#violette-hue

"Babe, I  don't really see what's the problem," you responded nonchalantly, taking your time to button up the last few buttons. To show some boobage or to not. You chewed on the inside of your lip in thought. 

Steve scoffed. "Are you kidding me? He just tried to take over New York City, causing millions in destruction. He's dangerous."

"Dangerous." You repeated. "Everyone is dangerous, Steve, even The Avengers. Besides, there's going to be, like, a bunch of police guys there guarding him. I  actually think they might be S.H.I.E.L.D. agents."

You watched as the muscles on Steve's arm flexed as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Jesus Christ, Steve--"

"Language--"

"Why don't you just come with me? Brood in the corner like my silent protector." 

It was silent for a few heartbeats, and you thought Steve might laugh in your face. Instead, he shook his head, a ghost of a smile on his lips. 

"Fine," Steve said, leaning back against the door frame. "Button up your shirt again, I  missed the show."

You giggled and rolled your eyes, but obeyed. You unbuttoned your blouse, then buttoned it back up again slower this time, giving a good show. 

You walked into the interview room: Loki's cell. He was held behind some type of glass box, the floors some sort of dark, holographic tile. The room was bare, housing only a dozen or so S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. Loki had escaped once from a cell similar to this, the chances of him escaping again were likely. These agents wouldn't be able to do much to stop it. 

You stepped towards the glass, stopping a foot or two from the cell. Loki was already standing, and as he stalked towards you, he made sure to trail his eyes over your body. 

"Did you get all dressed up for me?" Loki drawled, a smirk tugging on the corners of his lips. 

You rolled your eyes and pulled out the small recorder that was tucked into the waistband of your tight skirt. "I hate to bruise your ego, but it's actually a job requirement," you responded, tripling checking the recorder had enough charge. You had checked the decent sized black rectangle before you left the apartment and then on your way over here. A nervous habit and the constant feeling that something would go wrong. 

"An enjoyable job requirement. For me," Loki commented. 

You heard a low growl come from Steve and felt the warmth from his chest as he stepped closer to you. 

"Oh," Loki hummed. "A displeasure to see you Mr. America." Loki took a few steps closer. "Did they send you in to keep guard, too?"

"No," Steve answered roughly. "And it's Captain."

"Yes, so sorry. Mr. Captain." Loki smiled wide, clearly enjoying making your boyfriend irritable. 

You couldn't help but giggle and look down. Loki was charming and funny. Too bad he was an absolute menace to society. 

"Mr. Laufeyson--" you started, pressing the record button. 

"Oh, I like the sound of that," Loki purred. 

"--I  want to make you aware that from this point forward, I'll be recording or conversation for the interview you agreed to."

The door that lead to Loki's cell closed with a loud thud and you walked down the quiet hallways in silence. Steve hadn't said much since speaking up before the interview, and you had this gut feeling that something was wrong. You stole a glance toward him and frowned. He was brooding, his brows knitted together with irritation. Even as pissed as he looked, he still looked so beautiful, like he was carved by the hands of a goddess. 

"Stop staring at me," Steve said sharply.

You frowned at the roughness in his voice. "You're angry."

"I'm not."

You moved your gaze back to the labyrinth you were walking through, deciding to stay quiet. It was no use trying to talk to Steve when he got in these moods. His walls would come up and anything you'd say would just bounce right back at you. You'd just have to wait until you got home. 

The next few minutes were filled with the sounds of your shoes echoing off the dark floors. At this point, you weren't even sure where you were going, and you were hoping that Steve would guide you in the right direction. But he stopped, causing you to stop with him. 

"What--?"

"I  told you, you shouldn't have done that interview with him," Steve hissed. 

You turned towards him, your brows furrowed with confusion. You opened you mouth, but closed it as soon as Steve continued. 

"The whole time--the whole fucking time--he was doing nothing but flirting with you. Commenting on your clothes, commenting on your hair, commenting on your hips--"

"I  do have nice 'birthing hips,'" you interjected playfully. 

Steve backed you up against a wall, his hand slamming against the tile above your head. "That's not the fucking point," he growled, his face inches from yours. 

"Language," you breathed. Your thighs instinctively rubbed together at the close proximity of your bodies. With just a slight arc of your back, your aching breasts would be flush against his chest. You mentally kicked yourself. Now wasn't the time to have your head in the gutter. Not when Steve was finally addressing the situation at hand. 

