#taken in the same location with same lighting though

[pippindot]

Trying to track chumbening progress. Not sure if there's much to see yet...but hopefully soon.

#the first one was an impulse photo so not a true stack #will be better going forward #taken in the same location with same lighting though #also baby is SO GOOD she could tell i wanted a stack for pictures and stood so nice for me #🥺 #pip #3 years #slaying the dragon! #The Chumbening #stack #free stack

[the-modern-typewriter]

hey I'm so sorry if this is is an unwanted request, but I wanted to ask for a hero x villain story where the villain kidnaps? And tattoos the hero. I think it would be very fun and dramatic. A very permanent and painful reminder.

I really love your work, I've read pieces of your writing for years. Keep doing what you're doing <3

"Hold still, or it's going to be wobbly," the villain said. "Nobody wants a wobbly tattoo, do they? That's just lame."

The hero snarled at them, wordless, unable to do much more with the bit wedged in their mouth. It was, according to the villain, to stop the hero from biting through their own tongue. So, that was nice and reassuring.

They could struggle, but not enough to stop what was going to happen. The grip the villain's various lackeys had on them was too firm and unforgiving. Still - the presence of hands, instead of cold metal, tried to trick some part of their lizard brain into thinking they had a real chance of escape if they just tried hard enough.

They didn't. They knew they didn't. But they struggled all the same, eyes flashing, breath ragged. They'd been forced onto their back on something that looked a little like a dentist's chair, head pinned sideways to face the villain. They only had vague impressions of the rest of the room. Bright light.

The villain had pulled up a chair next to them with their kit.

"So," the villain said, in an affable sort of voice. "It's going to hurt a little, like we talked about. That's mainly because of the location." They began their work, carefully, and the hero squeezed their eyes shut. A whimper escaped them. It was not a little. "Ribs don't have a lot of fat, you see, and you're quite sensitive anyway. But you said that's where you'd get one, so, far be it from me to dictate."

The hero had said hypothetically they would get a tattoo on their ribs. Because it looked cool. They hadn't done any research and they certainly hadn't been serious about it. It had merely been idle conversation with someone they'd thought was their friend.

They'd also said that they would get a jellyfish, or maybe a small bird.

The hero tried to see what the hell the villain was doing, but they couldn't get a good look beyond the distressingly elegant curve of the villain's head.

"I figured you'd want to be conscious, though." The villain laughed, softly. "I wouldn't want to wake up and find out someone had just done something to me, you know? Makes it hard to process it. Freaky."

The hero swore at them. They liked to think the sentiment got through, even if it was just raw sound. Choked.

"You'll look so gorgeous when you're done, though," the villain said. "Don't worry. I'm a professional. I've done this loads of times before."

The hero knew that. That was the problem.

The villain's super-abilities were unusual enough that it had taken the hero far too long to realise that the villain had any, and that they were in fact a monstrosity rather than simply the sexy artist that the hero had met in a bar. Whatever the villain painted, wrote, inked or drew was woven through with their power. It could come alive. It could influence. It could harm or heal that specific area at the villain's whim.

It could, in short, do all manner of things that the hero did not want permanently etched into their skin.

Everyone close to the villain had a tattoo. It didn't bode well.

"Just breathe," the villain said. "You're doing so well. It will be easier on you if you relax."

The hero swore at them again. It didn't make them feel better.

The villain worked on them for what felt like hours. If it was a jellyfish, it was a truly massive jellyfish that curved all the way up their side. The hero still hadn't got a good look. At some point, they'd stopped writhing in the chair, exhausted.

They felt dazed when the villain finally lifted their head, meeting their eyes again. The villain brushed a tear away from the hero's cheek. It reminded the hero to jolt again, but the hands on them remained as relentless as ever.

Another small, involuntary sound left them.

Their skin felt hot. Sunburnt.

"All done," the villain said. They finally eased the bit out of the hero's mouth. "You should have some water. Are you going to drink it nicely?"

"What the hell did you do to me?" the hero demanded. Their voice was raspy.

"It's gorgeous. You'll love it. Water?"

"I don't want anything from you!"

"Good skin is important to good tattoos. But, hey." The villain shrugged. "I can't make you." They gestured for their lackeys to release the hero.

The hero surged up in an instant, fist already flying towards the villain's face. In an instant, their body froze, knuckles inches from the villain's face. It didn't matter how much they strained. They couldn't move.

The villain raised an eyebrow. "You'll want to make sure to keep it clean, to avoid any infection," the villain said. "And don't pick at it, okay? Stay out of the sun. No swimming."

"What did you do to me!?" It came out through gritted teeth.

The villain smirked at them. "I gave you a jellyfish. On the house. You're welcome."

The hero glared.

"That's what you wanted, right?" the villain asked.

"I didn't want this."

The villain shrugged. "I did, though. For the moment I saw you with your clothes off"

"You-" Words didn't feel enough to express the emotion that coursed through the hero at that. "I hate you."

"Yes, I get that quite a lot. I don't generally let it bother me. You do all look so pretty fuming, helpless, at my mercy."

The hero swallowed.

The villain waved a hand, and whatever strange paralysis had overtaken the hero, vanished. They staggered forward, nearly pitching into the villain's lap. The villain caught them to steady them, hands on their waist.

It should have been excruciating, to have the villain's hand on the tattoo, but instead there was a buzz of pleasure across the hero's skin that definitely wasn't normal. They wrenched back as quickly as possible, heart pounding.

Their fists curled, itching with the urge the punch again, but they didn't quite dare get close.

The villain beamed at them, eyes glittering with mirth, apparently knowing exactly what the hero was thinking.

"Now," they said. "Do you want a lift home? Or do you prefer to take a moment to recover here?"

"You're sick."

"I'm up and coming, darling. One day you'll thank me for it."

The hero peeled the bandage off the moment they were at home, alone, to try and get a good look at their new acquisition.

It was a jellyfish, just as the villain had said, inked in full colour and in exquisite detail and artistry. It seeped blue and purple into the hero's skin, with the smallest tinges of shimmering pink. The villain's initials were weaved into the jellyfish's umbrella, subtle to someone not looking for them. Small but there.

The hero didn't remember hitting the bathroom floor, only the dull feeling of their knees giving way beneath them as it all well and truly sunk in.

They could feel it against them. It was almost as if the tentacles were moving, gently, caressing their ribs. As if the villain's fingers were there, a ghost of a blazing touch.

They got a horrific amount of compliments about the damn thing.

#take the 'x' with a pinch of salt here #heroes #villains #villains and heroes #heroes and villains #writing #story #ficlet #whump #whump writing

[wandasaura]

END UP DREAMING INSTEAD OF SLEEPING

summary — you can’t hate her with your eyes closed, so falling asleep against her chest definitely can’t be held against you… right?

warning(s) — established relationship, married wandanat, domestic fluff w/ the cutest lawyer!wives and their bratty baby. this entire thing is just straight fluff, you horndogs need a timeout

authors note — here’s a little blurb for you, it was originally requested on ao3 !! it’s not much, just some wholesome fluff with our favorite ‘enemies’

you are in love universe

♥️⊹ ˚ . 18+, men/minors dni ⁺ 𓈒 ꒰💌꒱ ♡ ･ mommy maximoff

Natasha was properly exhausted, and the redness in her eyes spoke to that fact. Her sluggish footsteps carried her toward the front door at a snail's pace, and dragging her suitcase up the driveway had never felt like such a difficult task. Beneath the blanket of nightfall, the lawyer questioned if potential theft was worth leaving the luggage abandoned beside Wanda’s car in favor of walking into the house empty-handed, but had persisted with her motions when she decided she’d rather not have to go through the process of ordering yet another set of suitcases. Nobody would ever know how she came to have such misfortune with checking bags at the airport, but the running list of lost luggage was long and quite funny to people who weren’t her. 

Being away for two weeks had felt like torture, and she was more then glad to be back in the space she created with her wife. Seeing your car in the driveway parked behind hers had been an additional bonus. Wanda had relayed very minimal information regarding the events that had led to you spending your nights and days off in Westview, which meant that whatever happened would certainly piss her off, but despite the knowledge of something upsetting you while she was away, it was comforting to know that both of her girls were waiting for her return in the same space. 

Natasha struggled to find her keys when she finally made it to the front door, and with greuling efforts she had only barely managed to get the lock to turn on her first try when she’d finally located her keyring in the second smallest pocket of her crossbody bag. The entryway was dark, much like the rest of the house, but the softest glow of light came from a lamp in the living room that hadn’t been turned off. Wanda was meticulous about turning everything off before she went to bed, and if she ever had the slightest inquisition about having forgotten, she made rounds through the house to assure nothing had been overseen on her first pass. Leaving the suitcase beside the door, Natasha followed the kiss of light that projected shadows against the wall. 

Even though the light was dim, one they used sparingly when a good book captured their attention and the length of sunlight was minimal, the silhouettes of two bodies were easily identifiable. Wanda sat curled up against the arm of the couch, her legs folded beneath her body with her chin propped up against the palm of her hand. You were burrowed into her side, your face pressed into her neck and hiding from the peaks of light that tried to stir you awake. Natasha felt her heart skip at the sight of you so content with one another, knowing that something must have gone right to lead to this tender moment. 

“Natalia?” Wanda shifted at the echo of footsteps that hadn’t lingered through the house in fourteen days, her lips pulling into a sleep-riddled grin when she made out the distinct appearance of her wife dressed in comfortable black loungewear. 

Natasha laughed softly at the expression on her wifes face, stepping close enough to lay a kiss against the crown of her head. “Privet dorogaya.” 

“She wanted to wait for you. Poor thing was out within the first twenty minutes.” Wanda looked down at you, smiling at the easy way about your features when they weren’t riddled with stress and sadness. Classes had taken their toll on you, but as you fell into a dream that Wanda could only hope was good, there was an undeniable youth to your features. “I missed you.” She pulled Natasha down to her lips, humming in bliss when the recently returned lawyer returned the embrace. 

“Missed you too. I almost killed Tony on the third day.” Natasha deflated against Wanda, and the Sokovian only laughed softly, knowing that fact was more than accurate. It was honestly surprising he hadn’t done something to tick off the Russian earlier. “I’m gonna take a shower. Meet me in bed?” 

“I’ll be waiting, Mrs. Maximoff.” Wanda winked, watching Natasha retreat up the stairs, and minutes later the telltale sound of the shower running filled the house that had existed in near complete silence since the day she left. Wanda didn’t move from the couch, wanting to spend a few more minutes with you at her side before the peace was interrupted. When you stirred, trying to find a more comfortable position and ultimately failing, you groaned in annoyance. “Morning, sleepyhead.” 

“No. Goodnight.” You pressed your face into Wanda’s neck, covering the side of your face with your palm as even the close contact couldn’t completely coat you in craved for darkness. 

Wanda laughed at your attempt to find sleep, but she didn’t allow you to succeed. She sat up straight, subsequently causing your body to twist at an awkward angle that would only be soothed if you shifted position too. You sighed, rubbing sleep from your eyes, deciding that it wasn’t going to be coming over you again for at least another handful of minutes. 

“Is Natty home?” You perked up, hearing the shower running upstairs. 

Wanda smirked at your delayed realization, nodding her head in the direction of the stairs. “Mmhm. Come on, she came in a couple minutes ago.” 

You followed the Sokovian up the stairs, pointedly ignoring the embarrassment that settled across your cheeks when you sleepily stumbled into the wall after miscalculating the distance to the door of their bedroom. You flopped against the bed the second you were close enough, claiming your rightful position in the middle of the blankets. 

“Getting comfy now, are we?” Wanda laughed at your eagerness to settle into her bed, but she hadn’t expected the night to unfold any differently, though your impromptu cuddle session on the couch had not been a wrench she’d expected to see thrown into those plans. 

You didn’t cuddle back into her chest when she laid down in the bed beside you, but you didn’t shuffle away from her either. Your legs touched beneath the heavy white blanket that was pulled up over your shoulders, an eager smile on your lips as you heard the shower water turn off and Natasha mumbling beneath her breath as she fumbled through drawers and cabinets. 

“Two weeks away and she’s forgotten where she put her hairbrush.” Wanda rolled her eyes, but there was no trace of annoyance in her features as she watched the door with the same amount of excitement as you. 

When Natasha did reappear, dressed in a different set of loungewear and with her red waves cascading down her back in a dampened state, you wiggled closer to Wanda and patted the open space beside you. Little words were spoken, but nothing needed to be said when your bright smile spoke a million inexpressible feelings. Happy to be home, Natasha took full advantage of having both you and Wanda with her. She pulled you flush against her back, restraining your movement, but you had missed her heavy arm being thrown around your waist as you slept so you didn’t protest. Her fingers twisted into Wanda’s like they’d never truly belong anywhere else, and with full darkness surrounding the room, you fell back to sleep. 

“I love you.” Natasha whispered to Wanda, stroking the woman’s knuckles with the calloused pad of her thumb. 

“I love you too, moya lyubov’.” 

#wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #dom!natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #dom!wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff fluff #wandanat #wandanat x reader #dom!wandanat x reader #wandanat fluff #series: you are in love #minors dni ৎ୭

[cordeliawhohung]

HIIIII I love your Mafia!Price Drabble and headcannons I was wondering if you have any ideas that involve Mr. John Price proposing to his gal or even mentioning having a wee baby :3

hi! thank you so much! i hope i'm understanding your ask correctly in that this is mafia!price you're wanting, so that's what i'm going to write on but if you were wanting captain price instead let me know and i can do another bit <3 i have too many thoughts in this pea sized brain anyway lmao also i decided to give you both the proposal and baby talk <3 (but the baby talk gets smutty cuz i'm feral)

warnings: fem!reader, mafia!price, head cannons mixed with drabbles, fluff and nsfw content, smut, mentions of pregnancy, mentions canon typical violence, hope i didn't miss anything (:

you can find more mafia!price in my masterlist <3

Proposing

The thing about Mr. John Price, is that he can get you anything in the world. He's sent you to lavish destinations for holidays, gotten you gifts that seem too expensive for a simple boyfriend to want to gift their partner; there wasn't a rock in the world he would refuse to move for you. So when he decided he wanted to make you his, to make his sweet girlfriend his wife, he finds himself stumped as to what to do in order to really make it stand out from everything else he's already done.

First, there's the ring. He had actually managed to obtain your ring size a few months into seeing one another. A dazzling necklace in a local jewelry store had managed to catch your attention, and he insisted that you go inside to check it out for yourself. While you were there, a ring that you claimed to be similar to your grandmothers had caught your attention, and the jeweler had taken it out for you to look at. You tried to put it on your middle finger, only for it to be too small, so you moved it over to the ring finger instead. It was beautiful, and in a style you kept gushing about. John snuck a glance at the tag, reading and memorizing the size and storing the information in the back of his mind. In the meantime, he bought you the necklace, of course. He ended up going to the same store in order to purchase the ring he wanted to propose to you with.

Then there's the location. Every idea that popped into his head didn't feel right. He was worried about trying too hard, about it feeling unnatural if he planned every single detail out, and yet feared that if he didn't plan enough it wouldn't be special enough. He was always a detail oriented man, and yet he felt as if he would drown in them.

So he lugged the ring around with him for months. Always hidden in his pocket, just out of sight, and yet he could feel it weighing heavier and heavier every day. His worry is something that you can pick up on. You feel it when you rub his shoulders in his office and attempt to melt away the knots in his muscles with your thumbs, you see it in the way he rubs his chin and stares off into space during meals.

John has always been honest with you, and so he made you very much aware of what he does for work before even attempting to pursue a relationship with you. And though he refuses to tell you any specifics in an attempt to keep you safe, you hear some of his men whispering about issues settling disputes with another syndicate. Fearing his stress comes from work, you insist on getting him out of the house. Though he suggests eating at the Greek place you enjoy in the city, or even spending the evening drinking away at one of his clubs (which is just a place for him to hide his tax fraud and money laundering "business"), you insist that you just want to go for a walk. And well, who is he to say no?

Darkness settled over the beach by the time you and John set foot on the shore, but the lights of the city emitted a golden glow that illuminated your face and had you looking as beautiful as ever. Salty water threatened to kiss your feet as you strolled along, and you felt John squeeze your hand while the two of you talked about anything that came to mind.

It was a sand dollar shell that caught your attention. A beautiful, round, and unbroken specimen that you nearly walked right over in the dim light. Fingers slipping out of John's hand, you stopped and bent down to pick it up, ogling over how pristine it was. You held it out, the item small in the palm of your hands as you pointed out each arm on the fossil.

Though you were enamored by the shell, John could only look at you. The way your eyes lit up, how you couldn't help but smile as you told him everything you knew about it, how you always seemed to find joy in even the smallest things. You were radiant, the only light he had in his life. Always smiling, always so kind to him despite how dirty his hands were from work. He didn't have a choice anymore, about being a bad man, but he had a choice when it came to you.

When you pulled away from him to wash the sand dollar off in the water, John found himself falling onto one knee. It was as if he wasn't in control of himself, like his body was telling him the time was right. Cold, damp sand seeped through the fabric of his pants, but he ignored it as he reached into his pocket and pulled out that small, velvet box that had been haunting his clothes for months. Despite all the bad things he had done in his life, he never found himself as nervous as he was in that moment.

Once you were certain all the sand had been washed off of your new possession, you turned around only to drop it to the ground in shock. John Price, the man who headed the most dangerous and effective mafia in the country, the man who always took care of you, who always stood tall and bowed to no one, was on one knee in front of you. The question in his eyes and stance was obvious, and yet you found your hand reaching up to cover your mouth.

"John?" you spoke, as if you were unsure of what he was doing.

He always promised himself he would never make you cry. Would never be the one to cause you any anguish or pain. So when he saw the tears starting to swell in your eyes, he couldn't ignore the way his stomach twisted.

"My whole life I've had whatever I've asked for given to me," he said, thumb brushing over the top of the box, "but I've never wanted something as badly as I want you."

His fingers gently flipped the top of the box open, revealing the dazzling ring you had looked at all that time ago; the one you told him reminded you of your grandmothers ring. A part of you couldn't believe he even remembered that moment, something that had seemed so insignificant at the time.

"I want to cherish you," John continued, "to care for you, to love you. To make you mine. Will you marry me?"

Your answer tumbled out of your mouth faster than you intended it to, nearly cutting the man off before he could fully get the question out.

"Yes!" you nearly sob, your own knees digging into the sand as you throw your arms around your now fiance's neck.

He wraps his arms around you in return, and his chuckle is low and rumbling and deliciously familiar in the way it vibrates through your chest. You can't wait to be able to feel that every single day for the rest of your life.

Baby Talk

Coming from a family born of violence, John was always a little scared to have children, but oh, did he crave being a father. More than that, he craved making you a mother.

But there were these worries that loomed over his head, terrified of dragging his children into the same life he was forced to live. So whenever he did mention children, he only ever sounded half serious.

"This room would make a nice nursery someday." "Maybe we could take our kids here someday, if we have some."

But you saw the look in his eyes. How his gaze lingered on a father playing football with his son in the park, how he chuckled at a young girl lecturing her father about something. Yet he never seriously sat down and talked about kids with you.

So you were the one who ended up really bringing the conversation up. Though, you didn't fully dive into it. Just simple little comments here and there. Ones that were more serious and promising than his own.

"John, look at these! Aren't they just adorable? I can't wait to dress our kids up in stuff like this." "Do you think we'll need a baby monitor? Might be a good idea if we set up a nursery, huh?" "Oh, I love this color. Do you think this would look good on the walls in the nursery?"

Half the time you spoke as if you already had kids or were pregnant, and your words left John's mind spinning. Torn between worry and want, his mind went back and forth between telling himself he shouldn't have kids, and giving into the desire to make you a mother.

And you certainly didn't make it easy on him:

John's cock always knew how to reach the deepest parts of you that turned your brain into nothing but mush. Legs thrown over his arms, he thrusted into you with such force he drew breathless moans from your mouth. His lips brushed against the side of your neck, breath hot and heavy against your skin as he grunted in effort.

Your hands pawed at his back, fingers digging into the rich muscle that covered his shoulder blades and neck. Sweat beaded in the dip of your throat just from the sheer intensity of it all; that burning feeling in your stomach, the tense muscles that shivered all throughout your body, and especially the words he grunted into your skin.

"So goddamn beautiful. Just can't get enough of you," he said, punctuating every word or so with a sharp snap of his hips that left you mewling.

When he was on the brink of his orgasm you could feel the neediness of his thrusts - the strained breaths against your ear - and you felt your cunt clench around him at the thought of him finishing inside of you. Before you knew it, your hands carefully danced across his skin until your palms enveloped his cheeks. You gently moved his head away from your neck, forcing him to look at you as he continued to push himself closer to the edge.

"I wanna give you a baby," you said breathlessly.

Never before had you seen your husband freeze so suddenly. His movements ceased as he buried himself so deep inside of you, you swore he was nudging against your cervix. The sensation ripped a tight moan out of your throat, but it didn't stop you from expressing your wants.

"Please, John, I want it so bad. Wanna be a mum so bad, wanna have your kid," you said, nearly begging. As you continued, you pulled him down until you were close enough to kiss him between words. "Please, let me do this for you, baby, I- fuck!"

John's thrusts continued with little warning, and they were just as passionate as they had been before, if not more. His lips silenced you as he smothered you with a kiss, and he ate up your moans like it was the only sustenance he would ever need.

"Yeah? Fuck darling, you don't know what you do to me," he muttered, voice strained with effort.

As he continued to pound into you, the sounds of skin on skin filling the room, all John could think about was you. You with a swollen stomach and breasts. He could imagine your giggle when you first feel your child kick, or laying in bed together rubbing your back when it ached too much. The thought of it all had him moving with a new sense of vigor, hellbent on filling you until there was no doubt at all that he'd make you a mother.

After all, whenever his wife wanted something, he would move heaven and earth to give it to her.

so i have a confession to make - in this previous mafia!price piece i wrote, i really wanted to put in wife!reader begging price to let her have his kid to thank him for all he does for her, but i wasn't sure if that was too feral so i left it out. but then i put it in here instead and, well yeah. anyway i hope you all have an amazing day, and merry christmas if you celebrate! <3

#captain price x reader #price x reader #cod smut #captain price smut #john price smut

[just-aake]

Chasing Shadows

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: A sudden mission on New Year’s Eve brings Natasha face to face with someone from her past.

Warnings: light fluff, light angst

Words: 1410

11:55 P.M.

Surrounded by the lively atmosphere of Times Square, Natasha glances at her watch to check the time before looking around at the excited crowds of people, all waiting for the annual New Year’s Eve Ball Drop to start.

Laughter and cheers fill the air as she withdraws to a more secluded spot, raising her hand to her earpiece to speak through the comms.

“I’m at the location.”

SHIELD had intercepted a suspicious encrypted message a few moments ago, indicating that something was set to happen in the area tonight. Being the only one available nearby in such a short time, Natasha took on the assignment.

After a brief static pause, Maria's voice comes through the comms.

“It’s a shame that this had to interrupt your holiday evening.”

Taking a moment to scan her surroundings, Natasha replies nonchalantly, “I could say the same for you. Besides, it’s fine. It’s not like I had any plans.”

A curious hum comes in response before Maria asks, “No special someone to begin the new year with?”

At her words, the face of someone from years ago unexpectedly crosses Natasha’s mind, accompanied by flickers of memories recounting moments filled with late-night escapades and adrenaline-filled touches.

One particular memory stands out–of a night similar to tonight, atop a rooftop, shielded from prying eyes. 

Two people shared a rare moment of vulnerability, and against her better judgment, she wished life had played out differently for them—an unrealistic hope.

11:56 P.M.

“No,” Natasha replies to Maria’s question as she pushes away those thoughts and refocuses her attention back on the crowd. 

Amidst all the joyous people, Natasha finally spots the individual they were seeking—a slippery criminal with a history of working for a notorious crime family that once controlled these streets.

The members of that family were taken down and arrested by an undercover SHIELD operation years ago, leading many of their associates to either scatter or continue their own shady activities in the city.

This particular individual belongs to the latter group and has proven to be very elusive, successfully evading capture from SHIELD multiple times.

“I’ve got eyes on the suspect.”

As she utters these words, the man locks eyes directly with her, as though she is the intended target instead.

Discreetly, he reaches into his coat, revealing a mysterious device with an ominous, glowing red button at its center. He briefly flashes it at her before tucking it away and swiftly turning around to disappear into the crowds.

11:57 P.M.

Immediately, Natasha gives chase, her eyes fixed on the suspect darting through the masses of people. With adept skill, she effortlessly maneuvers through the crowds, rapidly closing the distance.

As the suspect pushes through the final layers of people, Natasha spots another figure emerging from the shadows toward the suspect.

In a swift and seamless exchange, the mysterious device changes hands from the original suspect to the newcomer.

Natasha’s eyes narrow suspiciously at the action when suddenly, the two figures split off in opposite directions, causing her to realize what that means.

Either she continues chasing the elusive criminal they've sought for so long, or she goes after the person now in possession of the unknown device, which may pose a potential threat to everyone in the area. 

Without missing a beat, Natasha alters her course to pursue the newcomer. Surging forward, she vaults over one of the crowd barriers, tackling the figure mid-stride, and sending them both crashing to the ground.

The impact elicits gasps of shock from the few people nearby as Natasha swiftly recovers, pinning the suspect to the pavement.

The newcomer wears a mask over their eyes, concealing their identity from anybody who looks at them.

Not from her though.

Natasha is taken aback as her lips part in surprise. She easily recognizes those particular sets of eyes, especially when accompanied by the knowing smirk forming on their face in response to her reaction.

11:58 P.M.

Natasha is still rattled by the revelation of the figure before her, allowing them to seize the opportunity to escape from their pinned position, forcefully knocking the Black Widow aside before swiftly resuming their sprint.

Partially recovering from the shock, Natasha's instincts kick in, and she rushes to pursue, her mind still grappling with disbelief.

It can't be. That thought repeats in Natasha’s mind as she follows the figure into a condemned building site.

She recognizes the structure immediately, both from that particular memory of the past as well as its status as an old building that fell victim to one of the Avengers' numerous battles.

Natasha enters the ruined building through the recently shut side door, finding herself in the emergency stairway that miraculously remains intact.

Glancing up, she spots the suspect running up the stairs, quickly ascending to the higher levels of the building.

11:59 P.M.

The anticipated event unfolds outside as the ball at the top of the Times building starts its descent, marking the last minute of the year.

Amidst the beginning of the countdown chorus from the crowds outside, Natasha also starts running up the stairs.

The echoing footsteps of the other person above her drive her to accelerate to catch up, sprinting up the stairs two at a time.

11:59:30 P.M.

Natasha’s heart beats painfully in her chest, and she’s not sure if it’s from adrenaline or from the overwhelming sight of seeing you again—maybe it’s both.

After all, you’ve always had that effect on her.

“Three!” - 11:59:57 P.M.

Bursting through the roof door, Natasha slides to a sudden stop at the edge of the dilapidated floor. Dust rises at her movement, and small rocks roll and tumble over the edge, falling into the gaping hole.

“Two!” - 11:59:58 P.M.

On the opposite side of the large chasm, balancing precariously on the rooftop edge, the suspect stands, hands clasped behind their back, awaiting Natasha's arrival.

“One!” - 11:59:59 P.M.

With her attention now fixed on them, the figure removes the mask covering their eyes with a dramatic flourish, letting it drift off in the wind and fall gracefully towards the cheering crowd below.

12:00 A.M.

The night sky explodes in colorful lights, illuminating your silhouette.

Natasha stands frozen, mesmerized by the sight of you again, with your Cheshire smirk firmly in place as the remnants of the fireworks rain behind you.

It's a perfect reminder of who you are—beautiful yet dangerous.

In one of your hands, you teasingly wave the device with its ominous red glow at Natasha, while your other hand raises to your lips, playfully sending a mock kiss her way.

With a mischievous wink, you suddenly toss the device toward her, the gentle force of your action causing it to barely reach over to her side.

Reacting quickly, she stretches her arm to catch it before it can fall down the hole, pulling herself safely back from the edge once it is in her hand.

Regaining her balance, Natasha's gaze shoots back to you, or where you should've been, but now there's only dust kicked up by the cold wind. Furrowing her brows, she scans her surroundings again but finds no traces of you anywhere.

You've slipped away.

Returning her attention to the device in her hand, Natasha turns it around, removing the back covering.

Now knowing who she is dealing with, she is not surprised when she finds no activation triggers or wiring—just a battery-powered red LED bulb and a piece of paper folded inside.

Natasha raises her hand to her earpiece, activating the comms. 

"Hill, the device is a fake. It was all just a wild goose chase."

"And the suspects?"

"Escaped," Natasha replies regretfully, looking back at the empty rooftop space.

"From you? That’s impressive."

Again, Natasha isn't surprised; time in prison clearly hasn't dulled your skills. Though, now, she needs to consider the implications of your unexpected and sudden return to the city.

"Can you check something for me?" Natasha asks into the earpiece.

"Sure, what is it?"

"The confinement statuses of all the members of the L/n family."

Maria lowly whistles before commenting, "Haven’t heard that name in a while. Isn’t that the crime family that you took down during your first solo undercover mission?"

12:01 A.M.

Natasha remains silent at that, her eyes fixated on the piece of paper in her hand. The fireworks illuminate your familiar handwriting periodically against the darkness of the night.

Happy New Year, Natasha  Let’s play again soon 🤍

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: Thank you for reading, and an additional special thanks for all who have read any of my other writings this year. I really appreciated all the likes, reblogs, and comments that you have given me (many of you are so sweet and kind for reading most or almost all of the things I wrote). Thank you again, and I hope you all have a happy New Years!

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff

[lagomoz]

Everyone so far seems to be theorizing Amane’s victim as her dad, her mom, or an unnamed child also in the cult. I’ve got my own theory - it was Gozake.

That’s Gozake, from Magic. The blue guy. He’s one of the four main figureheads of the cult, and possibly a music teacher of some kind to Amane, conducting her to sing in Magic. The very first shot of The Purge March is Amane playing the drums.

The mindscape Amane’s wield flags representing the four cult leaders (teachers? elders? propaganda peddlers? high up members? whatever, important cult people), but Gozake’s flag in particular is given special attention. 

Same color scheme, same three dots over a narrow rectangle like design, same ear thingy to the side, same orb-like design features - that’s Gozake. Before we see it flying though, we see it crumpled up on the floor by Amane’s feet, something not true for any other flag.

