black lacey panties.

you are scrolling on instagram when you hear footsteps nearing.

"what kind of pizza did you or-" he stops abruptly.

"oh. it's not here yet." you look over your shoulder, trying your hardest to look innocent.

but there is nothing innocent aout your intentions.

you turn your attention back to instagram as he stands there, dumbfounded.

as you get ready to turn back around, you feel his warmth surround you. taking in his scent. he smells like colonge, which you throughly enjoy.

"what are you doing y/n?" he questions.

"oh, i'm on instagram, waiting for the pizza to get here." you smile to yourself.

"is that all?" you feel him smirk against your ear.

before you can answer, taehyun reaches his hand around you to meet your pulsating clit.

you jerk at the sudden contact.

he rubs leisurely circles on your clit. making you shiver with need.

"taehyun," you whimper.

"so needy," he remarks.

he sides your underwear to the side, running his fingers up and down your folds. listening to the lewd sounds of your arousal.

"wet already?" you feel his smirk on your neck.

"nhm" you purr.

that answer was not enough for him, you know that when he brings his left hand to your neck. making sure to squeeze it until you feel lightheaded.

"use your words princess," he groans, rubbing his hard lenth against your ass.

"please tae," you whine as he pushes two fingers in.

the strech is almost unbearable given the lenth of his fingers.

"we gotta stretch you out, you're so tight,"

he begins to move his fingers at a slow pace, making sure to completely fill you to the brim with his slender fingers.

you moan at the feeling, needing more.

"more, please," you nearly sob, barely getting it out.

he happily complies, moving at a faster pace while makin sure to curl his fingers up.

you're a moaning mess merely at his fingers, makin you wonder what it's gonna be like when he fuck you.

you feel the beginning of your orgasm sneaking up you.

the warm feeling starting in your stomach, climbing more and more as he slams his fingers into you.

you can feel your climax getting close when he withdraws his fingers.

leaving you a moaning mess, on the verge of tears.

he doesn't seem to care because he instantly asks, "are you sure you can take me?"

you nod into the his hand that is still around your neck,.

"turn around," he grabs your waist and turns you around in one swift movement.

his dark eyes glaring down into yours, making your clit pulse.

he pulls your skirt up around your waist and hoists you up onto the counter. you instinctively wrap your legs around him, pushing him closer.

he slides two fingers back into your wet cunt while using his thumb to circle your clit.

your eyes roll back at the feeling.

"tae," you beg as you throw your arms around his neck.

he whispers into your collarbore, skin vibrating at the feeling, making you even more needy than you thought you could be, "can you be a good girl for me?"

you nod profusely, "yes tae, please please fuck me,"

"fuck, do you have a condom?" taehyun moves back to look into your eyes.

"no, but i am on birth control and i am clean." you look up at him with greedy eyes.

"i am clean too," he groans, before crashing his lips onto yours.

his tongue enters your mouth forcefully. both moaning as you explore each others mouths.

when you feel his dick twitch in his pants, you get an idea.

you grab his cock and start palming it. slowly rubbing him through his pants.

"fuck, y/n. you're so hot," taehyun moans into your mouth.

you pull back, "taehyun, can i, you know," you look down at his dick and back up at him.

"can you what? use your words sweetheart," he smirks.

"can i suck your dick," you say innocently, well as innocent as you can.

he pulls you off the counter forcefully by the waist and pushes you down onto your knees.

"are you sure you can handle it?" he says as he pulls down his basketball shorts to reveal himself.

you thought he was just being cocky, but he was not lying. he is long and thick. you gawk at the sheer sight of it. wondering how and if you can fit the entire thing into your mouth.

you have no time to think when taehyun grabs the back of your head and guides you to his member.

you open your mouth and take him as deep as he can go. making sure to wrap your hands around the base of his cock.

you whirl you tongue around his cock, hollowing your cheeks.

you bob your head up and down on his cock. making sure to use your hands to stroke him.

"fuck, y/n, your mouth feels so good," he throws his head back.

you moan around his cock.

he looks down at you, while you look up at him.

"you look so pretty on your knees," he smirks as he takes your hair into a makeshift ponytail.

you continue looking up at him through your lashes when he takes control over the pace. fucking your face while tears form in your eyes.

"fuckkkk, take it like a good girl y/n," he moans, throwing his head back again.

you gag around his cock. tears streaming down your face.

this tips him over the edge and he pulls out of your mouth. he lifts you up onto the counter again and pulls your underwear down, dropping them onto the floor.

before you could even react, he pushes into you, nearly filling you to the brim.

you throw your head back at the feeling.

"tae please go slow," you whine, as he slows himself down.

filling you slowly, he moans.

he moves down to place kisses on your collarbone before whispers into it, "you got this baby. you're doing so well," he praises.

you whimper as he starts to move. you lift your head up to see his expression.

"you're so pretty, y/n," he stares down, "you have no idea how long i've wanted to do this."

he starts moving slowly.

your nails dig into his shoulders as he fills you to the brim. you're nearly in tears from the pain. you're not a virgin, but you might as well be with the way taehyun is filling you up.

"are you okay?" taehyun brings his hands from gripping the counter to you your face, cupping it.

you nod, "yes, please move,"

he moves his hands from your face to your waist, pulling you closer.

you wrap your legs around him, causing him to go even deeper. feeling him in spots that you didn't even know existed.

"you're taking me so well," taehyun groans.

he is moving in and out of you at a sluggish pace.

"taehyun," you move your hands to grab his ass and sink your nails into it, "please, please, faster,"

he pushes all the way in before picking you up and walking the both of you to the couch.

he crashes you both down on the couch.

mouth and teeth crashing in the process.

he is on top of you as you lay flat on the couch that you all have movie nights on.

"taehyun!" you gasp at the new position.

"let me hear you baby,"

you nearly scream when he picks up the pace.

hitting the spot that has you curling your toes like a ballerina.

"fuck, fuck, fuck," you sob, throwing your head back.

"you feel so good, y/n," he moans.

you feel yourself tighting around his dick. the sensation is something you have never felt before.

just as you start to feel your orgasm approach, he pulls out, again.

you whine at the feeling of emptiness and the need to desperely cum.

"flip over," he commands.

you don't have to be told twice, you flip over in record time.

you feel him strerch you out again. this time he is even deeper. hitting your g-spot everytime his enters you.

taehyun places he hands on your waist.

"fuck, is this what you wanted y/n?" he questions.

"yes," you sob.

once he got his anwser, he speeds up. slamming into you at a brutal pace.

you continue to cry out with plesure as he abuses your pussy.

he slaps your ass, "what a slut."

"fuck, fuck, taehyun!" you feel the knot in your stomach start to bulid up again.

"you like that, baby?" he taehyun groans.

"yes yes yes, please don't stop," you sob out, "i'm so close," you squeeze your eyes shut.

"about to cum all over your stepbrother's cock?" he remarks as he smacks you ass again, making sure to leave a hand mark.

when he reaches around to rub your clit, your orgasm crashes down onto you, hard.

"taehyun," you scream out, " i'm coming, i'm coming, i'm coming," you repeat yourself in a haze.

legs shaking as the orgasm rocks through you body.

"fuck, you're amazing," taehyun moans.

he is still thrusting into you, gaining speed. you sob at the overstimulation, as he starts to slam into you. chasing his own release.

"you're going to take all of his cum, y/n?" he taunts.

you nod at his question.

"shit," he moans as he spills into you, breathing heavily.

he collapses onto you as you both come down from your orgasms, making sure not to put all his body weight on you.

you're half awake when you hear him speak, "that was amazing,"

you moan in response. too high on cloud nine to think.

you both lay there for a while. taehyun is the one that has to get you up.

"come on, we need to get you cleaned up," he pleads, "y/n, you are leaking all over the couch."

"one more second, please."

that's when you both hear someone struggling with the lock.

"oh shit," you both shoot up.

"we are home!" you hear your mom yell, "our flight was can-,"

you know that she see's your underwear on the floor. taehyun and you look at each other with wide eyes.

fuck

#tomorrow x together #taehyun x reader #taehyun smut #taehyun hard hours #taehyun hard thoughts #txt smut #txt #txt hard thoughts #txt hard hours #kpop x reader #kpop smut #reader insert

[iloveaustinelvisandmannymore]

Guilty love two

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x chubby reader

Part 1, part 3.

Warning: Ausgt, Thoughts of abortion, Unrequired love?Dilf Toji, Pregnancy, Sad Megumi, Arguments, Age gap, Soft-Meanie Toji, Lovemaking, Creampie, Daddy kink, Marking, Breeding kink, Impregnation kink, Mirror sex, Spanking, bathroom sex, Protectiveness, Allusion miscarriage.

Summary: Loving Toji Fushiguro wasn't easy, especially if you weren't supposed to. You're just the babysitter and a side piece to him, your guilt finally reached its peak when Toji and his girl decided to upgrade their relationship. So with a heavy heart, you left but it seemed you couldn't escape Toji just like that.

'Well, I got what I wished for' you thought bitterly, walking into your apartment, reminiscing about your begging Toji for a baby. What were you gonna do? You sat down your purse at the coffee table and flopped onto your couch, you could always abort it but..this thing, this baby, you placed a hand on your stomach, it was a part of him. Could you go through getting rid of it? You would never have Toji the way you wanted him, so why lose something you never would get from him again? So you were still young but Toji paid you well Besides you always wanted Megumi as yours. It's decided, you were gonna keep it.

Now this begged another question. Should you tell him? Would he even care? You don't believe he would. So that answers that question, You could do this with or without his help.

The following weeks were pure hell. Your favorite food made you sick and the foods you disliked are your new favorites. And regardless of what you ate, it came back up with a revengeful fever, most mornings spent on the cool tile, by the toilet waiting for a wave of nausea to rip itself from you into the said toilet. The support from your girlfriends made it more worth it, anything you needed and wanted was put in your arms. Hangouts were filled with laughter, jokes of their 'innocent' friend was knocked up before them, and how 'motherly' you already were, you haven't smiled as much in your life. But thoughts of Megumi and Toji still plugged your mind, was Toji happy? was Megumi? Did neither of them miss you or have they erased anything that reminds them of you? You'd wasted the day if it wasn't for Asami, she was your rock when nothing else could be. She encouraged, protected, and lifted you at your lows, she became your family, and you thanked whatever or whoever was listening and watching up in the sky.

After weeks and weeks of hellish morning sickness, a mouth passed and your belly grew with a living being. You were out shopping alone when you saw Megumi well he saw you "BABA!!!" a little voice screamed, a little boy ran towards you as fast as his legs could carry him, fat tears flew off his cheeks "Megi?" you muttered as you stepped closer as the boy came closer, he immediately jumped into your chest when he got to you. Fast reflexes graced you as you caught Megumi, The boy shoved his face into your neck, his sobs jerking his small body "There you are you stupid brat!" a mean old-looking woman came forward glaring at the boy in arms, she lunged for him but you pulled back with a heated glare "Don't call him that." you hissed, "Who are you?" the older woman snapped back "I'm his rightful babysitter." you held him closer "Then take care of the little shit, it's not any skin off my back." She huffed before storming away. Oooh, you wanted to deck her straight in her wrinkled face but you didn't need to scare Megumi more than he already was.

"Wanna go home, Wanna go home," he repeated, pulling back to look at you, his eyes puffy and red. "Oh baby, I'll take you home." you gently cooed, rubbing his back "Your father must be so worried-" "No! Don't want to see him! Wanna go home with you!" he cried, holding onto you tight as if he was afraid you'd disappear "Okay, Okay. We'll go home." you kissed his forehead. It was a bit difficult to hold the sleeping boy in one arm and a bag of baby clothes, snacks, and clothes in the other but you managed. You sighed as you sat down on the couch, little Megumi sleeping on your lap, he refused to let you go. Your hand rested upon his spikey hair as you stared at your phone, Toji's contact number glaring at you. You couldn't just let him wonder where his son was, you can't do that.

You

Hey..I have Megumi at my place, he's sleeping. When he wakes up I'll bring him back.

Toji Fushiguro.

Okay. Thanks.

You turned off your phone. Wow did you honestly expect something different? Not really. You rolled your shoulders and looked at the ceiling, the sun cast an orange glow as it began to set and let the moon have its time to light up the night. Megumi started to wake up a good seventeen minutes "Baba?" he whispered as he rubbed his sleepy eyes "Hey Megumi" you smiled softly at him "It's you!." He sat up straight like he had risen from the grave and jumped up, warping his arms around your neck. "I missed you" he muttered, like it was a secret he was ashamed to say "Do you hate me now?" he asked quietly If he was talking by your ear you wouldn't have heard it. A painful ache filled your heart before going away "No, no baby I can never hate you." You pulled back so you could see his face, If the words hurt his sad face hurt worse, his eyes were glossy, and his lips quivered. "Promise?" he looked at you, pleading you to say yes "I promise." You held up your pinkie and that got a giggle out of the boy, he linked his pinkie around yours and squeezed it before hugging you again "Baba?" "Yes, Megi?" "You've gotten bigger." Ouch, that would've hurt if you weren't pregnant "Well that's what happens when a woman is pregnant." you replied "What does 'Pregnant' mean?" he moved back and got comfortable in your lap, his eyes looking at you with curiosity. "It means that she was a baby boy or girl in her belly" "You ate baby!" his eyes widened in terror "No, No. It happens when a man and a woman love each other, and with their love, a new life is created. The baby stays safely in the mom's belly until the baby is ready to come out." "Ooh," Megumi said simply, nodding like he understood. You looked at the clock it was close to his bedtime "Come, it's time to go home." You lift him off your lap "I am home." he looked at his feet "You know what I am." You said softly and took his hand, Together you walked to the place you wished you'd never see again.

You knocked on the door. A groan and footsteps were all you heard before Toji swaged out the door, he wore grey sweatpants that hung on his hips and a tight black tank top, that showed off his bulging biceps and chest more than his usual black t-shirt, and his hair was its normal messy style and his jade eyes seemed greener. His orbs traced down your body, slowly dragging his tongue across his lips to the scar. "I-I'll be goin'-" "Baba's pregnant." Megumi blurted out, Suddenly Toji's irises snapped back up to your face, "Megi, go to ya room. Now." he ordered not looking away, Megumi said a quick goodbye and then scurried off. "So You're pregnant?" he asked bluntly, an unreadable look in his eyes "Yes, I am." You looked at his shoulders, too scared to look into those green pools "How many months?" he stuffed his hands in his pockets nonchalantly "One month." you whispered "Come again?" he moved closer to you "One month." you spoke louder, neither of you spoke for a minute "It's mine?" Toji assumed simply and you nodded "Yeah.."

Toji hummed "We'll get your shit tomorrow." he walked back into the penthouse "What?" you walked in before the door closed "If you thinkin' that 'm finna let you stay, pregnant, With my baby, by yourself? Then you must've got me fucked up Babydoll." he walked into the kitchen, rummaging around in the refrigerator for a drink. You follow after him, ready to protest but he turns to you and gives you that look again. "I'm just g-gonna go umm..lie down. Now." You looked away and gulped, hurrying to his bedroom on autopilot. Why was it that easy for you to submit to him, You didn't know and you started not to care as you lay on the bed, sleep creeping it's way to you.

Toji didn't expect to see you soon again, he didn't expect you'd be pregnant, by his baby never less, but it's been a month, you decided to keep it and He may have done bad shit in the past and yeah he could be a cruel bastard but he'd never make you feel like you had to abort it or go without help. It's not like he had thought of knocking you up, to see that pregnancy glow on you, see you struggle to do things because of your soft tummy growing bigger with his son or daughter getting in the way or to feel you in his arms at night, talking to his baby and you, fast asleep. He knew you'd be a great mother and shit he knew Himari would hate knowing you were staying with him but she ain't the saint she pretends she is. He saw those little text messages between her pathetic 'boy toy' or her little brags to her envious friends about how she got him 'pussy whipped', That never failed to make Toji laugh. The little girl thinks she knows the rules of the game but Toji played this game longer than she had. Why he was gonna marry her? He didn't know and he wouldn't admit to it either. Toji took one last sip of his beer before trashing it and stood up from the couch, he yawned as he walked to his bedroom, he stopped at the entrance of the door, his eyes taking in the you-shaped lump in his bed. Toji shook his head and his scar twitched as he walked to the unoccupied space, on his way he threw his tank top and took his sweats off leaving only his black boxers on. He laid behind you and pulled you against his chest, draping his arm over your stomach.