"You looked like you were enjoying the flirting, too," he spat. "Did you?"

You were at a loss for words. Of course you enjoyed the playful flirting. You enjoyed the senseless comments just to irritate Steve and the below the belt jabs just to get a response out of him. How could you not? Steve was always so tense, so worried about his image in public that it came home with him. He didn't know how to let loose, how to just be Steve Rogers instead of Captain America. 

"Yes," you finally answered. "I enjoyed it. A lot."

Steve pushed himself off the wall and ran a hand through his perfectly combed hair. "Fuck--" He took a deep breath and looked at you, then looked away. He seemed to be having an internal battle with himself. 

"I liked the way you reacted to it," you continued bashfully, looking down. "Y'know, this--" You quickly gestured with a hand to Steve and stepped away from the wall. 

You felt stupid at the disclosure, but you didn't want Steve to think you enjoyed the flirting because of who it was coming from. You liked the way Steve would place a subtle hand on your hip or gently brush back your hair whenever Loki would make a sly remark. Steve wasn't the possessive type, and you enjoyed it. But you also didn't know him being possessive would do these things to you. Your breasts felt heavier, your nipples pebbled, and your core ached with a neediness you had never felt before.

"This..." Steve trailed off. He gave a breathy chuckle and shook his head. "You're mine."

You blinked, taking a shallow breath. You needed to hear him say that again, needed to hear him say that while he was in you. 

Steve shook his head again and backed you up against the wall once more. "You're mine." He buried his head in the crook of your neck and gave you a rough kiss against the sensitive skin. "Mine."

"I'm yours," you whispered, digging your fingers into his shoulders. You tilted your head back, exposing more of your neck for Steve to explore. 

He pushed a knee between your legs and pried them open as much as your skirt would allow. His thick, muscled thigh rest on your lower thighs. If only you could hike this skirt up more, you thought, you'd be able to get some friction on your core. Your hips bucked and you licked your lips. 

Were you really going to do this right here in the hallway? Steve tangled a hand in your hair and tugged roughly, eliciting a soft moan from your lips. To hell with this being a public space, you wanted Steve now. Your hands trailed down the blue button up he was wearing down to the gold buckle of his brown leather belt. You groaned in frustration, the belt lodged deep within the buckle. 

"Steve Rogers and very horny girlfriend," echoed Fury's voice through the PA system. "Go fuck in your own house before I have you arrested."

Your hand froze, as did the rest of your body. How could you have forgotten you were in a public S.H.I.E.L.D. hallway with dozens of cameras? Nick Fury was practically watching the beginning of a porno. You moved your hands away from Steve's belt buckle and fixed your skirt. He stepped away from you, fixing his shirt. That's when you noticed his smirk. Had he planned all this? Realization hit you like a semi truck. Fury had exposed you all over the speakers. Speakers that sounded everywhere. Everywhere like in Loki's cell. After all the shameless flirting, Steve had proven to Loki that you were his. 

You frowned. How could Steve have done this? It wasn't like him at all to dangle you like some prize. 

"Real fucking mature, Steven." 

"What's wrong, angel? You haven't spoken to me the whole ride home."

"Can it Steven," you snapped, tossing your purse on the kitchen counter. "You used me back there."

Steve scoffed. "Did I make a little scene in that hallway knowing Fury would say something? Maybe, sure. Did I  know that Loki would hear? Yes. But, Angel, what was I supposed to do when you liked his flirting?"

You whirled on the ball of your foot toward Steve and pointed a finger at him. "You tricked me! I  thought you were finally showing--I  don't know, this dominant and possessive side? And I thought it was genuine, not some fucking show!"

Steve gave a heavy sigh. "Angel--"

"Don't fucking 'Angel' me, Steven." You pointed at him again, this time poking his chest. "I wanted to fuck you in that hallway. I was ready to fuck you in that hallway."

Steve grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you closer to him. "I was more than ready to fuck you in that hallway, too," he said, his voice a tad more gentle. "I would have fucked you against the glass of Loki's cell to claim you." A hot shiver ran down your spine and fluttered in your core. "I would have fucked my cum deep inside you until it ran down your legs for everyone to see. Especially him."