We then see an Amane messing up her flag routine, dropping Gozake’s flag in particular and falling over. The other Amane looms over her, preparing to punish her for a failure related to Gozake. Once the punishment starts, rain pours down.

Then, the punished Amane begins to drown. You can even see the flag while she’s sinking.

She drowns further, and we get another shot of just the flag, lying on the ground, and then the drowning Amane reaching up towards it. She’s reaching toward Gozake, the one responsible for drowning her.

And he is the one drowning her. We see it directly in Magic.

It cuts to the real world, with Amane actually being drowned, and her placed below the one drowning her like she is placed below the flag. 

Take note of the framing, with one hand stretching from out of frame.

I can’t find a better picture for her undercover card, but her location shows a bathroom. Undercover also has a shot of a victim lying on a blue tiled floor (we can’t see the floor, but the shower in Purge March has blue and green wall tiles) with water coming down. Blue and water are representations of Gozake (Amane’s character color is aqua), and it’s framed as a single hand stretching out while the rest is (mostly) obscured, and takes place in the bathroom (or at least a bathroom) that Amane was drowned by Gozake in.

Throughout the MV, there’s a lot of blue, too. Amane’s school uniform is blue, the cloth she heals the cat with is blue (the cloth later becomes bloody, another thing representing Gozake being damaged), the sky and general background and lighting is blue. Symbols of Gozake are present everywhere in the MV.

The suit man with the briefcase could be Gozake, I’m not sure. Gozake would fit the profile - a cult member, adult male, disapproving of medicine, willing to put Amane in harm’s way - but I don’t have further evidence.

Before Amane goes all in on the cult’s doctrine, she has an umbrella, but it’s unopened. The baton she uses to kill and to represent her as fully converted and the opening umbrella are overlayed. 

The lyrics show her motivation for the murder, as both a means of protection and revenge. She’s been horrifically abused for years, and has taken on the role of the punisher to avoid being the punished.

“It’s my turn to tear you apart / So there is no second time, I’ll give back the judgment that you gave to me /  It’s now your turn to say that hopeless “I’m sorry” /  You’re sorry? I don’t care! / Please, go ahead and die already / Remember MY cries, MY repents, MY words of “I’m sorry” that I said to you?”

Beyond showing a lot of resentment and disdain for the one she’s speaking to - her victim - the phrasing clearly shows that she’s not just punishing a sinner, she’s turning the tables. She’s returning the favor to someone who’s been violent to her in the past.

The umbrella is symbolically her murder weapon and what she uses to punish others, but also literally and obviously a tool to protect from the rain. What she uses to kill is what protects her from Gozake. She can’t take the abuse anymore and tries to become the cult sanctioned violent avenger that’s hurt her so many times. She can’t be the victim if she’s the perpetrator.

The final shot has her over the corpse, having tracked in water from the rain. The puddles lead right to it and the framing is the same as both the Undercover victim and the one drowning her - a single hand, reaching from out of frame.

Amane killed Gozake.

#illia original #milgram #the milgram project #momose amane #amane momose #gozake #the purge march #magic #theory #meta

[hazelnutsforellie]

genesis | e. williams ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

PAIRING— jackson!ellie williams x fem!reader

SUMMARY— ellie has had feelings for you for a while... and finally opening up to you leads to many unexpected things, such as you teaching ellie how to ride for the first time

WARNINGS— nsfw, smut [18+], reader pleasing ellie, strap usage, shy & slightly bratty ellie, friends to lovers, mutual pining, jealous reader, sexual tension, top!reader, bottom!ellie, hair pulling, hickeys, nipple play, fingering (e rec), oral (e rec), overstim, the works, not proofread per usual.

WC— 6.7k

AUTHOR'S NOTE— i got a few requests for bottom ellie and whipped this up over many late nights listening to genesis by grimes on repeat xx

TAGLIST: @kurosaaki @bellswlw @evanpetersluver @prrimordiais @urlocalgingersnap

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You saw her often. The witty auburn that your friend, Dina, would not stop talking about every time they'd get back from patrol. Ellie. The girl you've had a secret crush on ever since she arrived to Jackson. You were aware of Dina's feelings for the girl, but you couldn't change the way you felt, even if you wanted to.

Ellie's tough on the outside, which only draws you closer to her. Your adoration was hard to ignore, mainly because you've had a suspicion that she feels the same way. There was a particular moment that had you question everything.

You thickly swallowed, gently shaking your hand to swirl the liquor in your glass as your eyes moved back and forth. Standing at the bar, you leaned to press your back against the solid wood, sighing to yourself. The one person you hoped would show up couldn't even talk to you, getting dragged away from the bar to the dance floor by Dina before you could finish greeting her. Dina managed to sweet talk you into going to the winter dance to begin with, located at the church in the center of town.

You silently watched Dina and Ellie slow dance as you stood by the bar, until it happened. Dina slowly leaned in, capturing Ellie's lips into a kiss.

You felt angry. You could not believe that Dina had kissed Ellie, despite never telling Dina about your infatuation with the auburn haired girl to begin with. You couldn’t necessarily blame Dina. Hell, you wanted Ellie just as bad. You were too afraid to make a move first, worried that you were going to ruin your friendship. Of course, right?

The part that stuck out to you, was what happened after Dina kissed her. From where they were dancing, Dina’s back was facing you and you could see Ellie’s face. You tried to avert your gaze elsewhere, not wanting her to catch you staring. You couldn’t help but capture a glance every so often as they danced, though. When Dina kissed her, you just so happened to be looking, and you noticed Ellie’s eyes widen as if she had seen a ghost. When they pulled away from each other, Ellie looked at… you.

You weren’t sure why, but you didn’t care. You were upset, as anyone would be if they saw someone kiss the person they wanted to call their own. A sigh blew from your nose as you avoided Ellie’s gaze, downing the rest of your drink before lighting placing the glass down on the bar top. You weren’t particularly a fan of gatherings to begin with, let alone a dance.

You didn’t waste time heading for the front door of the church, waving and fake-smiling goodbyes to your friends on your way until you reached Jesse, who was conveniently by the door. He was leaned up against the wall, sweet talking a girl — most likely to shoot back at Dina.

“Hey, I’m heading out,” you advised, pointing toward the door with your thumb. Jesse stopped talking to the girl, you weren’t sure what her name was, and quirked a brow at you.

“Already? It just started,” Jesse nearly whined, pulling himself off the side of the wall.

“It’s been over an hour,” you deadpanned, your hooded eyes narrowing, "-and I didn’t say you had to leave with me.”

Jesse’s eyebrows raised, taken aback by the clear anger that rolled off your tongue. He didn’t take it personally, nodding in understanding. You then nodded back, backing up by a couple steps to grab your coat off the rack beside the door before making your way outside.

Ellie was hard to read. When you would see her around Jackson, she would make sure she saw you too. As if she was looking around, waiting to see you pass by just to get a glance at you. You were friends, but you weren’t extremely close. You knew each other’s interests, and had a fair share of deep conversations, but you were never close. To be fair, Ellie wasn't close with anyone.

Ellie seemed shy around you, wanting to hear all about you and not a peep about herself. Sure, she would tell you stories here and there, but she always wanted to learn more about you each time she saw you. It was flattering, really. You thought she was charismatic, and it made her that much more attractive.

You were silent your entire walk home, your skin frosting as the ice-cold weather consumed you. Your nose was burning red, light sniffles sounding above your lips as your boots crunched on the snow below you. All you could think about was how you let your chance slip between your fingers. You had many chances, actually. You were just afraid.

After you had left the church, Ellie looked to Jesse with a curious expression. Dina still had her arms wrapped around her from kissing her, but her grip slowly released when she realized Ellie’s attention was no longer on her.

“I’ll, uh… fuck. I’ll be right back,” Ellie mustered, giving Dina an assuring nod. Dina furrowed her brows in bewilderment, but Ellie didn’t give her a chance to say anything before she was heading for the church doors. She completely forgot to grab her jacket from the rack, making Jesse look to Dina in surprise.

Instead of heading after you, Ellie went home. She was upset, mainly with herself. She cursed under her breath as she walked, unable to stop thinking that she had quite possibly ruined any chance she had. Even though she was walking through inches of snow without a jacket, her adrenaline was warming her body just enough to make it home.

Unbeknownst to you, or anyone for that matter, Ellie had feelings for you. Hell, she was surprised you couldn’t tell. The way she would get nervous when you would playfully wink at her after saying a joke. The way she would feel her cheeks burn, and she would turn her head away from you for a moment to prevent you from catching a glimpse.

Ellie tried to act cool around you, as you would say. You had to admit that it was cute, though. You could tell that she just wanted to impress you, and you wished you could tell her that you were already far past that. The problem was, you simply took it as her being your friend.

When Ellie made it inside her studio home in Joel’s backyard, she immediately made her way toward her desk. She took a seat on her desk chair, her elbows landing on the solid wood of the table as she wiped her eyes with her hands. A groan fell from her lips while she remembered what happened at the dance, grimacing to herself.

She dropped her hands back down to the desk, where her journal was resting. She wasted no time peeling it open and flipping to the next available page, picking up a stray pen before writing down her thoughts. It was the best way for her to express how she felt.

I can’t believe Dina kissed me… not that I don’t like Dina or anything. I’m scared. I’m… anxious. I don’t know if I should sleep it off… Did she see her kiss me?

Ellie’s hand halted as she thought, letting a deep sigh escape her nose before she continued.

Of course this shit would happen to me. I never meant to make Dina think I wanted anything more than friendship. Fuck... I just wish she didn't kiss me. I have to fix it, right? Is she upset? She's seemed upset. She stormed out...

Ellie read over the inked lines over and over again before finally slamming her journal closed, standing from her desk chair. She made her way over to her closet, changing out of her button up and into a grey hoodie. She didn't bother grabbing a jacket to wear over it, knowing that it was only a two minute walk.

"I can do this," she whispered to herself, pulling the hoodie down her frame until it reached just below the waistline of her jeans. She then made her way over to her door, not allowing herself to hesitate or else she would overthink it and isolate herself.

Ellie wiped her clammy hands on her jeans, nervously sweating through the crisp air as she stared at your front door. Your place was fairly similar to hers, having built it yourself with your friends in an old garage.

Just do it, she thought. She huffed before raising her hand to your wooden door, firmly tapping her knuckles against it. Her heartbeat fastened when she heard shuffling from the other side, suddenly becoming more anxious. What am I doing?

Ellie's inner voice came to a halt when she heart the deadbolt lock turn, followed by the door squeaking open. Her eyes instantly met yours, her breath hitching in her throat. She had suddenly forgotten why she wanted to see you in the first place, panicking that you would turn her away.

You could tell that she was shivering, despite her efforts to keep her body still. You wanted to snicker from how stubborn she was, refusing to wear a jacket no matter how short of a walk it is.

“Ellie?” you shivered from the sudden burst of cold air, the high winds noisily shaking your cabin home. You noticed Ellie's change in outfit, seeing she was no longer in her button down that she wore at the dance, but was now wearing a grey hoodie. Ellie's lips parted as if she was going to speak, but nothing came out but a breath.

"Hey, are you... are you okay?" you asked, furrowing your brows in concern.

“I just… wanted to come address… some things,” Ellie clearly struggled to find her words, moving her hands as she spoke. She nearly winced at herself, her cheeks quickly growing pink the more you stared into her eyes. You intimidated her, and she loved and hated it at the same time.

"Okay, yeah. Sure," you nodded, not quite understanding what she meant, but you had an idea. You pulled the door open wider for her, motioning for her to walk inside. "C'mon, you're freezing."

Ellie obliged, quickly making her way inside your studio home with a loud blow of air escaping her lips to emphasize the cold. The warmth of your place due to your furnace quickly soaked through her hoodie, but not enough to stop her body from shivering. The layout of your place was nearly identical to Ellie's, but mirrored. Your couch rests on the left side of the room, your bed on the right.

"Jesus, you need to warm up," you said after you noticed the blue tint that lightly colored Ellie's lips. "Sit down, I'll add more fire to the furnace."

"No, no. I'll be quick," Ellie said as she sat down on your couch, wanting to just get it out. She couldn't allow herself to hold off on telling you how she felt any longer. You playfully rolled your eyes at Ellie's stubbornness, making your way around the coffee table to sit on the other side of the couch.

You both sat down, you sitting in her direction, your left leg off the couch and the other folded in front of you, while she sat with her back against the arm rest, one knee up and one down. Her urgency was slightly concerning you, causing you to give her your full attention and lean slightly forward.

"I... uh..." Ellie nervously trailed off, scratching the nape of her neck as she tried to formulate the proper words. "I saw you leave the dance... You looked upset."

Ellie didn't like the fact that you were potentially upset with her. She was not sure why you were upset, but she assumed that it was because Dina kissed her and not you. Although, she'd hoped that wasn't the case.

You sighed, leaning back up to sit comfortably, relaxing now that you knew what the topic was. You knew you had to say something, but you weren't sure if you wanted to express how you felt just yet.

"I... was bored," you lied with a shrug, earning no response in return. Ellie didn't believe you, furrowing her brows as you continued. "What are you wanting to clear up?"

Ellie nervously nibbled her bottom lip before looking elsewhere, her eyes trailing around your room as she spoke, "I just... wanted to let you know that I, uh— that I don't like Dina. Not like... that."

You had to admit, knowing that Ellie didn't have feelings for Dina was reassuring. Hell, she came to you after Dina kissed her. That had to mean something, right?

The tension was thick, much more than the usual. It was clear that there was an elephant in the room, a fact that neither of you wanted to address. There was something there, you both believed that. The way Ellie nervously scratched here and there, wiped her palms, her nervousness was dripping onto you.

"Do you think I like Dina, or something?" you asked, leaning your side against the cushions. Ellie looked surprised by your question, surprised that you knew exactly what she was thinking. Either way, she wanted to know who you had feelings for, because it was obvious it was one of them.

“No… I… no, no,” Ellie trailed off before groaning, unable to formulate a proper sentence. She suddenly shook her head, sitting up to lean closer to you. Her hands rested in her lap, fingers folded together to warm herself. "Okay, yes. I think you like Dina, and I was just... curious."

"Just curious?" you teased, raising a brow as you teasingly leaned closer to her. You almost heard Ellie suck in a sharp breath, her eyes subconsciously falling to your lips.

Ellie was used to your jokingly flirtatious personality, but sometimes she couldn't help but wonder if you were joking or not. Your personality was the main reason she fell so hard for you in the first place. Even though she hated that you made her blush in front of you, she never wanted you to stop.

"Well," you tilted your head, your eyes meeting hers again as you thought. You knew that your answer would reveal more than what you wanted to either way.

The damage was done. Your emotions were clearly displayed for her and everyone else at the dance. You were avoiding, and Ellie knew it. Your hesitation was just making her heart thump faster and faster in anticipation.

"I don't have feelings for Dina," you finally spit out, managing to hold eye contact with the auburn. You weren't admitting that you particularly had feelings for Ellie instead, hoping that you wouldn't have to.

"Okay..." Ellie trailed off as she leaned back against the armrest, continuing to nervously chew on her lower lip. The pressure in Ellie's chest was growing stronger, and your slightly flirtatious behavior was throwing her off your trail just enough. Instead, she began thinking that she had already made herself look a fool for showing up in the first place, wanting such information. She knew she had to clear it up. "I didn't want her to kiss me."

"Ellie, it's okay," you assured her, sensing that she felt uncomfortable with you thinking she liked Dina. You just couldn't understand why.

"It's just..." Ellie trailed off, not feeling completely satisfied. "You know when you get that overwhelming feeling that someone is upset with you? I just... I feel like I fucked something up."

"What do you think you fucked up? I don't understand," you expressed, shaking your head as you leaned closer to her. Ellie nearly shrunk, your warmth radiating off of you as you got closer. She could feel it, and she wished she could just wrap her arms around you to warm herself up.

Ellie thought about how she looked at you after the kiss, and how her eyes met yours. Your expression held a mixture of disappointment and sadness, and you held the eye contact for a short while before you set the glass down and left. It was obvious why you were upset, now that Ellie remembered more and more. If you truly wanted Dina, you would've looked pissed at Ellie. Yes, you were pissed. But you didn't show Ellie that, she didn't deserve it.

It clicked.

Ellie had a sudden burst of confidence, her legs still spread apart as she held onto her knee to lean forward, closer to you. You could have sworn you felt butterflies in your stomach.

"Why can't you just be honest with me?" she asked lowly, but kindly, her eyes never leaving yours. "You were upset. Just spit it out."

Ellie's behavior toward you had changed drastically. She wasn't as shy as she usually was. She was determined, and in a way, she seemed cocky. As if she knew something you didn't. That quick, like a flick of a switch, she got you.

Instead of allowing her to corner you, you reciprocated her attitude, but more seductively.

"Why don't you just tell me what you want me to say?" you teased, leaning closer to her until your nose was mere inches away from hers. Ellie didn't back away, remaining firm as she stared into your eyes, her cocky expression slowly faltering. It was a pitiful sight, honestly. You did nothing other than lean closer and she began melting.

Her silent action was enough for you to know exactly why she came in the first place. It was funny, both of you putting the pieces together in your own minds as you stared into each other's eyes.

You could feel your heart racing, thumping in your chest enough to make your necklace shake ever so slightly. Shaky breaths escaped Ellie's throat as her eyes trailed down from yours to your lips, not caring if you caught her or not. What did she have to lose, at this point? Her eyes then trailed down your jaw, to your neck. Fuck, she thought.

"You... you were upset that Dina kissed me," Ellie revealed, mainly to herself, since you were already fully aware. Her eyes met yours once again before she continued, "Because you..."

"Because I what?" you pushed, inching a tiny bit closer. The arousing tension was too obvious to mention. It was as if you both were just waiting for the green light. Neither of you knew how to express your feelings verbally, being used to internalizing them.

"You... you wished Dina was you?" Ellie raised an accusing eyebrow, nearly making you chuckle from her naturally raspy tone.

"More than that," you said before ending the conversation, wrapping a hand around the nape of her neck to pull her closer toward you, closing the gap. Her tongue instantly dipped into your mouth, nearly making you smirk against her lips. You could tell she had been waiting a while to kiss you.

Your lips were just as soft as Ellie had imagined, locking her lips with yours as she leaned into you. The more Ellie leaned in, the more you leaned back, allowing her to straddle your right thigh as your left leg hung off the couch.

Ellie used this to her advantage to grind her right knee against your clothed heat, her tongue still battling yours as you fought for dominance. You knew you were going to win, but you wanted to let her finish her moment. You didn't expect her to climb onto you at first, knowing fully well that she was a bottom in bed. You've had many personal conversations about your sex lives, and particular kinks that you liked.

Against your will, you learned that Cat was the one to give her head for the first time, and the fact alone left you jealous for days. You had no right to be, you knew that, but the thought still bothered you since you were so fond of her.

A breath fell from your lips and rolled onto Ellie's as her knee grazed your clothed clit, tightening your grip around her neck before pushing her forward. You used your grip on both her neck and on her hip to guide her down, easing her onto the cushions until she was flat against the couch, with you straddling her leg.

You released her lips from yours, beginning to trail wet love marks down her jaw, to her ear, to her neck. Soft breaths fell from Ellie's lips as you gently sucked her tender skin between your lips, making her eyes flutter closed as she relished in the feeling. Her hands found your waist, pulling your body closer to hers, which ultimately caused you to grind down on her thigh.

A groan fell from your lips, nearly causing a moan in return from Ellie. She could feel herself growing more and more soaked, her heat clenching around nothing as she anticipated your touch.

"You're freezing," you purred in her ear, having taken note of how cold her skin was against your warm lips. "D'you want to move to the bed?"

Ellie tilted her head back, lightly smiling at the feeling of your breath tickling her ear. She then looked up at you through her lashes, giving you a silent answer. You reconnected your lips with hers, pulling her to sit up before starting to take your shoes off. You then stood, reaching out for her hand, to which she quickly accepted.

It seemed like it took less than a second for the two of you to lie on your bed, immediately reconnecting your lips once more as you straddled her waist. Ellie's head rested comfortably against your pillows, her bun on the verge of falling out from how eager both of your movements were.

You decided to test the waters, gently biting her bottom lip as you pulled away from a kiss. In return, you earned a long intake of breath, Ellie's desperate eyes boring into yours as you smirked.

"You're impatient," you noted, sitting up as she continued to lie underneath you. Her bright eyes were looking up at you innocently, lips slightly parted, cheeks lightly tinted. She looked pitiful, just for you.

"I... fuck," she muttered, screwing her eyes shut as she gently bucked her hips against you. You raised a brow at the friction, tenderly pushing yourself against her to add pressure.

"What was that?" you pushed teasingly, trying to hide a cheeky smile. Ellie noticed it though, her long lashes fluttering closed as she rolled her eyes.

"I fucking need you, is that what you wanted to hear?" Ellie lightly snapped, and you gently placed your fists next to her ears, on the pillow that rested underneath her head. You stared down at her, watching her impatient expression slowly falter. She was unsure if she crossed a line, admitting something too soon. But she was wrong.

That's how you ended up with your tongue buried in her cunt, your hands tightly gripping her thighs to prevent her from squeezing them together. Her fingers were entangled in your hair, gripping the strands as tight as she could as you sunk your tongue between her sloppy folds, earning soft, whiney moans from her in response. And many curses.

"Fuck, fuck," she whimpered, grinding her hips against your face, coating your chin and cheeks in her wetness. Sure, she'd had a girl go down on her before, but it was nothing like this. The way Ellie's shoulders would shudder in pleasure with each drag of your tongue through her slit convinced her that you were the best she'd ever had.

A loud, pitiful moan would escape her throat each time your tongue dragged over her throbbing clit, which was begging to be touched. You slowly circled the tip your tongue around her swollen bundle of nerves before enclosing your lips around it, softly suckling.

"Holy shit," she cried, her free hand flying to the bedsheets to tug on, subconsciously attempting to pull her thighs closed, squeezing your head deeper into her cunt. "Just like that. Please do-n't... don't stop."

You watched as Ellie arched her back before she suddenly sat up, looking down at you as she used her free hand to stabilize herself, her other hand remaining entangled in your hair.

"Feels so good, babe," she praised weakly, the pet name making you gently flick your tongue against her clit. You suddenly released your grasp from her thighs, sliding your left arm over her lower abdomen. With your right hand, you eased a digit into her, continuing to give attention to her bundle of nerves as you did so.

"Oh my fucking god," Ellie grunted, followed by a string of moans as you slowly added a second digit. Ellie's lips quivered as she relished in the feeling of your fingers thrusting into her, the noises of her sopping cunt causing hungry groans to roll off your tongue and onto her clit, sending vibrations up her spine.

You released her swollen bud with a pop, cheekily smirking up at her as you began to fasten the pace of your fingers, the squelching noises growing louder with each thrust. You moved your left hand to grip her shoulder, since she was still sitting up, gently kissing her jaw, Ellie desperately tried to pull her legs closed, the pleasure quickly becoming overwhelming.

"No, no. Keep them open," you purred, guiding her legs wide open again, earning a desperate, loud moan in return.

"You sound so pretty. You hear that?" you purred, curling your fingers inside her to graze her spongy spot that drove her crazy, unbeknownst to you. A nearly pornographic moan erupted from Ellie's lips, her thighs flying shut as you thrusted your fingers relentlessly, the messy noises of her cunt bellowing throughout the room. You used your free hand to pull her thighs apart, quickly understanding that it was simply a reflex that she couldn't control, the pleasure overpowering her.

"Shit! I-I'm gonna come," Ellie whimpered, seeming embarrassed at how fast she approached her climax as her eyes screwed shut to avoid your gaze. You released your hand from her knee to grab her wrist, tenderly tightening your grip as she grew closer, causing her eyes to shoot back open and meet yours, making her fall for you all over again in one simple act.

"You're gonna come?" you cooed, wanting to assure her that your goal was to make her feel good, not make her last long. "That's okay. Come for me, baby."

Ellie's eyes screwed shut again as the overloaded pleasure eventually crashed down on her, her muscles stiffening as her orgasm blossomed through her core. Ellie's lips quivered as her jaw hung agape, short intakes of hair sounding from her throat as she struggled to catch her breath. Her lungs were completely knocked of air, not allowing a peep to escape her throat as her body began to tingle.

You began to slow the pace of your fingers, watching as her thighs trembled mercilessly. Upon removing your fingers from her wet folds, you gently straddled her once again to lean down and press gentle kisses on her cheeks, hearing gentle gasps from her as she recovered.

"You okay?" you whispered against her skin, softly running your fingers underneath the band of her sports bra, feeling just beneath the cotton. Ellie melted under your gentle, graceful touch, nodding her head in response as her eyes fluttered open, looking up as your lips traveled down her neck.

"How the fuck did you learn to do that?" Ellie questioned breathlessly, earning a cocky grin in response against the skin of her neck. Ellie playfully rolled her eyes from feeling your grin against her skin, her slim fingers finding your waist. You could feel Ellie's chest still heaving with heavy breaths, but not as rapid. "You're cocky."

"Am I?" you finally moved to meet her eyes, quirking a sarcastic brow. Ellie playfully hit your hip, her lips contorting into an sheepish smile. Your grip on her waist tightened before you flipped her so that you were in her previous spot with her straddling your hips.

Various birth marks and tiny freckles littered her thighs, barely noticeable in color. But you noticed, and she knew that. The way your fingers would caress them, traveling in specific patterns before she caught your attention again.

"Feel free to take a picture," she joked with an accusing tone, making you meet her eye contact. A small smile tugged the corners of her lips as she leaned down to capture your lips with hers, humming into the kiss in satisfaction. You suddenly pulled away from her lips, remembering that you had a specific toy that you often wished you could use, but never did.

"I want to try something," you said, easing her to sit up so you could slip out from underneath her. "Just lay down real quick."

Before anything else, you made sure to throw in a few logs of firewood into the furnace before making your way over to your closet beside your bed. You were only in your underwear, wanting to keep your place warm enough for Ellie's comfort.

She quirked a brow as she watched you rummage through your closet, catching a glimpse of your ass as you bent down. Your black cheeky underwear earned a sharp intake of breath from the auburn girl behind you as she stared, lightly squeezing her thighs together. You turned around to face her with a strap-on in hand, giving her a suggestive smile.

"Oh," Ellie's expression was surprised, but not distasteful. You knew it wasn't her first time using one, wanting to take up on the opportunity that was presented to you. She watched you as you strapped the simple harness, your eyes focused on it as you stepped back over to the bed. Ellie's expression quickly turned satisfied as she watched you climb back onto the bed, leaning closer to her until your lips met hers in a hungry kiss. You then laid back down, which made her eyes lightly widen, just enough for you to notice.

Your hands found their way to her waist, as she sat on her knees beside you, and you looked up at her with a gentle expression. "Come here, babe. I want to make you feel good."

"I've never done that," Ellie admitted, her freckled cheeks dusting a light pink after the words lightly escaped her lips. Her fingers began curling into the bedsheets, nervousness creeping up on her in fear that you would be disappointed with her inexperience. "I've never been on top."

Ellie looked nervous, but excited at the same time. You could tell that she genuinely wanted to try it, but that she didn't know what to expect. You were surprised that Ellie had never tried the position before, in a judgment-free way.

“Do you want me to teach you how?” you inquired genuinely, your fingers running down her hips to her indents where her thighs and lower stomach met. Ellie's tensed shoulders released as she nodded, taking it upon herself to climb onto you, the silicone toy gently resting against her stomach as she sat on your upper thighs.

Her eagerness surprised you, mainly because she had been ready for you the whole time. Despite already having one release, and not being touched for a short while, you could still see the glistening of tears finding their way down her legs as she straddled your upper thighs.

"I'll take care of you, okay?" you assured her, your fingers wrapping around the silicone as your left hand found its way to her right hip, helping her ease herself up to hover over the tip. Ellie nodded in response, her eyes falling from yours to the tip, watching it slowly disappear as you eased her down.

A soft whine escaped Ellie's throat as her eyes fluttered closed, feeling herself stretch around what she considered you. You were making her feel this good, and she wanted to consider it that. She had to admit that being on top definitely felt foreign, especially since she had not been with anyone for a while beforehand. She could not deny how good it felt.

Ellie was only halfway down the shaft before you took it upon yourself to begin lifting her up, using both hands on her hips to move her. She was quickly growing accustomed to the feeling as it turned from foreign to euphoric, tilting her head back as she gripped onto your wrists.

"Feel good? Hm?" you cooed, wanting to make sure that she was feeling nothing other than pleasure. It was your main goal.

"Yes," Ellie quickly replied, her grasp on your wrists tightening as her nails began to make crescent indents into your skin. You watched her tattoo flex as she did so, her grip never releasing as you began to slowly fasten your pace, lifting and easing her down on you. "F-fuck, yes. Feels s'good."

You began to feel her gaining her own pace with you, lifting herself up before you would push her back down, gently bucking your hips to aim deeper. Her eyes were screwed shut, the pleasure causing whiney, careless moans to erupt from her lips.

"Good girl," you purred as she lifted herself, earning a whiney moan in return. Her movements were growing less rigid, making a smile tug the corners of your lips.

"You got it, baby," you praised, your grip on her waist slowly releasing as she began to find her own pace. You continued to hold her hips, though, since you couldn't exactly pull them away from her grip on your wrists. "Just like that."

Ellie's moans were growing louder as you watched the silicone disappear into her, a white ring forming at the end from her slick as she repeatedly sunk down on you. Not only that, but the squelching of her cunt and the loud slapping of her ass landing on your thighs were just as loud and clear.

You looked back up at her, seeing her struggling to keep her hooded eyes open as she grinded her hips into yours. Her eyes never left yours, you moaning along with her not only to enhance her pleasure but to enhance your own. The sight alone was all you needed.

"Want my help, pretty girl?" you hummed, looking up at her. Ellie started to slow her movements, nodding in response. Her muscles were growing tired, not being used to the constant work of being on top.

You began grinding upwards, eventually tightening your grip on her hips once again to halt her movements, completely holding her still as you bucked your hips up, fucking her from underneath. Ellie squeaked in surprise, but it quickly melted into a string of moans as she looked down, watching the way her thighs slapped against yours, the way you gripped her hips, it was all overwhelming.

"Oh, oh, fuck," she breathed and released her grip from your wrists to lean forward, hovering over you. Since she let go of your wrists, you took the opportunity to slip your fingers underneath her sports bra to push it up, exposing her breasts to you.