Toji hasn't slept that well since you left.

As he had said, Toji helped you gather the things you deemed you had to have and move them into his house. Megumi was beaming ear to ear when he saw your stuff in his home, it was like his dream was coming true. It was like you were a family, eating dinner together each night, game nights it..it was like you were his mother, he always wanted that. When you left it like his world no longer had any happiness, he knew it had something to do with his dad, he saw your face the day before you left him, the pain in your face made him want to cry you shouldn't be sad! You should be happy! He was so angry at his dad, that he didn't look nor talk to him, he was the cause of his pain, and he hated him but it all went away, You were back and that's all that mattered.

You have been living with Toji and Megumi for about two months, and it has been wonderful, The days were filled with laughter and smiles, but there were ups and downs too, Himari didn't bother to hide that she didn't like that were living with him or that the baby was his. Every time she was around, her glare burned into your skull, and you could see the rage surrounding her. She wouldn't do anything, she knew you knew that because Toji wouldn't let her. And Toji..he was so soft. There were times it was just you two, you would go out to pick clothes, toys, and anything the baby could want or need, Days where you'd go to eat someplace, and just..talk. He told you about his family, the things he had done and wasn't proud of, about his first love, he confided in you. There were nights when you'd wake up, and Toji sat up on his side of the bed, looking up at the moon, he did this every time he dreamed of her, Megumi's mother. He never wanted to talk about those dreams so you'd just move closer to him, and rest your forehead against his solid back, the tense muscles relaxing from your touch, and he'd turn around, eyes meeting yours, words unspoken but seen and it always ended with the rest of the night, spent sleeping in each other's arms. He was becoming your rock and it seemed, you hoped you were becoming his.

Toji watched Himari order something off the menu of the fancy restaurant that she insisted they go to. He hadn't said a word to her since he picked her up and he didn't want, everything about her, Toji couldn't help comparing her to you. You're kind, never one to judge anybody for wearing something out of 'fashion' or saying something you didn't agree with. You knew his boundaries and you never tried to push them. You never asked for more, and were always humble and grateful for the things you get. And the way your eyes lit up when you talked about something you were passionate about or even disliked, the way he felt at peace just being in your presence.

And the way you felt in his arms, your pudgy form made him so relaxed, worries that he hid so well faded away when he held you at night. Oh how can he forget the times when he did more than just hold you, it has been a while since he had you like that but fuck. Those thick fuckin'-crush-a-mans- skull-thighs wrapped around his slim waist, his hand grippin' your neck as his hardened cock drives into your gummy pussy walls and how he loved when he'd pick you up, the worry and terror in your eyes would be quelled down as he lifts you into the air and drops you down on his length, without a waiver in his stance. Fuck he got to stop thinking about that or he'll get a boner and he didn't need Himari thinking it was for her when he didn't want to even talk to her. You were everything Himari wasn't, and he didn't love her, he never will. "It's over." he bluntly told Himari getting up from the table "What?!" she shot up, slamming her hands down on the round table, Toji put his hands in his dress pants and walked away "Is it because of that pregnant Bitch!?" She shouted gaining people's attention. Toji stopped dead in his tracks, and the whole restaurant held their baited breaths as they felt a dangerous aura coming from Toji "What? She's all that now?" Himari stormed up to Toji, who simply turned to her with cold jade eyes "I'm so-" she tried to start but the tight grip of Toji's hand on her jaw stopped her, Terror welled in her cat-like eyes as she saw the murderous glint in his irises "There's a tip, you ain't hot shit. So don't go mouthin' off on my girl, all you ever gonna be is a toy. Don't ever come around my place again unless you don't want a jaw." he let go of her jaw before he walked out and into his car, driving home.

It was you, he loved you and he was too blind to realize until now but it wasn't too late. He slammed the car door, he needed to see you, he had to tell you what he felt. The trip up the elevator was agonizingly slow, and his heartbeat pulsed within his ears. He found you looking in the mirror at yourself, turned to the side, in the master bathroom, You appeared to have just gotten out of the shower, Toji bit back a groaned at the sight of your naked body, it's been too long. "Fuck babydoll, are ya trying to kill me?" he leaned his arm again the door, his hand unbuttoning his dress shirt "Toji!" you gasped, backing away "That's not my name, doll" he stepped closer, moving on to shrugging off his suit jacket flinging both his shirt and jacket on the floor by the shower, "Daddy?" you mumbled uncertainly "Atta girl." he pulled you into his chest and his lips locking yours. Your eyes widen, his kiss had such passion and want, Was this..real? It didn't matter, your eyes closed, and your tongues swirled around each other, dancing as your lips massaged his, The scar you so longed to feel gave a rough edge but you loved it all the same. Suddenly you were pushed away, turned around, and faced the mirror, eyes lidded and lips turning a different shade, hands on the sink, You watched Toji take off his pants and underwear, the last things between you gone. His emerald orbs watched you through the mirror as he leaned down and kissed your shoulder before he whispered in your ear "I'm fallin' for you." Tears built in your eyes, words you dreamed of hearing from him became true. The tip of his cock, slid between your wet folds, coating it in a glistening essence, and catching on your entrance, which got wetter on every slide "Ready?" he asked before letting some of his saliva drop on his dick, lubricating himself with his spit "Please Daddy, need it!" you begged, wiggling your hips in an attempt to incite him enough to fuck you already. You yelped as a sharp slap met your left butt cheek, and he lined his thick cock to your core, thrusting into you, till your outer lips kissed his base. His firm chest lay against your back and his hands held onto your hips, his lips sucking on your shoulder and his eyes never strayed from your own, his hips drew back, and then snapped forward, his head bumping your cervix with every hard but slow pump, shot jolts of pleasure, Toji wasn't fucking you, no he was making love to you. You cried out when Toji moved you both back, and picked you up, your back still against his ripped chest and your knees held up by his hands, this position shows a perfect view of his cock pounding up into your messy cunt, a creamy ring formed on the base of his dick, created by your juices and his pre-cum. "Fuck! Fuccckk" you mewled, your climax became closer and closer, as Toji now used you like a fucktoy, lifting you up and down on his member, the slapping of your skin with his echoed throughout the bathroom, and the scent of sex was overwhelming "So fuckin' beautiful pregnant with my baby, should've gotten knocked you up sooner." Toji groaned, your pussyhole clenched hard at his dirty words "Hehe, like the sound of that..ahh-fuck..Does babydoll want Daddy to keep her nice and pregnant? Fuck-yeah..Gonna give Daddy a big family." he thrusted quicker, chasing both your climaxes, "'m gonna cummmmm." you babbled, a small bit of drool escaped your lips "Cum, baby." he bit your neck. Your body shook as you orgasmed, Toji grunted as his semen filled your pussy, stuffing your already full cunt. "Fuck Babydoll, careful." Toji laughed as you almost fell when he sat you down on your feet "Shut up." you smacked his abs, making him laugh more.

You both cleaned up before heading to bed, his arms held you in a sleepy embrace, and your head lay on his shoulder, with happiness and love, you fall asleep, now a happy family. Groaning, you stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom, the sudden urge to pee had taken over, you turned on the light and sat on the toilet. You sighed as you finished your business, You were washing your hands when you felt something go down your legs.

Red was all you saw when you looked down.

Bloody red, a puddle of blood.

Taglist; @xxmaddhatter39xx, @wo-ming-bai, @empresslazingway, @y8zuriha, @itsmebb, @justtatilol @wittybubble, @mac-daddy-210 @sleepyoriana,@bbg4534, @mammonlover69

#jjk toji #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji smut #toji fushiguro smut #toji x chubby reader #toji x you #toji x y/n

[jarofstyles]

Relaxation & Revelations

Helloooo. I Hope you enjoy. we're getting into the more serious part now, but it's gotttta be done don't it? 

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Warning- age gap/taboo relationship

WC- 3.3k

Previous part

____________

Y/N liked playing house with Harry.

It was a real problem, actually.

Her own apartment rarely saw her as she had been spending a lot of her time with her lover at his large, fancy and now mostly empty house. Y/N had helped Lia move in with her girlfriend, albeit a little bit fast in her opinion, she wasn’t one to judge. She was quite literally banging her father. All she could do was be supportive.

It was a weird mixed feeling in her chest. On one hand, she saw how fucked up it was. How she was betraying her trust, how she understood how it would disturb her if she had done the same- though no offense to her own, but she was safe in that aspect. It was not the best person to choose to fuck around with, but this aspect may be worse.

Falling in love with your best friend’s father is arguably worse.

Y/N knew it was going to blow up in her face at some point, but ever the optimist, she had decided to try and look at the positives and understand that whenever it came out, she would need to deal with the repercussions like an adult. Take whatever reaction there was and deal with it. It would be valid, regardless.

One of the mixed things was that Lia had caught on  about Harry seeing someone. She had wrinkled her nose and told Y/N that she had seen scratch marks on his back with no way he could cause them when she’d went to swim, that he had a hickey (that she had no idea Y/N had sucked onto his skin), and he had been noticeably happier. She had talked about how miserable he had been after the divorce, how for years he had hovered a bit because Lia had been his one focus, but she as glad that he was giving her space to breathe as an adult who was now out of college and supporting from a healthy distance.

“Y’know, I’m just happy he’s smiling again. He was whistling last time I came into his home office, ordering flowers. It’s gross because he’s my dad but cute because he deserves a second chance at love. Just like you!”

Y/N had felt both happy and guilty after that conversation.

Since moving out, Y/N had a steady drawer building in his closet. Her hair ties in a drawer in his bathroom. His room was their safe space considering Harry had built boundaries with Lia about it being his personal space when she got older, needing a room that wasn’t overrun with her stuff and a private place to breathe- just as he promised to stay out of her room. Y/N was free to lounge about his room without a care, use his giant marble bathroom to bathe and giggle with her bath bombs while Harry finished up work calls.

It was a nice little housewife roleplay. One Y/N realized could potentially be a reality if she played her cards right. Harry seemed to be just as into her, but she was still worried. He spoiled the shit out of her with his affection and newly, gifts, but she was always watching to make sure she didn’t overstep.

At some point they needed to have the dreaded ‘what are we’ talk, but right now? She really couldn’t risk messing it up. She was too happy, too comfortable with their slowly developing dynamic.

Sitting in the jacuzzi tub, the bubbles moved about as the jets massaged her back, a book in her hand as she enjoyed her bath. Harry’s bathroom was stupidly gorgeous. It had exquisite white and gray marble walls and floor, adding a touch of elegance to the room. The tub was surrounded by marble steps leading up to it, making getting in and out of the tub easy and safe, the depth of the tub something she hadn’t seen before.

The bathroom also had separate Mr & Missus sinks, each with their own marble countertops and elegant faucets. The Mr sink held a darker marble countertop, while the Missus sink had a lighter, veiny marble countertop. The sink was separated by a wide vanity mirror with those circular light bulbs to give the best possible lighting- though it was a tiny bit unforgiving, she could admit. No one needed to see pores that well. Underneath the vanities included cabinets and shelves for towels and other bathroom essentials- built in, Harry had provided. Made just for this particular bathroom, the black paint shiny and unscuffed.

The bathroom’s large shower with frosted glass entry doors also had a built-in bench. She could sit in the fucking shower! And… do other things. Harry liked that part and had shown her just how useful it could be.The space was complete with touches like gold-accented fixtures, eucalyptus hanging from the shower, monogrammed plushy white towels that probably cost more than her entire room at home, and a cozy, fluffy bathrobe hanging on the door- and he had sneakily brought one for her, too. The thought made her flustered. Harry was a very detail oriented person, and the things he could remember were slightly unsettling. He’d remembered her brand of face wash after seeing it once. One time!

Relaxing here had been a welcome part to her day after her shift. Being on her feet hadn’t done her well today, especially after being berated by entitled customers who thought that the prices were too high- as if Y/N herself made them. Being able to come here and crumble into Harry’s arms, have him wipe her pouty tears and promise her a meal after he finished his work for the day had made it significantly better.

“What’s the pretty girl reading?”

Y/N jumped, almost dropping the book into the foamy water as her heart pounded in her chest. She had been distracted and lost in thought, not hearing him enter in the slightest. “Fuck! You scared the shit out of me.” She squeaked, placing the narrowly saved book down on one of the steps outside the tub, her hand resting over her thundering heart.

“I wasn’t exactly quiet.” Harry laughed, that crooked grin making her want to sink down further into the bubbles. It was unfair that a man could be that devastatingly attractive. “Tripped over one of your shoes.”

Y/N pursed her lips together as she looked up at the ceiling, pretending she knew nothing about said shoe. “I dunno who’s shoe that could have been. Surely it wasn't mine!” Harry had warned her about it prior. Her two true bad habits were leaving her fake eyelashes on his nightstand- which he had once mistaken for a spider and squeaked, making Y/N laugh so hard she snorted- and leaving shoes in the middle of the room.

“Mm… I know I don’t own pink, fuzzy sandals.” He shot her a look. “”But I’ll forgive the discretion for a kiss.” Leaning over the foamy, rose and vanilla scented bathwater, he tilted her chin up and pressed his lips on to her own. The man took a seat on the side of the tub, Plaid trousers paired with a white button up that had the sleeves rolled up. His forearms looked particularly delicious, the vein she usually drooled over showing as he used his arm to hold himself up. Glasses sat in his hair, the reading pair not needed for seeing her face.

“Everything okay?” She chirped, looking at his tired eyes. Harry worked hard, despite having moved a lot of his days to work at home. He preferred it. As charming as he was, he was a homebody, a slight introvert. His work was better when he could stay home and focus.

“Mhm. Now it is.” He let out a sigh, taking one of her dampened hands in his own as he played with her fingers. “Had a long day of calls. Sort of takes the wind out of me. What was it you said- need to charge my what battery?” His eyes squinted as he tried to remember what she had told him a few weeks ago.

“Social battery?” An empathetic smile was given when he nodded. “I understand that. Mine too. We both have tomorrow off, though… So if you can stand seeing my mug for another day, we can sit and watch that show you wanted….” Even after a few months of this developing arrangement? Relationship? She felt a little nervous to invite herself to stay over.

Obviously, Harry did not feel the same. His face lit up at the suggestion, shaking his head at her self-dig. “I always want t’see your face.” He said seriously. “So pretty. My favorite one.” Leaning over, he playfully pinched her cheek to make her smile. “I think that’s a lovely idea. Don't really want to see anyone but you anyways.”

It was a little scary how quickly that had become true. Y/N had become his person very fast and it had happened without his permission.

It was easy with her. Once that tiny hint of awkwardness at the beginning where they didn’t know how to navigate the new development had fallen away, he found himself indulging in her. Spending more time than just the sex they had initially had. There was no way he could just simply fuck her and leave- even though he’s had to in the past- considering he’d always cared about her on at the very least, a human level. It had them planning nights away, Harry renting a hotel room for them for a night here or there, texting each other daily, even just to chat. She’s been so supportive and kind and he was fucked.

Her beaming grin nearly knocked the wind out of him, warm cheek leaning into his hand at his response. He could feel the smile against it, how she was flushed-  from more than just from the bath. Harry had that effect on her, had her smiling and blushing and he wanted to make her giggle all over again.

He always wanted to make the woman happy. More than he wanted to make her cum- and that was a fucking lot. This was a potential problem, sure, but he wasn’t about to give her up. He knew the risks that it was taking. Greatly upsetting his daughter, ruining a friendship, hurting his own relationship with her- but he just liked her so, so much.

——-

Y/N was older than Lia by 2 years, having started uni later because she wanted to work for a bit and save up some money for when she went. The girls had clicked immediately when they’d met in their third year. The first time she and Harry met, she had been polite. Sweet. Complimenting his car as she approached it with Lia, looking in interest and offering to help them both carry up her stuff into their apartment. Harry had found them both a good place and Y/N had offered to pay rent to him- but he gave her a very discounted rate. She had said she wasn’t comfortable accepting a free place which he could understand, but she was in uni. He’d feel like shit pocketing any of the money. So instead he had simply used the money to help buy them furniture when it broke, get them meals when it was a special occasion, putting it back into them.

He had seen her quite a few other times after the first meeting. She had begun to pop up all around, coming home with Lia on a break or a long weekend, going on their boat in that first summer, hanging around the house when Harry had worked more at the office. She’d become a fixture for a while. He’d enjoyed their conversations, her energy refreshing and sweet- but he hadn’t had any sort of feelings for her. Y/N had just been a kind girl that he appreciated talking to and being a good influence on his daughter. She’s been beautiful the entire time, sure. But there had been something those few months ago that had just made it all snap into place.