Your breath caught in your throat and the anger that was once boiling over in your blood had now dispersed. What replaced it was a deeply rooted lust that burned to your very core. Your blood, your body was on fire and the only way to sate it was to rip the clothes from your body and ride Steve until dawn. 

"Do you want that, Angel?" Steve ran a hand down your arm and gently turned you around. His hand ran over your abdomen, his fingers catching in the buttons of your blouse. Your back was now flush against his chest and you felt something hard against your lower back. You breathed a shaky sigh of anticipation as he untucked the shirt from the tight skirt. His fingers worked to free the buttons and you shivered at the tension it caused your body. 

You could only nod as the last button was freed, your chest nearly exposed. Your nipples hardened further at the coolness of your shared apartment, your lace bralette doing nothing to keep you warm. 

He ran his hands up your bare stomach, then to the bottom of your bralette. His fingers dipped under the black, Lacey fabric and caressed the bottoms of your breasts. Another shaky sigh passed your lips and you rest your head back against shoulder. The feeling of his fingers sliding and squeezing your tender breasts, pinching and rolling your nipples between his fingers had you squirming for more. Wonton mews fluttered through your lips and your own hands rest over his, begging to handle you more rough. 

Warm, wet kisses trailed along your neck to the outmost corner of your jaw. Your skin tingled where his lips met your flesh, tingled and buzzed until you felt as if you were going to explode. Steve had never handled you like this, had never been so passionate with you before. 

Sex had always been mostly simple with Steve. Standard missionary was the go-to, with the occasional cowgirl. Everything else was…uncharted territory. Of course, you didn’t mind the simplicity, but this…this was amazing.  

You pushed your bottom against his hard bulge and whined softly. “Steve,” you mewled. “I need more—please.”

Steve paused his ministrations on your breasts, his breath shaky against your neck. He slid his hands out of your lacy bralette, pausing at the bottom. In an instant, his fingers were digging into the lace, ripping the fragile fabric in two. Goosebumps pimpled over your breasts as the cold air of your apartment enveloped you skin. You gasped softly, the sudden show of aggression catching you off guard. His hands found place at the hem of your skirt, pushing the tight professional ware down your ass. 

“What do you need, sweetheart?” Steve asked, his voice an octave lower. 

You shakily stepped out of the skirt now pooled at your feet, now only standing in your opened blouse and a simple black thong. You shrugged the blouse to the floor, the remnants of your bralette falling with it. You turned around to face Steve in your nakedness. 

“I need you,” you answered timidly, your gaze on the floor. “I need you inside me.” It was weird to tell him what you needed, having never spoken to each other during sex other than the occasional “you like that?” But you felt brave and…sexy. You took the smallest step closer, your fingers teasing the button of his jeans. 

Steve let out a shaky breath, his hands gripping your hips tightly. You managed to undo the button one-handed and drag the zipper of his pants down, your fingers brushing against his clothed cock. You felt him twitch slightly, and you couldn't help the smile that tugged on your lips. He must be so hard, probably harder than he's ever been. 

"Do you need me, too?" you asked, your hand fingering the hem of his boxers. Where was this braveness coming from? You slipped your hand inside his underwear, gently grabbing his cock. Your thumb swiped along the head of his penis, smearing his pre-cum. 

Steve swallowed hard, and you could see the effort it took for him to bring his hand to caress your cheek. "I want you to suck my cock," Steve grunted. 

Your thumb stopped its ministrations and you pulled your hand from his boxers. "No." You stepped back, looking Steve up and down. 

Steve cocked his head to the side, his brows furrowed. "'No'?" he repeated. He took a step towards you, and you took a step back, your  lower back brushing against the kitchen island counter. Steve shook his head and pulled up the shirt he wore. Understandably, you were quite distracted by his chest and the dark hairs leading down to--

You let out a small yelp as Steve grabbed you by the backs of your knees and placed you on the counter. He forced your legs apart, running a finger over the thin g-string covering your heated mess. A finger pushed the thin fabric aside and delved inside your needy cunt. His finger flexed and curled almost instantly, and you let out a loud moan.

"You sound so needy," he growled, pulling his finger out. He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, spreading your juices. "Is it me that's got you like this? Or him?" He shook his head, disgust shining through his features. "Slut."