You could see the rise in her sensitive peaks after being expose to the cooler air of the room, leaning up to capture one of them into your mouth, softly suckling on it. Ellie whined in response, wrapping her fingers around the back of your neck to hold your against her. Her focus was soon lost, the only thing on her mind being the immense pleasure you were giving her, her hooded eyes fluttering closed.

Ellie could feel the knot within her lower stomach beginning to ravel itself once again, the coil tightening more and more as you thrusted into her. She released her grip from you, pulling you away from her breast to catch your lips into a wet kiss, dirty moans getting pushed down your throat. You didn't expect Ellie to be so verbal, let alone loud, in bed, but you weren't complaining. It was like music to your ears.

"Is my girl close?" you whispered against her lips, beginning to lose your breath as you leaned back down to buck your hips up. Ellie nodded, her eyebrows furrowing enough to crease the skin between them as she felt herself nearing her release.

You used your grip on her hips to flip her onto her back, hovering over her. Ellie gasped in surprise before bellowing a pitiful cry as you thrusted your hips into hers, making her throw her head back against the pillows.

"F-fuck! Harder, p-please!" Ellie nearly sobbed in between thrusts, the pressure knocking the wind out of her lungs for short periods. Her hands quickly found their way on your back, her short nails digging into your skin as she arched her back, allowing you to hit at a deeper angle.

"I-I'm gonna come, I'm gonna cum!" Ellie repeated desperately before you slammed your lips onto hers, allowing her to melt under your touch as her second orgasm washed over her, her body jolting just as it hit her.

"God, you're so beautiful," you murmured against her lips, continuing to thrust at a gentle your pace until Ellie's hand flailed to your hip, "Fuck, fuck. I c-can't--"

"It's okay. It's okay," you soothed as you instantly slowed your movements to a halt, your breath hitting her lips before you gave her a reassuring kiss. You continued to press gentle kisses on her cheeks before pulling away to remove the harness from yourself, leaving Ellie for a swift moment. Based off the tiny, pitiful noises that rolled off her lips and onto yours, you could tell that you had taken a lot, if not all, of her energy. "Are you tired, babe?"

Babe. Ellie wasn't sure if you were only saying that because of what had just happened, or if you genuinely wanted to be something. Ellie wouldn't be opposed if your relationship was solidified by consummation, clearly, but she couldn't help but wonder.

"A little bit," Ellie sheepishly admitted as she continued to catch her breath, unintentionally looking up at you with doe eyes as you pulled the harness off your frame, climbing back onto the bed.

"You can stay here," you replied, a gentle smile tugging the corners of your lips as you tenderly pulled her sports bra back down her chest for her. Ellie reciprocated the smile, to which made yours stronger as her cheeks burned from your affectionate act. You lightly chuckled to yourself, beginning to pull yourself away from her to add more firewood to the furnace, but she quickly wrapped her arms around your waist to pull you back down to hover over her. "Hey, wait."

You looked down at her, your hands on the bed on the sides of her head to stabilize yourself as you scanned her face, waiting for her to continue. Ellie didn't want to hold off on getting an answer, not wanting to overthink the situation for the rest of the night.

"I know this is... the worst fucking time, but... I really do like you, and I really don't want us to... I don't know," Ellie began to ramble, moving her hands along with her words. "I don't want us to awkwardly go our separate ways tomorrow..."

"Who said we had to?" you asked, furrowing your eyebrows at her. You had made your feelings clear, but not verbally, so you understood why she thought such things. You leaned back down, pressing your lips onto hers into a full kiss, holding both sides of her face as you straddled her. You then pulled away, looking down at her beautifully freckled face. "I really like you too, okay? Don't worry about that. I'm jus' glad I could finally tell you."

Ellie's cheeks burned a light pink as you tucked lose strands of her hair behind her ear, the tint flowing through her face before lightly kissing the tip of her nose.

"Let me add more firewood, and then we can talk more. Deal?" you asked with a smile.

"Deal."

a/n: if you made it this far, thank you for reading! feel free to send requests and/or feedback, everything is appreciated! ೃ⁀➷

#hazelnutsforellie #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader smut #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fanfic #tlou ellie williams #the last of us smut #tlou smut #the last of us #tlou #ellie williams tlou #the last of us 2 #the last of us game

[worldsover]

Hourglass ft. Saerom

length ✦ 15.6k

genres ✧ anal; fwb!Saerom

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Your tongue is stuck to the roof of your mouth, lips parched. Though you asked Saerom for water, you didn’t need to be directed. You remember the important things. Cups in the third cabinet from the right. The water pitcher in the fridge. Everything else about her home is slightly off in your memory. An experimental flick of a switch, so she has yet to replace the lights in the range hood, and now they blink instead of being merely dim. Turn that back off. A different blender, no doubt more robust for all the shakes she makes. New polaroid photos of Saerom and her members on the fridge. Even pictures with Gyuri, but nothing recent as nine as you expected. So that’s what one year looks like.

"Are you gonna hang out in my kitchen all night?" Saerom asks as she walks in, arms crossed and smirking. For all that's changed in Saerom's home, how little has changed with the woman herself? The blunt bangs are new and of course, you’ve never seen this outfit, the flattering blue tube top and denim skirt, but you expected as much with all the clothes she went through. Beneath it all, though, was the same supermodel-esque Saerom. Emphasis on beneath. Beneath, what you were most intimately familiar with. Beneath, what you’re imagining at this very moment.

"Wasn’t planning on it. just taking in how long it’s been," you say. "I like the new painting in your living room, the one with the flowers."

"Thanks. I made it, actually. Little hobby I picked up in our… downtime. But yes. You're right. It has been long." Her words are sharp. The next one is sharper: "Bedroom." 

Saerom’s eyes fill in the rest of the directive. Now. We’re going to fuck. Stop wasting time. Dumbass. You didn’t realize how many words could fit in a gaze. Or some of those meanings are conveyed through her narrowed eyelids. You weren’t fluent in the language of the unspoken, but that wouldn’t stop you from trying.

In the time it takes to decrypt the whole one-word message (she’ll at least let you grab that drink, right?), you realize you’re gazing back. 

Saerom shakes her head and laughs to herself. "It’s like you’re doing this on purpose."

She walks away, but this lingering look of yours is deliberate. Saerom knows it as she looks back and now her smile is much naughtier. She might not know that you’re first staring at her bare shoulders. You want to touch them, massage them, lick them, kiss them, everything. 

Water wouldn’t help your thirst anyway, so you follow Saerom to the bedroom. The familiar last room of the hallway, on the left, its location is seared in your brain. You’d know it sober but horny, and drunk but hornier, so you path in the same footsteps you always did. You only lag behind Saerom for self-evident reasons, your eyes on the target of desire, her pert rear. This time, with the close fit of her skirt, you can make out the shape of your favorite shape to make out with. Her cozy, pillowy thighs look perfect as ever to rest your head upon as well.

The mere act of walking into the room stirs heat in your core. You can’t help but associate this room with the carnal. The only lights in the room are the moonlight filtering through the window and the warm lamp in the corner, and the dimness reminds you of your many restless nights.

Saerom sits on her bed, those thighs settling down and squishing in just the right way. Heat turns to pressure, in turn, turns into a cock imprint on your pants.

"I still don’t like how you just stand there," she says.

Her words make you shift weight from one foot to the other. You should sit, approach, anything, but no, you continue to stand. "You leave me speechless sometimes. I can’t help but watch."

"That’s sweet." Saerom gets up and walks up to you until there’s barely any space between you and her. "But I need you to do more than watch. Especially since you’ve taken this long to see me again."

"You changed your number," you say. But you already knew this was a flimsy excuse.

"And you could’ve DM’ed me. Texted any of the other members." Saerom scoffs. "You could’ve tried. Anything. Apparently it took us literally bumping in the mall to meet again."

A centimeter from making out, minutes away from sex, this wasn’t the time or place to bring it up. However, you had to bring it up at some point. When you hold her hand, Saerom freezes, caught off guard. 

"I’m sorry," you say. "You know me, how I overthink things. It’s not like we were dating or anything. just, you know, friends that did a bit more than friend things."

"In that case… " The vexing half-smile, half-frown on Saerom confirms your self-awareness—at least you know that you’re overanalyzing the shape of her lips. "You could’ve been a better friend."

Why do you talk at all? What a mistake speech can be. As you look down, away from Saerom’s eyes, your grip on her hand loosens. Despite being in this beautiful and blatantly horny woman’s bedroom, you think about walking away in shame—

But her fingers clasp.

"Not this time."

Words into actions, Saerom grabs your shirt with the free hand and pushes you toward the wall. No, there is no escape, when you look down into the intoxicating image of her cleavage, when her breasts press up against you. Your cock hardens in your pants and pushes up against her waist, turning the rest of you into a melting painting (in which you’ve become modern art and don’t care to debate your artistic merits). All the worries disappear in a heartbeat as you recall this exhilaration. At one point, this was an addiction for the two of you: you were both in the middle of promotions and found time to fuck every day for a week straight. You learned her body inside and out.

Time to relearn.

It’s 9:03, the clock above her bed.

You gently place your hand on the back of her head, the other hand between her tube top and skirt, feeling the warmth of her back. 

You lean in.

The lesson starts with the taste of her lips. It might be sweeter than usual, or it could be time twisting the taste, though either way, the flavor honeys you in deeper. The focus of your touch is split between melting into her mouth and gripping, relearning, the various parts of her perfect body. What was a gentle hold becomes a clingier clasp of her hair, and she does the same to you. Another pull, Saerom grips the neck of your shirt, clamoring for you to somehow get closer (space between the two of you is at a premium). Your hand on her back follows the groove of her spine—no, make a detour to get a feel of the muscles in her lean back, lats, and all that. You end up under her top where you tempt to pull it off, but no, not yet, you’re getting a feel of things, reacquainting yourself. Warm skin becomes warmer, becomes the canvas for subtle beads of sweat. Get used to that too, because you’re guaranteed a full-body workout tonight.

Warmth spreads to her breath, or at least you gain a keener awareness of its heat on your lips, its subtle nostalgic taste. Awareness becomes a small thorn: you and Saerom need to breathe, so you draw back. 

9:07, but it feels like 9:03 and thirty seconds give or take leaning on the side of give. When you look into her eyes instead of the clock, it’s not a matter of seconds or minutes—months that have passed you are coming back in these familiarly firing nerves, where spikes of bliss rewind you to the visceral parts of your memories.

With how Saerom’s hands are latching onto your clothes, under your clothes, she might as well rip them off now. While your lips return to hers, your hands are taking a more subtle approach, your fingers drawing and memorizing the lines and curves of her body. Starting at her forearm, you track her muscles, from her svelte but sturdy biceps to her firm delicious shoulders, the sum of her efforts working out. You remember her habits as a welcome contagion that’s spread to you, the stretches she’d do after an intense session of fucking, the ungodly huge jug of water she’d gulp down—simple things in your daily life that you took for granted. Then, her eager tongue slides into your mouth and you’re back in the moment, your digits moving toward the crook of her neck. She always had a particular sensitivity here, a simple press of your fingertip into her skin earning a surprisingly loud moan, though it might also be your tongue pushing back into her mouth. 

You want to pretend that you can keep up this momentum of appreciating the small details, want to remind Saerom of your dexterity; however, your hands find themselves on her tits, over her tube top. Your squeezing and groping are only recompenses for Saerom’s mounting lack of restraint. She’s rubbing her crotch against your erection—does she want to make you unload in your pants? Because she could, easily—she has one leg hooked around you, and she’s making your massaging of her breasts seem tame in comparison to the nails starting to dig into your back.

Saerom and you have never kissed like this. Never kissed like you were trying to escalate from a little scrap to an all-out battle royal. It’s not tongues sliding, but tongues dancing, not hands feeling, hands taking and sinking and grabbing as if you might lose yourselves another year—why bother with what was lost, but instead, the things you will lose. The time, your mind, all control. Don’t try. Let go.

You’re only kissing, so why is there so much saliva? Each escape for air is made a mess by more and more thin bridging strands of spit between your lips, and more is exchanged when your mouths converge again. And you only take breaks for Saerom’s jaw or her cheek or her nose, giving each sculpted feature the kisses they deserve, and Saerom only takes breaks with her thumb on your lip—she sticks out her tongue, showing off the bubbly spit she’s pooled in her mouth, and you’re happy to receive before these breaks have to take a break: you need to kiss her again/she needs to kiss you again.

You’re only kissing, so why is there so much noise? A deep guttural noise nearing growls from out of your mouth meets the unexpectedly cute high-pitched moans out of Saerom at the lips’ points of contact, maybe amplified by the meeting of tongues or the lewd exchange of spit. But the erotic makes way for the romantic, and the two of you resonate in a shared low hum as you slow your pace, control your breathing, trade smiles and giggles and longing looks, no need to rush.

But then, there’s no need to rush, and you’re only kissing, so why is your heart racing out of orbit? And this isn’t close to the first time you’ve kissed, so why can you feel Saerom’s heart beating the same hurried way? The answer is obvious in hindsight. The past is an eternity and the present is infinitesimally small, contained to a single point; that is, your hearts are making up for the lost time.

(Only kissing, yet pulses inside you already threaten to end it here, how embarrassing. (But then on second thought, absolutely nothing to be ashamed of with Saerom's unfair allure.))

All this in a kiss, in a pair of lips upon another. Two selves are reduced to two bodies, flesh and all. Look at Saerom when you pull away, and you’re back to two selves, mind and all. Swipe away the long hair that’s fallen on her face, and help fix her thick bangs. She smiles at you.

Glance at the clock again, and it’s 9:18, closer to 9:04 in your mind. You might have discovered time travel.

She pulls you off the wall—you didn’t notice that you were sagging against it, that you’ve lowered yourself nearly face to face with Saerom—and then she brings you toward her bed. A light push knocks you off balance, though you land on her mattress.

"Smooth," you say, and Saerom giggles.

You reposition so that you’re sitting on the edge of her bed. Soft, springy, doesn’t make too much noise even when two people are testing the limits of its suspension—you remember all that well. The sheets always dried surprisingly quickly if you hung them outside overnight. Plus, it’s the exact height for you to place your feet on the ground, and for Saerom’s head to lean against your thigh. There, kneeling, as if home inside her home, she watches your cock twitch under your pants when she paws at it experimentally.

"And you’re frustrated when I watch," you say.

"Hey, you can’t say I’m just watching." Saerom rubs you up and down over your pants and your jaw clenches. "But you’re right."

When Saerom gets a hold of your shirt, you raise your arms.

"You’re still in good shape," she says, smiling proudly.

"Thank you. I definitely don’t miss the diets, but I’m happy they got me in the habit of working out. Plus, you gave me plenty of motivation."

"Mhm." She traces your abs. They aren't washboard muscular (read, photoshopped) since you’re not lifting your shirt for audiences anymore, but they are decently taut, hinting at a six-pack. As you said, you were over the sort of daily sweet potato diet to keep that up. But for this reaction, Saerom's half-lidded eyes gazing at your midriff, you’ll gladly keep up your other routines.

Saerom then tugs your waistband, taking both your pants and boxers an inch down, then another, teasing you with the incremental progress. You can only sit still and keep your hands on the mattress’ edge. When your cockhead pokes out, she smiles, then forgoes any inhibition, stripping you straight down to your ankles. Your shaft springs free, and it nearly hits her face, but Saerom instinctually dodges it. Saerom ducks under your dick, centering it over her face, and she lets out a long exhale. Warm air flows around your length, though the jolts racing up your body are cold. 

"I miss this cock. None of my toys compare." With a light frown, Saerom rests her head on your thigh again. She lightly and playfully traces your shaft with one finger.

"You really know how to boost an ego—ahh." Your jaw is wide, breaths ragged when her fingertip circles around your frenulum, the spot sensitive to her agonizingly light touch.

"Oh. Is that precum? Already?" Saerom’s narrowed eyes change focus from the slight pulses of your cock to your transfixed gaze, and that alone earns another white drop. Her finger traces up, and now she’s drawing circles at the top of your cockhead, smearing stickiness around.

"God, Saerom. You’re so fucking hot." Her touch pulls the truth out of you. It didn’t need to be spoken, but by her smile, it’s always worth stating the obvious.

She licks her lips, cleaning a bit of drool. Breathily, Saerom says, "Fuck. Should I just make you cum like this? With my fingers? It’s only fair. It’s only been me and my fingers all this time."

As much as you want to fuck her every hole open, you can’t deny that the prospect of being brought to the brim with her deft touch alone is tempting. "I said I’m sorry."

"Maybe if you say sorry enough, we can fuck." Saerom puts one hand around your cock and she’s barely doing anything, a lazy twist here, a half tug there.

"Sorry," you say, your upper teeth latching on to your lower lip. "Seriously. I miss you. I should’ve at least tried a little harder."

"Oh, we’re getting sappy now?" Saerom adds another hand—one isn’t enough to wrap fully her fingers around you—though it’s still awfully insignificant motions, sending erratic sparks throughout your body.

You shiver, hiss, and tense up. "Sorry. Please."

"Fffuck, I like the sound of that. the way your voice catches in your throat." She reaches down for your balls, jumpy at the faint graze of a nail. "What if I just milk out everything? I know how much you can cum. That would be so hot. When was the last time you came? Were you thinking about me?"

A week ago, and yes. Of course. You don’t want to admit those, and neither will you admit that a whine is coming out of you, yet even if you were silent, your hips are bucking on their own as you fuck yourself into Saerom’s hand.

Saerom says, "Oooh, are you—"

"I can’t take it anymore." You pull her up then push her back down onto the mattress, then you’re on top of her. You support yourself above Saerom with one arm and look at her carefully. Her face is a masterpiece, her body the work of a master craftsman. At your obvious overflowing lust, she looks to the side, bringing her wrist up to her mouth in a gesture of embarrassment you’ve never seen from Saerom.

Saerom’s reactions renew your confidence as if time never happened, so doubt’s seed could not have grown how it did, and you carry a sure smirk inspired by the cockiness once found on stage. You’re reminded that despite your indecision everywhere else—why the two of you never progressed past mere acquaintances—you were a man of action in the bedroom. That’s what Saerom wanted out of you. Saerom being shy might be an act, might be sincere, but it works either way. With this new upper hand, you grab Saerom’s wrist to unblock her face, too pretty to be shy about.

"We’ve done this plenty of times," you say, pinning Saerom’s arm to the bed.

She turns her head toward you but she can’t make eye contact. "It’s been a while."

"You're right. It has been long." You go in for a kiss, and she closes her eyes; however, you dodge her face.

"Fuck you." Saerom hits your chest and pouting. Then, her lips transform to a different contortion when you go straight for the neck. "Hnn, not too much. Remember last time you left hickeys on me? My makeup artist wouldn’t stop teasing me about it."

"Maybe I should mark you enough that makeup won’t be enough," you say, and her eyes go wide. "I’m kidding. Just a little payback for teasing me with your hands." 

So instead, you aspire to leave your small marks on the other parts of the body. Where no one else but you will see. First, a softer kiss on the end of her collarbone right under her neck. With the floral notes of her shampoo mixed with the fainter sweetness of her body wash on her soft skin, your nose is tempted as you kiss along the rest of her collarbone up to her shoulder; from there, you’re led down to her armpit.

"Your body is perfect, Saerom." 

She’s already ticklish from the playful kisses of her armpit and her ribs, but something about that crook under her arm compels you to lick—it’s the scent of her body wash once again, as well as a hint of vanilla, possibly from deodorant. Saerom is also starting to sweat, lending a barely noticeable musk and salty taste, and that only fuels your tongue further.

"Stooop, nh, nuh, no, why do you keep licking there? It’s dirty," Saerom says, squirming and laughing. This high-pitched tone is unfamiliar, easier to imagine coming from one of the maknaes such as Jiheon or Nagyung instead.

"It’s not." You’ve slathered her armpit in saliva by now. "Kisses aren’t enough. Every part of you deserves to be worshiped. What if I worshiped your whole body with my tongue? Gave you a tongue bath?"

Saerom can’t look at you anymore, yet she can’t stop smiling. "Wh-whatever you say."

You soon leave her armpit to fulfill your promise. You’re leaving a light trail of saliva down her arm, you suck each of her fingers, the knuckles, the interdigital folds, leaving no stone unturned. Returning up to Saerom's shoulder, you realize your folly of asymmetry, having only licked and kissed the right side of her upper body. You swipe your tongue across her neck.

"I don’t know what it is, but I can’t stop thinking about your neck or your shoulder or your collarbones. Should I take my cock out right now and jerk off onto them?"

She bites her lips, and her thighs rub together.

"Just imagine your neck and shoulders all drenched with cum. Dripping down to your tits. I swear I could leave a whole river of thick white semen down your cleavage, make a mess of your tits just as collateral damage," you say as you finish your job of licking up Saerom’s left arm, shoulder, armpit.

With your rising initiative, Saerom’s hands can’t lie inactive by her sides. She first adds to the rubbing of her thighs with her hands—not enough—reaches between her legs—not enough. You know this, have seen this, enough to understand she’ll be on a tortuous brim for as long as you’re not inside her. And so be it, her decision to make, because you’re happy to let her dance on that dizzying outskirt as you pull her top down to her midriff and kiss and lick her breasts. Going in a circle around each one, you find yourself lingering much longer here, again covering her skin with saliva as you sense every goosebump with your tongue. Here, on her sizable tits, you’ll leave the marks that she’ll think about when she’s on stage. Under whatever stage outfit she’s wearing will lay your claim, your worship, and no one else will know but you and Saerom. Sweet secrets, another unspoken language.

The noises that come out of Saerom when you suck on her nipples aren’t speech but they’re too loud to count as unspoken. Your tongue, lips, teeth, and every part of your mouth partake in playing with the nubs as they harden but before long, you pull the top back up. You’re carefully slow because you want to see her breasts squish against the deep neckline of the clothing before it’s hidden.

Slow breaths and raised brow, Saerom glances at you with your sudden intermission.

You tell her frankly, "It’s a cute top, and I want to watch how your tits jiggle when you ride me."

Her quiet, acknowledging "mm" becomes a longer hum when you move downward. You take time leaving a kiss on each rib before worshiping her perfect abs with your tongue. Though you can feel Saerom writhing under you, you’ve been too focused on your task, so you look up to see her reaction. However, as you tongue at her belly button, she doesn’t look down at you in return; instead, Saerom is arching back and looking straight up at the ceiling. Her hands flatten on the bed, right by her head, elbows up. Every muscle is stretching, tensed.

"I didn’t think you’d like this as much as you do."

At your words, Saerom finally looks at you, her eyes unfocused, and she only nods, lips tight.

When you’re done with the upper half of her body, you decide to multitask. If she could form words, she’d be begging for you to move up instead of down from her thighs, but you’re also removing her skirt while you move down to her feet. After you unbutton and throw the skirt off to the side, you give her toes the same treatment as her hands. A thorough tongue washes each ridge, each sole, until her body is tongue-bathed top to bottom as promised.

All except for one part. Looking at the dark spot on her blue panties, it’s safe to say your mouth has plenty of cleaning left. You don’t mind doubling back with your trail of kisses up her leg, especially since it earns more cute strained noises from Saerom’s lips, and then it’s a third and final path down her legs.

"Saerom, watch."

She mouths "fuck" as you bite the waistband of her panties and gingerly pull.

From her waist to her knees, the panty-pulling with your teeth was careful and teasing. You want to say you kept your eye contact the whole way through like a suave playboy, but a glint in the corner of your vision steals your attention. Saerom is immersed in the whole range of light’s temperature, the cool ambiance of the moon, the dim yellow of her small lamp, yet it seems all of light has collected onto her dewy slit. The thought of tasting her nectar hurries you. You stop using your teeth, your now feral hands damn near tearing them off from her ankles.

"Woah, careful with—" 

Then Saerom’s mouth seals when you seal your mouth around Saerom’s pussy without hesitation. This feels right, home, the past in the present, between Saerom’s thighs with your face right at her crotch. You don’t feel a drop of shame because there’s too much dripping already. Two dark pink wavy folds—you set your thumb on one, index finger on the other to hold them in place. The destination of your voyage of kisses and licks, you give plenty of passes of your tongue to the swelling nub of her clit, passes of your lips to her lips. Are you drooling? Or is that Saerom’s boundless juices? Either way, they mix in your mouth, the salty flavors, the addicting musk, and the slightest metallic tinge.

"Fuck, that’s delicious," you say while you gauge her response. You didn’t notice until now that Saerom has two hands in your hair, or that she’s pulling and pushing you to return to your station. You delay a moment to tell her: "Am I remembering wrong? I’ve never seen you this wet."

Saerom first works through her ragged breaths before she can talk. "Yeah, agh, I haven’t cum in a couple of months. You’d be surprised. How busy I’ve been. And, I guess, I was hoping, this exact thing would happen."

"You know you could’ve called too, right? DM’ed me, whatever." You’re surprised you had the wherewithal to bring it up while Saerom’s slick is on your chin and lips.

Saerom whispers, "I’m sorry." Then she closes her mouth. Her grip on your hair loosens. 

Of course, it’s too late for regrets and apologies now. You revisit your favorite place to taste in the world—fuck a restaurant, fuck a bar, everything you need to taste and drink is right here. And quickly, there’s no way Saerom can keep her mouth closed or her hands off your hair with all the oral pleasure you give.

"So, so good, good, ahh, fuck." Saerom’s tongue can’t stay in her mouth, dangling casually as her jaw opens wider in bliss.

As your right hand spreads her folds again, your lips suction and your tongue laps at the top of her cunt, servicing her clit, as well as below, digging deeper at the source of all the wetness. You lick exhaustively, collect every drop you can—you can't. Too much leaking fluid to avoid making a mess of her sheets.

"Fuck, fuck, goddammit, fuck."

Though your free left hand is mindlessly on your cock, stroking, there’s no actual need to touch yourself. You could be as hard as steel as long as you’re eating Saerom out. You heighten Saerom's stimulation, sinking your fingers into her thighs, kneading and massaging—earn a few giggle-infused moans—then you move to where your face is being turned into a canvas, a girl-cum rag. There, you add a finger, then two into her slit. Now your mouth and digits are working in tandem, pumping in and out, exploring her pussy, relearning, to turn Saerom’s brain into mush.

You could’ve been doing this for two minutes or two days, fuck the clock, fuck worrying about time and its immaterial decay on the world. It’s only when you hear Saerom’s profanities die down that you slow down too.

She works up the ability to talk again: "S-stop. I love how you eat me, but I need to ride you. Now."

One last kiss on her pussy lips. "I was thinking the exact same thing."

In honesty, you were also thinking about how your jaw is tired or how your neck is strained, but those would’ve been fine sacrifices to make for Saerom. If you needed to stay there an hour to make her cum three times, you would’ve done it—maybe that would’ve made up for a lost week? So just over two straight days to make up for a whole year? No matter.

Saerom nudges at your shoulder and gestures for you to get up. It takes a while for you to reorient yourself—right, she’s just lying in her bed as if it were any other night, except you’re in between her legs. She sits up and scooches over so that you can replace her reclined position. Listening to Saerom recollect her breathing and watching her stare at your erection pointed straight at the ceiling, you realize she’s also reorienting herself. Don’t give her time: you grab Saerom’s hand and she falls right on top of you, hands at your sides. A mirror of your stances moments ago. She’s surprised at first, her mouth in a circle, and then her smile grows. This smile deserves awards, and more light, if only you had a floodlight on your face. All you get in this room is a dim ambiance, but you’ll take every photon you can get. 

Traveling in time, you think about when you and Saerom fucked the first time. Five years ago, you were both rookie idols without the luxury of a bed. Far bolder back then, Saerom was riding your cock in the dark corner of an empty sound stage, and your hands and back were meeting the cold hard floor, the two of you risking your careers for a spontaneous fuck.

Now the two of you are in different places in your life, yet you end up in the same place regardless. 

Guess it’s 9:34:40—you can’t actually look at the clock above and behind your head as you lay in bed, and Saerom’s hair is in your face.

A breath, and then you’re overwhelmed by Saerom, her tongue in your mouth, her hand on your cock. You’re happy to lose control at this moment. For the rushing thrill of the idea of this beautiful idol fucking you, or for the physical manifestation of this desire, her pussy embracing your cockhead in the first penetration and the weight of her body and her kiss all crashing into your heart, you gladly sacrifice this exact minute for the compressed eternity to compress further, too much to contain, and it uncollapses—what was a single point containing all the beauty and warmth in your head becomes a cascading chasm, a pointillistic cloud, each little dot a snapshot of all the sensations. Beyond thrust for thrust, your thoughts flash ripple by ripple.

Saerom’s cunt slowly slides down as she pushes against the girth of your cock. Your hands are trying to compete for tightness of grip on her asscheeks, but they’ll never compare to the closeness with which her labia grasps around your cock. The tangy taste of her juices lingers on your tongue, mixes with her mouth's taste when you kiss—mostly the saltiness of saliva at this point, though you’ll drink up every last drop. You smell sweat and the trace of sex against the sweet scents of her skin and her hair. Listen to the slow squelch of her soaked hole because for once you’re both silenced by this kiss, deeper than before; open your eyes, watch Saerom’s need in action, and take in that every stimulated sense is but a small part of the single motion of Saerom lowering her ass into your crotch.

It was never that deep was it? It was just sex, just a basic carnal act. There was longing, there was the low light of the room, there was a closeness you forgot, and none of it mattered. For all this thinking, there is no real thought or purpose. There’s nothing so profound about it except for how much happens all at once, and in that inundation of self, the simple profane is newly profound. Balls slap against her ass. It is that deep.

Guess it’s 9:34:45, and it doesn’t matter what the time really is for the rhetoric either. The seconds have been stretched like Saerom’s pussy around your dick. The dots have danced.

She takes in the feeling of your length all the way inside of her, her eyes wide when she looks at you as you stop making out. You have to resist the urge to spank her ass, to start pounding up, upside-down jackhammer, so your hands slide up to her waist holding her.

Saerom feels her midriff, and you notice the slightest bulge of your cock against the slimness; she rubs it. "Fuck. I miss this. I miss you."

Somehow you find it in yourself to snark: "We’re getting sappy now? While I’m this deep in you?"

She growls quietly and holds your jaw. "Shut up." And if her words weren’t enough, she’s back at it with her tongue finding residence in your mouth. 