Last summer they hadn’t come over in a long while. Their last year of school had been hard on both of them, and he understood that they hadn’t wanted to take the trips back up to see him as often. He’d sent groceries and care packages for both of them, knowing that he had more than enough money. Y/N didn’t ask, but had become close with his daughter and had her straightened out a little bit. He wanted to treat her as well. The man had turned a blind eye to the credit card charges for clubs and bars because she had been on a straightened path for a while and her grades had improved.

Harry loved his daughter with his entire heart, but he knew that she had been a bit of a difficult friend for Y/N for a while. She had dragged her into things and made her play mother hen quite a few times. Sure, he knew she liked to have a good time out but there had been a period of time where he had gotten a few phone calls from a frantic Y/N asking if he could track Lia’s phone, or if he could see if she used the Uber account. Most of the time she had run off with a guy or girl and Harry had been apologetic those few times when Y/N had been the one to go off and find her. After the 3rd time, Harry had properly told Lia off and scolded her, letting her know that she was lucky to have a friend who cared as much for her as Y/N had and if she continued she would more than likely lose her for her own selfish actions.

Since then she had calmed- for the most part.

Having an empty home now, with Lia now moved in with her girlfriend, would have crushed Harry if it hadn’t been for Y/N. It had been different when she was at school, but knowing she left and didn’t necessarily want to come back except to visit had hurt his heart. He’d been lonely for a while, with the divorce and his daughter going away to school, but he had always counted on her coming back and staying for a while.

The man had a decent arrangement of friends, but only a few people he trusted. He was truly a homebody and kept a very tight knit inner circle, but it hadn’t been the same as having someone with him. Within arms reach. Someone who could lounge around in the living room while he worked and a face to greet him in the kitchen when he came out at lunch to grab a snack. He loved Mitch, but he knew he wouldn’t want to sit in his kitchen and make him a snack just out of the goodness of his heart like Y/N had been doing.

He also knew Mitch was going to be a bit shocked at the revelation of who he had been spending his time with lately as he sat at the bar with him- but he hadn’t expected him to choke on his beer, coughing up a storm as he grabbed at a napkin. His friend was usually calm, cool and collected, someone he thought would never be phased. Turns out, he had been wrong.

“You’ve been seeing who?” He asked once his throat was clear and his nose didn’t burn from the uptick of beer that had gone right up it.

“Y/N.” Harry said, blinking right back at him.

“As in, Y/N your daughter’s best friend? That one? Her old roommate?” He was speaking lowly and monotone, but he knew his friend. He knew he was absolutely shocked.

“Yes, her. Listen, I know it’s not ideal but it just… it happened. And I came to tell you because I’m so fucking happy but equally as terrified. Lia is going to be so upset and I don’t want that to happen, but things are getting deeper with Y/N and I finally-” he was interrupted by his friend cutting him off.

“Yes, Harry. Lia is more than likely going to be upset that her father and best friend are involved. It’s a natural thing. I’m positive she would never expect that.” He stressed. “It will be normal for her to be upset. I’d more than count on it.”

“Gee, thanks for the support.” Harry muttered, raising his glass to the words.

“No. I’m not saying that you shouldn’t be happy, H. I’m saying you need to expect that. It’s the reality of the situation. Y/N and Lia are not going to be the same but you need to ask if that’s a risk you’re willing to take.” His face softened a little bit seeing the anxiety written clearly on Harry’s features. It had been so long since he had that little light in his eyes again, and no one would want to ruin it. But he had to be a good friend. “Listen… I want you to be happy, Harry. We all do. But you need to wait and see if this is what you truly want. Don’t jump into telling her yet. In other instances I’d say honesty is the best but… If this doesn't last, if you start to get cold feet, you don’t want to cause an upheaval for no reason.”

Mitch didn’t want to doom the relationship- even though he sort of suspected he had having some sort of midlife crisis, he won’t mention it- but he wanted Harry to think and not get ahead of himself. “Have you guys talked about it yet?”

Harry squirmed slightly in discomfort, eyes falling to the glass of amber liquid in his hands. They hadn’t. It was a lot of reading between the lines. A lot of going off of emotions. He had real feelings, but what if she didn’t? What if this was just a fun fling for her? She was a twenty-something year old. Did she want to settle down? He wasn’t in a rush, but he didn’t have time for games anymore. He was grown. Did Y/N want something serious?

It had progressed over time. At first, it was a bit of dirty, naughty fun. He liked her a lot as a person and the sex had been hot and tickled a taboo part of his fantasies, but it had grown. Evolved. She stayed with him half the week, she slept in his bed, curled up in his arms as she listened to him read the news on the phone in the morning. She made him coffee and brought it to him in his office, sat in his lap while he scrolled through emails. It had gotten to the point where they didn’t even have sex every day. They’d kiss, cuddle, they’d chat, but it felt a lot like a relationship. One he had always wanted when he was younger. Far from innocent, but pure in its own form.

They needed to discuss the emotional aspects of it, but he was scared. Terrified, even, to bring it up and potentially ruin or disturb the lovely routine and vibe they had now. He didn’t want to scare her away, but Mitch was right.

He needed to know if this was real.

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[bas-writes]

nonsexual acts of intimacy ↬ head scratches

❧ inumaki toge x gn!reader | cw: aged up character, established relationship, domestic fluff ❧

It's surprising now how little is said between the two of you without any words. It's Inumaki who's bound by vows and limitations, there's nothing that forces you to adopt the same habits—and yet, you follow almost religiously. Silence has grown only natural, the sound of your voices scrunches like wet sand in your ears; not quite unpleasant but alien and unexpected. Even your own seems so out of place when you use it within your four walls. As if someone uninvited sneaked into your home and joined the conversation.

Frankly, you don't really need verbalization when everything that's needed could be read from your faces and bodies. Inumaki hasn't made a single sound but a gentle hum to announce himself when he's come back and yet, you already scoot to the side of the sofa, just enough for him to fit and enjoy some of the warmth your body left. He strays only to grab a blanket and a pack of snacks before he finally settles by your side, head in your lap.

"Rough day?" Your fingers ask, brushing strands out of his eyes. They're velvet-soft, slick and skim through your fingertips with ease, like threads of silk. It's almost unfair, for a guy who's dyed his hair since high school, if not earlier, to have it in such excellent condition. 

Inumaki's eyes smile at you through the net of little wrinkles. Out of you all, he's been touched by the passing time the least, but even his youthful appearance couldn't avoid all marks of years. Still, his weight pressed to your thighs, would suit rather a teenager than an adult man at the edge of his thirties. He's so thin…and it always worries you a little.

Again, no word or sign was exchanged, but Inumaki is smiling wider, understanding, when he opens the snack as soon as a grimace runs through your face.

"Don't worry about me," cookies crunch in his mouth. "See? I'm eating."

You indulge yourself and sink fingers deeper into his hair, shamelessly messing it. You don't have to worry about tangling it, it's too slick to tie into knots, so you reach straight for the scalp. Threading through strands, you gently scratch his skin and return his peaceful smile, blooming with appreciation for your care.

"Thank you, love," is said by a low, pleased rumble straight from his chest—the louder the closer you are to one of his favorite spots. He shamelessly presses against your hand to have them reached faster and almost pouts when you tease him and act against.

When you finally give in and curl your fingers to scratch him exactly to his liking, Inumaki visibly melts, all muscles relaxed and eyes closing in pleasure. Right now, he reminds you of a cat, arching its back for the willing hand of a favorite human. He even sounds similar—and the softness of his hair beats any feline fur you've touched so far.

"A kitty," you speak with your own voice this time, unwittingly, and far from a whisper. 

Inumaki lazily opens one eye, studies your surprised expression with a growing smirk.

"Go on," he asks through the dimples showing under the clan seal.

Or so you think at first, through the few seconds before the characteristic tingle of his cursed energy sneaks around your brain.

"You're my good kitty," you continue, embracing the soft encouragement pushing the words out of you. 

a/n: yes, I placed this drabble roughly 10 years past current manga events. dyed hair is just a silly headcanon of mine but I'd not be surprised if it was somewhat canon. don't kick me if it is, details easy escape my mind lmao

#inumaki x reader #inumaki x you #inumaki toge x reader #inumaki toge x you #inumaki x y/n #inumaki toge x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jjk x y/n #bas writes #jjk #inumaki toge #gender neutral reader

[nastybuckybarnes]

Riding Lessons

Pairing: Dbf!Bucky X Reader

Summary: You’ve just passed your knowledge test and now you need someone to teach you how to ride. Who better than your dad’s best friend? 

Warnings: Language, Fluff, Smut, Age Gap (Reader is 21, Bucky is mid-forties),

Word Count: 3.8K

A/n: I have a new obsession and it’s dbf!bucky. Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy this and I love you all very much!

~*~

You straddle the bike, feet planted firmly on the ground as your hands grip the handlebars.

“It’s heavier than I thought!” You tell your dad with an excited grin.

He only chuckles and pats your right hand.

“Yeah, it’ll take some getting used to.”

“Hey, Kid, be careful on that. Don't want you to hurt yourself,” A new, cockier voice says.

You hold back a shiver and an eye-roll as Bucky emerges from your house, a bottle of beer in hand.

“She just passed her knowledge test,” your dad says proudly, a smile on his face. You grin right back at him and nod, your eyes flickering to his best friend for just a moment.

“Now I just need to get in some practice with a good teacher.”

Your dad nods before his face lights up, and you can almost see the lightbulb over his head.

“Maybe Bucky could teach you how to ride!” He suggests, an innocent smile on his face.

Your bottom lip immediately goes between your teeth at the innuendo and you look over at the huge tattooed brunet whose eyes are now focused on you.

His steel-blue eyes get dark as he imagines you riding not only his bike, but his cock, too.

“Yeah, I could give you some lessons if you want, Kid. Can’t promise I’ll be the best teacher, but I’ll give it a shot,” he says after a moment, watching you lick your lips.

His nickname for you is a constant reminder that your crush is just that: a crush. Never to be more than a dream.

And, although being near him is hard enough to do without your panties getting wet, he’s been riding for almost thirty years. Where else are you gonna find a better -and cheaper- teacher?

“Sure, that’d be great, Bucky. Thanks.”

He nods, “it’s gonna cost you, though. Each lesson I expect a case of beer, yeah? Maybe a pizza, too.”

You roll your eyes but nod nonetheless.

“Can we get started now? I wanna be able to ride before the summer’s over.”

He swallows hard before answering, his wicked brain once again conjuring up images of you naked on his lap, bouncing on his cock. Those perfect tits in his face and that tight-

“Yeah, I, uh, I’m not doing anything later. I could swing by with one of my bikes, show you the ropes and whatnot,” he offers, shifting his weight to try and hide his growing erection.

“That’d be amazing! Thank you so much!” The excitement in your eyes does little to stop his swelling cock, but, thankfully, your father grabs your attention before you can notice the tent in his pants.

“Mark got tickets to the hockey game tonight, but you know you’re always welcome here, Buck. It’s not too late for you to change your mind about coming with me,” your dad says, already knowing the answer.

Hockey isn’t Bucky’s favourite sport, and he’s got much better plans for tonight.

He wrinkles his nose and shakes his head, “no thanks. Tell the guys I say ‘hi’, though. And make sure you invite them to the barbecue, yeah?”

Your dad nods easily then heads inside the house, leaving you alone in the garage with Bucky.

Nervous winds give life beneath the wings of the butterflies in your stomach, and you nibble on your bottom lip.

“I’ll probably swing by around six. I expect a pizza and a pack of beer to be waiting, got it?”

You raise your eyebrows at him, “you’re gonna drink and teach me to drive?”

He chuckles and takes a step toward you, towering over you and looking into your eyes, “honey, I’m a grown man. A beer or two isn’t gonna put me over the limit. Besides, you’re not gonna be riding that thing fully today, anyway. Maybe you’ll make it out of the driveway, but I doubt it.”

You frown but nod, slightly intimidated by the man in front of you.

He slowly takes a step around you, taking a subtle inhale and holding back a groan at the sweet scent of raspberries wafting from your skin.

He walks over to his restored Camaro and slides in, giving you a raise of his fingers in farewell, before peeling out of the driveway and out of sight.

~*~

You spend the next several hours worrying about your lesson with Bucky.

You’ve only had a crush on the man for years, and now you’re getting to be alone with him. You’re not sure if you should swoon or combust.

The second option is definitely looking more appealing when you hear him pull up to your house, his bike rumbling.

With a deep breath and a final fix of your hair, you venture downstairs and outside, grabbing the pizza and beer on the way.

“Hey, Kid. I see you brought my payment,” Bucky says, a grin on his face when he sees you.

You smile, trying your best not to be shy but he makes it so hard.

His huge body takes up so much space in the garage, thick thighs straddling a Ducati.

“Yeah, hope you don’t get too carried away before actually teaching me, though,” you tease, setting everything down on one of the tables against the wall.

He only chuckles and kicks down the kickstand, then gets off of his bike to grab a beer.

“First I want you to tell me where the throttle is,” he says, popping the cap off with his belt buckle then bringing it to his lips.

You watch, entranced, as his pink lips wrap around the bottle. A drop of liquid trickles from the corner of his mouth down his chin, and you follow it with your eyes as it trails down his neck and then disappears beneath the collar of his shirt.

Bucky watches you as you stare at him, and he can’t help the pride that blooms in his chest when you pull your bottom lip into your mouth.

Slowly, he lowers the bottle and wipes the drop up, then takes a step toward you.

“C’mon, sweetheart. You gonna show me what you know?”

His voice snaps you back to the present and you raise your eyes to his, embarrassment filling you as you realize he caught you staring.

“Uh, the throttle is here,” you whisper, walking over to your bike and touching the right handlebar.

“Perfect. How do you get on a bike? Show me.” He could just ask you to explain it, but he wants to see you straddle the bike.

You walk to the left side then step over the seat, your hands coming to rest on the handlebars instinctively.

“Nice. Now, where is the rear brake?” He asks, stepping closer to the front of the bike to watch as you point just in front of the right footpeg.

“Now, front brake?”

Your fingers lightly graze the lever on the handlebar in front of the throttle.

“Gear shift and clutch?”

You point to the pedal in front of the left footpeg, then the lever behind the left handlebar.

“Look at you go. Where’s the kill switch?”

Your fingers dance over the button beside the right handlebar and he nods proudly.

“Very nice. Okay, I want you to kick the kickstand up and then just stand there, balance the weight of the bike, okay? That’s a big thing is getting used to how it feels to have something so big between your legs.”

Your core dampens at his words and your gaze drops to his crotch for just a moment before you do as instructed.

The bike is heavy between your legs, and you plant your feet to try and maintain control.

“Just like that, good girl.” It slips through his lips before he can stop it and you instantly melt into a puddle of arousal.

The bike wobbles and Bucky steps forward, grabbing the handlebars to stop it from toppling and taking you with it.

“Easy there,” he murmurs, his hands covering yours and squeezing as he steadies the machine.

You regain your strength and nod, holding the bike tighter.

“So now just walk it back and forth, okay? I’m gonna move with you until you get comfortable with the weight.”

You nod then take a deep breath and push the bike forward slowly.

Each step is small and wobbly, but after a few minutes, you start to get the hang of it.

“Okay, honey, I’m gonna step away so you can really feel it. I’ll be right beside you though.”

You nod and watch as he steps aside, slowly pushing forward and back again.

You give him an excited smile and he grins right back.

“Now start her up! You’ll be good in neutral, then I'll show you how to kick it into gear.”

You start the bike and it rumbles to life beneath you, the vibration shaking you slightly.

“Now, pull in the clutch and kick down on the gearshift into first gear.”

You do exactly that, keeping a firm grip on the clutch.

“Slowly let go of the clutch. Don’t give it any throttle yet,” he instructs, stepping beside you as you follow his directions.

The bike creeps forward and you instinctively squeeze the clutch again, squealing when you teeter away from him.

Bucky lunges forward, one arm coming across your legs to grab the side of the bike while the other grabs you, his hand resting half on your ass, half on your back.

He looks up at you to make sure you’re okay, but you can’t breathe.

He’s looking at you through his lashes, lips parted and pupils wide.

“Don’t let it scare you,” he teases softly, slowly rising up to his full height. His hand moves from the bike to your thigh while the other hand stays on your back, and you need to crane your neck to look at him.