You winced at the word, at the harshness of it. Did he really mean that? "Steve," you started, "of course it's you--" You were cut off with a loud moan pushing through your lips as Steve inserted two fingers inside you. His fingers curled once more, and with it your toes. 

"This pussy belongs to me," he pumped his fingers inside you, his other hand pushing down his boxers and pants. "Your pussy belongs to me."

Without a warning, Steve's fingers abandoned your needy core, and in its place was his cock. The thickness stretched you out, and the head of his penis hit against your puffy walls. He pulled out quickly, then bottomed out inside you once more. His hands gripped your hips roughly, his thrusts just as rough. You cried out each time, nearly feeling him in your stomach. It was too much, but not enough at the same time. You had never been fucked like this before, and you relished in it. Relished in the way Steve's balls slapped against you with a wet snap. Relished in the way Steve made a mess of you--your wetness dripping down to the counter. 

"I belong to you," you whimpered, back arching. Your hands gripped his thick biceps, your nails digging into his flesh. 

Steve's thrusts faltered and he finally looked at you. He pulled you flush to his chest, your bare breasts against him. He gripped your chin and looked deep into your eyes. "Say it again."

You were caught aback, never having seen Steve so vulnerable before. You moved your hands up to rest on his shoulders. "I'm yours, Steve. Body and soul."

It was as if a switch had been pressed in Steve. One minute you were on the counter and the next you were bouncing against the wall. Steve thrust up into you, his cock never leaving the warmth of your pussy. His grip on your hips was ironclad as he fucking you on the wall. You screamed in bliss and in pain. You'd never been explored like this--Steve had never explored you like this. His cock was hitting places you didn't even know existed or felt good. He shifted his position, thrusting into you at a different angle and you saw stars. Tears leaked from the corner of your eyes as your orgasm washed through your body. Your legs wrapped around his torso, your ankles locking around each other. 

Steve fucked you through your orgasm, sweat lining the both of your bodies. Your hands tangled in his hair and tugged lightly, another cry emanating from your lips. You ground your hips down against him, your clit rubbing against his pelvis. You could feel another orgasm coming, could feel the tension in your body rise. Your fingers tightened on the strands of Steve's hair as another orgasm was nearing its peak. Your back arched as your body trembled with another orgasm, your legs shaking. Steve's thrusts faltered and he groaned loudly. His cock twitched inside you as he pushed himself as deep as he could in your battered cunt. He allowed himself to spill his seed within you, and you both stayed in that position for quite some time. Even when you felt his cock soften within you, you stayed like that, each breathing hard. 

"Steve?" you breathed, untangling your fingers from his hair. 

"Hmm?" he answered. His head rest on your shoulder, his breath fanning against your neck. 

"Did you really mean that? That you'd fuck me in front of Loki?"

Steve lifted his head and looked at you. "Well, maybe not in front of someone--"

"But like," you paused timidly, "in public?"

Fred shrugged a shoulder and resumed his stocking. “But he’s so good at it.” 

You rolled your eyes and made your way to the back of the store. The climb up the stairs was laborious, but you blamed that on your pounding heart. You blamed your breathlessness on that – it had nothing at all to do with the anticipation of what you’d come here for. You tucked the packed lunch under an arm and tapped gently at the brightly colored office door. You didn’t bother to wait for an answer and just strolled in. You swallowed hard at the sight before you. George’s white sleeves were uncuffed and rolled to his elbows, the buttons at his collar undone to just below his collarbone. You could see his crisp white undershirt peeking out from his dress shirt. His tie was undone and hung around his neck. A dress jacket lay haphazardly on the back of his chair. 

“Fred, I’ve told you I’ll let you know when I’m done,” George snapped, his eyes glued to his paperwork. 

You leaned against the empty desk near the door – Fred’s desk by the barrenness. “That’s quite a bit of paperwork,” you said. “Why don’t you take a break for lunch?”

George lifted his head, eyes softening. He pushed what he was reviewing back and turned to face you. He eyed the wrapped lunch at your side. “To what do I owe this lovely pleasure?” He beckoned you toward him with his hands. 

You pushed off of Fred’s empty desk and sauntered over to your husband. A waive of your wand drew the curtains in the office closed, blocking any view into the office. “I thought you’d appreciate a homemade lunch.”