Saerom then pulls away from Earth’s gravity, lifting her ass. It isn't nearly as slow as the insertion, but it's just as serene a sensation. All the pulling and pushing, it’s everything you remember with Saerom—it’s more. Riding your dick becomes effortless for Saerom, gravity barely a nuisance as her bouncing hastens. Second nature returning in seconds.

You’re becoming less of an active agent, more of a recipient of pleasure, barely holding on by Saerom’s waist. While you certainly feel like you're pounding her pussy, she’s the one putting in all the work. You can imagine it’s tiring for Saerom, but if it’s half as good as it feels for you, then any amount of exhaustion doesn’t matter.

Her unbridled passion eventually subsides though, replacing the forceful slams of her butt with slower and more conscious motions. Though she still has her lips on yours, it’s a lazy placement. Not as much of a kiss. You'll take it. Saerom also isn't bothering to support herself with her arms by your sides, opting to lay on your chest instead. Your cock goes in, tick, tick, tick, out, tock, tock, tock. Many beats, many seconds, and many breaths between each plunge. Then, even the slick sliding of Saerom’s cunt on your cock gives way to more of a grinding motion. She twists her hips, bringing her ass around in erratic ellipses. A whole new host of euphoric sensations on your cock. You’re reacquainting with her tender inner muscles, clenching on your shaft. Your fingers around her midriff press into her skin, your eyes roll back, and you have to tense your jaw.

A grinding halt. 

Saerom is inert, warming your cock. Her head is on your shoulder, mouth on your neck (while not actively suctioning, the sensation of her plump lips sends shivers throughout your body regardless). She stirs, straightening her back again. There’s no way you want to let go of her waist, want to have her stop kissing you, want to remove the weight of her tits and whole body on top of yours—Saerom’s curves are ergonomic with how well they fit on you—however, she sits up, her knees on each side of your waist, back straight. Your dick is a stanchion, its tip poking at her entrance, and you don’t mind trading the feeling for the image.

A grinding start.

Instead of only feeling the twisting and the back-and-forth movements of her hips, now you get to watch it, doubling the thrill. Saerom’s eyes are filled with lust and she’s biting a finger, her other hand on your shoulder. Everything about Saerom hypnotizes you, and you can’t keep your hands idle. You return to sinking your fingers into the mass of her ass, then you’re exploring her curves again in this new context.

There's a large mirror leaning against the wall across from you, right in position to show off Saerom's backside. This is the first time this year and this night that you've got a good view of her bare butt. Perfectly round (you'll redefine circles to be second place if you have to) and ample enough for your digit to make a significant crease. Her ass is a famed masterwork, lusted over by many but not seen in true pure form except by the incomparably fortunate you.

Upon your renewed vigor and thirst, Saerom restarts her ride, the chaotic grinding becoming a focused lifting and dropping of her whole self. She has to hoist her knees up to squat on your cock. The image is accompanied by sounds, making the trade worthwhile. The flesh of her ass slapping and slamming against your crotch echoes her bedroom, some slick noises in there too. Her hands clench into fists by her side as she savors the stretch of her pussy.

This brings you back to the last time you fucked: a year ago, in a love hotel, a careless drunk hook-up. Saerom rode you cowgirl expertly then, and it seems she’s only gotten better now. You’d think the self-admitted lack of practice would show—but once more, she proves that time hasn’t passed between this year and last.

While Saerom seats herself into your perfectly plumb penis repeatedly in her cowgirl ride, not missing a beat or bounce, you get exactly as you wish: the hypnotizing view of Saerom's tits jiggling in the confines of her blue tube top. You get the most beautiful demonstration of physics with each bounce of her breasts. Then you take physics itself into your own hands, grabbing each breast and squeezing over the fluffy fabric. At your rough fondling, Saerom lets out some higher-pitched whimpers in between her constant pleasured groan. She rides down into your cock harder, and you let go to see how wildly her breasts can bounce. Saerom's mouth is open in bliss; yours is more in awe, her breasts bouncing up and down as if wanting to be freed of the top themselves. You'd be inclined to agree.

Thus, with a grunt that gets Saerom's attention, she stops bouncing and lets your dick rest guts-deep inside of her. She shudders. You sit up, a burn in your abs that you cast aside. Saerom raises her arms and you pull upward, watching her boobs squish, then pop out from under the tube top. You're tempted to re-clothe her just to see that again (squish, pop, boing, immature sounds accompanying the sight in your head). However, with the article of clothing already around her elbows, you might as well finish the job. No more hesitation, you toss the blue top right into her laundry basket (nice shot).

Saerom pushes your chest, returning you to your recumbence. You don't mind her forcefulness—in fact, you cherish whenever Saerom handles you roughly. You know exactly what that leads to. She lifts her entire body up, unsheathing your glistening cock, then drives herself back down. This first bounce is deliberate. She's watching your reaction, no doubt giving you a satisfied smile because of your weak groan or your face twisting with pleasure before she restarts her ardent riding.

Yet again, all these places for your eyes to land upon—her thighs jiggling as she springs up and down, your cock appearing and disappearing inside Saerom, the thin sheen of sweat covering the entirety of her flawless skin—yet there was only ever one possibility after flashing through those equally addicting sights. You're fixated on Saerom's soft tits, unrestrained by the shackles of clothing. They freely ripple, rise, fall, rise again, her nipples drawing some invisible erratic path in the air like the chaos of a double pendulum. There is no predicting the movements, but you're staring as if you're trying your damnedest, knowing that you'll fail. Happy that you'll fail.

"What do you like better, hmm? Watching my tits bounce with or without clothes?"

What an intriguing question. (You're jealous of her ability to form cogent thoughts in this situation.) You're not sure. Obviously, seeing her tits completely exposed, her brown nipples in plain view is a sight you never want to relinquish. However, the bounce of her tits within the tube top is oddly compelling. It's the sort of view you could get equally as an audience member or as an average fan replaying the same three seconds of a fancam—you get the privilege of getting to see this Saerom from a whole new angle.

Not even the most advanced camera can capture the full extent of your senses being. The perfect POV video of Saerom riding cowgirl will never convey the heat of Saerom's core, the constant clamping of her cunt around your cock.

But then, if you had a camera and had to hold it right now, you'd have to let go here in confusion.

Saerom leans forward and places her hand palm down on the bed by your sides.

You're surprised at her action and, at her hitherto wordlessness, you're also surprised at her saying "I'm going to ride you as hard as fucking possible."

What an intriguing declaration. Wasn't she already doing that?

She lifts her ass and does not lie and rides you as hard as fucking possible. Never doubt her. You knew intensity came in the form of horny Saerom, didn't know it could lift your soul past the stratified layers of atmosphere above this very home, where jet streams blew past and didn't compare to her speed or didn't compare to the air knocked out of your lungs.

Wanting to hold back from cumming, you slow down—well, you want to slow down, but it's not really up to you, judging by Saerom staring off into space with a slack jaw, by the insistent motion of her hips. Maybe she'll ride your cock until you both die or neither of you may die and she'll be fucking you cowgirl until heat death? She's in a trance, cock-drunk, lust clouding her brain, and you have the same fog, though the fog is also pulsations that you want to delay. Now a dynamic duo, heat and pressure cook inside of you, and you could unload and breed and fill Saerom any second now. You have to physically hold her from fucking into your cock.

It isn't until your fingers grip hard—you might even be leaving traces of nail marks—that Saerom is pulled out of her rhythm, panting. She whines and pouts and after brushing her long hair aside, looks at you with an empty-headed expression. "Wh-what?"

You try your best to maintain composure, but really your whole body is dedicated to clenching every muscle so that you don't orgasm on the spot, despite her now sitting still. "Reverse cowgirl," you say, keeping up your false resolve.

Saerom nods mindlessly, raising her ass. It's more honest of her, commendable, to eschew the pretense that she had anything in her mind. She gets into position for reverse cowgirl, kneeling with her legs hooked under yours, her ass placed right in your lap. Instead of a reflection a few meters away through the mirror in her prior cowgirl stance, now you get a perfect close-up. Sweat, pores, goosebumps, all that texture in the dim lighting of her bedroom. More than ever, you want a spotlight—having no such device, you aspire to paint bright red with your hand—smack, a loud one, like a whip on her right cheek, and at once you get the vividness you want.

She gasps and looks back, the vixen smugly grinning as if to say "one more".

It's too easy to fall in, to give her what you want, and her left cheek recoils nicely in the same way. It's tempting to keep going, to keep submitting to the little diversion that makes this moment and night last forever. But if the shape of her ass is tempting, her tight asshole is a drug to an addict, and you've unknowingly abstained for far too long. Right now, do it, take your cock, align it with the entrance, and thrust into her. You want to… but you also know better than that.

Besides, Saerom takes the matter into her own hands—hand, as she reaches back to hold your cock. She softly places your shaft between her supple cheeks and after a quick wiggle of her hips to situate herself, she starts sliding her ass up and down your length. This buttjob alone is enough to make your balls twitch, to make you jumpy at the prospect of cumming early once again.

Her rhetorical words don't help—"You know how many times I’ve thought about you and fucked myself in front of this mirror?"—because now, you're picturing it, and the images overlap in your mind. In the mirror and in your imagination alike, her deft fingers are teasing herself, crawling between her legs, and rubbing her clit. In this imaginary world, the juices from her cunt are being wasted on the floor or on the sheets or on a towel if she were so poised; in the real world, there is no waste, as this nectar finds its way onto your cock, whether it be dripping right into you or by her moist hands reaching back to keep your shaft in place.

The undulation of Saerom's hips is much gentler than her previous ride—she must have recognized why you wanted her to stop in the first place. You'll happily take the sparks of pleasure that this lazy friction gives you, your cock neatly nestled in the crack of her backside.

"I can even show you later," Saerom says.

"Show me what?" you ask.

"Ahh, don't worry about it." Once more, she grabs your cock behind her, but this time she's twisting her whole upper body to look at you. There are so many targets for your inevitable cumshot: her arched back has the perfect valley for your seed to run down, toned muscles to paint white; the thought of cum streaking down her tits could make you bust on the spot; and sullying Saerom's alluring face is naturally a favorite pastime of yours, especially making her sharp jawline drip with cum as you feed your load right onto her lips, or maybe you should make a mess of her bangs.

Anyway, what were you supposed to be worrying about? Whatever it was, it wouldn't matter compared to Saerom aligning your cockhead at her entrance, plunging your whole length at once, at twice, at thrice, and then it's a blur of bliss.

You want to say it's the same as a few minutes ago—after all, what's the difference except turning around—but her velvety walls surrounding your cock feel completely novel to the regular cowgirl position. Your shaft is pointed at an angle different enough to give you whole new sensations of pleasure, and if not for the momentary reprieve of the teasing buttjob, you'd climax in the first few thrusts. That doesn't include the whole new visual stimulation of her perfectly perky ass lifting and dropping in rhythm, its fleshy weight ricocheting with each downward collision.

Again, you feel inert, more like a toy being used than a person having sex. In a way, it's fine, natural even with Saerom's eagerness. There's only so much touching and fondling you can do until it seems a waste of energy—you don't need to do anything to keep Saerom bouncing on your cock as long as it's hard. And for your part, you're getting sweat and moans and jolts of pleasure extracted out of you without any effort. However, naturally, you want more participation, to feel more involved.

Therefore, your first course of action is to sit up, breaking Saerom's rhythm, and she looks back at you, her breaths heavy and sporadic. It reminds of you the classic ending fairy, her chest rising and falling, but you get to watch her breasts in their full bareness moving with each exhalation. Then, you grab her with two hands by the waist—by now, a gesture you've repeated a hundred times, and thus you know exactly where to put your fingers to have her held still, like her hips are handles. Keeping up this tight grasp and never fully unsheathing your cock, you reposition the two of you until you're both kneeling, with you behind Saerom.

Her back rests against your chest, and her long hair is right in your face. You take a moment to smell Saerom. Maybe her shampoo is lavender or rose—you're a Flover, not a florist—but for certain, you haven’t smelled it before. Then, you brush her hair with your fingers, all disheveled by the continuous bouncing and riding.

You take a nibble of her ear, and you can see the whites of Saerom's eyes for a moment in the mirror, your face next to hers. "My turn," you whisper into her ear.

Saerom gulps, barely maintaining eye contact in the mirror.

This position, inspired by JAV, is perfect for your goal: repay Saerom's passion by getting the leverage to piston into her pussy as hard and fast as possible. It starts by taking her arms, hanging listlessly at her sides, and pulling them behind her back.

Caress her face one last time—call it the moment's final tranquility. The silence save for the air passing your lips. The darkness save for glimmers of light, the night in the window.

Your hips snap into place, back and forth, cock going in and out, rhythm accelerating all at once, drag racing. You're already at your top speed, your peak strength, fucking your whole soul into Saerom. Clap, clap, clap, the audience and the performers on the stage of the bed are the same. The uproarious applause cannot be conceited because neither of you has your hands free.

Saerom yelps and moans, and you can't tell which is wider between her mouth and her eyes. The observational task through the mirror becomes harder as her hair swings wildly, long dark strands haphazardly strewn about her face, plus you get distracted by her breasts swinging even more wildly.

At least you now have an answer to Saerom’s previous open question.

Each of your words is punctuated by one or two or three thrusts (actual punctuation omitted for readability): "Can’t believe I haven’t fucked your tits yet or your throat or your tight little—" Well, these plunges are powerful enough—CLAP, CLAP—to merit the interruption, as it completely breaks the flow of what you were saying "—asshole. Fuck!"

Asshole, fuck—you want nothing more than to do that Saerom right now, temptations and jitters and dry throat as you look down and see that vulgar entrance, and it completely breaks the flow, slows down your thus-far dogged pace.

Her hands are shaking so you let her wrists go, and you expect her to fall forward (you’re looking forward to that, aren’t you? Saerom face down ass up, a lucid dream’s image); instead, her limbs limp at her sides, and she leans into your chest, returning the warmth and sweatiness and softness of her back—firmness of her lats and shoulder blades. 

She takes a deep breath. You nuzzle your chin onto her neck, and Saerom giggles—then she’s silenced when you wrap your arms around her: one arm around her tits, compressing them while you toy with a nipple in your hand, with the other arm around her neck in a stranglehold. You aren't aiming to asphyxiate Saerom (the force of your cock can make her as light-headed as you want her) but rather, to have her whole body in your complete control, manhandling her like a plastic sex doll.

It’s fair play to how she rode you mere moments ago (or maybe it’s been much longer; the clock might tick above you, but its count is worthless in this situation). You didn't need words to know how much she enjoyed this push and pull. You could hear it, see it, every sense attuned to your mutual pleasure. You’re not just fucking Saerom’s plush cunt. You’re pinching and rolling her nipples. You’re sucking on the back of her neck.

Emboldened by the few weak moans that escape Saerom, you’re back to that ardent rhythm, though long and deep strokes of your cock are replaced with quicker and shallower drives. Two people can’t get any closer than this. Your dick is repeatedly entrenched in Saerom’s cunt while the rest of Saerom’s body is held tight in your embrace. Close but there’s distance: she can’t look at you, her pupils rolling up.

This hold becomes tedious, even with Saerom having the defined abs to give her core strength for days. What would be a relaxed position—the two of you kneeling, Saerom in your lap—becomes tiring when it involves the exercise routine of sex. You take all the pillows from behind you, place them in front of her knees, then push her down with a hand on her back with the pile of pillows for support. You're positioned perfectly so that her face is at the edge of the bed, more importantly, visible to the large mirror opposite to the bed.

Look at yourself. You're exhausted, crease lines on your face, sweat on your brow.

Saerom's exhaustion is more beautiful—if not beautiful, compelling (it is beautiful, don’t philosophize now). It makes you want to pump harder, to find out if you can drain her of her stamina first. A tall task, you've seen the woman's more intense workout sessions too, experienced it first-hand in your past marathon weekends of fucking.

Hissing, you carefully extract from Saerom, then smack her reddened sore buttcheeks with your shaft. Her fucked cunt gets some cock-slaps too, a tactical delay that earns a few cute yelps from Saerom. If you’re going to cum, you’ve decided it’ll be here, with Saerom face down, bent over pillows, her ass up for you to squeeze, watch jiggle, and plunge into. Doesn’t mean you’ll cream her cunt in one more stroke. Savor this as long as you can. 

One more hit of her pussy lips with your dick. A dripping string of her juice flicks off.

A fistful of hair, you pull while you begin slamming your hips forward. You shove your cock inside, again and again, a slow rhythm, no rhyme, like there's a point you're trying to make by fucking Saerom into the bed. If there had to be a point, it’s that your dreams materialized too easily because even your lucid dreams didn’t go this well. And further, though not much further, following this logic, you fuck Saerom’s pussy with thoughts of another hole. An even tighter hole, somehow. Too tight. Visions of Saerom’s anal grip have your fingers digging into Saerom’s back, have you pushing too hard for this denouement. You have to be measured about your penetration, needing to pull her into you. If nothing else, ensuring she doesn't slump past the edge of the bed. Saerom is the pile of pillows underneath her, soft and lifeless and you wouldn’t mind spending all day in her.

Burying and unburying yourself into Saerom, your dick is soaked in slick and raw, sore. All this pounding is getting to you. A heady mix of hormones and heat. You’ve done your job. Saerom can barely keep her eyelids up, her every breath heavy and slow. She doesn’t even move.

This is your final ramp-up, the pace almost numbing, and then the internal throbs come out of nowhere—you can’t delay your end much longer. These past few minutes have been completely devoted to your stimulation, so it was only a matter of time. You push your knees down into the mattress now, having to hold onto yourself as much as Saerom. (What part of self you’re holding onto is a question you won’t or can’t answer.) feeling the familiar pulses of climax in two of your strokes, you're tempted to clamp down on her waist and keep your cock buried inside.

But then, you look at her ass. The roundness is so perfect and, like with her face, the only thing worth doing to perfection is to flaw it.

Here begins the end of all journeys.

Here, in this beautiful moment, you understand, the dots, tiny prickles of pleasure were grains of sand. They return in an overbearing way. Your mind is an infinite beach, where time stands still and then gives way to waves and the tangy orange sunset. This is sweet and fruitful perfection, the orgasm temporary but more real than any existence can claim. The shape of Saerom’s body, the sandcastles, the nostalgic memories, you’re damn near tears at the thought, but this is a cry of bliss as you moan and let everything out.

A long first short of semen lands on her back, creamy white streaking down the dips. With Saerom bent over, the cum runs down toward the back of her neck in the central valley of her spine. You're tempted to keep unloading there. But, after seeing her ass rise and fall, you then aim for her buttcheeks, giving each one an equal amount of love, mixing sweat with seed. You watch them clench as Saerom feels the warm sticky load, watch them ripple as heavy breaths make her whole body lurch back and forth. How hypnotic the pendulum. You cum more ropes than you expected, absolutely drenching her backside. You only know that Saerom is awake because she brings her hand to her neck, where your semen collects, then licks her hand to taste.

The two of you catch your breath. You want to sit against the back of the bed, your body slack and lacking energy, but you take the initiative to grab a big handful of tissues and clean the mess you've made on Saerom's backside.

Eventually, you and Saerom lie on the bed. She holds your hand. You look at her and let quiet wash over you both for a while.

To break the silence, you ask, "You okay?"

The end of the journey is only the start of a new one. Cyclic. Possibly infinite. Saerom’s answer to your question is a question: "Do you want to fuck my ass?"

You pause. Definitely infinite, judging by time's nonmovement. The answer is obvious, your "yes" breathless and nearly the neediest you've found yourself.

"I’m gonna shower," she says. "Also, I’ll need you to get hard for me again." 

"I’ll help you clean up then." After all, what could re-spark your erection more than soaping Saerom down, watching water drip down her curves? But when you get up, she places a hand on your shoulder. 

"I have a different idea." Saerom grabs her phone, opens up photos, and goes to the hidden album.

Your jaw drops while she smiles, stands, and heads to the bathroom.

Top left of the screen, 10:04, but never mind the time. You’re not sure where to begin, so you open the latest. A simple selfie in her bathroom with naught but a towel around her waist, the steam of a hot shower in the air. You didn’t think a selfie could be art, and then you see her wet hair and the droplets of water making trails down her tits, and you’d proudly have a print of that hanging in your living room.

Careful, don’t go crazy stroking yourself—wait, when did you even start doing that?—keep a casual pace of your hand up and down your shaft.

Spoiled for choice, you tap the gallery at random and find a video of Saerom on her bedroom floor. Her clear suction dildo is attached to some large book, weighing it down. Clever. (Note that the proxy cock is about the same size and shape as your real one.) She aligns its silicone tip, looks at the camera, wasn’t lying—your name’s but a whisper as she sinks down into the toy. Then she starts riding, and you understand her practice was studious. It’s like a dance perfected, how she makes her body move on her knees, tits bouncing, eyes unwavering. The same way she was riding your cock earlier. So that’s where she got the practice.

There are plenty more racy images, particularly artful ones of her nude silhouette as a shadow against her wall and less than artful pictures of fingers spreading her perfect pussy lips. Other short videos arouse you equally: a 2-second video of Saerom pulling her jeans down to her thighs, enough to show off the squish of her butt cheeks; an 8-second video of Saerom taking off her shirt in a public toilet to flaunt her bralessness to a mirror before running to a stall at the sound of the door opening; and an hour-long video of a cheerful Saerom dancing to various songs, nude in her living room. Actually, that video was only 7 minutes long. Felt like an hour though.

The sound of water flowing from the bathroom stops. Saerom should be coming out soon. You didn’t realize how tightly you were gripping your shaft.

It’s unbelievable the sheer number of pictures and videos there were in the phone’s gallery. Had to be at least one for every day since you last met her. It’d be difficult to quantify which was your favorite, and which one you would masturbate to the most.

However, the answer was clear. The hottest video, or set of videos, was yet another dildo. This one isn’t as girthy as the clear suction dildo, as she holds it in her hand. Two key differences. First, this pink phallus had little marks on it. Each subsequent video had another mark, a centimeter deeper. In some of the videos, she’d be fully nude while in other videos, she’d have a hoodie or oversized shirt on, but nothing else, leaving her bottomless. Sometimes it’d be daytime, birds chirping, sun shining into the room, and other times, it was at night, dimly lit as the room is now. Second, and more importantly, is that every video had the same format: she sat comfortably in her bed, legs spread, then she took lube, coated her fingers (initially one, but then it became two, three), and slid them in her ass—the fingers were only the start though; afterward, she kept her anal entrance relaxed as she spread lube onto the pink dildo, then slid the toy inside herself at an extremely gentle pace.

She had already been able to take your dick in her ass, though it wasn’t the most pleasant experience back then. You enjoyed it visually, but seeing the strain and discomfort on Saerom put you off of it (not to mention the wrenching tightness for you, barely inserting a third of your length). You thought you’d have to save the anal experience for another day. Didn't think it'd be today. Plus, the mere concept of progress here, the enjoyment she’s having, is somehow making you harder than ever, as if you didn’t just cum five minutes ago.

You can even find where Saerom hit a plateau in the middle of the collection of anal training videos. She had a pout on her face and rolled her eyes when she couldn’t push the pink dildo deeper inside her asshole. In the next video, she tried the same length but with a bullet vibrator on her clit—even used tape to hold it. Not only did it help, to get the toy deeper inside, but she also squirted all over her phone camera.

The door opens, greeting Saerom to the sound of her moans from her phone until you quickly pause it in surprise. Nothing on but a towel. Picturesque. In her hand, a bottle of lube.

"Oh, hey. I remember buying that," you say, pointing to the bottle. "Did it expire?"

"I didn’t think about that." Saerom examines the bottle. "January 2024. Should be fine."

She stands in front of you, drops her towel, and you thoroughly examine her figure. The hourglass curves, you want to make her toss and turn, forget the time. The sole sure sign of the time's passage is that night falls differently, moonlight mixing with the small lamp—now on the ground, not sure when that got there—casting subtly new angles of shadows on Saerom. In all lights, she looks ethereal, contrasting her casual attitude. A light smile, she dusts off her bookshelf. A light step toward her desk, she readjusts a potted plant. Like she forgot you were here for a moment, a light giggle as she remembers your presence and takes her phone back. 

"I take it you liked what you saw?" Saerom declares, rhetorical.

Right, you should nod here. So nod. But you’re holding your breath too, nodding emptily. You’ve decided she doesn’t look ethereal; she is ethereal, immaterial, of another world. You can’t touch her even though you did, consequences of ethereality you can hardly endure. Endure you shall because you must. Her nude form is unmatched. Her ass is unmatched. Your hands on her ass were a ghostly dream.

Saerom walks around the room, cleaning more. You’d offer to help but you’re simply awestruck, your eyes like a hawk. She fixes the lamp, the pile of pillows, and the clothes laying around on the floor.

Returning your gaze, she eyes your erection. Saerom points, and you’re back in position, and she's back to the floor, lube still in hand.

You sit on the edge of her bed. Soft, springy, doesn’t make too much noise even when two people are testing the limits of its suspension—now you're sure of it. With the wet mess, hopefully, the sheets dry as you remember. Your feet are right on the ground, but there's something different this time. The tension and doubt of earlier are silent; if you had to take a stab at it, you've never seen this sort of raw hunger from Saerom as she's kneeling between your legs. Your cock twitches, free in the air, when she licks at it experimentally.

"You don’t have to do this. Your pics kept me hard as a rock." Look, a statement as dumb as not contacting Saerom.

You're fortunate that Saerom is set on getting your dick in her mouth. "Shut it," she says, "you know how much I love sucking this dick."

"Right… but remind me."

A smirk tugs at the corner of Saerom's lips, then a soft exhalation. The warm breath sends tingles through your cock to the rest of you. What is there in the rest of you? You can only wonder when Saerom starts to give the same licking worship to your cock as you did to her whole body, spending as much time bathing you in her saliva. Her tongue is soft, wet, and all over your shaft, and the smooches on your cockhead plant your feet down into the ground. Your fingers curl. Five into the air, five into her hair. Let her go. She has work to do.

Saerom, relinquishing her momentary trance, opens the lube bottle. She squeezes a dollop onto her hand, can barely match the amount of saliva that she’s already drooling. Saerom tries her best to go to work, to give you a blowjob while applying the lube at the same time. Her palm rubs the cool lubricant onto your shaft, fingertips work all the half-viscous fluid around your whole cock—makes sure plenty is under your tip (does that part even need to be lubricated like that, or is she just toying with you?)—then she uses her dextrous tongue to spread the lube further. Pulling back, Saerom seals her lips on your cockhead, cheeks hollowing as she sucks and uses both hands to stroke you up and down. She’s diligent, but all that lube ends up being washed away by the excess of spit from her eager mouth bobbing down into your length, impulsively taking you into the back of her mouth. A waste, though you’re going to buy new lube for her soon. She has work to do, and you’re not stopping her for now.

You can tell that taking you into her throat isn’t on purpose; however, Saerom is so captivated with sucking your cock that she ends up gagging a couple of times. You're worried at first, pulling your hips back, but Saerom looks at you with puppy eyes and a pout on your cock—as if to ask why you took away her favorite toy, and imagine a harrumph for theatrical measure. At the unexpected, unspoken brattiness, you raise your hands. If she wants saliva streaming down her chin to get your full length into her throat, so be it. So be it that she wants her eyes to water.

A question Saerom won’t answer, too busy: you've already given her what she wants, so why is she whining and humming on your cock like it isn’t enough? Then you realize she knows what she's doing, knows how the vibrations are getting from your cockhead to your real head. knows how the foamy slobber makes her lips feel extra soft and pillowy. Amen to all the fluids, holier than water can get.

Having eaten her out however many minutes ago, you empathize with how tiring oral service gets. When Saerom finally pulls back from your dick, she exercises her jaw, moves it side to side, and stretches it.

Fix the thick strands on her forehead, putting the bangs back in place. She might have just showered, yet you could easily have mistaken her damp locks for being wet with the mess she’s made in her blowjob.

Saerom wipes the excess of saliva and licks her palms, then grabs the lube. This time, she’s more careful. More handiwork spreading lube than mouthy work as she kisses and tongues your tip with greater restraint.

In such a sensitive state—your previous orgasm wasn’t that far in the past—even the faint grazes of Saerom’s tongue draw out involuntary moans from you, and your mouth is a tight contorting curve. Something of a smile, something of a frown. You manage to ask regardless, "How does it taste?"

"The lube? It’s a little sweet, but not the best flavor. Here." Saerom squeezes a drop onto her hand and offers her finger to you. 

You wrap your lips around her middle finger, and you forget you were supposed to be tasting something as you made eye contact with her. Saerom smirks back. Is it a fruity flavor? Maybe it’s flower yet again, to match her shampoo. Doesn’t matter. You keep her finger in your mouth, and she laughs when you give it a soft bite before she takes her hand away.

"I, for one, prefer the taste of this cock." Saerom licks in a circle. "It’s musky and sweaty and salty, and I love it. Especially when pre-cum comes out like this—" she tongues at your cock’s slit, and you shudder.

Pretend that time is unwavering, a force inerrant, yet your mind can do so much to trick you, to make the past/present/future all toys in the same room converge. Turns to dots, to visions. You could be sitting here as you are, a passive man for the rest of your life (for all you know, this night will be the rest of your life), or you could be making good on promises.

You have work to do. This is the unthinking reverie of a man possessed by visions of a single thing you’ve been waiting for, for a year, for a lifetime, for dreams eternal. Don’t call it a reverie. Your actions are not light. You pull Saerom up from her kneeling stance, a hint of unnecessary rabid strength. This force is used in place of words, forgoing language in a new way. Your grip on her hand says something. If only you could say what it is. And she never liked when you just stood there silent, but her mouth is open and her eyes are needy.

Her brows are raised when you shove, and her yelps are unsurprisingly filled with surprise when you bring her to her desk, unforgiving in how you lever her arm back, grab wrist, animal thoughts, smack, one, two, the orbs of her ass jiggle. You’re in a human place, a human still. Posthaste, clearing the haze in your head, you clear out the stationery from the middle of the desk. There’s the rest of her, perfect, yet it middles to the true perfection of her asshole. You lay your cock between her asscheeks, left hand cupping their heft.

Saerom needs something from you, but she’s so beautifully compromised. Her arm is bent back, her wrist tight in your grip. Her legs are straight, but you see the buckle in her knees—it’s taking active effort from Saerom to keep her ass lifted in the air for you. All the while, her face is right on the desk, and she twists her head to look back. She’s pleading with her eyes. Put it in, put it in. Why say it out loud when the soft whimpers tell you as much.