He watches you as you lean your head back to look at him and he can’t help but wonder what your pretty face would look like if he were to spit on it right now.

Or cum on it.

God, he knows you'd look so pretty all covered in his cum, mascara running down your cheeks.

He wants to grab your face and shove his cock in your mouth.

Your innocent eyes look up at him, lashes fluttering, and it takes everything in him not to stroke your lips with his thumb.

He looks so intimidating from here. So tall and big and- your eyes drop down to his crotch only to widen comically.

Hard.

He’s hard.

And he’s fucking huge.

Your eyes dart back up to his and he has to hold back a chuckle at the wonder written across your face.

So many nasty thoughts swim through his mind. There are a thousand things he wants to say and none of them are appropriate given the fact that you’re his best friend’s daughter.

Instead, he takes a slow step back, then another, then walks to the table along the wall to grab another beer.

“We’re gonna try something a little bit different now, okay?”

You nod, even though he can’t see you.

He walks back to you and steps over the back of your bike, straddling it and nudging you forward a bit until you’re as far forward as you can comfortably sit.

“Okay, I’m gonna explain everything, and you’re just gonna do what I say.”

A shiver races down your spine and all he wants to do is grab a handful of your hair and fuck you until you’re crying.

You nod, like the obedient little girl he knows you are, and a grin grows on his face.

“Ease up on the clutch again. We’re gonna walk in a little circle. I’ve got you, honey.” He’s one hundred percent doing this on purpose now, but he doesn't care.

The way you looked at him after seeing his erection is enough for him to know you’re not exactly opposed to whatever’s happening.

You ease up on the clutch and try to focus on the machine beneath you, not the heat radiating off of the man behind you. The man who now has one hand resting on your waist while the other holds his beer.

You pull forward slowly, then push on the right handlebar slightly, a jolt of excitement going through you as you move to the left.

“There you go, baby, just like that,” he whispers, his breath dusting over the back of your neck.

You clench your thighs around the bike, desperate for some friction against your dripping core.

You do another turn slowly but surely, walking your feet alongside the bike, and the hand on your waist gives you a squeeze.

“Fuck, you’re doing so well for me, sweetheart.”

You squeeze the clutch and the brake hard, clenching your hands into as tight of fists as you can manage, and you lurch forward, your heart racing as your core throbs.

The sudden stop surprises Bucky, and he bumps into you harder than anticipated, sending his beer spilling across your shirt.

You gasp, arching away from the cold liquid.

“Sorry, kid. Here, put it back in neutral and shut it down. I think we can call it a night. I’ll help you clean up.” Is he hoping he’ll be able to catch a glimpse of you in just your bra? Absolutely. Is he ashamed? Not as much as he should be.

You do as instructed, waiting until after he gets up to move because you’re sure you’ll leave a wet spot on the seat.

You only get up when his back is turned, and then you wipe the seat quickly.

“You coming?”

Your eyes dart to his and, judging based on the knowing grin on his face, you weren’t as discrete as you thought you were.

“Y-yeah.”

You follow him into the house, closing the garage door tightly behind you.

He leads the way to the laundry room and you slowly follow, your heart racing at all the different dirty thoughts swirling through your mind.

He waits in the doorway while you step into the cool room, your back to him as you take a deep breath.

This is it. This is where a line is crossed and your relationship with your dad’s best friend will change.

You pull your wet shirt over your head and toss it into the washing machine, turning to look at the older man.

He stares at you, his dark eyes focused on your chest.

“Looks like I spilled a little on there, too,” he murmurs, his eyes slowly finding yours.

You hold his gaze as you unclasp your bra and let it drop to the floor, your breasts bare and your nipples hard.

Slowly, he steps forward, his eyes never leaving yours as he approaches.

You tilt your head back when he comes to a stop in front of you, your chest rising and falling rapidly with your quick breaths.

“That’s better. Doesn’t it feel nice to be out of those sticky wet clothes?” He asks softly, his fingers lightly dusting over your sides.

Goosebumps rise on your skin and you nod, unable to form a sentence.

“You’ve got a little bit here, though. Don’t want it to stick.” He drops his head down, warm tongue darting out to lick up a drop of beer that found your skin.

A gasp leaves your mouth and your hands come up instinctively to grab his shoulders.

Taking that as a green light, the big man in front of you grabs you by the waist and hoists you up, dropping his hold to your hips when you wrap your legs around his waist.

His erection presses against your core and you can’t help but moan softly in his ear at the feeling of it.

He sits you on top of the washing machine and forces his way between your legs, holding your chin with one hand and forcing you to look at him.

Your eyes are hooded and you swear if he doesn’t touch you soon you’re going to explode.

“Do you want something, pretty girl?” He asks, pink lips pulled into a smile when you nod.

“Ask for it then, be a big girl.”

You lean your forehead against his chest and whine. You can’t help but feel tiny before him.

“Please, Bucky. I want you to touch me.”

Your words go straight to his cock and he can’t do anything to stop himself from doing exactly what you want.

One of his hands finds your breast, toying with your nipple while the other hand dips into your pants with practiced ease.

“Jesus, you’re soaked, sweetheart. Is this all for me, babygirl?” He already knows the answer, but seeing you all flustered is adorable and makes him want to fuck you even more.

“Yeah,” you whisper, pulling back to look up at him as he slides a finger inside of you.

He doesn’t have much room to work within the confines of your pants, but he makes do with what he has, one finger massaging your g-spot while another rubs your clit.

“O-oh! Like that, fuck... just like that...” your mouth drops open in a silent moan and he grins.

He leans forward and wraps his mouth around your other nipple and you toss your head back, arching your back and further pushing your chest into his mouth.

“Please... I’m gonna cum...”

He continues his assault on your young body, watching through dark eyes as you fall apart because of him, as your tight young cunt clenches around his fingers and fuck, he can’t wait to get his cock in you.

The front door opens and you hear your dad’s voice call out to you, making your eyes widen.

Bucky doesn't stop. He doesn’t even slow down.

No, he keeps his hand between your legs, determined to make you cum whether your dad finds out or not.

“You’d better answer him, sweetheart,” he whispers around your nipple, his teeth scraping against the bud.

You whimper softly and nod, bucking your hips into his hand as he continues working you closer and closer to that edge.

“I-I’m just grabbing a shirt!” You call, your voice faltering when Bucky bites your nipple roughly.

“Is Bucky still here?”

You bite your lip to try and hold back a moan as the coil in your belly tightens almost to the point of snapping.

“Answer him,” the man whispers from between your legs, scraping his teeth up your neck.

“Uh, yeah... somewhere,” you call, brows drawing together as you feel it coming.

“Okay. I’m gonna get changed, I’ll be back down in a minute.”

“O-Okay.”

Bucky licks your cheek then holds your throat, squeezing just hard enough to cut off your air.

Your mouth drops open in a silent scream of pleasure and he grins, feeling your walls clamp down around his fingers.

“There you go, there’s my good girl. Such a good girl, cumming for me like that,” he whispers against your skin, peppering kisses wherever he can reach as he fucks you through your climax.

Finally, he releases your throat and pulls his fingers from between your legs, and you suck in a huge breath, body like jell-o as he licks his fingers.

“Find a shirt then come on out, I’m sure your old man wants to know how good you were for me,” he whispers, grabbing a handful of your hair and tugging your head back.

He plants a sloppy, erotic kiss on your mouth, then steps away from you and leaves the laundry room, fixing his erection on the way.

You stay there, panting on the washing machine for a long while before slowly climbing down on shaky legs.

You find a shirt and yank it over your head, then venture out to find your dad and Bucky.

The two of them are in the living room, sharing the pizza and some beer.

You take a seat next to Bucky, your thighs still shaking a bit, and smile at your dad.

“So how was the lesson?” He asks around a mouthful of food.

“It was good. He’s a good teacher.” You try to keep your voice level, you really do, but it’s hard to act normal while you recover from the most intense orgasm of your life.

“Nah, she’s just a good listener, picks up on things quickly. Real good at doing what she’s told.” Bucky’s hand squeezes your thigh and your dad nods, hardly paying attention.

“How was the game?” With those three words, Bucky has your dad launching into a detailed story of the hockey game. Thoroughly distracted, your dad doesn't notice when his best friend slips his hand higher on your leg to cup your mound.

You cross your legs and bite your bottom lip, hoping he doesn't notice anything.

When Bucky gets a little too daring, you stand up.

“I uh, I’m gonna go to bed. Thank you, Bucky, for the lesson.”

He nods, dark eyes on yours and filled with something that looks a little intimidating.

“Of course. If you’re free tomorrow night, maybe we can actually get you on the road, show you how it feels to actually ride.”

You swallow hard and nod, unable to look away.

“Goodnight, kiddo. I’ll see you in the morning.”

You turn without another word and race up the stairs as fast as your shaking legs can manage, your core throbbing with each step.

You try to fall asleep, you really do, but you can’t get the image of him out of your mind. Even when your fingers dip into your panties to try and alleviate the tingling between your thighs, nothing helps.

Now that you’ve had a taste of him, you know nothing will ever feel as good.

“I didn't tell you to leave,” his voice suddenly whispers from the doorway.

You snap your gaze over to him and yank your hand from between your thighs, your heart racing at the intrusion.

He steps into your room and shuts the door softly behind himself, his eyes dark and his cock straining in his pants.

“M-my dad-”

“Is asleep. Knocked on his ass from all that beer. It’s just you and me, babygirl. And I plan on finishing what we started.”

You swallow hard and scoot back on your bed as he approaches, his eyes focused on your face.

“Now, someone was a bad girl and left before I told her she could. Do you have anything you wanna say for yourself?” His hand comes up to hold your face, squeezing your cheeks and forcing your lips to pucker.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, eyes wide and focused on his.

He nods, eyeing you closely, and then he pushes your mouth open further and spits in it.

“I don’t think you are, not yet. But you will be. I’m gonna show you what happens when you don’t let me have what’s mine.”

#bucky x reader #dbf!bucky x reader #dads best friend!bucky x reader #bucky x young!reader #bucky x innocent!reader #Bucky Barnes x reader #bucky x reader smut #bucky smut #Bucky Barnes smut #bucky x you #bucky/reader #bucky/you #bucky x reader lemon #bucky/reader lemon #lemon #smut #marvel smut

[lokativa]

People calling Hobie×Miles (punkflower) shippers proshippers as if we didn't ship them for longer than the movie even came out will always be crazy to me.

I've seen lots of people sending threats, or reporting people because they made punkflower, goldenflower (pavxhobie), ghostbyte (gwenxmargo), flowerbyte (margoxmiles), etc, arts or videos. Going to assume that it isn't because most of these ships are POCs ships, there's just literally no point to do that.

First of all, there's no confirmation of hobie's age. If ur basing urself of that one interview, then it was of the CONCEPT of hobie, and even so remember it was only one person who said it. Its heavily implied thats he's a teenager throughout the movie. (Also in the art book, its said that he's slightly older than Miles).

For the thing about him going to the pub and all, minors can and will go in pubs, (not saying that its always legal) are yall living under a rock or just dense on purpose? Teenagers do wtv the fuck they want, even when theyre not allowed to. Youre all going to tell me teenagers respect the rules of not drinking and go to clubs becuz theyre underage? Come off it. Also hobie literally merked his president and u think he'd draw the line at drinking alcohol as a minor? HA.

Aside from that, to be fair to everyone, the directors keeps on changing what they're saying about hobies age, one day they'll say and imply he's a minor and the next second say he's an adult. It's like they all have different idea of this character's age. So, nothing is really comfimed, and his age is really up to interpretation.

Now that we're past THAT point, the other kind of people talking about his age are people saying "oh but he looks old" "that man is most definitely 30yo" "there's no way he's underage" things of the sort, u get it. And I'm just over here like??? Why is it impossible for you to think that this guy could be a teen? Is it the air? The wrinkles? What makes it seem like for you that there's no way he could be around the other teens' age? And 30??? Cmon. People often assume black people are older than they look, which is a universal experience for all of us. Did none of u ever see a blk teen who doesnt have a baby face? Because thats literally what hobie looks like to me. To others we can seem too "mature" for our age, or just look too "old" to be the age we say we are, so is it really impossible for him to be a teenager? Think about it.

(Speaking of him being black, this discourse turned into some kind of racist thing that honestly was not unexpected at all. Yall come over here shitting on people talking and educating u about a character they relate to cuz hes like them, and the representation is making them go bonkers. I don't know why yall can just sit ur arses and listen for a bit, its not that difficult tbh. And dont get me started on the mischaracterisation of his character. Marking him as "an angry black man"? Really? Be. Fucking. Original.)

Same goes with Margo?? Yeah in the comics she's in college, but cmon now u guys know damn well she's a teenager in atsv😭. Gwen is also much older in the comics but i never see anyone talk about it, so what does that mean???The only reasons I can see that you all don't want Miles & margo to be together is because you're all stuck on the milesxgwen ship. News everyone, other ships exist, not everyone is going to like the same ships as you, so either move on or stop being on the Internet.

Also, the thing about pav being 13 is bonkers, where'd u even get that from? I need to know asap. "Oh, but he has a gf!" Yeah? Well he has two hands. (Idk why u all act as if that has ever stopped anyone)

Everything just seem like a race thing to me tbh.

The movies might be inspired from the comics, but not everything is going to be 100% the same. For exemple: gwen is 2 yrs older than Miles in the comics, but in movies she's only 15 months older, Jess Drew is white in the comics and black in the movie, Miguel O'hara is white passing in the comics, compared to his version in atsv where he has brown skin, lyla's disign is also different.

You get it? Things are going to differ as much as things are going to be the same, because (get ready!!) this is the multiverse! Just as earth-616 is just one universe in all the marvel comics, atsv is another universe.

All in all, im not saying u can't view them as adults, or wtv u want, thats ur interpretation, but don't go around being pissy at people around u cuz they have different point of views.

#accross the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #hobie spiderverse #spider punk #hobie atsv #hobie brown #miles morales #gwen stacy #pavitr prabhakar #margo kess #spiderman #spiderman atsv #atsv #punkflower #ghostbyte #chaipunk #goldenpunk #chaiflower #goldenflower #discourse #honestly the movie was a vine just enjoy it

[kivino]

KIVI, YOU SWEET ANGEL YOU.

can you write a price x gn!paramedic!reader where price is on leave, and maybe he gets into a car accident that isn’t too bad so he refuses to go to the hospital, but the cute paramedic keeps insisting on at least checking him out in the ambulance……….. 😋

DOUBLE VISION || JOHN 'BRAVO 0-6' PRICE X PARAMEDIC!GN!READER

Word counter – ~1.9k

Tags/Warnings – mentions of car crash, intoxication, medical examinations, fluff, first meeting, and lack of medical professionalism, lmao.

A/n – PLSS I HOPE YOU LIKE IT POOKIE, IT TOOK ME A HOT MINUTE TO GET TO THE REQUEST I’M SORRY MWAH. also credits for the name go to @mockerycrow as well, they’re a genious and have the biggest brain out of the two of us.

ao3 link for this fic

It’s always a slow process for John - getting used to the slow, civilian ways when he finally gets his leaves approved. When he spends so much time on the field, more often than not he starts to forget about “the other side” of life. Lack of noise, mundane mornings, and silent nights come and with them, the all-encompassing feeling of loneliness starts to set in his gut. John gets reminded about the lack of anyone’s presence in his life. No one is waiting for him back home, and no one will probably be any time soon, with how work takes over most of his free time. And then the captain remembers he’s not getting any younger.

Of course, he had plenty of experience and relationships before, but none of them lasted until now when his hair was already graying and wrinkles were starting to riddle his face here and there. John wasn’t insecure about his age, no, because that would be foolish, really, rather it was the fact that he had no one to share with all the years that were ahead of him.

What John also had a hard time getting used to was driving the busy streets of London with its crazy drivers after months of not getting behind the wheel, which brings him to this moment. Well, it really was on him for trying to get somewhere after happy hour in all the pubs in the area ended, he should’ve probably anticipated some drunk idiot would want to drive back home today. John wasn’t in the right headspace at the moment to fill out all the paperwork and figure out who was in the wrong. His thoughts were far away from here. Probably all the impact from the airbag and the hit.

He’s had it worse before, of course, so some bruises and scratches here and there wasn’t something he couldn’t handle. John felt some pulsing pain in his knee, making it harder to stand upright, and a bit of an ache in his neck from the whiplash, but again, it wasn’t as bad as getting thrown into the wall by an explosion or falling out of a damn helicopter.