George gave a lazy smile and shook his head. “What have you brought for lunch?” George asked, hands finding purchase on either side of your hips. 

Your hands smoothed the wrinkles of his shirt on his shoulders. “I’ve brought a shepard’s pie – leftovers from last night’s dinner at your mum’s.” Your hands roamed to cup his face and you bent forward to place a gentle kiss to his lips. “I missed you.”

George’s smile widened. “I missed you, too.” He inhaled deeply, eyes fluttering closed. “That’s not the reason you dropped by, though, is it?” 

You couldn’t suppress the smirk that tugged at your lips. “Fred is downstairs stocking the shelves. They looked pretty empty.”

“Is that so? Today is stocking and inventory.” His hands slid down the backs of your thighs and dipped under your skirt. The silky material bunched and rippled across his wrists as his hands moved up between your thighs. He sucked in a breath as his fingers brushed against your bare lips. 

“I thought you’d be in a time crunch.” You shifted, widening your stance. 

George chuckled. “Don’t try to play off your eagerness as convenience.” His fingers spread your lips apart, his digits sliding around your clit. Your breaths became labored and you moaned softly as his fingers kept circling around the swollen bud. “Did you touch yourself before coming over here?”

You nodded, hands gripping George’s shoulders for stability. You bit the inside of your cheek as he pushed two fingers into you. He curled his fingers, stroking the inside of your needy cunt. He curled his fingers again, then dragged them out of you and onto his tongue. 

“Lay on the desk,” he commanded. 

Your brows furrowed. “Your desk is full of papers—”

“The empty one—” Your husband stood abruptly, hands placed on your hips. He walked to the empty desk, causing you to take clumsy steps backwards. You slid onto the surface as he unbuckled his pants with fever, shoving them and his boxers down mid-thigh. His cock brushed against you, a line of pre-cum smearing against your inner thigh as he climbed over you. 

George nestled between your legs, the tip of his cock resting against your entrance. Your cunt practically throbbed with want, with a neediness and an eagerness you didn’t think you could muster. Slowly, he pushed between your folds. You bit down on your lip roughly to keep quiet. Had it ever felt this good before? You inhaled a ragged breath. Yes, it had. So why did you feel everything more? Every stroke, every push felt more electric, more sensual, more pleasurable.

George grabbed your face with a hand, kissing you openly and swallowing a loud moan. His tongue dragged against your tongue as he pushed harder into you. In. Out. In. Out. Your lower stomach fluttered and fluttered, your elbows bruising on the desk from the force of his thrusts. Your legs instinctively wrapped around George’s waist, pulling him closer. Your nails dug into his arms through his shirt. Had you not been so drunk with need, you’d feel bad for wrinkling the smooth-ish fabric. But you were drunk with need, and you needed him deeper. 

You angled your hips up and instinctively George supported your weight. With the slight angle change, you could feel his cock deeper in you – it still wasn’t enough. Your fingers circled your clit roughly, searching for that familiar build of pressure. 

In. Out. In. Out. Your legs were shaking now. You were so close, a few more strokes and you’d reach your climax – 

“George–” you mewled. “I’m close–”

George’s thrusts became rougher, harsher. The lewd slaps of his balls against your cunt filled the office. You should’ve prayed no one could hear the sounds, prayed that Fred was still busy stocking downstairs. Only George’s name was the prayer, uttering from your lips as your hips bucked into his. Your body was shaking, your climax rolling through your body in violent waves. 

George stilled above you, cock buried to the hilt. His cum streamed into your battered cunt, his forehead pressed against yours. You lay like that for a beat, then two, breaths mingling together as you regained your strength. 

Slowly, George pulled out of you and shoved his cock back in his pants. The clinking of the metal belt buckle being fasted sounded far away and fuzzy. Gentle fingers gingerly pulled the hem of your skirt down. 

“Are you alright, love?” George asked breathlessly. 

You could only nod and clumsily scoot off the desk. Dazed, you made your way over to George’s desk and flopped in his chair. Already, you could feel George’s cum slide against your thighs. At least your skirt was dark. 

George grabbed the left overs you’d brought and uttered a spell to heat the food. He placed the food in front of you. “Eat, you look like you need it more than me.”

You chuckled, but he was right. Between mouthfuls, you listened as George talked about the new products. How were you going to get home? Your legs were jelly and your breaths were still labored. 