Despite all the primal force and exhibition, you’re no animal. As much as you want to dive straight in and impale your whole length at once, she needs to acclimate even with her diligent practice with toys. Besides, it gives you an excuse to admire her ass when you push your lube-covered cock’s tip against her tight sphincter. Leave it there, for a breath, for two. Deep breaths. Long breaths. Breaths that let you stare at Saerom’s ass until time ends because you’ll never tire at the shape outlining sublimity, the weight so perfect, the firmness of the glute muscles, the smooth and light skin marked red by your hand and beginning to bead with sweat, the crease into her equally ample thighs. Your tip is at the start of anally penetrating Saerom, and all you can think about are the two surrounding cushions. You will never tire of staring at Saerom's butt.

You do tire of having only your tip in the chokehold of Saerom’s tight entrance. So eventually, you push in, a glacial rate, a tectonic rate, eras, timescales for scientists. The minutes dilate like you’re pushing against a law of physics, a speed limit, even if your length is plunging into Saerom’s ass as slow as it can. New paradoxes, record it. The waves propagating throughout your body, at one inch, at two inches, three, four, five, etc, record them. The snug ring of her asshole is almost at the base of your shaft, yet there’s a complete saturation of bliss, record it. All this pleasure must be recorded rigorously in your mind as charts and tables flash by in an attempt to put numbers down to the innumerable.

Saerom’s back arches on this first penetration, her eyes rolling up into her head, where she isn’t thinking about anything, and now you aren’t either. Saerom’s anal walls are built like a cocksleeve to hug and clamp around your shaft. With this inexorably tight hold, you can’t move, a statue, marbled by pleasure.

Looking back at you, Saerom frowns, her thinking returning. She doesn’t speak but she says why the fuck aren’t you totally inside, and you can hear it out loud in the bedroom only filled with ragged breathing. In frustration, she lifts her ass higher by tiptoeing, and you have to grab something, the edge of the desk, her waist, whatever you can. You look down, and her legs are trembling now. Long groans escape you and Saerom when you’re finally guts deep, finally inside her ass with your whole length. Never have you gone this deep inside Saerom; the last anal attempt was more half-assed. Now you're stretching Saerom in places she didn't know she had, content with her warming your cock.

You pull back, squeeze a bit more lube on your cock for good measure, and begin anally fucking Saerom in earnest. Can’t let patience rule you. Her pussy is tight; this ass has a complete throttlehold. To ram into Saerom’s asshole means you succumb to the constriction and thus what would be a torrid rhythm is turned spasmodic—fierce, yet subject to fits of paralysis, where you return from fleshly lust to scientific observation. Metrology in mind, you measure the precise amount of your dick inside of Saerom's butt, calculate the forces with which her asscheeks jiggle.

Nothing so surgical about your hands as you pull by her hair bundled in your fingers, enough to lift her head off the desk. Saerom looks at you with a nearly crazed frown—no, that’s her smile upside down—mad lust in her eyes, and teardrops every time her asshole is impaled by your shaft, down to the balls.

As much as you’re fucking Saerom, Saerom is fucking you. Regardless of her submissive position bent over the desk, she backs that ass up into you, and her smile shifts from smug to wild to docile and pliant with every thrust.

Thrust back and you see her gaped asshole, the width and consequences of your cock's pounding. It’s winking, at a rapid rhythm somewhere between her breaths and her heartbeat.

Who cares that you're in the middle of fucking Saerom’s unmatched ass—you can't help but get on your knees.

"Oh, fuck," Saerom says, "what are you—ohhh." 

Your tongue finds itself in Saerom’s used and stretched-out hole. One hand is holding an asscheek with a firm grip while the other hand is teasing her pussy lips. You drive your tongue deep enough that her asshole can’t just relax, can’t just ungape itself from being this well-fucked—it’d be a waste of effort and time, and you haven’t eaten out this perfect ass yet. The flavor is foreign but welcome, or whatever. Your lips refuse to release from her widened hole regardless of taste, and your tongue will rival Gluttony’s sin in your relentless analingus. If you do release, it’s only to kiss each of her plump cheeks, to give them the love they deserve, but her anus deserves more love with the bliss it sends to you. Give that love, and romance is returned in a thrumming moan, vibrating through the wood of the desk on which Saerom’s head lays.

In search of deepening that pleasant noise, you fully focus your hands’ attention on her leaking cunt. There were already clear strings leading from her slit to her thighs, from between her legs to the floor, but when you begin to insert fingers into her untongued hole and circle her clit, the leak becomes a whole-hearted drench. Saerom near crumples, slumping at the desk, your active hands keeping her from totally sliding off. The pitch of her voice heightens, and her whole body shakes.

"I’m f-fucking, cu-cumming!"

Your fingers are battering into her pussy, your tongue is sloppily tending to her asshole, and you’re kneeling next to a puddle growing as the spray from her cunt reaches its maximum pressure—

Catch her. As she shudders and limps into the floor as you envisioned, you hold Saerom as you two sit and inhale and exhale and inhale and—and slowly now, exhale.

"Slowly now, exhale," you say.

Saerom turns her head, eyes like a stray cat fed. Look deeper, and it’s more like there’s nothing there past the sclera’s white, the iris’ dark brown, dim of her pupils. The colors and shapes are all in the right places, sure. Nothing. Stroke her cheeks, its high bones, and her nose and her jaw. Be careful with those. Don’t get a cut on their sharp edges. The thought evolves: how sharp can she be? Her words and glare can cut, at times. Here, she’s feathers. She’s clouded; no, she's clouds. She’s fur. Looks back at you, the quietest smirk, like this one doesn’t say anything—she can be a cat, sure.

Though your breaths are now steady, you have to carry her as you relocate your two bodies to the bed. While Saerom’s orgasm has racked her, you are not faring much better. Truly flagging, it takes a whole minute until you’re both lying on the mattress—the clock you forgot or pretend not to care about said 10:28 with its longest hand up, then 10:29, longest hand up again when you look again.

Your arm under her neck, Saerom looks at you. "So we’re done for the night?" she asks.

You laugh weakly. "You’re asking like we’re not."

Saerom rolls her leg over your waist, hooking your erection between her calf and thigh to make a point.

Again, your laugh has little air to it. As much as you want to go on forever, spend all the moonlight fucking Saerom’s ass, you don’t have the energy left to move. You close your eyes, sorry in your heart for ignoring her succubine advance for a final round.

You’re going to sleep. One or five or thirty minutes pass. Can’t tell. The internal hourglass is too tired. Sand won’t even fall. There should be an ending here regardless.

Weight. Instead of an ending and empty darkness of sleep, weight, and heft, the now intimately familiar but always welcome warmth and plushness of Saerom’s butt against your crotch. You feel her hair scattered on your face, tickling and itching, and you half open your eyes, but you stay stock-still. Instead of next to you, Saerom is lying on top of you.

You should’ve known this would happen. It’s not the first time she’s done this to you, not even the first time on this bed. When you were stressed from the responsibilities and the changes of your new non-idol occupation, you answered a Saerom booty call, expecting to have fucked out your tension and worry. However, the moment you lay on her bed, you fell asleep—then woke up to Saerom sliding down onto your cock like it was a bomb that would explode at the slightest bump.

You didn’t complain then, and when you watch Saerom apply lube on her thighs, making them shiny and wet, you don’t complain now. The muted glimmer of her pale skin, her thighs giving way to your cockhead as it pokes out with each slide, yet those don’t compare to the loving caress of her flesh on your shaft.

Saerom must know you’re awake. There’s no way you can ignore the coolness of the lube on your tip, or her finger smearing the small beads of seed on your slit. She carries on yet, the sluggish up-down motion of her legs becoming a back and forth: she moves forward to slide your length against her pussy lips, then moves back to give your shaft her thighs' full embrace.

You buck up into her labia, her thighs, and that’s when she gives up the game, a chuckle as she shakes her head, moving hair off your face.

"Look at you," she whispers, "pretending to be asleep."

You groan when she grasps your shaft carelessly. "I didn’t want to interrupt."

She sits up, grabs the lube, applies more to your length by stroking and twisting, then guides your cock into her asshole before leaning back into your chest.

Kiss her neck. Lightly, with pecks, you didn't forget. It matches the verve with which Saerom fucks her ass into you.

That is to say, none.

Unlike with the desk, this is the laziest anal sex you’ve ever had. Every few seconds, a deliberate rolling of her ass. In, out, this piston couldn’t drive a toy car. There’s purring like a car anyway: guttural sounds from deep within your throat, Saerom matches them, still not used to the brute stretching of her asshole. If her pussy is a natural moist velvet that enveloped your cock, her asshole is the closest thing you can imagine to a sex toy, made to wring your cock out, lube fully necessary for the tightness. She's almost stuck on your shaft, making each act of pulling out a whole grippy ordeal.

After enough of this lethargic penetration, you endure the ordeal and unsheathe fully.

There's only one way this can end. You truly understand how this night is a cycle. The giver becomes the receiver; the subject becomes the agent—the push and the pull are bound in sequence.

Never any words to communicate the time to switch where they aren't needed and are a waste of oxygen by now. (You, the liar or the fool, must know you're fluent by now.)

You peel Saerom off your cock, setting her aside on the bed. You're not so gentle when you flip her over. She sits up, kneeling, facing away from you (facing the dear enemy, the clock, above the head of the bed). Hands on knees, she wiggles her ass and looks back at you. The soles of her feet are equally inviting, toes wiggling. (You want to bite them.) She bites her finger. Never fails to make you act.

You're quick to your feet, standing by the edge of the bed, and then grab Saerom's waist and pull her toward you. Falling forward, she gets on all fours.

Push.

If the rest of your life could be defined by pushing and pulling with Saerom, that would be fine by you.

Cock in her asshole, nothing more.

Fine, there's a little more. You're holding your shaft, your thumb on your tip, and you tease Saerom's anal entrance one last time. even if this hole has acclimatized to the exact mold of your dick's shape, evidenced by its continued gape, you can't help but savor a final time. You rub your tip around in a circle.

Enough of that. You push an hour into a minute, pull a minute into a second, push a second to the wayside. There is no truly timing in the animalistic act of doggystyle, especially not with Saerom. Hands in her hair, hands on her back, hands spanking hard against her ass, hands cupping her breast as you bend over and kiss where your fingers dug in, every thrust consolidating into one. You're under some self-made thrall, and Saerom is in that same complete thrall. With her feet keep kicking up at the sheer bulldozing force into her very guts, you take one moment of not having her ass in your hands to knead her soles. Then you're back inside, making sure that mold-tight hold of her asshole is perfectly set, or whatever was there is being rearranged. How you're fucking Saerom on all fours, it's like you're rushing for an ending, and you get what you want soon enough.

A single fiber of your being and your soul (in other words, hormones and nerves) becomes a quivering fire, then two fibers, then four, and the pretty pattern flowers into something equally pretty in its chaos.

As this night can't last forever, the doggystyle position can’t last either.

She falls back down, face onto the mattress, and she spreads her legs in a split. You keep pounding, your false energy like the retreating soldiers of a battle sounding off their final shots, and as you do, you massage her ass. Saerom shouts into her pillow at your throes, though it's equally spaced with satisfied hums at your unfailing handiwork. Hands are the only part of you that fail to fail. You want to fill her insides with cum, to destroy the crumbling dam of your restraint. Want to paint her guts white. Want becomes need. You’re fucking her hard enough to turn the necessary into the truth. 

"Saerom, I’m…" Finish your sentence. You can’t.

Saerom has her own idea about this ending anyway.

She pulls herself off you. Her tight anus is reluctant to let go of your pulsating cock (you empathize). Saerom rushes to your waist, crawling down to the floor and onto her knees in front of you. It gives you a second to breathe—no, it doesn’t; Saerom’s lips are sealed around your cock already. By the look in her eyes, she wants to suck your soul out. All uncertainty thrown aside, she pushes herself down into your length with a repeated rhythm. Each loud and forceful gag of her self-throatfucking comes with a mess of spit that stains her bed, waterfalls onto the floor.

However, you have the final say.

Grab her hair, pull your cock out of her mouth, and stroke yourself as you aim down.

The first shot hits her chin, dripping, but the other jets of cum cover her neck, her shoulders, and her collarbone, exactly as promised. There are no revelations in this orgasm—unfortunately, you haven’t been superhumanly recharged. The edge of your sight blackens and your knees halfway give out. For this is purely physical. Pure hormones and static sparking pleasure to your body as you stroke your cock to Saerom’s visage and form, and quivering fire is jittery lightning when you cover all that unblemished skin in sticky cum, vulgarizing, fulfilling promises sexy.

Your mouth is dry. Everything else too.

A phone is handed to you. A picture is taken. A smile is on her lips. (A final lesson, smiles don't drip the same way cum does.)

There should be an ending here, but see, climaxes are the true ending, and the true ending is just a necessity. As you and Saerom cuddle, there is an understanding. Comfortable, but uncomfortable. The future, a future, between the two of you exists in some uncertain state. The two of you might find something deeper in this bond, or might never know anything more than friendship and sex. Don’t think too hard for now. It exists unspoken, for now. Whatever would exist is far away from the confines of this bed, and this hold on her body, and eyelids lowering with the understandings between you intertwining—not solved, but trying; if it were solved, then you would just say it right now. We’re together. We’re not together. We’re just fucking. Who cares. If it were solved, there would be no ambiguity to the ghost touch of Saerom’s fingertips on your back and a breath trying to let a word out but letting that warm air become past sand in the glass bulbs and the upper bulb is damn near empty.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

AFF, AO3

#fromis smut #kpop smut #male reader #reader insert

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Sunset Bedroom (18+)

FastForward!Leonardo x reader

A/N: Just me wanting to make a smut in the Fast Forward setting, heh💙

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

Sex with Leo in your shared penthouse guest room💙

All characters are aged up.

Warning: Spelling, oral, female receiving, dirty talk, light choking, unprotected sex, Leo being a tease.

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

The future wasn’t as bad as one could fear it would be. It was much nicer and much brighter than you had imagined. But that could very well be because of the many windows in Cody’s penthouse. The food was good, if not a little strange, but you liked it nonetheless. The entertainment was also pretty good. Way different than what you were used to, but still good. But if there was one thing that stayed the same, no matter the time, being it the past, present or future, was Leonardo.

Your sweet terrapin boyfriend stayed the same, even after an accidental time travel into the future, and that was just the way you wanted it. Even after the sudden chance from sewer to penthouse, he stayed humble and caring. He still looked out for you in small ways, like placing a hand over the corner of the table when you were walking by, or always making sure there was a full glass of water by your side. He still cuddled you close at night and kissed you at every opportunity he got.

Even 99 years into the future, Leo still insisted on spending his planned time with you, just as much as he insisted on his training. The big difference being that Leo now had the opportunity to take you out, instead of planning dates in the lair, in your apartment or on your roof. But even in futuristic restaurants Leo would still hold your hand and keep his famous eye contact with you, while listening to you speaking.

But there was one thing that had changed between you and Leo; your sex life. Never before had you and Leo been able to get intimate so often, without interruptions. Though 2105 wasn’t without its dangers and villains, it was generally much more peaceful, which gave Leo and his brothers extra time to kill. And luckily for you, that meant getting fucked your brains out on a pretty much daily basis.

Tonight was no different. You and Leo had retreated into the big spacious bedroom Cody had given the two of you. Located on the western corner of the penthouse, with big open windows, you and Leo had one of the best sceneries in New York City. And of course the two of you have had sex several times with the city and the sunset as your background. There was just something about watching your face covered with the warm glow of the setting sun, as you begged Leo to make you cum with your sweet taste on his tongue, that made his mind spin ecstasy.

You were laying across the big soft Alaskan king sized bed, your hair cascading behind you on the mattress. Your pants and underwear had been discarded long ago, laying somewhere on the floor and out of your side. Your bra was on the edge of the bed, having been taken off by Leo the moment you got onto the soft sheets, and your shirt pushed up over your chest, revealing your breast to Leo and the air in the room. Your cheeks were flushed, your breathing was heavy and moans were escaping your lips. Thank God that a luxury penthouse in the future meant that the bedrooms were soundproof, because otherwise you would be getting in big trouble.

The sight between your legs was enough to make you roll your head back in pleasure. Leonardo, naked without any of his high tech gear or bandana, had his face buried between your thighs, with the tip of his skillful tongue rolling against your clit. Your legs hung over his shoulders so your calves were laying against his shell, with his strong arms wrapped around your thighs pulling them apart, giving him more space to devour your dripping core. His blue eyes held your gaze, making you shutter in excitement. All of this, bathed in the orange and yellow glow of the sunset, was an image you would never forget.

“Oh, fuck, Leo”, you moaned, your hands finding their way to the top of Leo’s head, pushing him further against you. He hummed against you, his hands gripping tighter onto your thighs, no doubt leaving a new pair of marks. His tongue started to do slow flat licks up your folds, running all the way from the bottom to the top, before giving your clit a flick with the tip, causing you to jolt underneath him. Leo chuckled against you before doing it one more time.

Leo took in the sight of you wiggling against his lips and the sounds escaping your beautiful plump lips, and started to grind his already dropped penis against the sheet underneath him, causing him to moan lightly against your center. The vibration shot through you, making your back to arch slightly.

“Please, Leo”, you continued, trying to push your hips closer to his face with the help of your legs on his shell. Leo however pulled back slightly, a small grin appearing in his face, as he watched you wriggle in frustration underneath him, without his tongue connected to your folds.

“Please what?”, he asked smugly, using his thumb to spread you open for him, enjoying the sight of your cunt glistering with a mixture of your own juices and his spit. It was a lovely sight, especially in the sunshine. It made it almost look like honey. You sighed in pleasure as he moved the thumb up towards your clit, pushing down you ever so slightly. Leo knew exactly what you wanted, but he wasn’t going to give it to you just like that. No, he wanted to work you up for it, have you beg for it. Have you beg for him. And you knew exactly that’s what he wanted. That had never changed and will never change, not that you were complaining. It was incredibly hot to be in this position under him.

“Please just fuck me, Leo!”, you cried out, your toes curling against his shell as he started to rub slow circles against you.

“You have to be more specific, sweetheart”, Leo said, his breath fanning over your wet opening. “How do you want me to fuck you? With my fingers? With my tongue? With my cock? Whatever you want, you just have to tell me, darling” He punctuated every option with a small flick of his thumb, making you jolt each and every time. God, you loved this man so much, but sometime you wished he would just fuck the life out of you.

“Your cock, Leo!”, you cried out once more, your hips chasing his thumb as he moved it around. “Please! Fuck me with your cock!”

Leo chuckled as he did one last circle over your clit, before sitting up with his erection showing off proudly with a slight bit of precum leaking out at the tip. “Your wish is my command”, he said, grabbing a hold of your legs to pull you closer across the bed. You yelped as he pulled you in one hard tuck, before giggling as he leaned down over you, feeling his penis just ghosting over your entrance. Leo’s lips found yours, his tongue quickly gaining access to the inside of your mouth. You moaned at the taste of yourself on Leo’s lips, lifting your hips in hopes of gaining some frictions against his rode. Leo’s right hand went to your hips, pushing you down onto the mattress with ease. His left hand made quick work, catching both of your wrist and pinned them on top of your head.

“What happened to ‘your wish is my command’?”, you wailed frustrated, trying to push against his hand. Damn him being so fucking well trained, all though it looked good and proved amazing in bed.

Leo smiled. He really had no reason for doing it, other than to hear you wailing a little but. Nothing new there. He had always been a tease in bed, enjoying your whimpering and squirming. “I never said I would do it straight away”, he smiled, his lips finding their way to your jawline, slowly kissing their way up to your earlobe.

“Your fucking tease”, you breathed, tilting your head to the side, giving him space to work on.

“And you like it”, he murmured against your ear, smugness dripping from his every word, sending shivers down your spine.

He was right; you did like it. Scratch that, you loved it. He would build you up over and over again, until finally giving you that earth shattering orgasm you had been waiting for. Begging for, even.

But you couldn’t ignore the burning need building between your legs, as Leo continued his slow assault on your jaw and neck, feeling his cock touch you folds every once in a while, almost making you go mad.

“Please, Leo!”, you begged, struggling against his hand. “Please just do it! Fuck me, Leo!”

You could feel his breath against your skin as he huffed out a chuckle. “Have you been teased enough?”

“Yes!”, you exclaimed, your head nodding wildly in agreement.

“Really?”, Leo asked, letting go of your hip to take a hold of his aching cock, slowly sliding it through your folds, yet another idea popping into his head. “How badly do you want me to fuck you, sweetheart?”

“So badly, Leo! Please!” Fuck this man and how easily he made you beg as if it was about your life.

“Good girl”, Leo praised you, before slowly pushing into your entrance. By reflex you curled your legs up around Leo, closing your eyes as you felt the stretch of him slowly filling you up. “Fuck”, Leo breathed into your ear, feeling his length being absorbed into you. “Always so tight”.

“Please move, Leo”, you whimpered, nudging him with your foot against his shell.

“As you wish”, he smiled, giving your cheek a kiss before he slowly started moving his hips against you. He pulled until he was almost out of you, before pushing back in. Both of you moaned at his movements, enjoying the pleasure it brought the both of you.

Leo’s thrusting started picking up, making you turn your face against your restrained arm, closing your eyes as you took in the pleasure he brought you.

“No”, Leo mumbled, using his free hand to turn your face towards him. His face contorted in focus, his gaze burning into yours and his mouth agape. “Look at me. I want to see you”. This always did something to you. It did not matter how many times Leo told you to look at him during sex, with him buried deep inside of you, it always did something to you. Made your stomach tighten and tingle in excitement, feeling the climax he had been building inside of you being brought closer to the edge.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful”, Leo mumbled, moving his hand from your face to your throat, holding you still as he stared into your eyes, his hips getting faster at the sound of your moans and whimpering. The way you said his name, begging him to bring you closer to the edge. At this point the sun had just dipped below the horizon, replacing the orange glow outside with the dark sky and the shining starts, the neon glow of the city casting colors throughout the dark room, lighting up you face, letting Leo see your reactions as he fucked you harder with every thurst.

Leo let go of your wrists, using his left arm to bring your leg up, so it rested against his arm, giving him space to curl his leg up and making it easier for him to thrust into you at a rapid speed. Your hands flew to him, on around his neck, the other holding on to the arm of the hand that was increasing its grip slightly, forcing your airway open and making your moans louder.

Leo groaned at the feeling of your tightening around him, pushing your leg up onto his shoulder, so he could use his arm to support himself.

“Leo! Baby! I’m close!”, you cried out, feeling that familiar feeling build up inside of you.

“Let it go, babe”, he groaned, tilting your head slightly forward so he could look directly at you. “Cum for me, (Y/N). Be a good girl and cum around my cock. Show me how good I’ve fucked you”.

That was all you needed to be pushed over the edge. With a scream like moan you came, the leg over Leo’s shoulder tightening up and your nails digging into his skin, in a way that made him moan in pleasure. Yet Leo’s speed didn’t falter. He fucked you through your high, egging you on as he watched your face. He would never stop loving the sight of your face whenever you came. Your beautiful face contorted in pleasure - pleasure he had given you.

Once through your high, Leo pulled out of you, leaving you heaving for your breath on the big bed. But you weren’t done. You knew that. Leo had never stopped after drawing one orgasm, and he never would. So you weren’t surprised when he shoved you onto your side, pulling you close with one of your legs up against his plastron. He stared at you with a mischievous yet yearning look in his eyes, covered in the neon blue light from the city outside. You would be lying if you said the sight didn’t get your heart going like crazy, holding your breath in anticipation.

“That was one”, he said, tugging himself a few times before lining up against your still pulsating entrance. “Let’s see how many we can do before sunrise”.

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt leonardo #tmnt leo #tmnt donatello #tmnt raphael #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt raph #tmnt donnie #tmnt mikey #leo tmnt #tmnt 2003 #tmnt fast forward #tmnt x y/n #tmnt x reader #tmnt x you #tmnt x reader smut #tmnt smut #tmnt 2003 smut #tmnt 2003 x reader smut #tmnt 2003 x reader #tmnt 2003 leonardo #tmnt 2003 leo #tmnt 2003 mikey #tmnt 2003 michelangelo #tmnt 2003 raph #tmnt 2003 donnie #tmnt 2003 donatello #tmnt 2003 raphael #tmnt fast forward x reader

[rustedhearts]

Lipstick Stain (Boxer!Steve x Librarian!reader)

summary: Steve poses with a model for the cover of Sports Illustrated, and jealousy rears its ugly head.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

the steve collection

warnings: slight angst (barely), jealousy issues, public sex (sort of…it’s in a dressing room), smut, more casual dominance.

new york city, june 1992

The JFK airport is packed with people—recent travelers, anxious vacationers, jittery tourists—but worst of all: swarms of paparazzi. You and Steve have barely made it through baggage claim before you hear the shutter of cameras, and spot the blinding lights of their obnoxious existence.

“Fuck’s sake,” Steve growls, duffel bag slung over his shoulder, the other hand holding his suitcase.

You follow his line of sight toward the other side of the airport, where the paparazzi are clumped together, eager and ready. You lean into his solid side, still warm from your embrace on the plane, and fiddle with your carry-on zipper.

“Just ignore them.”

Steve rolls his eyes, turning his head to press a quick kiss to your temple.

“Yeah, they can ignore my foot up their ass,” he mutters grumpily.

You crack a smile, cheeks swelling with warmth from his kiss. You spin around to face him, reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes beneath his backwards baseball cap.

“Come on, Steve, no fighting before the shoot. They need this face all pretty and blood-free for the magazine cover,” you coo.

Steve huffs, moving your hand from his hair and bringing your knuckles to his mouth to kiss them. He usually becomes overly affectionate when he’s nervous, and he's been riddled with knee-bouncing nerves since Mikey told him about his newest job. Instead of cracking noses and bruising jaws, Steve would be posing in front of a camera for Sports Illustrated. They were willing to pay a handsome fee for his face on the next cover.

���Still can’t believe I agreed to this shit,” he groans, pausing to grab your suitcase as it rolls by on the belt. “Mikey owes me big time.”

Steve snatches the carry-on from your hands and slides it over your suitcase handles, doing the same with his duffel before kicking both suitcases to roll behind him. You follow after, inhaling deeply as you approach the paparazzi. The speed of their shutter snaps increase rapidly as you close in.

“You’re going to look very handsome, Steve.”

Steve scowls, though you’re sure it’s just because of the white camera lights growing brighter as you approach the exit. Discolored sparks follow your every blink.

“We’ll see about that.”

♡ ♡

It was a fast trip from the hotel to the location for the magazine shoot. You barely had a chance to put something nicer than a pair of jeans and a sweater on before you were being hauled off in another car, and now, standing in the doorway of the bustling room, you wish you'd taken just a second longer.

The model, Steve's photo partner, is all legs and silky blonde hair. She saunters around the room, getting her makeup touched up, taking delicate sips of Coke from a bendy straw. You immediately reach to fix your hair and pull at the hem of your sweater, something colorful and fuzzy from back home.

"Big time. Big time, Mikey owes me," Steve grumbles from beside you, scowling at the sight of the busy room.

"Oh, Mr. Harrington! We're so glad you're here, thank you so much for doing this.” A shorter man stumbles toward the two of you, reaching out to shake Steve's hand and introduce himself.

Steve nods curtly, flashing a tight-lipped smile. You pinch his side, and when he glances toward you, you motion to the dark Ray Bans still sitting over his eyes. His eyes roll as he snatches them off and hands them to you. His hand slips beneath the hem of your sweater against your back, running his hand comfortingly against the skin of your lower spine. You shiver at the warmth of his touch.

"This is my girl," Steve announces to the shorter man gruffly, pulling you flush against his side.

The man nods jerkily at you, lowering into an unnecessary sort of bow that makes you press your lips together to hide a smile. Steve has a tendency to make everyone around him feel much smaller than they were. He bleeds possession and rage, and anyone around him can feel it.

"It-it's nice to meet you," the man stutters, uttering a name you barely have time to process before Steve is interrupting:

"Look, man, you're not expectin' me to wear something stupid, right?"

Wide eyes turn to Steve immediately, a red flush reaching the man's cheeks. Behind you, the blonde model sinks into a folding chair and tips her head back for her lips to get fixed. They delicately paint a coat of blood red across her mouth.

"Oh, n-no! Of course not, Mr. Harrington. Besides, next to her," the man steps aside to motion toward the blonde, "it's hard to look stupid, am I right?"

He snorts a chuckle, but Steve's eyes narrow and his lips curl into a thin line. You're selfishly glad he didn't join in on the perverted laughter, but you're sure he still agrees. Steve adjusts his hold on you, sliding his hand around to rest on your hip, arm around your waist.

"Let's get you changed."

♡ ♡

"Thank fuckin' god someone has a brain around here."

Steve finishes knotting the ties on his satin shorts, the same crimson color he wears in the ring. A pair of white socks pull up to his calves, high-tongued shoes tied expertly around his feet. He looks just as he does right before a fight, though a little more anxious—only Steve would find it more nerve-wracking to stand in front of a camera than to possibly lose his teeth.

You smile from your seat on the leather couch in his dressing room, watching him push his hair back against his head. Without a shirt, his shoulders look broad, his biceps thick and bulging, his abdomen perfectly cut and defined.

"See? I was right. You look very handsome, Stevie."

Steve sighs, eyes flittering your way quickly. He straightens up and rolls his shoulders back.

"Thanks, baby. Y’ got a book in that thing, don’t you?” He points to the purse slung over your shoulder (another gift from him) and you gaze down at it, cheeks flushed.

“Yeah…”

Steve strolls over toward the couch, stopping when his legs graze your knees. He carefully bends, planting his hands on either side of you to crowd you in. Your breath hitches when he cocks his head to fit his mouth over yours. His breath is warm and scented of mint and Marlboros. You can see his half-empty pack sticking out of his jeans on the floor.

“Good. ‘Cause I don’t want you out a’ my sight.”

You huff, head tipping back to cast a pout at him.

“Steve, m’ not a child.”

He hums throatily, mocking your pout with a jut of his lip. Steve tips his chin down to quirk a brow and fix you with a stern, but gentle look.

“No, but I gotta have my guardian angel around to keep me safe, don’t I?”

You giggle, bracing your hands on either side of his face to pull him down and press your mouths together. He licks into your mouth, filling it with that tobacco and mint taste, eliciting a lustful heat in your stomach.