So now he has to spend the whole evening working out things with the police and that drunk idiot who bumped into him, freezing his ass off in the rain. Just perfect. John feels a surge of annoyance and exhaustion wash over him, he pinches his brow, letting out an impatient sigh. Cops have arrived on the scene already and started examining the two collided vehicles, after putting around some traffic cones so some other lucky fellas don’t decide to join in on the fun. From his spot on the sidewalk, John can also see the paramedics, who had to get involved because as soon as cops started questioning that drunk guy, he decided to scrunch into himself and show the world all the contents of his stomach. As if it needed to get even more complicated than it already was.

“Excuse me, sir? You’re the other…driver involved in the accident?” John suddenly hears a voice, a bit on the quiet side, which brings him out of his thoughts that involve strangling somebody in a variety of different ways. And oh, his nights instantly become tens, if not thousands of times better when he sees the owner of said voice.

Judging by the identifying markings you were a paramedic, and a very cute one at that, with your dull green uniform and a big jacket on, brows tied together in a concerned expression. Oh, and your eyes, they looked absolutely lovely in the low streetlights. Price is taken aback for the moment, forgetting every word in his vocabulary. He feels his heart starting to beat faster, blood flowing through his veins so fast he’s sure if it wasn’t for the evening darkness he’d most likely resemble a tomato. But then John realizes he must say something because just staring at you would just make him seem like some old creep. And he absolutely didn’t want that.

“Yes, that would be me.” He speaks up after clearing his throat. You nod to that, attentive gaze still on him. John then adds on after a short pause, which took him to let out a deep sigh. “You need me for anything?” Anything. Something. Please.

“Just checking up.” John feels his heart melt at that small smile that grazes your lips, making it obvious you’re satisfied with his answer. “You seem to be holding up better than the other driver.” You joke in an attempt to either lighten up the mood, which John appreciates, or to calm yourself a bit. It didn’t escape him how you seemed a little shaky. It was Friday night, so today’s shift might have been rough on you. Always the Friday nights.

“Well, anyone would hold up better than that bloke.” He jokes with a bit of abandon, a low chuckle escaping his lips, as he starts to overthink himself. John suddenly feels like a dumb teenager, which is never a good sign, especially when there is someone he’s interested in right in front of him. Price feels like his laugh is too rough, stance is too relaxed and everything is just a bit too much when your eyes are on him. Oh, he’s so going to embarrass himself.

“True, but let’s not tell him that.” You give a quiet laugh and John’s worries die down a little. Not completely, but enough to let his eyes get glued to your face. “How are you feeling? Is there any abnormal pain, anything unusual or out of the ordinary?” Oh, so you’re the type to get straight to business, huh? Interesting. Price liked that. “If there’s anything wrong we’ll get you right to the hospital.” Price declined when he got asked about the hospital before by another paramedic because there was no way he was going to spend even more time out of his house because of some minor scratches. But if it meant you’ll be there, he’s calling dibs on the seat beside you in the ambulance truck, dear lord.

“My knee’s complaining a bit, love.” John can see your eyes going as big as two shiny coins when you hear that pet name, which, to be fair, slipped out completely unintentionally. However, by the way you instantly light up in another shy smile, he can tell you don’t really mind it, so his nervousness caused by this… “happy accident”, comes down again. “Some bruises, but I’m not about to hold you up because of those.”

“Oh, well, that’s alright, come with me and I can check you out…” You stutter over your words while talking a bit too quickly and once you understand what you said, an annoyed groan comes out of you. Way to embarrass yourself. “I mean, check your knee out in the ambulance, alright?” You again shoot him a smile. Which probably is in vain, since he’s a patient at the moment, and you’re at work, and that’s very much frowned upon, but what can you do? You don’t meet a man like that everywhere. He looks a bit rough around the edges, but that’s part of the charm.

“I’m sure your hands are already full with that hero of the day over there, I’m good.” What. The fuck. Are you doing. John. The only chance he gets to talk to you and he’s blowing it, for fuck’s sake. He didn’t know why he said that. Maybe not to seem desperate in a very self-sabotaging way, but that’s just. Oh, John, you’re too old for playing some damn games with someone you like.

“You know what? I insist.” Your voice is lower and rougher. And when you top it off with another one of your sweet smiles and a gentle touch on his shoulder? John is a gone man. Turning into a much, a putty, if you will. God, for this perfect smile he was ready to smash and repair every single house appliance and pipe in your house.

“Alright then. Anything for you, love, lead the way.” And you did, with your hand resting softly on his back, helping him forward. John wished you would’ve been bolded with your touch, so he could feel more than just a light graze, but still. It felt good.

And then he finds himself in the back of the ambulance truck, this cramped, tiny space making him hold his breath from being so goddamn nervous in your presence. You told him to take a seat while rummaging through some cabinets and various medical bags for something. Seemingly not finding anything that you needed you spoke up to him again.

“Okay, now let me see your knee, sir.” You mumbled while kneeling in front of him, your eyes concentrated on the man. He didn’t mind you calling him sir at all. John was so used to being called that, but right now it just spread that very pleasant warm feeling inside of him.

“Well, I’m not taking my pants off. Not without a dinner first.” Price chuckled, as he tried rolling up one of his pants legs. And, well, his statement wasn’t that far from the truth. The whole deal with examination was a bit awkward to begin with, so he didn’t want to make it even worse.

“I’ll think about it, big guy.” You chuckle, as you finally start looking at his knee, small, feather-light touches sending sparks over Price’s skin. So, you enjoyed teasing him like that, huh? In combination with that nice, sweet smile? Oh, John is sold. He definitely should you invite somewhere while he still has time on his leave. But before he can open his mouth to make a brave offer you speak up again. “Looks like you have a minor sprain in here, your knee’s all swollen. I’ll apply some elastic bandages, that you’re going to have to wear for some time and redo yourself. But overall you seem to be doing good” Price couldn’t help but feel like that last remark wasn’t about his health.

“Yeah. Yeah. That’s all fine with me, love. Do what you have to.” You only nod in response, spending some time rummaging in the cupboards once again and emerging victorious with a roll of elastic bandages in your hands. You return to your previous position in front of John, and adjust his knee with a firm hand, mumbling a quiet “Hold still, please”. Oh, he’d freeze for centuries if you had asked him to. But he does, and as you wrap the bandage around his knee, which just kept pulsing with hot pain, he couldn’t help but admire you. The trained movements, the concentrated gaze, the warm touch…Maybe he really should act on his thoughts. Maybe it’s his chance. Maybe something can work out and this accidental meeting will become…something more.

Price wanted it to become something more.

His imagination ran rampant, picturing you wearing some nice and fancy, in case you do agree on a date. John totally should not be thinking this when you were right there, finally putting some finishing touches on his knee bandaging, so he forced them out of his mind and cleared his throat. Here goes nothing. But before Price can even utter a single sound you’re already being called over by your colleague. Guess he’ll just have to wait until you’re free of your duties, huh?

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#cod mw2 #call of duty #call of duty mwii #call of duty x reader #cod mwii #modern warfare ii #cod #cod mw2 x reader #cod mwiii #cod x reader #mw2022 #mw2 2022 #john price x gn!reader #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #captain john price #john price #cod price #captain price x reader #captain price

[authorred]

Astarion headcanons because it's been too long and I love this man | Astarion x GN!Reader

Preface: Astarion, as complex as he tries to make himself out to be, is really a simple vampire. There are many ways to make him yours, and all of them don't require rocket science.

THIS MAN DESERVES THE WORLD--also it has been like 8 months since I last posted but shhhh

Warning(s): None

Don't talk about his bite mark scars much, if at all. It doesn't necessarily bother him, but he'd rather not talk about it

If you're an artist of some kind and you draw him, he'll try to brush it off by acting grandeur and arrogant, but internally he'll be twirling his hair and blushing

If you draw what you believe he looked like before being turned he won't react the same way, but he'll stare at it (maybe to try to remember?)

It's no secret that Astarion has sexual trauma. I don't think he'd do well with hypersexuality or someone who wants sex a lot

I don't think he'd mind you being sexually attracted to him--he wouldn't blame you smh--it's not a deal breaker for him

Personally, I think he'd do better if any sexual attraction came second

Like he's said, he needs time to do anything intimate. Not that he'd never do it again, but every time he did it in the past it was for an ulterior motive (or against his will)

He needs a friend first, partner second

Show him he's worth more than his seduction and body

Moonlit night dates

Massage his ears when he sleeps on you

Kiss his wrinkles and laugh lines--softly, chastely

Handle him gently

Do not even think about adding a third to your friendship/relationship. Astarion has most likely never had someone to himself, that would definitely make him feel unworthy/not good enough

Making him slightly jealous might be okay but tell him you find it cute when he's slightly jealous, and you appreciate it. Assure him that it's okay.

After having his guard up for so long it's natural he'll feel uncomfortable being vulnerable--assure him

Assure him a lot. Tell him his feelings are valid and that he's not wrong for feeling x

When he loves you, he loves you wholly. Any sexual feelings he has will come way down the line

When they do, go so slowly. You cannot be impatient, otherwise he'll shirk away, and the relationship will change

I think Astarion would flourish better in a majority nonsexual relationship (sorry x, he's sexy af but his lore and boundaries are more important than his rail-ability)

Compliment him a lot--not anything superficial--compliment him. Compliment him like how you'd want to be complimented by someone you love

If you can, write him poems

If you're going to inevitably die before Astarion; when you start to age he won't love you less--he'll love you more

Your health will always come before his

If you're sick he'll take care of you for the most part

If you're in danger, even if you can handle yourself, your survival is always number 1 to him

Will sacrifice himself for you

Won't accept the opposite, but knows he can't stop you if you did

Would be devastated if you died for him

Genuinely would never get over it

I don't think he'd want to get married in the traditional sense but he would 100% want to do something to prove his commitment

FLOWER CROWN MAKE THIS MAN A FLOWER CROWN

Please just be so patient with him

Don't treat him like fragile glass, but don't be rough with him either

PROTECT HIM AT ALL COSTS

Hug him a lot. He needs it

#relationship #fanfic writer #writers #writers of tumblr #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate tav #astarion #baldurs gate #bg3 #bg3 astarion #tav #bg3 tav #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion romance #astarion ancunin #headcanon #gender neutral reader

[dropsofletters]

sorry, who is mark lee?

—SUMMARY: she swore up and down on the night of her graduation as a doctor that she would never work with dr. mark lee. not under any setting. after all, she’s not here for people who get everything served on a silver platter just for being…nice?

however, years after their graduation, mark comes back into her life not brushing his hair and talking about a new project that they are supposedly going to be working on for the next three weeks, and all hopes of not working with him die down when she realizes…maybe, she had not truly known who he was.

sorry, but who the hell is mark lee?

—TITLE: sorry, who is mark lee?

—PAIRING: mark lee x reader

—GENRE: med school!au ; doctor!au ; neurosurgery resident!au ; gyn-ob resident!au ; enemies to friends to lovers!au ; idiots in love!au ; slowburn kind of.

—WORD COUNT: 12,000 words

—TYPE: fluff; humor; extra layer of fluff; angst

Heart wounded tight against her ribcage, she sits front row for the grand opening of a new chapter in her life. She relays perfectly still, wearing what Yoonoh had once called the ‘boring gray dress’ that she dreamed of having on for her graduation. Finally, as her pulse quickens, she is one step away from being called a title that holds so much interest and weight to her—to be able to put a name to everything she studied, to be recognized as such to the eyes of the world. For her, being a doctor is like exchanging identities, all the trials and errors coming to the flourishment of a new person ahead of her.

Now, the title that reads off her name and gives a certification to all the years she spent in between textbooks, needles and round-ups with doctors asking her endless questions, lays in between her fingers. Digits spreading against the tube with trembling motions, feeling the need to drop dead right at that moment. Yoonoh promised that he’d record the exact moment in which it happens. Her, called to the stage again, to give a speech to the rest of the graduates as the best grade of the entire career.

She had given it her all, though it wasn’t always the result she wanted on a piece of paper that weighted her will and thrive to continue down this path of endless studying. However, the road seemed a bit brighter now. Yoonoh, her best friend, sits right beside her—for, her family couldn’t make it because of the winter that had surpassed the city—, holding that pompous camera that he bought on a brim online as he sits on the edge of his chair. His caramel brown hair is pushed back, long nose crinkled as he squints one eye into the lens of the camera, pointing it towards the stage.

“It’s happening.” She mumbles, watching one of her cardiology professors—and representative of this graduation event—slip into the stage. He’s an old man, eyes wrinkled and lids heavier, though still wearing polished suits and raking a faint smell of the whiskey that, word has it, he’s been very familiar and all too lost in nowadays. She presses one hand to Yoonoh’s shoulder, the other weaving over her graduation cap, smiling as she bites on her bottom lip, holding in all the excitement that bubbles up from within her.

“Do you want me to record him or you?” Yoonoh is just as excited. Funny thing is, Yoonoh has been her best friend ever since they were neighbors back when they were just children. He surpasses her in age the slightest, not too much to make a difference, so he tried to protect her on the playground near their homes as ‘the older one’. As of now, she has to protect her friends from dating Jung Yoonoh. He has an eye for a med student.

“Him.”

“This group of people we have right here…” The cardiologist, Mr. Yoon, says as he inspects the groups of people. She remembers telling them off on their lack of studying back when they were rotating with him, nonetheless, now he smiles at the crowd. “Are all winners. I don’t see a single person in this room that I am not proud to say is my colleague now.” Those words flutter her heart, making her cling onto her hat the slightest. She’d throw it in the air now if she could, and get on that stage to read off the notes that she had oh-so-diligently practiced in front of the mirror. “I meet plenty of people every day. That’s the perk of being a doctor. You meet everyone to an extent that is universally deep, even your students. You see their hardship, tears, their biggest errors, their questioning and their will to try again. You either see them lose themselves or grow because of you. Good diamonds are made under pressure, and…” He trails his voice, taking off his glasses and rubbing at one eye before putting them on again. “There is one person that was already such a bright diamond. I remember the first time I got an answer in a grand round from this person and I was…sure about the kind of doctor I would have in front of me one day.”

“Fuck.” Yoonoh mumbles, smiling in a way that presents the dimples on his cheeks, before it happens. Just as her best friend is grasping her hand that had been on his shoulder, Dr. Yoon announces what she thinks is the winner of this entire race that is medicine.

“Doctors, family, friends, may I present to you the graduate with the highest graduation score.” Dr. Yoon smiles, extending a hand towards the screen behind him before his lips part to say what she had once imagined to be a dream, but has now turned into her grandest nightmare. “Please, let’s call to the stage Dr. Mark Lee. Let’s give him a round of applause. Dr. Lee, I know you’re there.”

Her world freezes.

She doesn’t know the precise quantifications, but a university student—much more in med school—should read more than a million words in order to be, somewhat, knowledgeable in his career. She spent day and night, losing her eyesight, blurring her sclerotic while looking at a laptop, writing notes time and time again, repeating stories written about patients, stammering through words just to get the answer out. She had tried so hard, wished for it and hunted for a dream that never happened.

“Stop recording.” She tells Yoonoh, spreading a hand on top of the lens when she realizes that it’s pointed towards her. The deception of not getting the first spot spread right in the main screen of the video that she planned on playing to her family when she went back home.

“I—I can’t. I’m trying.” Yoonoh stutters, giving the camera a few smacks to no avail. Both their gazes turn to the stage when they hear the cheering that follows after one of the two hundred graduates in the med field in this event. His black hair is parted in a comma hairstyle, from what she can tell by the little strand that peeks from under his cap. The gown is a little too long on him, cheeks dipped in what would be a childish smile as he shakes Dr. Yoon’s hand. She had seen this guy around, never coinciding in a grand round or talking through night shifts, but the face was definitely familiar. His eyes are twinkling when he reaches the podium, grasping the edges until his knuckles turn white.

She’s ready to stand up from her spot and leave, adding: “I’m leaving.” In a whisper that could only be heard by Yoonoh, but her best friend clasps a hand onto her forearm, dragging her down.

“The fact that you didn’t get first spot doesn’t mean you don’t get to celebrate your graduation. Stop pestering your mind when you’ve already reached so much. It’s your best day.”

“It’s not how I wanted it to go.”