Just as you squeeze your thighs together, a harsh knock raps at the door. You jump to back away, but Steve instantly snatches the back of your hair to keep you attached. A squeak comes from your throat, muffled by his mouth. The knocking grows louder, and Steve growls, barely removing himself from your mouth before barking:

“What?”

“U-um they’re ready for you, Mr-Mr. Harrington.”

Steve huffs, pecking a few more firm kisses against your mouth; transferring his hold on your hair to your jaw, to squish your cheeks together while he peppers wet kisses all over your face. You giggle and squirm, batting him away with light smacks against his bare chest.

“Steve! Come on, they’re waiting!”

♡ ♡

If you could go back in time and beg Steve not to leave the dressing room, you would—because now you have to sit across the room and watch him get covered in lipstick stain kisses, from the leggy blonde of all people. Your fingers curl around your book, knuckles whitening as she travels down his abdomen and smears red all over. They oiled him up, and now he’s slick and glossy and covered in prints from another woman’s mouth. He’s graceful about it (as graceful as Steve could be) and keeps his arms above his head and away from her while her mouth wanders.

“Yeah, make sure you get the back, honey,” the photographer exclaims, watching from his position on the edge of the white backdrop.

Steve keeps a blank face while she makes her way around to his back, beginning at his shoulders first. He drops his arms and looks off toward you—sitting erectly in your folding chair with your legs crossed and your jaw clenched tight—and drops his left eye in a wink. You direct your gaze toward your book, pretending to read about Jay Gatsby and his wealthy longing, all the while you listen to the sound of her noisy kisses touching your boyfriend’s skin. You couldn’t stop your eye from twitching, or your stomach from clenching and twisting uncomfortably.

You’ve never been so jealous before. You never had reason to be before. It was always you and Steve—you and Steve at training, you and Steve at dinner, you and Steve at home, you and Steve on the street. You never let each other wander, and you suppose there had never even been a chance for another woman to swoop in, because he was always with you. Touching you, kissing you, pulling, groping, squeezing. Steve is generous and unabashed in his affection. Sometimes, it feels stifling. But right now, you wish he was smothering you with his heavy, solid weight, and covering you in kisses.

“Alright, now let’s try you standing here.”

You peek over the top of your book to watch the photographer point to the middle of the backdrop. Steve strides over.

“And Holly, honey, you stand behind him. I wanna see your hands around him, maybe some of your hair behind his shoulders.”

You huff under your breath and flick the page over noisily. You’d like to see your hands around her neck—

“That’s sexy. Steve, look into the camera—perfect.”

You glance over again, and your heart flutters and sinks all at the same time. Steve looks hulking standing there in front of the photographer, broad and big, staring with that dead-eyed glare into the camera. His jaw is tight and defined, his cheekbones sharp, the moles on his neck exposed but covered by the dozens of red kisses plastered on his golden skin. And her scarlet, manicured nails press into his pecs, trail up to frame his face, glide along his biceps. Steve never moves an inch, his expression stagnant, but his lack of reaction does nothing to lull your urge to kill. But you’d be lying if you said the way he flexes and glares doesn’t make your cheeks get hot.

“Alright, these look great. Thanks, Steve.”

You stand from your chair instantly, closing your book and clutching it to your chest, waiting for Steve to come over to you. But instead, he breaks away from “Holly,” and she follows after. You watch her flip her hair behind her shoulder and stick out her hand for introduction, and when Steve takes it, your knuckles crack around your book. Whirling around on your heel, you stomp toward the dressing room and close the door, flopping on the couch with a huff. You know it’s stupid, you know you’re being petulant—but you couldn’t help it.

“Jesus Christ.” The door flies open and slams closed in quick succession, and Steve appears still smeared in red with a sharp glare.

“Never doin’ that shit again. I—hey. What’s wrong with you?”

You tuck your chin into your hand on the edge of the couch and look off toward the wall, away from Steve. You give a shrug.

“Nothing,” you mumble.

Steve shuffles to a stop, hands finding his hips.

“You’re pouting.”

“M’ not pouting.”

His head falls back with an exasperated eye roll, shoulders drooping with a heavy sigh. You glance at him over your shoulder, still covered in lipstick, and stick your nose in the air.

“Well, glad to see you get to take those home with you.”

Steve blinks, brows creasing.

“What the hell are you—ohhh,” he pauses to scoff cruelly. “That’s what this is about, hmm?”

You turn your attention to the tops of your toes, playing with your laces, knees tucked to your chest.

“About what? I didn’t say anything.”

Steve takes a step toward the couch, and even in your periphery you can see the smug look on his face.

“Aww. You feelin’ jealous, baby?”

You squirm, scowling down at your laces. You tug at one harshly.

“No.” Your voice wobbles.

Steve tips his head to find your gaze, continuing his slow and steady ascent toward the couch. Every step makes your heart thump faster.

“No? It didn’t get you all riled up, angel? Seeing someone else touch me?”

Your breath turns shallow, falling in stuttered gasps when Steve stops and crowds you, mirroring his earlier position with his hands on either side of you. You drop your feet to the floor and he steps in, angling so his lips brush your cheek. You can smell her on him.

“Did it make you mad, pretty girl? Hmm?” His voice rasps in your ear and makes you shiver.

“It’s n-not funny, Steve,” you whine quietly.

Steve guides your hair behind your ear, knuckles grazing your cheek, thumb rubbing into the bone.

“Oh, no, baby, s’ not funny at all. We gotta fix it before your face gets stuck like that.”

“You’re making fun of me.” Your frown deepens, and Steve chuckles, pinching your puffy lips.

“M’ not makin’ fun a’ you, angel. S’ sweet you get so worked up over me.”

Your lips smack disapprovingly, but before you can utter a retort, Steve stands to his full height again. Your eyes follow this time, head tipped back to watch him tower over you. He reaches out to wrap his hand around the expanse of your jaw, chin propped in his palm. His fingers bite into your cheeks deliciously.

“But you know you’re the only girl for me, angel.”

Heat blooms on your face and excitement bubbles in your belly, subdued by Steve’s mouth slanting over yours. It’s only after a few moments of smacking lips and gnashing teeth that Steve uses his hold on your face to lift you up. When you find your feet, he slides his grasp down toward your ass, cupping under the shape of it in your jeans to lift you up and around him, thighs clamping tight around his hips. A hiccuped gasp punches from your chest when he slams you into the wall, detaching from your mouth to attack your neck. Your fingers bury in his hair, tugging and feathering with urgency while he sucks your skin and applies pressure with his teeth.

“Take me out, angel,” Steve mumbles into your neck. “M’ all yours”

You reach down between your bodies and tug on the loose string of his shorts. When they’re loose enough, and you will yourself through the incoherency that Steve’s mouthing and sucking renders you under, you reach in and wrap your hand around his hardening cock. He groans at your delicate, warm touch, and you gasp when he slides out of his shorts and hangs over the band.

“Fuck, get these fuckin’ jeans off.”

He makes quick work of the button and zipper on your jeans, setting you down long enough to struggle with their removal. You’d laugh at his menacing scowl toward your jeans if you weren’t too busy staring at his throbbing cock, weeping excitement, dribbling from the tip. You whimper wantonly and Steve’s eyes snap up, finding encouragement in your needy noises. He snatches your jeans the rest of the way off and tosses them aside, plucking you back up like you’re nothing but air to press you back into the wall.

Your grip on his hair returns and tightens instantaneously when the weight of his cock presses into your cotton-clothed heat. It pulses with need and thankfully, Steve doesn’t let you wait long—he pushes your panties aside and sheathes into you in one deep plunge, pulling a low, mewling whine from your throat.

“Oh, there we go, atta girl. Look at me, look at me, yeah,” Steve mumbles, swiping your hair out of your eyes with a heavy palm, using the heel of it to lift your chin.

You’re starry-eyed already, lips parted to pant gasps that make his cheeks flush. You look so pretty when you’re all dumb for him. Steve gives a tentative thrust, and his lip quirks when you squeak.

“You know I’m yours, baby. M’ all yours,” he breathes.

“Mine,” you parrot quietly, mindlessly.

Your foreheads come together, his strong arms holding you up, cradling you, pulling you into him. His hair, soft between your fingers, sticky with hairspray from the makeup artist. You’ve nearly forgotten about the lipstick prints all over his skin, because the way he’s looking at you now makes you think you’re the only girl in the world. To him, you are.

Steve picks up speed, setting a rhythmic pace of push and pull. The bulbous head of his cock brushes your walls, squeezing and molding around him, gushing slick and staining his satin shorts. The insides of your thighs feel sticky and they’re starting to shake around his waist. Steve goes even faster and your face screws up, mouth hanging open in a silent cry. Every pump inside you sends you a little further up the wall, bumping and sliding. The crew and assistants are still packing up on the other side of the door, and it’s for this reason only that Steve clamps his hand over your mouth when you begin to whine.

“Shut up,” he snaps through his teeth, glowering down at you over that slanted nose. “Shut up. You wanted this, now you’re gonna fuckin’ take it.”

Every nerve in your body buzzes at his growling tone, his intimidating stare—the domination. Steve was always boss, and you loved every minute of it. Even though right now he was being cruel by punishing you to silence while hammering into you so hard that you felt your insides rearrange, you couldn’t help but feel like you were on fire.

“Feel that? Feel that cock in your guts, sweetheart? Huh?” Steve chases after your eyes again when they roll to the back of your head, head banging back into the wall as you grow delirious.

“It’s all yours, baby. You’re stuck with it, cause I’m not goin’ anywhere. So fuckin’ take it.”

Steve’s hands are incapable of fully silencing you, and your high-pitched squeals and cries filter through his fingers over your mouth. Yet you can’t bring yourself to care about much other than his cock driving into you at a furious speed. He worsens your conditions by pulling your hand away from his hair to guide it between your thighs. Like a puppet, he manipulates your fingers to press two together and swipe them along your slick, rubbing the pads of them against your swollen clit. Your cries sharpen and Steve’s eyes narrow.

“I said shut up. Y’ wanna cum? Huh?”

You nod pitifully, legs slackening around his waist while they turn to jello. Steve rubs your fingers faster over your clit while pistoling his hips.

“Then shut your mouth.”

You whine, but Steve takes pity on you and ignores it. You know if you were back home, and had ignored a direct command, Steve would’ve pulled out and left you aching until you begged on your knees for forgiveness. But right now, Steve was needy, and you were desperate; and he wanted to show you just how much you belong to him, and how much he belongs to you.

Steve presses your heads together again, huffing gusts of breath against his hand over your mouth. His face was starting to redden from the exertion.

“You gonna cum? Hmm?”

You nod again, nails biting into his biceps. Steve nods back, eyes screwing shut.

“M-me, too—fuck, baby. Fuck, you feel so good. C’mon, honey, c’mon.”

You spasm, feeling out of control of your own body as you contract and flutter around Steve’s thick cock. Warmth floods you as Steve groans—a low, gravely groan that rumbles through you and elicits goosebumps. When you were done spasming, you collapse—legs sliding off his hips, slumping against the wall, losing all feeling in every one of your bones.

“Jesus,” Steve chuckles, scooping you up, still lodged inside you, and carrying you toward the sofa.

He sinks down with you, allowing you to straddle him and rest against his chest. Cheek flush against his pec, you raise a shaky hand to pet at his chest hair absentmindedly, still catching your breath. Steve practically melts into the couch, head tipped back against the cushion while he runs his fingers down the back of your head.

“Were you really that jealous?” Steve snickers, and your cheeks warm again.

“Maybe…”

Steve tips his head down and kisses your hairline.

“Nah, you’re stuck with me. You’re the only one that’ll put up with my crazy.”

You snort a laugh. “That’s true.”

Steve pinches your thigh and you yelp, jerking in his lap to sit up and smile at him. You smear the lipstick on his cheek and smudge the shape of the model’s lips. Leaning forward, you press your mouth to the warm apple of his cheek—a firm kiss. You swear you feel him flush. He pulls you away gently by the back of your neck and nicks your chin with his knuckles.

“C’mon, let’s get the fuck outta here. I can’t wait to see the looks on their faces after they heard all that screaming.”

♡ ♡

#rolly! #boxer!steve harrington #boxer!steve #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x you #joe keery #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x female reader smut #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve the hair harrington #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington smut #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington brainrot #steve harrington x fem #king steve #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x reader

[awkwardauthorwrites]

Wildest Dreams - Part Two

Word Count: 4.1k

Themes: fluff, pining, tension

Summary: Ten years have passed since the events of Hogwarts Legacy and Y/N is invited back as part of a reunion to celebrate. 

Warnings: Potential spoilers for HL. All characters are aged up and around 25/26 years old

Find Part One here

Sebastian apparted them to a quiet hillside with a beautiful, large cottage resting at the top. Although it was dark out, the faint light coming from the full moon allowed Y/N to see the intricate stonework of the L-shaped house and the garden that lay outside that was obviously well taken care of. She couldn’t see it, but she could hear the gentle swell of the ocean and smell the salt in the air. 

“Where are we?”

“Ominis and Anne’s house.” He turned to hold his hand out for hers before guiding them forward slowly. “I moved in so I could help Anne with her pregnancy and the first few months with the baby. They live in that section of the house, but they’re hopefully fast asleep.”

“Trying to sneak me in like a late night conquest?”

“First, you would never be a conquest to me.” The look Sebastian sent her sent a flash of heat through Y/N’s body that warmed her all the way to her toes. “Second, is it that bad I want you to myself for a while before my sister steals you from me?” 

“Ah yes, the infamous Sallow charm,” she gave him a teasing smile as he led her inside, a hand on the small of her back as he guided her through the dark interior and into the kitchen. With a slight wave of his hand the lamps that were dotted around the room came to life, revealing a figure sitting at the table. 

“Fuck - Ominis!” Sebastian glared at his brother-in-law. “What have I told you about sitting around in the dark?”

“Is it dark?” Ominis tilted his head to the side. “I couldn’t tell.” Y/N couldn’t help but laugh quietly at his words despite her heart still racing and he turned his head in her direction curiously. “Y/N? Is that you?” He stood up and made his way over to them, one hand skirting along the table to help him navigate. 

“It’s good to see you again, Ominis.” Y/N pulled him into a tight hug before releasing him and taking a step back so she stood next to Sebastian again. 

“I’d say the same but…” He chucked at his own poor joke and held his hands out to her, a silent request to trace her features. Y/N took his hands and placed them on her face, her eyes slipping closed as his fingers moved over the scar on her temple. “Still starting fights?”

“Does it really matter who started it as long as I finish them?”

“No, I suppose not.” Ominis released her face and took a small step back. “Why are you back so early?”

“It got boring,” Sebastian shrugged and leant against the kitchen wall, his gaze not leaving Y/N. 

“So you decided to steal the guest of honour as you left?”

“I’ve got to be a bad influence on her somehow for old times sake.”

“Hm.” Ominis didn’t exactly sound pleased, but Y/N could see the smile on his face. “I’m going to head to bed. I assume you’ll be spending the night, so I’ll see you at breakfast, Y/N.”

“That’s a bit presumptuous.”

“Am I wrong, though?” Ominis offered her a wry smile before making his way up the staircase located in the back corner of the kitchen. Y/N heard a soft click as a door closed and Sebastian came to stand behind her. 

“Do you want to get out of this dress?” Y/N turned to look up at him with raised eyebrows and watched his face turn red. “I didn’t - I mean, I wouldn’t mind but that’s not…” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “What I meant was, do you want me to lend you something to wear?” 

“Yes, please.” Sebastian stopped to grab a bottle of firewhiskey from the cupboard, as well as two glasses, before leading her out of the kitchen and to the right, through what Y/N assumed was the living room. There was another staircase on this side of the house and Sebastian ushered her up and pointed her in the direction of his room. Y/N closed the door behind them as he walked over to his dresser and set their drinks down before rummaging through one of the drawers.

“I can’t give you anything of Anne’s without waking her up, is this alright?” Sebastian pulled out a long sleeved shirt and some pyjama bottoms for her. 

“Only if you help me out of this dress,” Y/N watched as Sebastian visibly gulped and his face and neck turned a brilliant shade of red. She turned her back to him and brushed her hair out of the way to show him the small buttons that ran up the back of the dress. “Please?”

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Save the theatrics for when I’m in your clothes.”

“Darling,” Sebastian groaned, his hands coming to rest on her waist from behind. “When I asked you to flirt with me I didn’t think it would be like this.”

“Like what?” Y/N brought her hands up to hold the bodice of her dress in place as Sebastian began to undo her buttons, his fingers brushing against every inch of exposed skin in a way that set Y/N’s nerves on fire. 

“Don’t play coy, you know exactly what you’re doing to me.”

“I did warn you,” Y/N laughed quietly as she felt him undo the last of the buttons.

“You did,” he agreed, voice low as he trailed a finger down her spine softly. “Is it later?”

“Give a girl the chance to get dressed first, Sallow.”

“Oh right. Yes. I’ll - hallway?” Sebastian stammered, one finger pointing at the door behind them. Y/N bit her lower lip to hold back a smile as she took in how flustered he was. It was a rare sight (in fact, she didn’t think she had ever seen it before) and it brought a sense of gratification knowing she was the one who had turned the charming man into a stuttering mess.

“Just turn around.” Sebastian nodded once before turning his back to her, resting his head on the wall gently. Y/N quickly shed the dress and pulled on Sebastian’s clothes, pulling a face as she tried to hitch the pants up as far as she could. “I feel like a child playing dress up.” Sebastian chuckled and turned back around to face her, his eyes darkening as they roamed over her. “I look ridiculous.”

“You look ravishing.”

“Oh shush,” Y/N turned her back to him so he couldn’t see her blush and poured out two drinks for them while he quickly changed as well. She picked the pins out of her hair while she waited for him and took a sip of the firewhiskey to steady her hands as she listened to him shuffle out of his clothing. She didn’t dare move until he came to stand behind her, his hand resting on her waist gently as he leant over to grab his glass. Y/N grabbed the bottle and her own glass before taking a seat on the bed and crossing her legs so she could face him. 

“To us,” Sebastian toasted.

“To later,” Y/N clicked her glass against his and took another sip of the drink. The liquid burned the back of her throat, but warmed the rest of her body and gave her the surge of confidence she needed. “You said earlier you always wanted to kiss me. How long have you felt that way?”

“Since fifth year.”

“Sebastian, that was ten years ago!”

“What can I say? I’ve always known what I wanted.” The look he gave her offered more heat than the drink and Y/N found herself drinking a little more to calm her nerves.

“Am I just a want to you?”

“No. Definitely not.” He brushed some hair from her eyes. “You are everything to me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“How long have you felt the same?”

“Since fifth year,” Y/N murmured shyly. She had assumed all of the under-the-radar flirting he had done back in school was just a part of his charm and that he was the same with all the other girls, but that hadn’t stopped her from thinking about him all the time. It had only gotten worse the more time she spent with him and she started to realise that not only was he charming to a fault, but he was also kind and smart and funny and flawed. 

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Touché.” They sat in a comfortable silence, both absorbed in their own thoughts. “I wouldn’t mind either, by the way.”

“Mind what?” he asked. Y/N gave him a look and waited for the sickle to drop. It took him a moment to recall the words he had said in the kitchen, how he wouldn’t mind getting her out of her dress in a less than pure sense. “Oh. Oh.” He tilted her chin up gently, his fingers brushing along her jaw in a way that made it feel like every inch of her was on fire. “While I would love nothing more, we have all the time in the world for that later, darling. Plus, it would probably be better to wait until we don’t have to be quiet because my sister and best friend are sleeping a few doors down.”

“Silencing charms were invented for a reason.”

“And you call me the rake.” He took her empty glass and set it on the bedside table next to his, turning back around just in time to catch her stifling a yawn. “Oh I’m sorry, am I boring you?” Y/N nudged him and looked like she was about to snap back at him but instead let out another yawn before groaning dramatically and flopping onto the bed so she was laying down. Sebastian brushed some hair from her forehead, his fingers lingering on the mark on her temple gently. “Do you want me to leave you to sleep?”

“No, stay. Please?” The look on her face melted his heart and he couldn’t find it in him to say no. Instead he lay down himself and covered them both with the blanket before rolling over to face Y/N and placed a sweet kiss on her forehead.

“Get some sleep, darling. I’m right here.”

*~*~*~*~*

Sebastian woke up to the sunlight streaming in through a small gap in his curtains and looked down at Y/N, who was still fast asleep beside him. At some point in the night she had curled up to his side, her head nearly resting on his shoulder as she slept peacefully. He gently brushed some hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear, his hand lingering on her cheek for longer than necessary. He watched as she began to stir and her eyes fluttered open to look at him.

“Morning.”

“Morning.” Y/N smiled shyly and Sebastian was delighted to notice a faint flush on her face. He brushed her cheek gently, a teasing smirk on his face as her blush deepened.

“I could get used to this,” Sebastian trailed his fingers up her jaw slowly, moving round to the back of her neck before lightly running down her back. 

“Get used to what?”

“Waking up beside you.” He rested his hand on her lower back and gently pulled her closer. Y/N buried her face into the pillow and pulled the blanket up to cover her face. “Where have you gone?” he laughed, trying to tug the duvet away from her.

“It’s too early for you to be this charming.”

“I’m always charming.” He succeeded in getting the blanket away from her and was rewarded by her demure smile. “You, on the other hand, could do with being a lot less gorgeous first thing in the morning. How is that fair?” Y/N couldn’t help but laugh quietly at his response, her hand hesitantly trailing over his bicep. She watched his throat bob as she lightly traced her way over his collarbone and came to rest over his thundering heart. 

“Nervous?” she asked innocently, a coy smile playing on the edge of her mouth. “Pretty woman in your bed, and all that?”

“Darling,” his voice was considerably lower and he reluctantly removed his hand from her back to hold hers against his chest. “I thought we cleared up last night that you’re the only woman I want in my bed.”

“All you said was you wanted to kiss me since fifth year.”

“I’m pretty sure I followed that with telling you that you mean everything to me.” He narrowed his eyes at her playfully and tugged her closer, her body pressed against his in a way that set every nerve ending on edge. “Were you not listening to me?”

“My mind was occupied.”

“With what?” he asked. Her answering grin and raised eyebrow was nothing short of wicked and Sebastian felt his heart stutter in his chest. Y/N laughed quietly and wound her hand up his chest to play with the hair on the back of his head. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“I’d say I’m sorry but - ”

“Sebastian, are you awake?” There was a gentle knock on his door. Y/N froze, her eyes going wide as Sebastian groaned quietly, his eyes sliding shut.

“I’m up, Anne. I’ll be out in a moment.” His forehead came to rest on her shoulder and she could hear him mutter about his sister’s poor timing. 

“I’m about to do the washing, do you need anything cleaned?” Anne tried to open his door. “Why is your door locked?” Sebastian rolled out of bed, moving faster than Y/N had seen him before, waving his wand to unlock the door.

“Must have just been stuck,” he opened the door to greet his sister, his frame blocking her view of the room, and more importantly her still in his bed. “Nothing needs cleaning, I’ll be down in a moment.”

“Why are you being strange?”

“I’ve not long woken up, Anne, give me a break.”

“Is there someone in your room, Sebastian?”

“What? No. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Morning everyone.” Y/N felt herself physically cringe as Ominis joined the twins in the hallway. “Is everything alright?”

“Sebastian has someone in his room.”

“Anne,” he groaned and lightly banged his head on the doorframe, “no I don’t.” Y/N didn’t need to be able to see through doors to know Ominis was tilting his head to the side. 

“Good morning, Y/N.”

“Morning,” she grimaced and climbed out of the bed to stand by Sebastian, attempting to tame her hair as she did so. Anne looked surprised to see her and although Ominis was looking slightly to her right, she could still see the smirk on his features that was meant for her. “It’s good to see you both again.”

“A bit presumptuous, was I?” Ominis chuckled and placed a hand on Anne’s shoulder. “Come, my love, Sebastian can show Y/N where she can freshen up for breakfast before we accost them.” He pulled her back down the hall gently, shooting a glance at the pair before they both went down the stairs.

“Well,” Sebastian let out a breath. “There goes my plan to pretend I asked you round for breakfast this morning.” His face flushed and he rubbed the back of his neck nervously as he looked down at her. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“No harm, no foul. Although, I feel like Anne is currently assuming the worst of me.”

“She would never.” Sebastian’s voice was full of conviction, as if it was a ridiculous notion that Anne would ever think of her poorly. “By the time we make it downstairs she’ll be over the shock and will probably be telling me I told you so over breakfast.” He led her down the hall, showing her where she could freshen up before shutting the door quietly behind her. Y/N moved as quick as she could, splashing water on her face to remove the traces of makeup she had forgotten to remove the night before and tying her hair in a simple braid. She made her way back to Sebastian’s room when she was done and walked in without knocking, her eyes going wide at the sight in front of her.

“Sorry!” Y/N’s face burned as she turned around and pressed her forehead to the cool wall as she covered her eyes. Sebastian laughed from behind her and stepped close, his finger running down her spine gently before he turned her back around.

“All of those flirtatious remarks last night and you go the colour of a Gryffindor’s robes when you see me without a shirt on?” Sebastian teased, grasping her chin gently so he could angle her face towards his. “You’ve seen me like this before.” Y/N couldn’t help but look back down at his bare torso, his shirt unbuttoned and hanging from his shoulders. The fluttering in her stomach that seemed to appear whenever Sebastian was around had turned into a full-fledged swarm as a kaleidoscope of butterflies ran amok within her. 

“No I haven’t.” She made herself look back up and above his head so she wouldn’t have to see the shit-eating grin on his face.

“Yes you have,” Sebastian chuckled and tried to meet her eyes again. “Or do you not remember the day I saved your life in the lake?” The confidence he exuded with the sentence made Y/N eyes snap back to his, a glare on her features as she flicked him in the arm. 

“I think we remember that day very differently, considering I wouldn’t have needed saving if you had just trusted me.”

“You were swimming into a whirlpool in the middle of the lake, you’re lucky you didn’t drown.”

“There was a cave there! If anything, what nearly made me drown was some buffoon clinging onto me as we both went under.”

“This buffoon pulled you out into said cave.”

“And right into a spider den,” Y/N laughed as he shuddered at the memory and belatedly noticed that her hand was on Sebastian’s chest, her fingers tracing over a raised mark on his right pectoral. “What’s this?”

“Oh,” Sebastian chuckled nervously and placed his hand over hers, hiding the mark from view. “You’re going to laugh.”

“Probably.” She swatted his hand away and stood a little closer, her finger moving along the curved line slowly. “Is this…?”

“Yes,” he sighed in defeat and gave her a sheepish smile. “Ominis and I thought it would be fun to try and give each other tattoos when we turned eighteen after leaving school. You can probably tell we didn’t do a very good job of it.” That was the understatement of the year. The mark held no ink, and if anything, it looked more like an old faded scar than a tattoo. Y/N tilted her head as she traced the shape again, a sly smile on her face.

“So you both decided that out of all the things you wanted permanently etched to your skin you wanted the snake from the Slytherin crest?” Her lip twitched as Sebastian nodded bashfully and she repressed the urge to laugh. 

“Does Ominis have a matching one?”

“His took a little better because of his pale skin - the prick - but yes, he does. It’s faint, but it’s there.”

“What did Anne have to say about this?”

“Oh, she was furious. Kept telling us how only criminals and people in the circus marked themselves like this.” Y/N finally let the laughter bubble out as she imagined Anne reprimanding the pair and they both more than likely stood there and took it like scolded school boys. Sebastian’s features softened at her laugh, his heartbeat picking up speed as Y/N began to subconsciously trace shapes between the freckles that covered his chest. 

“You know, I’ve always wondered how far that blush goes,” Y/N commented innocently, her finger winding its way down his chest slowly. Sebastian gulped as she came to a stop at the bottom of his sternum and gave him a demure smile. “I didn’t think it would be here.”

“Where did you think it would stop?”

“I’ve always pictured you with a full-body blush.”

“You’ve pictured me?”

“Mhm.” The light movement of her fingers on his bare skin burned as she slowly trailed between each freckle on his chest. He knew she could feel how embarrassingly fast his heart was beating in his chest but he didn’t care. He was enamoured by her and he didn’t care who knew it. He brought a hand up to rest on the back of her neck, gently pulling her forward until there was little space left between them as he tangled his fingers through her hair. “Seb?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Are you ever going to kiss me?”

“Would you like it if I did?”

“I’m not going to dignify that with a response.” He laughed as she rolled her eyes at him and wound an arm around her waist to pull her closer. Y/N cocked her head to the side, remembering that smile on his face from their fifth year. More often than not it meant trouble, but sometimes, like right now, he paired it with the same look on his face that he had right now. One that was almost soft. 

“Use your words, darling. What do you want?” He brushed his thumb across her lower lip as he leant towards her, his forehead resting on hers. Y/N narrowed her eyes at him and tried to close the gap between them to kiss him, but Sebastian pulled back fractionally, amusement sparkling in his eye as her frown deepened and a gorgeous pout fell on her lips. “Have I told you recently how beautiful you are?”

“Apart from earlier when you had me in your bed?”

“I believe the word I used then was gorgeous.”

“Well, if you want to be pedantic about it. Not since last night.”

“You did look beautiful last night,” Sebastian nodded thoughtfully, his nose bumping hers softly, “I think this version of you is my favourite, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“Right now, first thing in the morning. Barely awake and tucked to my side…” Y/N brought both of her hands up to rest on his chest as Sebastian’s grip tightened on her waist, her fingers brushing his collarbone delicately. “I meant what I said earlier. I could get used to waking up beside you. Every day.”

“For how long?”

“For the rest of our lives.” Y/N’s breathing stilled at his words, at the raw emotion and sincerity on his face as he spoke. She felt the back of her eyes burn and tried to look away but he held her in place and kissed her cheek gently. “Do you know what you do to me? How completely and hopelessly you enrapture me? You’re bewitching.”

“Was that a pun?” 

“Shall I use a different word?” he murmured. His thumb stroked her cheeks gently, her skin burning in its path. “You’re exquisite, flawless, downright ethereal.”

“Seb…” 

“From that very first day you smiled at me, you had me. I fell for you harder and faster than anyone I’ve ever met before. My heart was yours before I knew nothing more than your name.”

“My heart is yours too, you walnut. It’s only ever been yours. From the very first moment.”

“I adore you, Y/N Y/L/N.”

He finally closed the gap between them and pressed his lips to hers so gently that Y/N thought her heart would burst out of her chest. She wound her hands up and into his hair, pulling him impossibly closer as she kissed him back and he nipped at her lower lip. His grip on her waist tightened pleasantly, holding her body against his so every inch of them was touching, and Sebastian swore he had died when she pushed his shirt off his shoulders and ran her fingers down his back. They broke away as Ominis called for them from downstairs, both of their faces tinged pink as they took in each other’s swollen lips and tousled hair. Sebastian leant back in to press one more sweet, toe-curling kiss on her lips.

“I’m going to marry you one day,” he muttered against her lips, his mouth curling into a smile as he heard her breath hitch.

“I’ll be the one in white.”

Epilogue

#sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow x y/n #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fluff #sebastian sallow x slytherin!reader #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x fem!reader #hogwarts game #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #hogwarts #hogwarts legacy #awkwardauthormasterlist #awkwardauthorwrites #awkwardauthor

[organicxslime]

sprained ankle

you sprain your ankle - but luckily, your boyfriend can handle it.

gojo satoru x reader

it was stupid, really, how preventable this was. how many times had you warned others not to rush down the stairs of your apartment building in the winter, else they slip on the icy metal and break something? and now here you are, laying at the bottom of the stairs, foot swollen inside your fur-lined boot and hot tears stinging your face.

you fumble around in your jacket for your phone, fingers numb from the cold as you tap out your boyfriend’s number. the phone barely rings twice before he picks up.

“hey baby!” satoru says cheerily. “i’m teaching, so I’ve only got a minute - what’s up?”

the second you say his name, voice tinged with the unmistakably whiny sound of recent tears, he’s signaled for his students to pack up for the day and is using six eyes to root out your exact location.

in an instant, he’s teleported to your side, immediately helping prop you up against a wall and crouching down by your foot. he pieces together what happened fairly quickly, brow knitted together with visible worry.

“i gotta get this boot off, baby,” he tells you, and you shake your head, not wanting to pain yourself further.

“hey.”

you look up, tear-lined and red-rimmed eyes meeting satoru’s piercing cerulean ones, a rare serious look on his face.

“i need to see how bad it is. be a good girl and let me take this off, okay?”

you might be freezing on the outside, but you melt a little on the inside, and respond with a pitiful sniffle and a nod.

you whimper when he begins to slowly pull on the boot, systematically working it over the expanse of your foot until he’s able to gently ease it off.

your ankle is a hideous sight, swollen to twice it’s usual size, green and purple splotches of discoloration tinting your skin all the way down to your toes. satoru gently probes at the skin with the tips of his fingers, feeling his heart wrench with every hiss of pain that escaped your throat, and makes his professional opinion known.

“i don’t think it’s broken,” he declares. “just a really bad sprain. still shouldn’t walk on it though - let’s get you inside.”

with practiced ease, he’s hoisting you into his arms, looping a protective arm around your ribs and another under your knees. you let out a squeak of surprise as you’re cradled against his chest, and he looks down at you, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips and faint amusement in his eyes.

“what?” he teases, enjoying watching the heat rise in your cheeks. “i have to carry my damsel in distress to safety.”

with this, he takes off, sprinting back up the very same steps you had just taken a tumble down (and, you note with irritation, he doesn’t slip once.)

when you’re back inside, he eases you onto the couch, propping your injured foot up on a small stack of plush throw pillows. he makes quick work of your winter gear - tossing the remaining boot, peeling off your jacket and whipping the beanie off your head (and leaving a kiss in its place.)

you hear him rummaging around the kitchen, and he rushes back to you, ace bandages and a mug of hot chocolate in hand. you wrap your hands around the mug, feeling the blessedly warm ceramic begin to thaw your fingers, and satoru gets to work carefully wrapping your ankle and foot in a tight binding.

when he’s done, he drops next to you on the couch, crawling up the cushions to settle himself beside you and pull you onto his chest. he heaves a dramatic sigh, before turning to you and leaning into your cheek, peppering the skin with feather-light kisses as you giggle and pull away, careful not to spill your mug.

for the next couple of weeks, he waits on you hand and foot - bringing you food and drinks, carrying you to and from the bathroom, and dutifully rewrapping your ankle each morning and night.

initially, you had been embarrassed about the injury, mentally kicking yourself for having such a dumb accident…

…but seeing how satoru dotes on you, showering you with love and tenderly caring for you day and night?

you think maybe a dumb injury here or there wouldn’t be so bad.

#gojo satoru #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk headcanons

[apod]

2024 February 6

NGC 1566: A Spiral Galaxy from Webb and Hubble Image Credit & Copyright: NASA, ESA, CSA, STScI, J. Lee (STScI), T. Williams (Oxford), R. Chandar (UToledo), D. Calzetti (UMass), PHANGS Team

Explanation: What's different about this galaxy? Very little, which makes the Spanish Dancer galaxy, NGC 1566, one of the most typical and photogenic spirals on the sky. There is something different about this galaxy image, though, because it is a diagonal combination of two images: one by the Hubble Space Telescope on the upper left, and the other by the James Webb Space Telescope on the lower right. The Hubble image was taken in ultraviolet light and highlights the locations of bright blue stars and dark dust along the galaxy's impressive spiral arms. In contrast, the Webb image was taken in infrared light and highlights where the same dust emits more light than it absorbed. In the rollover image, the other two sides of these images are revealed. Blinking between the two images shows which stars are particularly hot because they glow brighter in ultraviolet light, and the difference between seemingly empty space and infrared-glowing dust.

∞ Source: apod.nasa.gov/apod/ap240206.html

[neteyamssyulang]

❀ Whispers of Seduction ❀

❀ Pairing: So’lek x Fem sarentu reader x Teylan ❀

❀ Summary: Teylan’s first rut had finally approached, but it does not go as you planned.

❀ Warnings: Dom So’lek, Switch reader, Subby Teylan (even in rut), MxFxM, Edging (T & R), Semi whiny Teylan, P in V, Blowjob (S receiving), Fingering (R receiving), Handjob (T receiving), Mommy kink, Double penatration (Same hole), Creampie.

❀ Word count: 1,979 ❀

❀ Translation(s): Paskalin -> Honey, Yawne -> Beloved, Syulang -> Flower, Rutxe -> Please, Sevin -> Pretty, Oe tìyawn nga pxeyä nìftxan nìtxan -> I love you both so much.

❀ A/N: The most I’ve written in awhile🥲, But I do have more ideas aswell with these two🤭🤭

The sun finally rose on pandora in a pool of crimson gold, spilling light all over the land and the white clouds. Normally you would awake to Teylan still curled up ontop of you while So'lek had already left to go hunt but strangely the tent was empty.

Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes you move to stand up, before walking out the tent heading for the base. The walk there is not that long, maybe only taking like 5 or 6ish minutes.

Upon reaching the resistance base, the doors hiss while opening, allowing you to enter then closing behind you. The second doors now open revealing everyone working inside.

Easily, you make your way to where Priya is, her and a few other tawtutes discussing a plan for the next RDA attack that was bound to happen. The annoying pests have been so close to finding out the location of the resistance base.

"Y/N! You finally made it!" Priya squealed as you walked closer "Yeah, sorry if im late" you chuckled nervously "Where's Teylan?", Priya avoided your gaze looking away "He is uh, well.."

Your hairless brows furrowed slightly "Priya, where is my mate?" Your words were soft but they made the small tawtute visibly gulp "He is with your other, I saw So'lek take him into the forest, but he moved too fast for me to ask where they were going."

Sighing you thanked her before heading back outside trudging through the thick forest, Priya’s words still heavy on your mind, making you even more confused as to what was going on.

Minutes turned into an hour, an hour turned into two hours of waking through the forest trying to locate your mates with unfortunately no luck.

You were about to give up when your ears twitched, picking up the faint sound of whines and groans in the distance. Cautiously, you made your way over to where the sounds where coming from, stumbling through bushes before coming across a clearing.

Looking around you finally spot the creators of those beautiful sounds, the sight making a wet patch in your loincloth.

So'lek was sitting with his back against a tree, his arms placed around a shaking Teylan who whimpered as he grinded against So'lek in dire need of release, both enveloped in a heated make out session.

Teylan's floral scent drifted towards you and your eyes widened, now you understood, this..this is why So'lek had taken him, Teylan's rut had came.

The males were too busy with each other that they did not even notice you, slowly making your way towards them, your tail swishing behind you in excitement.

So'lek was the first to pull back panting heavily while Teylan chased his mates lips "Ma'lek please.." the boy whined, his tail curling around the other males thigh, his face flushed with a pink hue.

The male was about to respond when he looked behind Teylan locking eyes with you, his own face now having the same pink hue as Teylan. "Care to explain paskalin?" You spoke softly crossing your arms.

Teylan whined "Ma-mama, please do not be mad at him.." his hips still moving, now harder against his mate. Low growls would rumble through him but were quickly replaced with whimpers as So'lek nipped at the boys neck.

"I am simply helping out our sweet boy" So'lek murmured licking a stripe along Teylan's neck coaxing out more beautiful moans from him.

It was true though, that morning when So'lek woke to go out hunting, he noticed that Teylan's scent had changed, his face that normally rested on your breasts was pressed into the crook of your neck, completely drunk off of your scent.

Luckily you were a deep sleeper so that didn't wake you, neither did Teylan's desperate whines as So'lek pulled him off you carrying him to a secluded spot in the forest. Of course Priya had to have seen them coming here.

A hiss escaped So'lek when Teylan tugged on his kuru harshy "W-want.. now!.." he mumbled tugging again.

So'lek's eyes narrowed slightly as he moved one of his hands to Teylan's own kuru wrapping it around his hand before tugging on it. Teylan's back arched slightly as his head was forced up to look at his mate,"Listen here baby boy, you do not get to demand things, got it? We know what you need and will help you but only if you behave." His tone held a warning behind it, Teylan mumbled out a "Yes sir" to which he let his kuru go. "Good boy" You praised.

Teylan's tail wagged at the praise making both you and So'lek chuckle softly, the males gaze turned to you and a smirk pulled at his lips "Come here yawne" patting the soft moss beside him.

You obliged moving closer sitting next to him, turning his head So'lek leaned in capturing your lips with his. His tongue swiped along your bottom lip requesting entry which you happily granted.

So'lek groaned into the kiss not even noticing that Teylan had untied both their loincloths throwing them to the side, his vision grew hazey and just as he was about to position So'lek at his hole, his back was suddenly pushed against the mossy ground with an angry looking So'lek hovering ontop of him.

Shaking your head, you grinned as you moved once again over to them "Poor baby" you cooed looking down at the boy, "Did you forget the rules?". Teylan hissed at you earning himself a harsh smack on his thigh "Keep it up and you will get no release little one" So'lek grit out.

Teylan whimpered bucking his hips up, he was so desperate to cum and knew he broke the rules but fuck he needed his mates, now. His cock was painfully hard, oozing beads of bioluminescent pre-cum. "Sorry.. sorry mommy.." he managed to speak looking up at you with his adorable puppy eyes.

Smiling you leaned down placing a kiss on the flat of his nose "Sorry will not give you that sweet release you need baby" So'lek muttered watching the both of you.

Quirking a non existent eyebrow, you moved your gaze to your other mate "Ma'Lek-" he cut you off with a hiss "Do not "Ma'Lek" me y/n, you always let him off easy without giving a punishment."

Your eyes narrowed at him "I do not, look at our precious boy" you spoke gesturing down to Teylan who now had tears spilling from his eyes, "He needs a rel-" "What he needs, is to be taught a lesson first syulang."

Teylan muttered out sorry's and pleas not wanting a punishment, he just wanted that itch to finally be gone inside of him.

"He can be punished later Ma'Lek" you hissed trying to push him off Teylan, "I guess you both need a punishment then" he spoke with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Before you can even process anything, So'lek had practically ripped off your top and loincloth tossing them then layed you down next to Teylan. "My two beautiful mates.." he cooed "Both who can not seem to listen."

You were about to speak when two of So'leks fingers thrusted harshly into your wet heat coaxing out a scream from you, with his other hand, he wrapped it around Teylan's cock pumping him at a steady pace.

Teylan groaned in relief, finally being touched, his hand met yours intertwining your fingers together "Rutxe Ma'Lek.." you mewled feeling your orgasm draw near.

So'lek smirked feeling you clench around his fingers while Teylan's cock twitched in his hand, just as you both were about to cum, So'lek pulled away. "Brats do not get to cum" he simply said, licking your sweet slick from his fingers.

Glancing over to Teylan you both grinned before moving to sit up, Teylan moved to So'leks right while you moved to his left. "What are you two doing?" The male questioned.

Teylan was the first to lean in, his lips trailing along So'lek's neck. You were next, starting from his collar bone, you trailed slow, sloppy, kisses all the way down to his raging hard on.

"Ah,'I see, you both think you can seduce me into giving you what you want? Not going to happen" His chuckle soon turned into a low hiss as he felt your lips around his cock, slowly you began bobbing your head, your cheeks hallowing to take more of him down your throat.

The other male worked quick, nipping and sucking at So'leks neck, pretty purple hickeys begun appearing all over him.

So'lek moaned throwing his head back, his eyes fluttering closed and his hips began moving. The male was embarrassed by how fast his orgasm was approaching but eywa it felt so good.

You felt his cock twitch in your mouth before he spilled his hot seed down your throat, a low growl rumbled through So'leks chest, watching as his pearly bioluminescent cum leaked out out his cock, dribbling down your chin.

Suddenly you were pulled off of So'leks cock by your hair and placed onto Teylan who's back was once again against the mossy ground.

So'lek adjusted you so that Teylan's tip prodded against your dripping entrance "Wh-what are you- Shit!" Teylan had slammed himself inside you in one swift movement not caring anymore, he needed to cum.

He moaned at the feeling of your tight walls sucking him in, "S-sorry..sorry mama.." he whined, the boy had pulled you down till your chest was against his, his arms wrapping around you as he started thrusting harshy up into you.

Your eyes rolled back and you struggled to speak, only managing out a small "Tis fine..take what you need.." the boy nodded picking up his pace, the only sounds to be heard were the squelching noises from each thrust he delivered along with both your moans.

So'lek watched in amusement before moving to hover above you, his tip poking at your entrance, Teylan slowed down just enough for So'lek to push inside stretching you out more to accommodate both their sizes.

Your eyes widened as your mouth opened in a silent scream, the stretch burned deliciously and that's all you needed for your orgasm to wash over you.

Both men groaned at the feeling of your walls convulsing around them "Fuuuck sevin.." So'lek hissed "Swear your little pussy was just made for us"

Without warning they started moving pushing deeper into you, your ears pinned against your skull, drool dribbling from your mouth onto Teylan's chest.

"Go-gonna cum! M-ma'lek can I?" The boy whimpered increasing his pace. Panting So'lek looked down at his mate nodding "Cum yawne"

Teylan's eyes squeezed shut as the feeling of So'lek's cock brushing against his, along with your walls clenching around him became too much, forcing him to let go painting your velvety walls white. The boy whined digging his nails into your back, leaving small crescent marks.

You screamed as you came with him gushing around both their cocks, tears streaming down your face. That was enough to trigger So'lek's own orgasm, spilling his seed into you aswell, both men stilled themselves before So'lek maneuvered all three of you.

The three of you now lay on your sides, So'lek behind you while Teylan was infront with your leg hiked up onto his thigh, both still hadn't pulled out.

"Mm thank you mama" Teylan muttered shuffling closer to you, So'lek huffed "Do I not get a thank you sweet one?"

Both you and Teylan giggled "Thank you ma'lek" , a pleased purr rumbled through So'lek "You both did so good f'me" he praised. Yawning, a small "Oe tìyawn nga pxeyä nìftxan nìtxan" left Teylan's lips as he drifted off to sleep.

"We love you too" you smiled, relaxing now in both of your mates embraces.

#neteyamssyulang #james cameron avatar #avatar frontiers of pandora #teylan x fem!sarentu reader #teylan smut #so’lek x fem!sarentu reader #so’lek smut #comments really appreciated #please like and reblog #followmypage

[orqheuss]

I would know him blind

(Ominis Gaunt/F!Reader SMUT)

Summary:

He groaned again at the feeling of your pulse pounding under his fingertips, his voice gravelly and coated with arousal when he finally spoke. “What are you up to now, trouble?” *** You'd been with Ominis for some time, and as much as you loved your intimate times together, you wondered what it would be like to be in his shoes for a change. Your darling husband is more than happy to help you satiate your curiosity.

Word count: 4.6k

Tags: p n v sex, bondage, blindfolds, light bdsm, light dom/sub undertones, pet names, praise kink, ownership kink, corruption kink (just a lil bit), possessive!ominis, cunnilingus, established relationship, body worship, romantic sex

You loved your husband more than anything in this world. You had been with Ominis since your sixth year of Hogwarts, and even now, ten years later, you were still as thick as thieves. He supported your desire to teach at the school, even though you would be gone for days at a time and away from his comforting arms, and in turn you supported him and his work as an inventor, no matter how much time he spent locked away in his office. Through it all, you were a team. It was a truly happy marriage, one you would be perfectly content in until your dying day. 

That being said, there were some aspects of your life that had gotten a bit…stale. Being together for so long led to some challenges with keeping things interesting. In this particular instance, your more intimate times were starting to become lackluster. It was still lovely whenever you two got together, but you longed for your husband to do something surprising. Ever since your first night together it had been the same routine, and you were, quite frankly, bored. 

Not that you’d ever tell him that. Godrick’s heart! 

Being a professor had its perks, one of which being access to the restricted section of the library at any hour of the day. No student is going to question a professor as to why they are out at such an hour, it would be absolutely balmy. Not that you didn’t miss the chaos of sneaking down there with one particular Sallow twin, but it was certainly nice to not fear the appearance of Peeves around any and all corners. On the nights that you slept at the castle, you’d been reading up on some things in the restricted section, and had learned some interesting changes to try in the bedroom that would hopefully intrigue the blond. Rather shockingly, the “Intimate Literature” section was…extensive. There were things in some of those books that you would have never thought of, even in your most raunchy dreams. 

One particular thing caught your attention, both for the possibilities it held but also for the fact that it had been something you thought about before: seeing in the way that Ominis sees. The Gaunt man’s blindness was never a hindrance to him, nor to you, but it definitely intrigued you. Around the house, he mainly saw through his enchanted wand, the location charm showing him shapes and outlines so he is able to get to and fro. But in the bedroom, Ominis preferred to use his hands, and sometimes his mouth, to find his way up and down your body. His favorite pastime was finding out what made you tick, what made you whine, what made you scream— always the tinkerer, always curious. 

As much as you loved him touching you, you wanted to know what it felt like when you touched him; no sight to help him know from what direction you were coming from or what you were going to do to him. One simple finger running down his chest would send his heart aflutter under your palm— your legs brushing against his would make him breathe heavy like you had taken all the air from his lungs. He once described it to you as feeling everything the earth could possibly give you but so much more. It looked electric, and Merlin, you wanted to be shocked all over. 

So, the only logical way for this to happen was for you to be blindfolded. 

All you had to do was convince your husband, and you knew exactly how to do it. 

The always busy blond was locked away in his office when you enacted your plan. You knocked gently on the door, waiting patiently for his word to enter. Upon his muffled, “come in” sauntered into the room, your steps precise and your hips swaying like a dancer. He sensed something different in your posture right away, his ears perking up slightly as he took in the soft cadence of your steps. Leaning back in his office chair and silently activating his location charm, he watched you stalk closer to his desk like a lioness on the prowl. You were the picture of innocence— a slight hop in your step and your arms folded behind your back like a schoolgirl, and in that moment Ominis wanted nothing more than to pin you over his lap and corrupt you for hours. A wayward smirk stretched across his face as he twirled his wand between his fingers, his free hand coming up from his arm rest when you got close enough and running across the skin of your thigh. The blond’s eyebrow twitched slightly at the feeling of the lace trim of your negligee, and his fingers tightened against your pillowy flesh, pushing the skirt upwards with intrigue until your hand stopped him in his tracks. You smirked deviously at the success of your plan so far before climbing into his lap, pressing all of your weight down on his already half-stiff member so he could feel just how hot and needy you were for him. 

Ominis groaned lightly at the sudden warmth atop his hardening cock, his hands coming up to grasp at your hips and rock you slightly for that delicious friction he craved. Your breath stuttered in your chest at your bare, sensitive skin rubbing against the unforgiving roughness of his corduroy trousers and you quickly lost yourself in the moment. One of your hands made its way into his blond tresses, mussing up his perfectly styled quiff and pulling him closer for a searing kiss. He eagerly responded to your whims, surrendering under your burning lips and digging his fingertips into the silk that draped across your body. His left hand began exploring as you kissed, roaming up from the love handles at your hips and towards your neck, pausing briefly to paw at your breast and finding nothing underneath your new nightdress. He bit your lip roughly, pulling you back by your neck and greedily sucking in the oxygen that he forgoed to continue snogging you. 

Even after years, his kisses still tasted like ambrosia to a mortal. 

He groaned again at the feeling of your pulse pounding under his fingertips, his voice gravelly and coated with arousal when he finally spoke. “What are you up to now, trouble?” 

You giggled lightly, a lilt of mischievousness hiding behind the sound of pseudo virtue that made Ominis’ heart skip in excitement. You pushed gently against his hand, signaling that you wanted to whisper your desires in his ear, and he pulled you towards his face again, loosening his grip enough for it to be just the right amount of malleable. Your hot breath fanned across the apples of his cheeks, sending a spark of desire down his spine. A part of him wanted to disregard whatever you wanted to tell him, wanted to throw you onto his desk and have his way with you. But, there was a stronger, more curious part of him that also wanted to know what you had in store. 

You bit lightly at his earlobe, licking away the pain before murmuring against his pulse. “I want to try something new tonight, if it’s alright with you, darling.” 

He growled at your fingernails wracking up and down his clothed arms, the bone just sharp enough to be felt but not enough to leave marks. He pulled your face back, staring into your eyes with an unnerving amount of contact that one with his disability would normally not be able to achieve. There was something tantalizing swirling in his irises, something dangerous, something devious, and you had to steel yourself to continue with your scheme and not drop to your knees and pleasure him then and there. His smile was lopsided and delicious looking when he replied. 

“What do you have in mind, little dove?” He traced his finger up the outside of your thigh once more, running the pad of his thumb against the coarse lace. “What devilish thing is swirling in that gorgeous brain of yours?” 

You let go of his arms, trusting Ominis to hold you still while you reached into your hair and undid the ribbon holding it up. The black silken cloth caught on the low lamplight of the office space and swallowed the glow like a deep pit of tar. Your hand was delicate as you grasped onto his wrist, lifting his hand from your thigh and raising it level with your chest, palm up towards the ceiling. You first ran the ribbon lightly along his hand, letting the ends tickle his skin just enough to catch his fancy before carefully laying it in his palm. His other hand released your throat finally, taking the other end of the ribbon between his fingers and pulling it until it was completely unraveled between your buzzing bodies. It was smooth in his palm, sensual, one would even say. He approximated that it was around the length of his arm, possibly the width of your wrist. 

A look of confusion quickly took over the blond’s features, and you chuckled softly at how adorable he looked. You took the silk from him, leaning forward just enough to gently drape it over his unseeing eyes and whisper against his parted lips. 

“I want to feel what you feel when I touch you.” 

He gasped against your mouth, his arm snaking around your hip and pressing against your lower back, pulling you impossibly closer until your ravenous core was flush with his throbbing manhood. Ominis’ smile was all teeth when you pulled back again, the ribbon dragging against his skin in the most delectable way as you gazed into his eyes. 

“Oh, you do, now?” He mused cheekily. “You want to know how I feel when you touch me?” 

He took the silk from your hands, letting it run over your exposed collarbones. There was something impish in his smile, like a wolf in sheep's clothing— the cheshire cat would be jealous of its verisimilitude. He was always mischievous in nature while at school, but he had never really brought it under the sheets with you. Perhaps your proposition excited him in a way unfamiliar, you mused. Gently moving it over the backs of your shoulders, he looped it around the front and draped it across your chest like a loose fitting scarf. It was your turn to be perplexed when his hands began to wind around the ends of the satin ribbon, the question only being answered after a maddening pause. Using the silk for leverage, Ominis yanked you closer until your chests were pressed together, noses brushing and mouths inches from touching. 

“You want to know how it feels to be blind— completely under the whim of your partner? You want to put your faith entirely in my hands, not knowing what I could possibly do to you next?” His voice lowered with arousal, taking on a gravely, almost growl-like cadence. “You want to surrender yourself to me?” 

You sucked in a shaking breath at his insinuation, nodding minutely as your eyes fluttered closed. You were far past coherent sentences at that point. His mouth only inched closer with each word. 

“Oh, my darling girl, your wish is my command.” 

He stole your breath with his kiss, his skin feeling like pure sunlight under your fingertips. He stood from his seat with you in his arms, your legs quickly wrapping around his waist as he made his way towards your bedroom via the route he memorized long ago. 

Your comforter is plush when you land, cushioning you as Ominis rests his body above yours. You pull him downwards by his collar, your hands only getting a small moment in his hair before he has you by the wrists, one of his hands roughly planting them above your head while the other explored your curves. Only a minute in his domain and you were already his prey. The blond leaned forwards slightly, his back arching so he could reach your supple, sensitive throat, before nipping and sucking at the webbing between your shoulder and neck. You keened softly, rolling your hips upwards to meet his gentle hip trusts. He let go of your wrists, trusting you to keep them there as he carded his hands down your sides, only stopping when he got to the teasing lace of your negligee’s trim. More and more kisses were pressed to the column of your throat as he smoothed the fabric up your body, revealing your bare, naked body underneath to the world. He groaned at the feeling of your baby-soft skin under his fingertips. 

“Nothing underneath? Such a good girl for me.” 

You felt Ominis reach into his back pocket for his wand, slowly bringing it forwards and above your heads. The point just barely touched the skin of your wrist when he lazily whispered the binding spell. 

“Incarcerous.” 

Cotton rope the color of the forest at night wrapped itself around your conjoined wrists, tightening just the right amount so that you couldn’t move but you weren’t in pain before winding around a bar on your headboard. A startled gasp fell from your lips at your sudden capture, your eyes filling with excitement and a little bit of fear at the predatory grin stretching across your husband's face. His hands trailed up your sides again, sending delightful shivers through all of your nerve endings on his journey to your eyes. His fingers paused at the tips of your ears, the ribbon brushing against where your hair was fanned across the bedspread. 

Ominis smoothed his thumb across your cheekbone, softening his smile as he leaned down to press a kiss to the tip of your nose. His voice was little more than a breathy whisper against your eyelashes. “Are you sure about this, my love?” 

You smiled at his care for you, pressing a soft kiss to the closest bit of skin you could reach before answering him, your voice flooded with love. “Yes, my dear. I want you to do whatever you want to me. Make me feel like you do.” 

He groaned at  your words, taking your consent to wrap the ribbon around your head, tying it in a simple knot at the back. The last thing you saw were his starlight-filled eyes before your world was bathed in darkness. 

You were incredibly aware of your level of undress when Ominis moved his body away from yours, opening up your skin to the chill of the room without his body heat. You squirmed against the rope slightly, testing its strength before trying to train your ears to hear your husband moving around the room. Everything was eerily quiet— not even the sound of the grandfather clock in the hallway could be heard beyond the closed door. For a moment you feared the blond left you in the room, leaving you tied up against the bed so he could work in peace. Your heart began to pound harder in your chest with nerves. 

All fear quickly fled from your body at the feeling of his fingertips running up the skin of your stomach, drawing a long gasp from your chest. It felt like his hand was touching every nerve in your body, igniting your veins in sinful fire as he crept up and up towards your heaving breasts. He started off slow, just moving his fingers up and down different parts of your body with just the barest touch until you were begging for more. This type of teasing was torturous for you, only just aware of where he was but never knowing if he was going to give you what you wanted. 

You whined in the back of your throat, body vibrating with need as he grazed against your chest for a fifth time. “Please, Ominis!” 

You were sure your heart would give out when his other hand wrapped itself around your left mound, squeezing the skin between his fingers before taking the right nub between his teeth and nipping. Ominis chuckled at the whine that spilled from your throat, his voice reverberating through your sternum and sending a lovely heat to your center. He let the rest of his weight fall on top of you, relishing in you feeling every bit of skin he had uncovered in your small moment of silence. He was completely bare for you, his hardness pressing against your thigh and pulsating with a delicious heat. You could feel him everywhere. His fingers brushed against the very fabric of your being, pulling you apart by your strings. His breath curled around your lungs, stealing the air frantically inhaled through your squeezing throat. His mouth licked at your brain, sending pulses of pleasure down to your core. You were in utter bliss under his careful, loving hands. 

He laughed again at how pliable you were under him, murmuring against your stiff peak. “Where do you feel me right now, pet?” 

You sighed shakily as his voice shot through you like a bullet. “Everywhere. I feel you absolutely everywhere.” 

The blond took your nipple between his teeth again, flicking it with his tongue until your reacting whimper pittered off into the air. “That’s how I feel whenever I’m around you.” 

Ominis began to kiss down your chest, pausing to mouth hotly at your hip bones and leave open mouthed kisses on your naval. “Your mere presence shifts the air around me— changes the trajectory of time itself in my mind. The world slows when you touch me, my darling. My name falling from your lips feels like one thousand tiny suns kissing my cheeks in devotion.” 

He mumbled your name against your lower stomach, hopelessly inflamed by how you shivered at the word. 

Unable to resist his carnal desires any longer, he dives into your sweet tasting center, first licking a long stripe from base to tip before lapping at you like he was starved and you were his only source of sustenance. You keened loudly for him as stars filled every space behind your blinded eyes. 

There he is, you thought. There’s his tongue wrapped around my soul, stealing all my life force one flick at a time. 

He moaned at your scent, fully slotting himself between your legs and encasing his head between your thighs. It felt like his tongue was a lightning bolt against your sensitive skin, shocking your clit with every stroke, every tap, every suck. You completely surrendered to his whim, clamping your thighs against his ears, fully intent on keeping him right where he was for the rest of time. It had never felt this good before, never felt this encompassing. 

Ominis pressed his face deeper into you, taking the button at the top of your most private parts and sucking it into his mouth. You nearly screamed, your words jumbled as they launched themselves into the air. 

“Fuck! Oh God, Ominis!” 