“You’re still a doctor.” Yoonoh tugs her closer by her shoulder, practically pressing her into spot, unwilling to let her move.

Whoever Mark Lee is as a person doesn’t interest her. As he stands in the podium, stammering and stuttering to let out words in between a bunch of ‘uh’ and ‘well…’, she thinks that he may be the antagonist that she never expected to have. Clearly, he hadn’t prepared, and would it be so bad for her to feel envious towards what he is having right now? Sure, she’s not a woman of attention, always ready to keep her circle closed and straight to the point with the people whom she talked to and believed in, but she wanted her last moment in between those crowd of people that competed one against the other to be memorable. For her to say, in between all odds, that she had won.

Anyone who saw her would think that the tears in her eyes are out of emotion because of the speech Mark is giving, however, she’s tired. Of trying and never succeeding, so when the crowd goes crazy for, now, Dr. Lee, she proclaims him her biggest enemy, even when he doesn’t know her.

Tangled fingers in threads of hair, elbows propped on the desk where the medical records she had been working on are written and set in a handwriting that leaves much to the imagination, she wonders why she always likes difficulty. After the big failure of not even remotely called out as good when she graduated, venturing into the world of the easiest and perhaps, the most tranquil specialization and residency should have been her first thought. However, after years of not shutting an eye properly, and getting used to it like a toxic relationship does at most occasions, she decided it would have been a great idea to, two years later, become a full-time resident in the gynecology and obstetrics department. Where, sometimes, a woman just decides to pop by with her fetus almost popping out of her, because seven kids later…and the contractions aren’t quite as strong as they were with the first baby.

The problem relies on the fact that sleep deprived and thriving off coffee is not her best conceptualization of herself. She has attended seven births in what has been just twenty-one hours and, as a matter of fact, she was an observer in three c-sections. The problem is that, as a first-year resident, she’s asked to do most of the work. Hand wringed around a pen, and fingertips gliding across the keyboard to finalize the paperwork is something that she’s used to. As the third-year resident and the night shift’s boss, as well as her coworker, Dr. Johnny Suh, had decided to take a nap now that the seashore had died down a little, waves subsided because of teamwork.

All of this just to say that she needs sleep, if she doesn’t want to drool on all the graphics that include important details of the procedures that had taken place.

She had been nice enough to ask the interns to go sleep, but now that she’s alone, she’s not even in the mood to listen to music. Could keep her awake, but at what cost? All she needs at this moment is a tight shower that lets her glide a sponge on the deep crevices of her hands and a fluffy pillow that a hospital bed cannot provide, but her mattress back at home invites her to try. Only a few more hours and she can, after she finishes her work, go back to her apartment. Hoping that her roommate doesn’t decide to be an absolute ass the rest of the morning.

The problem is that when a night shift is far too quiet, it can only mean trouble. Much to her distaste, the sound of the emergency doors sliding open with a stretcher-bearer not following far behind is the notice that makes her stand up from her desk and hate this night. Not her job. God, providing some kind of relief to her patients is the only thing that keeps her awake, but when she expects to see a woman in her thirties perhaps being a few centimeters into birth, she’s received by a woman in her seventies, very clearly in pain.

“Doctor, this woman got to the emergency room bleeding.” The stretcher-bearer adds, rubbing his hands together, ready to take the next step.

With a frown to her features and a quick inspection to check skin—not too pale to consider the bleeding to be chronic—, and definitely still with even breathing and signs of being hydrated, she believes this could be something that happened very soon. “Put her on the examination bed.” The bearer does as he’s told, and while she’s being moved around, she sighs deeply. “Night, Miss. I’m the doctor of the shift tonight. Do you mind telling me what happened?”

Cheeks tinged red, the old woman looks to the side and huffs. “I—I just started bleeding.”

“Alright,” Though she’s not convinced, she thanks the bearer with a nod of her head and then, hums. The nurses don’t seem to be anywhere around her, so she starts moving around the room, waiting for the man to leave—which is done fairly quickly—to start looking for her gloves and speculum. “Do you have a history of endometriosis, fibroids, abnormal bleeding?”

The patient shakes her head. “Not at all.”

“How many kids?”

“Four.”

“All vaginal births?”

“One c-section. The rest were birthed.”

“Did you hit yourself, per chance?” She asks, sparing a look at the woman after fixing the inspection light. “I know this could be a little invasive, so I ask for your permission to have your clothes taken off so I can inspect with a speculum and vaginal palpation to see where the bleeding comes from.”

The patient trembles when she sits up, slowly taking off her pants and speaking to her while she does so. “No.” She responds, though something shifts within her. Perhaps, the delicacy and seriousness of her tone had been enough to grant the patient some kind of relief, because the patient toys with her hands, looking up at the ceiling as she drags herself to the proper position to be examined in. “Doctor…I…I was having sex with my partner. The bleeding started after a special position—”

Bingo.

The problem relays after she gets to the diagnosis. A cervical tear that must be taken to the operating room as soon as possible. Johnny gets there in the matter of seconds, only for the nurses to still be gone. The patient needed attention provided by them, and she knows there are around four or five nurses only for the Gyn-Ob night shift willing—or pressed—to work. None in sight, leading her to having to lurk through the hospital, through chilling corridors in bone white that breathe out the scent of isopropyl alcohol and iodine.

Once she reaches the nurses’ office, she’s surprised to see them gathered. At this hour of the midnight, grabbing bites of pizza and speaking to none other than a man whom she knows fairly well. Not personally, but she’d recognize that face just about anywhere. Mark Lee has let his hair grow the slightest, the black strands peaking from under his surgery cap, eyes dotted in tiredness behind rounded glasses. There are bags under his eyes and he smells like he has used cautery pen, a little bit like burnt meat. He has one leg crossed over the other, surgical gown opened in the back, munching on a pepperoni slice with all the tranquility in the world as he laughs along with the other older-aged women.

She clears her throat, making them jump and slicing through the lively conversation that they had been having with the super smart asshole, as she calls him, in his first year as a neurosurgery resident. “Oh, what a blessing. We have all my nurses here with Dr. Lee instead of attending the emergency that just got here. I have a seventy-six-year-old woman waiting for an IV line and for her surgical gown so we can fix her cervix tear. And our specialist is about to wake up, so we need to do it fast.”

She may not be the sweetest of residents, but she’s efficient. The oldest nurse, Mrs. Kang, yawns as she tosses what was left of her pizza on a plate. “Doctor, don’t get angry with us. I know it’s late, but we hadn’t eaten and Dr. Lee also hadn’t grabbed a bite.”

Oh, she knows. He had been operating since two in the afternoon. Lucky him that gets pushed into the operating room in his first year, while she’s Johnny’s little assistant. She does it with glee, for…various reasons. “You can’t all leave the emergency room. I was alone.”

“You’ve always done well alone.” Another nurse says and she glares at them.

“I know, but I shouldn’t be doing your job.”

Mark coughs a bit in his hand, and he’s looking at everyone with tension in his eyes. Irises trembling, legs now unfolded, and looking a bit stiff. “It’s my fault.”

Mrs. Kang gasps. “Not a chance! We’re just weak for your pretty little face and we wanted to share with you.”

Of course, everyone wants to share with Mark Lee, but not with her. “Dr. Lee,” She tells him, for she had been waiting for the perfect moment to pierce through his pride like he did with hers. Her chin juts forward, staring through the bottom of her lashes before speaking up: “I would be very happy if you didn’t steal all my healthcare workers to share pizza slices with you. Everyone speaks about how smart and good-looking you are, but here, we need to be respectful. Above all.”

“I understand.” Though, Mark has an air of innocence to him. Everyone sees him like a cloud in a world of pebbles, soft and kind, and she almost ate it up when he grabbed a slice from the box just as he says: “Would you like a slice? I watched you as I got out of the surgery room and you looked like you hadn’t eaten the slightest.”

She hasn’t, but she won’t admit to fucking Mark Lee that she was starving and perhaps, just about to cry.

She wants to grab it, but ugh—that would be losing against him, isn’t it?

Mrs. Kang is, luckily, loud enough to awaken her from the glare she has casted upon Mark’s face. He has dimples that form even when he is just speaking, slim eyebrows and tall cheekbones, a fold on his bottom lip that creates a shadow inviting in this nice lighting. “Aw, c’mon, Doctor, how could you be mad at Dr. Lee?”

“Could we just please hurry up the work so we can stop that poor patient’s bleeding, please?” She asks, closing her eyes tightly, torn away from that hypnotization that Mark Lee somehow does so well.

“Alright, come with me.”

Thankfully, she turns around and doesn’t have to look Mark Lee in the eye again. That’s how he gets people, portraying that sweet and innocent face that probably gets too many opportunities just for that alone. The least she needs is to be like the nurses going crazy over him. She won’t fall for the whole persona Mark has constructed.

Her laptop is about to die. Or she is about to die. Whatever happens next. Who knows?

Johnny, on the other hand, has decided that it is appropriate to just sit on the desk of their shared office—just for residents—, more like lay on it, as she types away on the presentation she’s preparing, keeping it as developed and actualized as possible. However, the topic that she should be presenting on the congress that the hospital will be hosting in their fiftieth anniversary is still a bit loose. In the sense that it hasn’t been approved, and she’s not quite sure if being granted Johnny’s spot is any better.

Locks of black hair cascade on each side of his face and she can only get distracted from her job by one person only. It’s a bit stupid that she was once Johnny’s intern, as he was fresh in the residency, and now they are colleagues. Back then, she never thought she’d hold a crush on someone so…basically loved. Everyone could fall for Johnny, but now that she knows him, she envies and likes him at the same time. Never breaking a sweat, dangerously threading through portions of her heart that she deemed unvisited for many years.

“Why didn’t you want to do this presentation?”

“I am not a great public talker. Or well, I am, I just don’t like doing it.” Johnny sits up, clearing his throat in a way that has her scrunching her nose the slightest. Okay, that wasn’t really attractive. He sniffles soon after. “…And I may be catching a cold, so the first person I thought about was you. You’re, like, the smartest one of our residency and you’re just beginning.”

Maybe, that’s why she likes him so much. It has been a while since someone has truly told her something of that kind, and she’s starting to believe that intelligence is not really her most fitted dress. However, sweet words won’t take away the stress she feels. “More of a reason for me to doubt you. First year residents are torn to shreds in congresses. Could you have—?”

“Taken this choice just to ruin something special for you? Jesus, I’m an asshole, but I graduated as a doctor. I have to have a bit of human in me. Within me. Not like in me. I don’t have anyone in me.” Johnny speaks a little too much before dropping off from the desk. Just when he’s about to say something else, her laugh is cut off by someone knocking on the door and before Johnny could even invite whoever is there in, a head pops through the small slit that was caused by the door being opened.

Lord and heavens. What kind of karma is she paying? Did she step on a puppy a little too hard or did she steal someone’s boyfriend? Because none other than Dr. Mark Lee is standing by the door, sporting that coat that he always wears and is a little too big on his bodies. His ties are a tad shorter than what they should and alongside Johnny, he looks frankly small. In confidence and, also, in height.

Judging by how close they are as Johnny hugs him.

“Dude, I’m totally freaking out.” Mark speaks a little too quickly and Johnny clicks his tongue.

“You’ll do fine. What kind of neuroscience shit are they having you talk about?”

Oh, she’s not even going to pretend like she’s surprised. She expected Mark to be invited as a spokesperson in the event. Everyone adores him, and he has also been one of the leaders of the theorical science studying team in the hospital for the past year. Of course, she understands him being picked. Nonetheless, when he widens his eyes towards her, she knows something is wrong. As in, for her.

“Oh, actually, that’s why I came here.” Mark stumbles, turning to look at her and lifting two fingers in the air as a form of a greeting. She only gives him a curt nod. “…Dr. Hong told me early this morning that you should check your emails more constantly. I was informed that we are going to present a study on the use of antiepileptics in eclampsia.”

No. No fucking way.

She can work with him in the same hospital meters away, but the way her ego would be torn just by sharing a stage with Mark alone is not something she wants to go through. Words will mingle across the room; with people saying that he’s better than her and that he had once won over her. She knows how people adore Mark Lee, and how gray she is in a world filled with color.

“Anticonvulsants? With you?” She questions, standing up and spreading her hands across the desk. She feels a little tense thanks to the skirt she had pressured herself to wear instead of her usual scrubs, just because she wanted to feel pretty and professional. Mark’s eyes gravitate towards her legs and she swears she sees a blush flying to his cheeks. “I’m sorry, Dr. Lee, but I already have a presentation that I have talked about with Dr. Hong.” The owner of the hospital, mind her.

“Yes, about eclampsia, but considering I am going to talk about antiepileptics and people rarely know the proper and organized treatment and ladder of management for pregnancy, I think it could be amazing to present—”

“Us two?”

“Yes.” Mark stops, sparing a glance towards Johnny from the corner of his eye. Silence basks them for a second before he asks: “Is there a problem I should be aware of…or that I am missing out on?”

She sighs deeply. Okay, this is the moment she sits Mark on a chair the same way she had been planted on one when she had lost her biggest goal to him. She spares Johnny the benefit of gossiping about this. “Dr. Suh, could you please wait for us outside? I have some matters to talk about with Dr. Lee.”

She rounds the table by the time Johnny adds: “Shit, and just when things were about to get saucy.” Johnny does as she says, however, opening the door and disappearing with a swoosh of his lab coat. Mark just stands there, looking like a lost deer in the headlights, black hair still not pushed back with enough gel to make him look perfectly polished and professional.

“So…” Mark trails and she chuckles sarcastically at his words.

“Yes, I have a problem with you.” She tells. “I didn’t know about your existence before, Dr. Lee, with all due respect and you decided to show yourself up the one time you shouldn’t have. You’ve been granted everything in a silver-platter and while we had almost the same score when graduating, people just loved you more for speaking in front of everybody. ‘Cause you are sweet and like a boy-next-door, but that’s not what medicine is about. This is about hardships, still trying, and succeeding at the end. It’s about being strong enough to study and make people survive.”

Mark raises his eyebrows at that moment, gaping at her words before shaking his head. “Let me understand this well.” He internalizes her words before splaying a hand on his chest. “I am truly sorry you feel like that, but I also tried hard. The fact that I have not grown bitter over the career doesn’t mean I don’t care about it, or that I don’t have to study like a madman every single day.”

“I can’t even shine by my own because I have to be your little shadow.” She tosses, only to have Mark shrugging.

“You’ll shine! I’m not here to make you feel any less. Geez, you’ve created this competition out of nowhere.”

Of course, Mark is always eager to make himself look more caring and sweet. She understands that he may be so, but to her, Mark doesn’t care about her the slightest bit. He’s just overrated, over the top, a little too dull for her to feel fine with losing to him.

“Well, if we’re going to talk about anticonvulsants—”

“Antiepileptics.”

“Jesus, can you let me talk for once?!” She raises her voice, only to have Mark crossing his arms over his chest.

“If we’re going to work together, you have to understand something. You know more about pregnancy than I do. I know more about the human brain than you do. And that’s just factual of specialization. If not, they wouldn’t exist.” He tells her, and for a reason, whenever he is granting information regarding his career, Mark’s voice turns deeper and sulkier. Why is she even listening to him this closely? “I say antiepileptics because the term anticonvulsant is no longer user, or not proper to use. Eclampsia counts as a cause of epilepsy.”

She sighs through her nose, pressing two fingers to her temple. “Alright. Antiepileptics. If we’re going to do this together, you…have to understand that I’m not used to getting along with you and I haven’t…thought about getting along with you. So, we’ll do our best to make a great presentation, and we’ll listen to each other as closely as we can without constantly interrupting ourselves. Am I correct?”

“Never planned on doing anything different.” Mark whispers, frowning deeply when they hear a bang against the wooden door. “Someone’s there.”

“Johnny!” She screeches, only to heard another bang against the door.

“Sorry, I fell!”

“Why are you listening through the door?”

“Who said I was?!”

“You’re listening right now.”

Then, the conversation goes dead silent.

“Fine.” Mark says.

“Fine.” She repeats, only to watch him open the door and that alone has her relaxing all the muscles in her body.

This will be the most horrible set of three weeks ever.

Mark can’t work in hospital settings, so he says. Yet, when he invites her to a packed-up park, the least she expects him is to see seated on a picnic cloth, wearing an oversized tank-top and reading from a neurology textbook with frowned eyebrows and squinted eyes. Even when his glasses are supposed to better his eyesight, he still has a hard time reading, it seems. The paper he has under his thigh, not even propped anywhere to be kept in place, holds scribbles of notes that he probably will forget about sooner or later. However, she inspects him from afar as she holds onto her backpack. Mark’s cheekbones tinge pink at the mere touch of the sun, short eyelashes glammed-up by the caress of the sunrays that pass by the tree over him. He has prepared some meals, too, from what she can see.

Next to him are two containers with what she can judge is bibimbap, and she wants to do nothing more than run away. Men are easier to understand when they don’t care about being nice, or people as a whole, as a matter of fact. She has never known someone that has truly been nice without expecting anything in return, and while Mark is now aware that she is not entirely pleased by his presence, he still tries to be…human.

“I wonder, sometimes, if you know about the existence of a hairbrush.” She whispers, though she doesn’t say it in a condescending way. A palm of hers splays on top of his hair, not even pushed back by gel, but messed up by the wind that tangles it in small waves. Then, she takes off her cap and places it on top of her head, only to have Mark looking up, eyes squinted because of the sunrays that probably surround her like a halo.

“I’m too lazy to do anything to it.” He says, though he doesn’t take off the cap. Instead, he turns the book around. Who would have thought Mark was a little bit of a nerd? “Did you know that magnesium sulfate is the first treatment that pops up to our heads when thinking of eclampsia, but that it is not the first line if we consider the antiepileptic treatments that are out there?”

“I stand by magnesium sulfate, and you’re not going to steal that away from me, Dr. Lee.”

“Mark.” He corrects, putting the textbook down as she sits. She looks at the pink cap on top of his head and she almost wants to laugh. He looks…innocent. “And as an obstetrician, you do. But as a neurosurgeon, I have to tell you you’re wrong.”

“Mark…”

“What?”

“We said no correcting.”

“You never said that. You said no interrupting.”

“Okay, let me read that book.”

The afternoon relays on the beauty of summer, August coming with the pressure of success as midterms arise in their residencies. However, for a moment, they are just two people studying together. She was right, though Mark doesn’t do much introduction to the meals he brought other than he made them, and while the pieces of meat he added are a bit burnt, she still eats with glee. Reading off the textbook Mark had brought while he’s lurking in his laptop and fixing their presentation, she starts to learn more from what he knows. The insight he has in the new, always lurking to be the difference, igniting protocols, excelling in research, not following after what is told and older doctors expect them to repeat.

Of course, they have to follow after what they know is correct but Mark actually ponders why such treatments are used. At some point, as Mark reads off one of the pages, she’s typing down the information on a presentation and their shared Google Document, laying on the picnic cloth and wishing the hours didn’t pass by so quickly. Now, she’s hungry again, and that doesn’t help her concentration, mind fading as she looks at the way the strap of Mark’s shirt had fallen off one of his shoulders, back dusted in endless freckles. Too many not to be noticed.

Without noticing, or perhaps, without really meaning to, she extends a hand. The tip of her finger trails a constellation of freckles on his back, his voice haltering suddenly, turning around with a jump to his movements. When their eyes connect, she can only spurt out an apology, but Mark’s eyes are widened, pulling the strap up his shoulder and almost hiding his back.

“I—I didn’t mean to make you feel insecure. Sorry.” She tells him and she’s about to let it be, but the image pops inside her head once again. And for some reason, maybe medical curiousness, she wants to know more. “You have a lot of freckles.”

Mark laughs about it, flicking a page to the side. “I didn’t have that many. I got them throughout med school.”

Her heart hammers a bit against her chest, worrying. Sure, Mark is not her favorite person, but she still doesn’t wish for him to go through real pain. “Are they benign?”

“Oh, they are freckles. Nothing like nevus or anything of that kind.” Mark replies, sparing her a look before spreading his hand on the side of his face, casting another shadow other than the one on his bottom lip. “Where I studied before I got exchanged here was really hot, so I’d have to walk to university every single day. I got severely sunburnt, even when I wore layers and layers of clothes. The skin on my back just changed tones a bit, that’s all.”

He didn’t have it easy. Sure, she had her family that could take her to classes on the first few semesters, and then it was Yoonoh helping her. She never had to go through that, but she felt for him. “Oh…” She trails, sitting up and sighing. “That’s why you decided to exchange here?”

Mark hums. “…Not really. I just wanted something different. I like being here and there. No matter the hardships.” Though, he does push the brim of his glasses higher up his nose. “The library was just a plus in our university.”

“Nerd.”

“Have to be so to be successful, don’t I?” Mark stands up at that moment, cracking his back and closing his laptop, that she had put aside. “I think I’ll head home now. Need me to give you a ride back home?”

“No.” Though, for some reason, she wishes Mark would invite her dinner. She means…it’s not like she wants to spend more time with him, but if they were both hungry, they could take a trip to the next street, where she knows there is an excellent pizza place. “I brought my car. I’ll head back home if we’re not doing much else.”

“I’ll email you what I find.”

“Same.”

With that, they both go separate ways. As it should. As it has always been meant to be.

“Has it always been common notice to you that we share the same shift?”

She scrunches up her nose upon the arrival of Mark to her triage. Where she’s locked, like a tiger ridden of its will of roaring, while Johnny is out there operating and bringing babies into the world. Luckily for her, she had sorted out all the patients of the night and after making some quick work with the stories and checking in with the hospitalized patients, at two in the morning, she can finally sit down to grab a bite of…whatever her potato puree is now. A blob, most likely. Granted, this time of the night is also when Mark finalizes his operating sessions and while his eyebags are probably on the verge of falling to the floor to match the backpack he has left there, and it shouldn’t come as a surprise to her that she sees him…again.

It has been like that for the past month, and they have gotten to exchange a few words for the last two weeks, ever since they got paired in their presentation together. However, one of the interns is seated on the desk not too far away from them, with her cheek squished against the wooden surface and lulled into the perfect world of dreamland. Johnny would give her an earful for never making the interns do anything, but she’s certain of something—the sooner she gets to do her stuff, the earlier she’ll leave tomorrow.

“I substantially tried to avoid you the first few times I noticed you were around.” Mark pushes away the container that she had set on the desk, where she was hoping that the blob wasn’t going to make her throw up or even worse later on the…morning. Yes, it’s the morning now. Midnight. Whatever it is. “Hey, I was planning on eating that.”

“You were planning on eating what was probably rotten potato. I know we attend emergencies, but I’d rather avoid having you in gastroenterology later tonight.” He announces, dragging a seat towards her and making her shush him.

“The kid’s sleeping.”

“The kid was with me last semester. Carmen. You should probably make her do something.”

“Why?”

“She never does anything! She failed last semester and needs to do well in this one. Push her to be better—”

“Ah, I can’t change people.” Mark’s far too close, though he’s not making any effort on turning her uncomfortable. Instead, he props his glasses down on the table and now, she realizes it’s the first time she has seen him without those. His hair is a mess after taking his surgery cap off, eyes puffed out, eyebrows slim and yet, somehow messy because of his palms roaming over his features. She continues speaking, because somehow talking to the person she likes the least feels liberating. “As a student, I think your value comes from how hard you work, but it’s also highly subjective. I can’t push a student to do better if they don’t feel inspired by me, and that’s just what I think. It’s like women trying to change their husbands, for example. It’s never going to happen unless he feels the need to really change, you know?”

And talking about Carmen as if she wasn’t there is a bit rude, so she nudges his side with her elbow.

“What have you brought? I’m sure it’s just as rotten as my potatoes.”

“Nope. I ordered some sushi from a place nearby.” Mark tells, opening the bag and introducing two black plastic containers which lids he takes off. The scent of freshly cooked spices, vegetables and rice has her mouth salivating. God, when was the last time she had a proper meal today? “I think they forgot the wasabi. In your mind, that must mean they don’t want to put effort into their jobs so I shouldn’t call for them to bring me my wasabi or place a complaint.”

“Precisely. Don’t be a Karen, Mark.” She replies, earning a laugh from Mark that has her neck feeling heated. He doesn’t cover up the fact that he’s genuinely happy, baring all teeth, tossing his head back and letting out a high-pitched laugh. He doesn’t let the title of a doctor rid him of the happiness in which he lives his life in, and she envies that to the point she kind of feels relieved that not everyone goes through the same thing she does. “You bought some for me?”

Mark is already lost in the magic of eating late at night, munching on a slice of sushi and letting a sprinkle of rice end on the tip of his mouth. He doesn’t notice it and she battles the twitch of her fingers to flick that piece of food away. “Of course. You know, every time I go to the operation room, I see you here, trapped in this emergency room just making the shift work. You give it your all every second you can. I wouldn’t be surprised if you hadn’t eaten a thing.”

“Thank you.” She retaliates. God, the hospital had been so cold just mere seconds ago, but since the moment Mark arrived, it feels like summers has embarked inside its walls. “I’ll have you know a little fact. Doctors are the main patients that can get type two diabetes. We eat the worst, even when we recommend to our patients to do otherwise.”

Mark crinkles his nose. “I’ll have you know something.” He tilts his head to the side, and she tries to embark in her own food and not look at him. The lulling nature of his smile, and the softness that comes with the tone of his voice, all detonators of thoughts that shouldn’t pass her brain. They’ll present the information they have gathered in the hospital’s anniversary and that will be it for them. She promises it’s just that. “I hated intern medicine. Whenever I had to read the ADA articles, I felt like a part of me died a little. It’s just…it’s so…”

“Non-surgical.”

“Exactly.” She laughs at his words, to which he responds with a twinkle in his eyes that she wants to erase, like a towel on top of a stain, rubbing away until it’s gone. Not because she wants to take the spark that makes him be so bright, but because he is…dizzying and blinding to the point of no return sometimes.

“You’re also like that. Though, I don’t know why Johnny just…doesn’t let you operate with him. You’re amazing with birth-care, but there has to be more to it.” Mark insists and she tries not to think about it. Johnny just likes doing things his way, and that’s never been wrong. They work well together, though separated. “Don’t try to defend him.”

“What? I’m not talking.”

“I know you always protect him. Johnny has gotten in so much trouble around the hospital, for reasons that I won’t judge him for because he is my friend and I know he’s a good worker, no matter how lazy he can look,” Mark stops for a moment and without noticing, she’s staring at his lips again. That fucking rice should leave, shouldn’t it? “Uh, you’re like, kind of into him, aren’t you?”

Johnny? It’s a little complicated to tell these days. “He’s different from me.”

“And?”

“I like different.” Because she can’t truly live with someone who voices out what goes inside her brain. She needs brightness in what she considers a dulling ocean of midnight thoughts. “But not a chance, Mark. Not a chance.”

“Took you too long to deny.” Mark points out, before sighing. “I’m not saying he’s not into you, I don’t want to be the guy to—”

“But he isn’t.” She replies. She knows how Johnny Suh is. That doctor can have anyone within his pocket and he does so. She’s aware of how far this crush can go, and a relationship or even a hook-up is not it. “That doesn’t hurt me, Mark.”

“I’m not saying that.”

“Alright, I’m the one saying it.”

“Don’t be so rude to yourself.” Always positive, Mark stammers. “All I’m saying is that, as his pupil, he should invite you to the operation room more often. My higher-up resident invites me and that’s why—”

Without noticing, she’s flicking a thumb over his bottom lip, moving away the rice that had gathered there. Mark’s eyes widen, his hand spreading on top of her own and she recognizes then how close they are. She sees the twitch of his tongue as it gathers his bottom lip until he traps it in between his teeth and as the sweet mood-ruin person he is, he adds:

“Ah, I—Fuck, I was talking and I had something there all along? Shit. Fuck. Uh, hold on, I’m cussing, aren’t I?” Mark, without noticing, plops another slice of sushi inside his mouth and she tries not to snort out a laugh directly at his face. “You should’ve told me.”

“We were talking about other things.” The tips of his ears are tinged red, and maybe the internal summer she’s going through is also happening to Mark Lee. “You’re blushing.”

“Fuck no.”

“You never cuss. Do you curse when you’re nervous?”

“Who said I was nervous?”

“It doesn’t take being a rocket scientist to know.” She answers, though, she doesn’t want to mortify Mark any longer, picking at her own food before giving a bite. “Either way, don’t worry about that crush. I think it’s more…admiring what he is able to do without being as inside his head as I am in mine. It’s never going anywhere. I don’t want it to.”

Mark nods, and she thinks she broke him, because he doesn’t speak for the rest of their little dinner until she resurfaces the matter of their presentation and its preparation.  

“Some sponsors are here, so I only want Mark to…you know, do the talking.”

Everyone adores Dr. Hong. He’s a neurosurgeon, head and owner of the hospital, and he was so at the mere age of fifty-two. Rather young for everything he has achieved and the textbooks he has written, she looks up to him even when she’s from a whole different field to his. However, as she wore her most elegant set of pants, flowing against recently shaven legs, along with a turtleneck that she had paid a little too much for, her shoulders fall at the sound of his voice. He’s sipping from his glass of water as people gather on their seats in the auditorium, and he says it in front of everyday, just so she doesn’t explode right at that moment.

Of course, he knows more about Mark as a student because he’s his own pupil. Nonetheless, he could have some shame. She had prepared with all the will and hardships in the world, balancing studying for her midterms and the presentation, while also investigating deeply with Mark almost every day. It’s no wonder that even Mark is a little surprised, and in the past, she would have thought he was fully aware of this. He pushes his classes to the top of his head, gasping at what Dr. Hong has just said.

“B—But…I can’t do it without her.”

“You should’ve learned both parts for the presentation.” Dr. Hong scolds, his bottle-bottom glasses making his eyes look significantly smaller. He smiles to one of the invites that briefly drops a hand on his shoulders before he’s returning to his hushed whispers with them. For a place so brightly decorated in balloons and signs in bright orange and yellow, she feels…hollow and mellow. “It’s nothing against you, darling, but people know more about Mark and his studies, and he’s more of an open personality. He’s the kind of sweet we need for an opener. Like a cocktail, you know?”

No, she doesn’t know shit about this. Because Mark gets opportunities that she doesn’t. Mark is already opening his mouth, spurting out: “It’s not fair. She worked just as hard as I did—”

Though, something that she has never gotten the benefit of, like Mark did and continues to do, is not to be disciplined. She tries to push a smile up her lips, but she’s sure it looks more like a mock. “I’d have to thank you for the opportunity, Dr. Hong, but then, I won’t stay. I haven’t…gotten enough sleep, so I’d rather leave right now.”

Dr. Hong trails his brown eyes over her features before giving her a half-hug that feels a bit forced. “I’m sorry for not telling you earlier, but you wouldn’t have worked as hard if I had done so, right?”

“Exactly, Dr. Hong. That’s how it is.” She spits out softly, giving him a curt bow before she turns around. She feels the corner of her eyes bottling up with tears, and she looks up in order not to let them fall. Familiar faces scatter across the rows of seats that feel endless, and she wishes she had gotten the chance to prove what she was made of. Maybe, another time, or that’s what she promises herself each time.

When getting out of the hospital’s auditorium, she feels the sudden need to take off her lab coat and heels right at that moment and cry like a baby just born in the world. However, as she rushes down the halls, she hears the sound of steps following after her, and she wants to say they are slow and just trying to reach the same destination as her per chance, but the elevator is within reach when Mark appears in front of her, hands extended to stop her from moving any father.

“Mark, could you move?”

“I’m not presenting that without you. You’re also the core of this investigation, I—” He’s rushed in the way he is speaking, and it surprises her that he has the heart to do what he does next. His palms gather her own in between his, trapping her and enticing their gazes to connect. Mark has the prettiest set of brown eyes, and when they are worried, they almost seem to gleam like diamonds. “Why…Why is it like this for you?”

“I guess that’s how the world works. I’m a woman, first and foremost. I’m more strong-willed than you are. I stick out like a sore thumb and being opinionated has never helped me much.” Saying those words out loud has tears dropping against her cheeks. Fuck, her makeup is ruined now. Hiccups escape her lips when she looks around, hoping that no more doctors arrive through those elevator doors just to see her cry. Fore-front, too. “Say mean shit to me, that way I’ll stop crying. God, I can’t believe I’m being such a pussy.”

“Hey…” Mark’s voice is softened, like the thumb he lets roam the brim of her knuckles. “I wouldn’t say anything mean to you. You…You hate me, for fuck’s sake, and I still wouldn’t think of you as anything more than worthy of being there more than I am. You’ve never gotten your chance to shine.”