His strong hands pulled your legs away from his head, his mouth unlatching from you like a leech as he paused to catch his breath. 

“Oh, is it a ‘God’ you want, precious?” 

His voice had never sounded breathier— never sounded so completely sinful. 

The blond laughed, a barking thing that sent a tingle to your toes. “I do not care if every single God and Goddess across all of the world, all of mythology was fighting over you— you are mine.” 

He bit harshly at the pillowy flesh of your inner thigh, indenting his teeth marks into you so everyone would know you were owned by him and him alone.  

“But if you truly wish for something devout, something reverent, then let my hands be your chapel.” Ominis gently ran his fingernails along the skin of your waist, dragging them up and down until you were a shivering, wiggling mess. “And I will treat your screams, your whimpers, your pleas as my scripture.” 

His unseeing eyes never left the direction of your heady, breathy pants as his middle finger slid deep inside of you, long and lithe and curling against the spot that made you believe religion was real. Moans of his name and swears that would make even the devil blush swam in the air around the pair of you, only being swallowed by the plush feather-down comforter under your writhing body. You plead with your husband for more, unsure what more entailed but all the more pressing your center against his awaiting mouth once again and grinding against his tongue. He quickly complied, pressing a second finger into your opening and thrusting in and out at a sped up pace. His lips latched back onto your needy clit and that was all it took for you to spill over into maddening nirvana. 

Your hazy mind picked up on the feeling of your husband leaning up on his elbows, kissing his way back up your chest until he reached your gasping lips. He quickly stole them in a gentle but desperate kiss; you could taste yourself on his lips and it drove you even further into madness. His prickly, end of the day stubble rubbed against your cheek as he tucked his face into your neck, kissing up and down your shoulder and neck with urgency. 

“You did so good for me, sweetheart. So, so perfect— just for me, so good just for me.” He was breathing even heavier than you against your pulse, hopelessly devoted to your pleasure, your happiness. 

He kissed your pulse, his whispered voice filled with adoration.“Mon coeur.”

He kissed your nose this time. “Mon âme.”

Finally, he pressed delicate kisses to your eyelids, resting his forehead against yours. “Ma vie.” 

My heart. My soul. My life. 

Warmth filled your entire body, your heart squeezing around his words and committing this moment to memory. Never before had you felt so loved, so worshiped. It was iridescent, the way you could picture his love-struck smile glowing behind your eyes— completely and irrevocably arduous. 

Still feeling his burning desire against your inner thigh, you rocked your hips against his, pleas beginning to spill from you once again, but this time with a need to please him. 

“Please, Ominis. I love you so much. Take me. Use me. I’m yours, no one else's. I want to feel you inside of me.” 

He bit your shoulder roughly, muffling his animalistic grunt before unlatching his jaws and leaning up on his knees. The blond spread your legs wider, lifting your hips slightly and wrapping your legs around his waist as he lined up with your entrance. You mewled at the feeling of his head rubbing against your opening, stretching you out slightly and giving you a taste for what was to come. 

Ominis whimpered at the feeling of your soft heat against his cock, a little bit of his original domineering persona slipping away at how welcoming you felt for him. “I love you too, my dove.” 

With no other words, the blond pressed his hips closer to yours, letting his length slide into your sweltering center bit by bit to not overwhelm you. You could feel every curve of his shaft, every vein along the underside without your sense of sight. Your touch was heightened to its full extent, and it was earth shattering how good this felt. You were simultaneously freezing and burning, living and dying. Your souls could have mingled together and entwined along your timelines with a burning pyre, thrusting you both into every lifetime possible to relive this moment over and over and it would never be enough for you. You both moaned in tandem when your hips became flushed once again, pelvis bones pressing into each other for a delectable friction. 

Ominis paused to catch his breath, little tiny moans breaching his lips between each inhale and exhale. His fingers wrapped around your hips, grasping onto your natural handles there as he growled under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear with your slightly heightened sense of hearing. 

“I am going to make you feel so full, so pleasured, that by the time your climax sends you into oblivion the only word that will be able to grace your lips will be my name.” 

With that, he pulled out of you until only his tip was still inside and slammed into you, his hips harshly knocking against yours and his slit kissing your cervix. You wailed into the night as he continued to pound into you, chasing his own pleasure while still being perceptive of yours. In and out he went, the large prominent vein at the base of his lovely cock rubbing against the ridges inside of you in the most heavenly way. Your sounds sang together like an otherworldly chorus, your tones rising and falling in harmony as they floated delicately up towards the ceiling. Ominis’ hands continued to dig into your skin, his fingers surely leaving bruises on your hips that would last for days. You didn’t care in the slightest— all you could feel was bliss. If you thought earlier was pleasurable, this was pure, unfiltered ecstasy. The knot in your stomach tightened with each thrust of your husband's hips, each time taking him to the hilt and sending blinding whiteness behind your useless eyes. 

The blond’s hips stuttered as his orgasm fast approached, yours not far behind as he could tell by how tightly you were squeezing him. He surged forwards towards your face, capturing your lips in a kiss that was more teeth than anything else as he rocked the entire bed with his velocity. The headboard banged harshly against the wall as he swallowed your moans and screams, only the sound of his name breaching through the jumbled nonsense. Ominis nosed at your jaw, groaning next to your ear as his thrusts got sloppier and less rhythmic. 

“Come for me, my love— my life.” 

The instinctual, innate love he had for you was what ultimately did you in, his words ricocheting you into the strongest rapture you had felt in some time. Your husband followed soon after, your name conjoining with his as you both tumbled into the sweet hereafter. 

Your breaths tangled together as you both came down from your high. Ominis was the first to break the spell, pulling out of you gently before getting up and procuring a towel from your adjoining bathroom. He cleaned you like one would dust a prized possession, carefully and with reverence. You were like a precious jewel that he had to protect, something he could admire for years, centuries, millennia to come. Next were the bonds on your arms, which he undid with deft fingers. Your arms dropped to the bed in a grand thump, all of your muscles giving up from how hard you were thrashing. Ominis lifted you off the bed, his hands on your shoulders as he slotted himself behind you, letting your back rest against his chest as he finally undid the blindfold. Your eyes squinted at the sudden light of the room, fluttering closed for a moment longer as you relaxed back into your husband. The blond carefully took each of your wrists into his hands, bringing them up to his lips and kissing away the minute bruising. You swooned, perfectly content to stay in this moment until the very end of time— until the world died in a grand ball of fire, or with a tiny poof. 

Ominis kissed the side of your temple, rubbing his cheek against yours like a cat. “Was that everything you hoped for, my dear?” 

You raised your hand up to his face, softly cradling his cheek in your palm. Pure affection spilled from you both in waves. 

“Yes, my heart. You were absolutely perfect.”  

***

like what you read? here's more!

#tina speaks #masterlist #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy #hl #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x you #ominis gaunt x mc #ao3 #ao3 fic #ao3 writer #ominis hogwarts legacy #ominis smut #ominis hl #ominis gaunt smut

[the-travelling-witch]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒𝐓

summary: what do they do and how do they cope after you suddenly go where they can’t follow?

pairings: xiao :: kazuha :: (abyss prince!) aether :: childe x gn! reader

warnings: angst, reader dies/ has died; [xiao] unnamed illness; [kazuha] mention of kazu's friend (tomo); [aether] somewhat graphic description of body transmutation/ body horror (just to be safe), possible deviation from khaenri'ah lore; [childe] (description of) blood, wounds, (mentions of) murder, violence over all

the loneliest- måneskin || genshin impact masterlist

a million miles away [pt. 1 - scara, venti, kaveh, zhongli]

𝐗𝐈𝐀𝐎

"You'll be the saddest part of me A part of me that will never be mine It's obvious Tonight is gonna be the loneliest You're still the oxygen I breathe I see your face when I close my eyes It's torturous Tonight is gonna be the loneliest..."

Dark clouds hung over Liyue’s skies, the air heavy and oppressive. No wind swayed the trees and the afternoon was void of the sounds of chirping birds, no doubt seeking refuge from the desolation clinging to the landscape like wet clothes to skin.

Right under the towering Wangshu Inn, a group of black-clad individuals trekked through muddy grass, hardly standing out against the gloom. It was difficult to tell day from night with the sun completely blocked from view, not a single ray of light illuminating what would usually be the beauty of the Guili Planes.

Indeed, their vastness was a beauty to behold, brimming with life and chattering travellers while the delicious smell floating from Wangshu Inn’s kitchen watered the mouths of returning adventurers. Yes, it had been a long time since anything filled Xiao with so much serenity and peace as watching the sun melt into the mountain tops while you sat with him until the stars shone their light onto the two of you. Finally, after countless millennia of wandering in the dark, he had found something akin to a home.

You had picked a magnificent site as your final resting place.

When your testament had been read, your wish to be laid down in this unconventional location had shocked your friends and family. The journey all the way from Liyue Harbour to Wangshu Inn could be a treacherous and arduous one if you weren’t prepared, so concerns about visiting and maintaining your grave grew loud. Yet, with the help of the innkeeper Verr Goldet, who was well aware of how much you had treasured your time here, assuring everyone you would be well taken care of even on your next journey, your family honoured your wish.

Piercing amber eyes watched as more mortals dressed in all-black gathered for the human rite of passing near the inn. A funeral, that was what you had called it. The purpose was the same though; a life had ended and now those who mourned offered their last respects. Separating from the crowd was the figure of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor Director and although Xiao couldn’t hear what she was saying where he sat, he guessed she was commencing the ceremony. One after the other, members of your family took turns giving speeches and while he didn’t dare go within ear shot, he didn’t need to; the way people’s shoulders shook and how others went to embrace them and dabbed at their tears told him enough.

After a while, even the last of the mourners had left the funeral site and only then did featherlight feet graze the branches of the nearby tree in fleeting touches before the yaksha dropped to the ground several metres away from your grave. A shielded candle on your tomb was all that illuminated his surroundings. The sight of the tombstone rooted him in place, not sure if he should really approach you one more time. 

After all, this was his fault.

As if the world agreed with him, the second Xiao set foot onto the path towards your eternal resting place, cold drops battered against his skin and, like black ink bleeding onto a page, they stained heaven and earth. Normally, the adeptus welcomed the cleansing feeling of the rain but on this day it did nothing to wash away the grief hanging heavy between tree trunks and rocks. Instead, it seemed to pull him under as it weighed down his feet and pressed down on his lungs. Still, he continued forward, driven by the need to talk to you again, even if it was only once more. 

Even in this weather he could see how polished the headstone was, not at all withered by harsh conditions like the ones he’d come across before. There was no need for him to study the carved letters of your name or the lifespan that was hardly more than the blink of an eye to him, they might as well have been ingrained in his heart rather than this stone. Yet he flinched back when his fingers brushed the intricately written quote underneath.

“The connection between us is too strong to sever. So let us continue this eternal dance together.”

It was a conversation between the two of you he remembered vividly, both voices ringing clear in his ear. Back then, he had been scared by the consequences being together would have, especially for you who wasn’t meant to be exposed to karmic debt. But you had taken his hand and gently intertwined them; face-to-face with your warm smile, he didn’t find the power to pull away. So, instead, he foolishly brought you closer.

And at first, your time together was truly and genuinely perfect. Not only did you both learn a lot about the other’s way of life, you also showed him a love he never experienced before. Sure, his fellow yaksha had cared for him like a family but you held him so carefully as if he were something delicate, not a weapon but someone to be held dear. In the beginning, he was offended. Did you really think he was that fragile? When you, however, reassured him that even the strongest and bravest fighters need to be cared for, he silently melted into your embrace and soon he’d come to miss the feeling if you weren’t there to greet him.

It was only when simple colds turned into you coughing uncontrollably that his worries slapped him awake again. Despite your protests that you were fine, Xiao ushered you to see a doctor in the city. His anxieties were proven right when you came back with a crestfallen expression, barely able to utter the devastating words ‘chronic illness’. 

Over weeks and months, you worked hard on all the therapies and rehabilitation methods you were given, yet despite your best effort it wasn’t enough. Your body could not fight back against what was happening to you and you grew weaker still. Another doctor’s appointment later, the word ‘fatal’ hung over your head like a sword threatening to fall any second.

Yet, in the face of your own death sentence, you remained strong. Far stronger than he ever could be. You spent more time with him, travelled more, tried things you never had the chance to before. To everyone else you portrayed a picture of dignified acceptance, still it wasn’t quite enough to hide your feelings from him. Not when he could hear your sniffles and suppressed sobs coming from the opened balcony door on yet another sleepless night. When he reached out to hold you, you hastily wiped your tears and showed him a wobbly smile, playfully chastising yourself for staying up too late.

The following day, you still woke up with him, made breakfast as he got ready to leave and pressed such a painfully loving kiss to his lips before he leapt off the balcony. Although it was something you did every day, there was still something off about it, something that gnawed at him all day. As he drove his spear through demon after demon, he couldn’t help but replay the scene over and over again, his mind jumping from bad to worse.

It didn’t prepare him for finding your unconscious body on the wooden floorboards of your shared home. Spear clattering to the floor, Xiao rushed over to cradle you against his chest but no matter how often he spoke your name, you wouldn’t come back to him. Alerted by the commotion, the innkeeper called for a doctor immediately but even then, they couldn’t do anything but confirm what everyone had dreaded.

The letter on the table didn’t catch his eye until much later. Next to it lay a woven charm made from an adepti technique he’d shown you and preserved qingxin flowers you had picked together. It was clumsy handiwork but to him it was more perfect than anything else. He was careful as he broke the letter’s seal and held the decorated paper between his gloved fingers. As he soaked up your words, Xiao felt his knees weaken and he had to take a seat before continuing to read. You thanked him for your time together, apologised for leaving early, expressed your hope to see him again one fateful day.

Even recalling it now as he stood in the chill of the rain made his head hurt, his soul feeling like it was being torn into a million directions. How could you be grateful, how could you be sorry, how could you miss the reason pain had befallen you? You should have been angry and should’ve yelled at him, hit him, hurt him, not comfort him. Not smiled at him or held him. He didn’t deserve your kindness and your warmth and your love.

Seeing your name carved in stone like this was much worse than Xiao could have imagined. It radiated a finality, an unyielding reality there was no waking up from. The sudden rush of his suppressed guilt flooded his mind and had the adeptus keeling over onto the muddy grass. There was a pounding in his head and he tugged harshly at his roots to make it stop. Despite having no need for food, he felt nauseous as he clutched his stomach with one hand while the other dug into the soil in front of your grave.

He should have known the black bonds would ensnare you too, the clutches of his karmic debt too powerful to escape. Despite knowing better, he still selfishly took your hand all that time ago. When he reached for you like a man drowning, he thought at first you were his salvation. Too late did he realise he was dragging you down into the pitch black depths with him. 

In his foolishness, he had doomed you and now you had to pay the price.

The thought tore a pained sound from him, more akin to a wounded animal than anything human. By now it was hard for him to differentiate between physical and mental sensations, he couldn’t be sure whether the pain he felt was real or just his imagination. Just when it became too much to bear and black spots danced across his vision, a faint call of his name caught his attention.

“Xiao, breathe,” a comfortingly familiar voice reached through the fog of his mind and pulled him back to the surface of reality where he sharply inhaled some much needed air. “It’s okay.”

Looking around frantically, he searched for the origin of your voice just to succumb to the realisation that there was nobody there. Only the dancing flame of the candle in front of him moved during the descent of night. Unlike the damp tear tracks streaking his face, you were but a figment of his imagination.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Xiao wiped over his cheeks and rose to his feet. With uncharacteristically clumsy fingers he placed a small incense burner and a jade talisman next to the silk flowers and glaze lilies left by the funeral attendees before making a fleet-footed retreat to the top of the inn. 

Once again, you’d dispelled the karma threatening to overtake him when it became too overwhelming to bear. He wasn’t sure if he deserved it but he would see you again. Until then, he’d carry on with his duty and uphold his contract without falling prey to the madness within. All to be reunited with you when the time came.

When your family came to visit your grave some time later, they were positively perplexed at the pristine condition it was in. No moss covered the stone, the flowers had been replaced with vivid ones growing around your resting place and the candle had been changed out for a new one. When they asked Verr Goldet about it, the innkeeper merely smiled knowingly, reiterating that there was someone here who cared deeply for you.

𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐇𝐀

"...There's a few lines that I have wrote In case of death, that's what I want, that's what I want So don't be sad when I'll be gone There's just one thing I hope you know, I loved you so..."

The scratching of a pen filled the wooden cabin of the Alcor, the yet-to-dry ink reflecting the last golden rays of the sun. From right outside the circular window, the cries of seagulls could be heard as a flock of them returned to their nest for the night. Waves gently swayed the flagship of the Crux, the resulting sea spray carrying more salty air into the room.

Kazuha paused his writing, pen lifted over the first line of the letter as maple eyes reflected the shift of the sun from amber to a molten crimson. When it started sinking beneath the line of the horizon, he picked up a box of matches to light a candle. For a few seconds, the burnt scent of wood tickled his nose before it evaporated. Such was the nature of the world, everything must come to an end, not even eternity would change that fate; whether it was the sinking sun, the spark of a flame or the life of a treasured person.

He dipped his pen in ink once more before lifting the end to his chin in contemplation, deciding on what to fill the page with this evening. Kazuha’s eyes traced the words of the first line which were at this point engraved into his heart, then set pen to paper in practised motions.

My love,

I hope this letter finds you well. 

Worry not, I’m enjoying good health myself and life on the Alcor is treating me well. Unless the crew starts drunkenly singing again; I normally do not suffer from sea sickness, however, … I leave the rest to your imagination.

Otherwise, my days have been rather quiet. Although, whenever we anchor somewhere, I’ve been granted the most beautiful of views. All the places we hoped to visit together one day, they’re as magnificent as we imagined. I wish I could show you the sceneries of Teyvat’s nations; the sunsets and sunrises, the lush forests and gurgling rivers springing from majestic waterfalls. I’m certain you’d enjoy them quite a lot.

Still, despite having seen a lot of what this world has to offer, I can confidently say, nothing compares to your beauty. Even though it has been a while since I’ve been graced by your radiance, I have no trouble recalling it before my mind’s eye. In fact, it is harder not to think of you within every waking moment and my most cherished dreams are those of you.

I see the curves of your lips in the petals of silk flowers, the brightest stars do not compare to the sparkle of your eyes and no amount of lamp grass can illuminate my nights like your smile can. When the afternoon breeze brushes my cheek I am reminded of your gentle touch, the waves whisper stories like you do while curled up by my side, the dancing glow of crystal flies is not nearly as captivating as you coming to see me.

As you can tell, you have positively enchanted me, my dear, and I find it hard to steer my thoughts in a direction which does not lead me back to you; I wouldn’t have it any other way. So, it comes as no surprise that I long for the day I will enjoy your precious company again. Oh, what I wouldn’t do to hold you in my arms again, now and forever. If I could only be granted this one wish, I truly would not yearn for anything else ever again because every moment with you feels like the calming essence my dreams are made of.

The next time we reunite, I’d be honoured to share my most recent works with you; there are quite a number of haikus, sonnets and odes you have inspired. Until then, I’d be pleased to hear from you, wherever you may currently be.

My heart belongs to you always and forever,

Kazuha

With a fond smile, the crimson-eyed samurai waited for the ink to dry before folding the letter carefully and tucking it safely away in an envelope. Reaching for the maple-leaf carved wax seal Beidou had generously gotten for him, Kazuha pressed the stamp down with measured strength. Once it had cooled sufficiently, he adoringly brushed his bandaged thumb over the seal, then turned the letter over and gracefully looped the curves of your name onto the front.

Opening the top drawer of his desk, he placed the envelope on top of the neatly stacked letters already occupying the space. Soon, he’d need to find a different place to store them, lest they quilled over. After all, there was no address they could be delivered to anymore, nobody to receive the feelings he spilled onto the page. Or maybe there was, just not on a plane of existence he could perceive.

Exhaling a tired sigh, Kazuha lifted his gaze outside his window again. There, the moon was glowing a bright white while surrounded by stars, evoking distant memories of a fluffy kitten playing amongst the flowers of an Inazuman meadow.

At the sight, he couldn’t help but wonder, were the two of you at peace? Did you meet somewhere he had yet to explore? Did you get along well? Were Tomo and you watching over him from high above, smiling to yourselves about the person he had become, the choices he made and would make? The thought filled him with peace and joy, yet also, excitement, despite the circumstances.

After all, it would mean Kazuha, too, had the possibility of joining you once his time came and that hope helped calm his heart, no matter what storm he had to face.

𝐀𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑

"...'Cause I don't even care about the time I've got left here The only thing I know now is that I wanna spend it With you, with you nobody else here Tonight is gonna be the loneliest..."

A crimson moon had risen over Khaenri’ah that night, the very foundation of the land shaking under the attacks the nation suffered. People were running for their lives on unstable footing, trying to escape the scorn of the gods, despite not knowing where -or if- they would be safe. The noise in the city was loud enough to drown out your own thoughts, cries of humans and monsters alike echoing through the smoke-filled sky.

Holding onto your hand tightly, Aether dodged several panicked people, trying not to get you caught in the chaotic mass of moving bodies as fear spread among the civilians like a plague. Both of you staggered slightly as you reached the edge of the central square when another quake of the ground sent more buildings crumbling to the ground.  

After running for several more minutes and creating distance to most of the people, you stopped to catch your breath as you surveyed the destruction below. The city you had moved to was hardly recognisable, dyed in the scarlet of flames and the charcoal of smoke. In the distance, you could spot hordes of rifthounds crossing the border to Teyvat’s other nations, only further aggravating the forces of ‘divine punishment’. 

Aether wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close, guiding your head to rest on his shoulder. Even as he shut his eyes, he couldn’t keep out the flashes of light wreaking devastation on the nation. Focusing on the warmth radiating from your body, the blond let his hand wander over your arm as if to confirm you were still with him. You stood like this for a while until the loudest of the noise died out and the worst of it seemed to be over.

Or that was what he thought. Because soon thereafter, shrill shrieks coming from the city pierced his ears, pitched in an agony he had never witnessed before. Not on any world he had visited in the past had a sound chilled his blood and made his skin crawl from the sheer terror it conveyed. It was a chorus of voices drifting up from below, contorted in both confusion and pain.

Frozen in shock, Aether barely felt you twitching in his arm until it turned to full-body spasms and you wrangled free from his embrace. Stumbling backwards, you clutched your head and doubled over, barely able to stand on your own feet as groans of discomfort started straining into screams as well. If he thought it was nightmarish before, seeing the person he loved scratch down their own face in torment while their voice grew hoarse from screeching in pure misery was indescribably cruel. 

Reaching out to do something, anything, to help, he heard the first sickening crack of what could only be bones and his stomach dropped a little lower every time the sound echoed through the dreadful night. By the time it stopped, Aether suppressed the urge to throw up the acid in his stomach to relieve the nausea which had overcome him.

But still, that sensation was nothing compared to the ice cold dread washing over him when instead of you, a small haggard creature with a large mask covering its entire face stood in your place. It was dizzy and disoriented, yet, as soon as Aether made a move towards, it clumsily scurried away from him. 

Looking down into the centre of the city, he saw a large number of strange creatures of all sizes swarm the place as the people around them dove out of their way. Overall though, the number of entities didn’t seem to have changed and there was simply no way these strange beings could have switched places with the civilians this quickly. Surely, it couldn’t be…

In a small voice, he called your name and watched as the masked creature cautiously studied him before taking a single step in his direction. A falling piece of debris hit the ground near the two of you and, quick as lightning, the thing flinched back and ran to the square where most of them had gathered, ignoring his calls to wait.

The events of that night still replayed in his mind and haunted him when he closed his eyes. Oftentimes, he’d wake with a start, drenched in cold sweat and gasping for air, startling his then travelling companion Dainsleif on more than one occasion. How could he ever forget the strangled cries ripped from your throat as you were transformed into what was now known as a hilichurl for no fault of your own.

After the catastrophe, it soon became clear that both the transformation and the immortality placed upon the people of Khaenri’ah were a curse by the gods, led by the Heavenly Principles, as retribution for the nation’s sins. But you had done nothing wrong; neither had most of the people affected. You merely moved to a place not ruled over by the gods. You were not deserving of any punishment; it was the epitome of injustice.

Over time, and despite Dainsleif’s strongly principled company, Aether’s grief slowly withered away and gave birth to frustration, anger and a certain yearning for revenge. That corrupted seed was nourished by every bloody hilichurl mask he came across on their travels, not wanting to think about what that could imply. The rest of Teyvat wasn’t even aware of the fate their beloved gods had doomed Khaenri’ahns to; to them, his fellow people were merely monsters to be slain.

First the Heavenly Principles separated him from his sister and then they took away the one person he found comfort in, who gave him stability and hope for the future. In a sickened way the thought drove him forward. Whether it was to move against the Heavenly Principles or find a way to break the curse, he needed to do something. Even if breaking the curse would reveal what he feared every time he saw a rotted out hilichurl camp to be true, he’d endure it better than the uncertainty gnawing at his stomach. 

So, to his own shock, he wasn’t surprised by how quickly he warmed up to Clothar Alberich’s proposal of establishing a new organisation of Khaenri’ahns, who were able to retain their self-awareness, and aiming to topple the divine thrones. To enact his own justice upon the world, which cruelly brought its own down on him, Aether would do anything.

He’d even become the Prince of the Abyss.

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄

"...And I just keep on thinking how you made me feel better And all the crazy little things that we did together In the end, in the end, it doesn't matter If tonight is gonna be the loneliest..."

The stench of blood hung in the air, the taste of iron filled the Harbinger’s mouth every time he breathed in. His left eye was only partially opened as the skin around a nasty cut on his temple swole up. It would certainly bruise, perhaps even leave a scar if it went uncared for, yet he hardly spared it a second thought.

As he moved to take out the last of his enemies still standing, the edges of his torn clothes dragged through the underlying wounds and ripped open those the fabric had clung to as they started building crusts. Childe’s breathing was ragged from both physical strain and a severe blow to his rib cage, one of them probably broken by the impact. Well, this wasn’t supposed to be a one person job after all.

But all his work had been so incredibly dull recently, so he purposely sent his subordinates to the wrong location and moved in alone, just to feel the thrill of battle. Normally, a battle in which the opponent was strong enough to wound him to this degree would shoot adrenaline straight through his veins, yet, it felt like nothing but a chore to him. No pride, no joy followed him as he dragged his damp shoes through the scarlet puddles on the cave floor, not even flinching at the cracking sound as he stepped on what he presumed to be someone’s hand. He didn’t care enough to look down.

The way back to Liyue Harbour was uneventful. Those who showed their faces learned pretty quickly that Childe wasn’t to be trifled with if they valued their lives and it wasn’t long before he dropped from the roof of Northland Bank, startling the Fatui Soldiers currently switching shifts. 

“M-My Lord,” one of them stammered as her eyes snapped from the tattered scarf to the droplets staining his hair a darker shade of red to the various gashes littering his body. “Your subordinates have been search–”

The Harbinger dismissed her with a mere wave of his hand and motioned for them to open the door. The two quickly scrambled to oblige, their frightened eyes still clinging to his back as he strode through the pristine halls of Northland bank, bloody footprints leaving a trail to his office. Other staff members on duty practically jumped out of his way with a simple glance at his usually bright face, fearing they’d end up as another stain on his sullied uniform.

Dropping into the chair behind the heavy oak desk while heaving a deep sigh, Childe discarded the scuffed red mask before sliding his gloved hand down his face, wincing as he put pressure on his fresh cut. Eventually he tipped his head back with a low groan.

The stale silence of paperwork and files was oppressive, adding to the pressure pounding through his skull. A tiny, rational voice in his head scolded him that this kind of reckless behaviour needed to end, that he was destroying himself. But the crazed part of his brain pushed back hard against the painful familiarity and steered his mind far away from every possible memory associated with it.

Casting his eyes down on the tabletop, he felt his mood sour even more at the fresh stack of letters waiting to be opened. Among the countless Fatui sigils, one particular envelope caught his eyes though; one with the address scribbled in childish handwriting.

Discarding his crimson-dyed gloves and picking his siblings’ letter from the pile with slow fingers, Childe opened it with careful motions. Instantly, a light flutter stirred in his chest at their antics, the stories they told from home and the instances where Teucer definitely pestered Tonia into including a certain detail.

The curve of his smile dropped when his eyes landed on the last part of the letter. Under his tightening grip, the letter he cherished so much before started to crumble and crease as his expression hardened again.

“Ajax, when are you bringing your partner again? You mentioned that they liked the dish mom made last time they visited, so I practised really hard to make it for them the next time. We’re really looking forward to seeing them again! Also mom asks when you’re getting married but I told her to be patient.”

As he stared down the words like they had personally wrong him, he didn’t notice the blood droplet running down the tip of his hair before it fell onto the letter. Childe watched as the red mixed with black, wetting the ink until the curves of your name had disappeared into nothingness, much like you had. One moment there, the next… gone.

In a moment of clarity, which came far too late, the ginger wiped frantically at the letter, trying to retrieve you but it was no use. By the time he stopped, the entire paragraph was smudged in a greyish smear of red and black. 

Dropping the scarlet letter, Childe supported his lead-heavy head on his hands as he dropped forward, hunching over his desk in defeat. This time it wasn’t blood which wetted his palms but salty tears, the first ones he’d shed since your passing. 

It felt as if someone had dropped a ton of bricks onto his shoulders as the glass he kept his feelings in broke and they flooded his consciousness like waves crashing onto a small fisher boat. 

Almost, Childe could feel the grip of your hand in his as you were running across Liyue’s Planes, away from the chaos by his own design, your excited laughter mingling with his own until you fell into the soft grass next to each other. Or how you'd huddled together for warmth under the starry skies of his home, steaming mugs clutched in your hands. He could vividly remember how you brushed away his bangs to press a searing kiss to his temple, eyes so full of love as you looked into his.

But what did it matter now? Why look back when you weren’t next to him anymore? When he couldn’t hold you anymore or bring you back home to meet his family? The family you would have become a part of?

All at once, his wounds started to burn and ache, every breath felt like he was dying as his broken ribs expanded and sunk around his lungs. His mouth tasted bitter with blood and he fought to keep his lunch down. He cringed at the sticky feeling of exudate running down his temple and trickling into the corners of his eyes, glueing his lashes together as he blinked. Even now, you were still right. He was destroying himself. But this time, you weren’t there to stop him.

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