“And I want to believe I never will, because it’s easier. Living life while being bitter just feels…more common to me.” She tells him, pushing at his chest and sighing. “Say I don’t deserve it, Mark. Just say it!”

“You do!” Mark replies, voice just as loud. She wants to shut him up, press those lips together and just let him look as handsome as he does right now, with a few buttons of his blue button down undone, gray suit clashing against the whiteness of his coat. “So please, get back in that auditorium. Let’s do things our way.”

“I…I can’t.” She responds, extending her back until her shoulders become straight, as if poised and entranced. “My pride doesn’t let me, and sure, I will probably never reach half the things you will while being like this…but if someone doesn’t want me there, I just won’t do it.”

“I want you here.”

“And when your vote counts, I hope you still wish for me to do so.” Just when she’s about to press the elevator’s button to watch the doors open, they are caught off guard. The doors do open, but a set of doctors plan on passing through by them. Mark moves quicker than she does when a small curse leaves her lips, pushing her until she’s relying on the wall, his body used as coverage as he drops his head and shelters her from the eyes of others. He is probably seeing the trails of mascara and the runny lipstick, but he doesn’t show his discomfort. Perhaps, he doesn’t feel so.

“Don’t move.”

“Don’t let them see me.” She replies, looking up at his eyes. Mark nods, though she sees the fraction of second of distraction that passes by his features. She wants to run her fingers through his hair, fix that goddamned strand that he always lets out, but that breath of connection is broken by the clearance of his throat as he gives one step back.

“They’ve left. And you’re leaving with me.” Mark complies, only to have her shaking her head.

“Not a chance.”

“I’ll carry you there.”

“You’re too shy and non-assertive to do such a thing, so I’m not worried.” Rubbing a hand against her eye and perhaps, ruining her makeup even more, she says: “Just go steal the show, Mark, you’ve done it time and time again. Why not do it now?”

“I know how much this means to you now. I didn’t…I didn’t know when we graduated just how much you care about education.”

“Well, shit just happens.” Before Mark could say anything else, she pops inside the elevator, hearing him bang his fists against the doors when she closes them with rushed fingertips against the buttons. Soon after, she’s sighing when dropping herself against the wall, looking up at the bright lightbulb and feeling more tears gathering and dropping. One by one, like her worries, piling up until she doesn’t know what to do with them.

Somehow, she can’t hate Mark at this moment. Not this time around. Yoonoh would probably laugh at her for giving Mark excuses for always getting her chances, but it’s not like he doesn’t deserve it, either. He may be the kind of person people want posing on pictures and being their doctor, and that’s something she has to live with. Not being his shadow, but also, not shining on her own. One day, it will come—and she hates that she’s thinking like this, because she’s starting to sound like Mark.

A month later.

She uses the pendant as a joke.

Dr. Hong wanted to apologize in some way or another—or so she wants to believe. Isn’t there something along the line of bosses being very political and not wanting to look bad in front of their workers?—, so he decided to give his staff necklaces as a gift. Necklaces and keychains, she forgets about that sometimes, but she’s reminded when she feels the new weight of a pendant against the lines of her palms. But, that’s not what she decided to sport ironically today, as she’s wearing her favorite pair of gray scrubs and a braid that she learned how to do on a TikTok video. The point is…that Dr. Hong must have made a mistake, because when he gave her the box that was supposed to hold her necklace with her name as a pendant, she got Mark’s instead.

Today is Thursday, a month after they were paired together to work on that presentation that was, according to the attendees, the best one to date coming from residents of this hospital. However, she doesn’t want to ponder back and forth on what could have been. Instead, she’s knowledgeable of the fact that Mark should be consulting his post-operation patients today. Hence, she pops through the neurosurgery portion of the hospital, greeting a few familiar faces with a nod of her head—and a swing of her hand against someone’s shoulder, when the newest intern and last year student, Na Jaemin, decides to give her a hug a little too tight and call her by name instead of doctor—, and clinging to the necklace as if it is her pride and joy.

She waits for the last patient to leave, and she remembers Mark talking about this case. An astrocytoma that he had extracted and was scared of the neurological outcome of the patient. Luckily for him, the patient was not walking on two feet, but when he pushed his wheel-chair away from the consulting room, he was talking to his partner. She smiles, pushing the door open once again and not missing the way Mark perks up at that moment, always eager to welcome his patients.

“Oh, Mr. Jude, did you happen to forget something—?” Mark stops on his tracks when he turns around, seeing her with a shit-eating grin that must be weird for him to look at. Through the other wall of the consulting room, the specialist must be working and examining the patients that Mark presents to him, but for now, only the two of them are left in this room. “…You’re happy.”

“I can be.” Though, she sprints and jumps a bit on her step as she moves closer to him. Mark is already speaking, not paying too much attention to her, just because he had seen her in these scrubs before.

“Dr. Hong made a huge mistake. I have this necklace that was supposed to go to you. But either way, how are you doing?” Mark’s unaware of the way she fidgets with the necklace around her neck, leaning back on his desk and looking through a few of the papers his handwriting his scribbled on, when she shrugs her shoulders.

“It’s okay. I am supposed to go check how the patients are doing upstairs and then, head back to the emergency room to check on a patient I had with a vaginal infection. Well, she contacted me outside the hospital and wanted some help because it’s recurrent, but whatever.” Once again, she wiggles her eyebrows at him. “Mark, I need you to look at me.”

“Yeah,” Mark’s, once again, lost in his thoughts, before he’s frowning. “You need me to look at you? Do you have anything? Oh God, how’s the Glasgow? Are you having memory loss?”

“No, dumbass.” She rolls her eyes, swinging the necklace back and forth. “What’s different?”

“The hair?” Mark snaps his fingers, happiness trailing after his smile. “It looks lighter!”

“No wonder you wear glasses.” She gets closer to him, still holding onto her necklace, and perhaps, Mark does have that medical eye that everyone prides him on, because a motion of his gaze across her body that electrifies the utmost recondite portions of her muscles has him squinting his eyes at the necklace and then, she full on laughs at his realization. “I knew I got the wrong necklace, but I thought it would be funny. It kind of looks like one of those couple things, doesn’t it? Like that Taylor Swift song—”

Mark’s pupils dilate, eyes darkened. As a matter of fact, she expected him to be a stuttering, sweating mess at this point. She must not know all sides of Mark Lee, precisely. His digits trace the necklace with just the tip before he’s engulfing the pendant in his palm. She looks at him, watching the even breathing, rising and falling of his thorax, followed by the purse of his lips and the eccentricity of the simplest of movements from his eyebrows. He rotates the pendant, studies it with fervor, before he tugs her closer by it. The skin of her nape arises in goosebumps, throat contracting in a thick swallow when she finally realizes that Mark is just not a cute, quite obnoxious and oblivious, guy that she can play around with.

There is a man in there.

The broadness of his shoulders, barriers to the smallness of his waist, clashing worlds that come together with the scent of his perfume and…is that an aftershave? Mark uses an aftershave?

Maybe, she had been unable to see what really made him so attractive to the rest of the world.

His chin perches up, looking at the necklace from underneath his eyelashes. “Don’t take it off.” He musters, deep from within his chest, rumbling in a vibrato that has the curve of her back deepening and transcending towards him.

“What?” Now she’s the one stammering, and it’s incredible that Mark has this kind of power.

“It looks…great on you.” And the way he toys with the silver material, rotating it in the axis of his index finger, has her aware of how awfully close the digit is to her skin, as if the desire to have that finger trailing down the column of her throat and towards the expanse of her chest is…unbearable.

Summer. He has brought summer to her face again. It’s not a blush, she swears.

“It has your name.”

“So what? It still looks amazing on you.” Mark recites, pulling away to hoist her chin in between his index and thumb before he moves her face from side to side.

“Do you have a fascination with necks, Mark?”

“Not that I know of. Could be my debut as a neck-fascinator, y’know.” He jokes around, and she would laugh if it wasn’t for the tightened knot in the pit of her chest. When he lets go of her, she feels like she can finally breathe, and why is that something that comes out as poor in comparison to the way his touch feels on her? “As much as I would like to keep talking to you, I have more patients waiting for me outside and…” He moves over to the door, and she’s eager to have him opening it so she can cool off, but when his hand spreads on the doorknob, he adds, while looking at her: “Shit, don’t take it off, okay?”

She would have laughed at herself years ago if she heard herself saying, in a small tone: “I won’t, Mark.”

Four months later.

“Care to explain why Mark Lee’s drunken ass is in your birthday party? Because I’m all for change of pace, but this is a whole new story we’re talking about.”

She had missed Yoonoh, dearly, so when he had decided to tag along to her dinner birthday party with his new girlfriend, she thought it would be the greatest of ideas. She must have forgotten that in between all the mess that is being a resident, and also the fact that Mark’s position in her life is as much of a question mark—pun intended—as it is settled, she had not told Yoonoh about his existence as a…well, friend? Supposedly?

Yoonoh’s hair is shorter, bleached with the tips painted in a bright pink, and she has to adjust to the colors even when the restaurant is bathed in colors of purple and blue, the VIP section pushed into the agenda of her birthday thanks to Mark’s idea. He had been the one behind all this, but how does one say that to Yoonoh when he was there, listening to her complain about Mark’s existence, for whole months? She wouldn’t stop talking about him.

She tilts her head back, moistening her mouth with a daiquiri before shrugging. “Life happens. Mark had to work on a project with me and then, we just…I’m not going to say we’re friends.”

Yoonoh bares his teeth as a wolf would do before eating its prey alive. Yes, she’s the prey, but she’s just going to get shit-eating grins the entire night. “Oh, but you’re so friends. Tell me, what is it that has made you forgive him for putting you through the biggest turmoil of your life?”

Considering that he is now standing on a table, swinging hips from side to side in a comic way, with a few buttons of his shirt undone and almost popping a nipple, she’s thinking that he wasn’t that much of a threat to start with. “Just look at him. He’s singing Fifty-Fifty. A man that truly wants to ruin your entire life wouldn’t make hearts while karaoke-ing to ‘Cupid.’”

“I wouldn’t put it that way. Men are menaces, me being a man is enough for me to prove it.” And the way Yoonoh has slowly pulled away from his new girlfriend, letting her go get drinks on her own side as she’s now talking with a whole different group of women, lets her know that, maybe, just maybe, he’s not the best one to date. Johnny is somewhere around, too, speaking with a few other residents of the Gyn-Ob program. “Is he treating you well?”

“Don’t start with the brother talk.”

“I’m not giving you the brother talk.”

“Well, you’re asking me questions a brother would think about when his sister has a new boyfriend but hey, newsflash, I don’t—”

“I don’t like Mark Lee, she said, totally lying to herself. Come on, you’ve been eye-fucking him.”

“What do you know? You’re drunk.”

“Two of these?” He holds the two empty soju bottles he has around him. “Don’t bother me. Cupid boy over there, though? He’s on cloud nine and I think it’s about time we slice the cake and take him home.”

“You just want cake.”

Yoonoh quirks a perfectly trimmed eyebrow before chuckling. “Trust me, babe, I’m getting a good slice of cake tonight, but the sweet kind wouldn’t do me wrong, either.”

This memory could be one for the books, considering Yoonoh has one arm wrapped around Mark’s shoulder as they both drunkenly—or not so—sing into the camera Yoonoh is holding on one hand the goddamned birthday song. She’s clapping along, laughing when Mark dips a finger into the icing and tries to smear it on the tip of her nose but completely misses.

Okay, maybe he doesn’t handle soju just as well.

Yoonoh says his goodbyes and finally decides to return to his date, or girlfriend, or whatever it is that he calls women in his life these days. That’s the moment she wraps an arm around Mark’s shoulder, hoisting her hand until she’s clasping the two ends of his button down closed so he doesn’t show more of his chest. For his sake. Or hers.

“I didn’t ask for nudity tonight.” Mark’s cheeks tinge pink and he laughs at her words, shaking his head.

“Dude, I’m not naked.” Though, he does take a second glance, creating a double-chin when he looks down at his chest and then, it’s her turn to giggle. “See? I didn’t have to check or anything.”

“I’m taking you home.”

“But Johnny’s still here!”

“Don’t care. I’m taking you home. Enough celebrating. It’s four in the morning, not my birthday anymore.” She replies, tugging him along with her as she carries on her empty hand a bag with the half-eaten burger he had left on his plate on a container and the slices of cake respective to them. She waves the hand that she has on Mark’s chest as a goodbye to the rest of the group before they’re engulfed by the night. “Okay, Mark—”

He’s not in this world, or this night, because he’s singing slowly to himself: “I’m feeling lonely. Oh, I wish I could find a lover that could—”

“Mark.”

“Hold me.” He does a few runs with his voice at that moment, which is not unpleasant, but definitely uncalled for as she is trying to take them back home.

“I need you to do either one of two things. Reach into my purse and grab my car keys, or button your shirt so you don’t die of a cold.” He chooses the latter, popping his hand inside her purse and lurking around. His body rolls on the curve of her arm, a crease growing between his brows as he tries his best to find the key in this darkened night. From the closeness, she can smell the soju in his breath, mixed with the mustard that he reapplied on the burger that was served to him.

“I’m on it. Just give me…a second.”

“We don’t have many seconds.”

“Eh, eh, dude, no rushing.” Mark complains, dragging his voice. “A true surgeon doesn’t rush, you know?”

“I’m an obstetrician-to-be.”

“Babies take time, too, you know? To make them, pop them out…” Mark’s voice starts to face until he grabs the keys, grabbing them harshly in the palms of his hands before smiling. “Here they are! We can go…back…home…” His tone grows duller when he looks at her, faces inherently close, in positions that almost translate to being chest to chest, only separated by the purse in between them, and it doesn’t help that she has one arm wrapped around his waist. “Can you smell the mustard?”

“Mark—” She’s about to pull away, but Mark tugs her closer, perfecting the position she had put them in. He wraps both hands around her waist, molding and digging until all she feels is his skin, muscles and bones. His abdomen contracts against her own, insufferably tight and making her own stomach flip a bunch of times. The breeze plays with the hair he lets fall on his forehead and she swears she sees a hint of condensation in his glasses.

“I’m sorry. All I’ve done is ruin every opportunity I’ve had with you.” Mark whispers, almost like a drunken blues, before he licks his lips. His eyes divert to the necklace hanging in between her collarbones, his name still there, most of the time covered by her coat at work or her scrubs, but he wears her name around her neck, as well. She’s sure someone has figured out their little game by now. “…But you still wear the necklace.”

Freezing is the tip of his nose against her septum, trailing against the skin as his lips part. The shuddering breath he lets out speaks a thousand languages, each more confusing than the other. Those eyes of his remain closed, while she only looks at him. The crease of his brows, the trembling of his bottom lip and the palpable need to kiss her, only to be interrupted by his own insecurities:

"Just kiss me." She pleads, though she would have never imagined that her voice would let out such things. Mark was supposed to be the man she hated for the rest of her professional life, but somewhere in between, the lines had blurred.

"I can't." Mark announces and when he doesn’t let go of her waist, she knows that said words don’t mean that he doesn’t want to. “Because I don’t know if us wearing our names on each other’s neck means we are really good friends, or that you want to kiss me just as bad. And you may have a stronger heart than I do, taking disappointment after disappointment, accepting life to be unfair with you, but I am not quite as strong as you are.”

He breathes in deeply and she takes that as a cue of him not being over his speech.

“I’m afraid you’ll break me.”

“I would never.” She admits, trailing her nose to the skin of his cheeks, deepening the tip on the hollow where his dimples form, before breathing his scent deeply. “Mark, I’m tired of running from things just because I am bitter. I don’t want to be bitter anymore. If life is going to suck, then, at least I want to say I tried having a good thing, however way it turns out.”

When he dips his mouth to taste hers, he does it as if he can’t handle the tremor of his lips. He’s unused to her motions, growing impatient and then, falling back into rhythm. One can feel that he’s nervous, but that doesn’t stop him. He puts the effort to trace the outline of her mouth with a simple caress of his lips, puckering them up the slightest in a peck before he’s parting them to grant himself the benefit to learn the shape of her upper lip and her bottom one. She sighs against his mouth, finally pushing back that one hair that he never brushes back quite well, guiding his mouth deeper into her own. For him to finally scratch that source of curiousness that had built to be a warm feeling at the tip of her stomach, and the bottom of her heart.

She had once not known who Mark Lee was.

But now she’s certain that he won’t let her forget through this kiss, and if she’s lucky, the ones that will come after.

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