Your head snapped up at an aggressive sniff. Too lost in your thoughts, you hadn’t noticed when Fred strolled in the office. 

“What’s that smell?” Fred asked, brows knitted together in distress. 

George exchanged a quick look with you. “Mum’s leftover Shepard’s pie, probably.”

Fred only grunted. He made his way to his desk, then stopped abruptly. He looked closer at the surface of his empty desk, at the still drying sweat prints from your ass and thighs and small drops in between. You heard Fred groan, then gag. 

Ushijima stared down at you and you couldn’t quite pinpoint the look he was giving you. It seemed to be a mixture of annoyance and something else..? His features were hard, but his eyes were soft.

You tore your eyes away from him, not wanting to see him look down at you for god knows how long you’d be in this elevator. You pulled out your phone for some company, only to find zero bars. Great, just what you needed. Tense silence with a man you hated.

You huffed again. How the hell had you gotten into this situation? Oh. That’s right. The both of you were on your way to a dinner party with the team. You weren’t the manager or anything, but you helped out a lot since your uncle was the coach.

When you arrived in the parking garage, you opted to take the elevator up since you weren’t too keen on walking up stairs in heels. That’s when Ushijima showed up. He passed the elevator and had done a double take. You could tell he was debating on whether or not he should join you, and, before the doors could close, he stepped inside.

You mentally cursed yourself for not pressing the close door button as you adjusted your slip dress. True, it was only a dinner, but your uncle had chosen one of the fanciest restaurants in town and the occasion was black tie. You assumed there would be some sort of after party once the dinner was over.

You stole a glance at Ushijima, looking him up and down. You’d be lying if you said he didn’t look good in that suit. He looked very good. Instead of wearing a basic white button down with his suit, he wore a black turtleneck. You subconsciously bit your lip as your eyes trailed over his toned arms that were very noticeable in his jacket. Your eyes trailed up and met his gaze and you quickly looked away, cheeks heated. You saw him smirk from your peripherals and you scowled. Of course he would be a douche about catching you checking him out.

“Do I make you uncomfortable?” he asked after a moment of silence.

“Yes,” you answered, not daring to look towards him.

You heard him grunt and shuffle. “Why?” he questioned. You heard him step towards you and you tensed up.

“You’re a douche bag. You only care about yourself and you think you’re so much better than others,” you answered. The more you spoke, the more angry you became. “You’re so cocky and rude and…and arrogant! And for what? You’d be a lot more attractive if you just were a bit more humble!” Your breathing was ragged, your chest heaving. You were fully looking at him now, your eyes boring into his.

You searched his face for any sort of emotion. He was frowning and his eyes were no longer soft. Instead, they were dark and roamed down your body.

“Is that what you truly think of me?” he asked, the question coming out low and soft.

“Yes,” you breathed, sticking out your chin.

He shook his head. “I don't mean to be so arrogant. I know my talent and my worth, much like you…” he trailed off. “Please forgive me if I’ve made myself unbearable.”

You only just realized the lack of space between the two of you. Your chest was brushing against his with every breath you took and your faces were mere inches away from each other. You looked down to his lips, your mouth salivating at the thought of kissing him and having your way with him in this elevator. You snapped back to reality, shocked at your lewd thoughts.

You pushed him away, growling softly. “Oh, shut up! Don’t try and be nice now—god what the fuck is your problem?! You—you’re so—URGH!”

You crossed your arms over your chest and shoved yourself in the corner of the elevator, breathing heavily. You were so worked up and you had no idea why. Why was he getting you so angry so easily? You dared take another glance at him and instantly regretted it. You were met with another smirk, this time wider.

“I’m what?” Ushijima asked, stepping closer to you.

You shook your head, a lump forming in your throat. You didn’t trust yourself to speak, least you say something you’d regret. You instinctively backed further into the corner, looking anywhere but him. You could feel him looming over you--his eyes boring down into you. You shifted your stance, feeling suddenly small and heated. Why…why were you so heated?

“I’m. What?” he repeated, smirking a bit. He stepped even closer to you, tracing your jaw with a finger and tipping your chin up to look at him. “Look at me,” he ordered.

Your eyes flicked up to him, his words making your core throb. You cursed yourself for deciding not to wear underwear, feeling your wetness drip down your thigh. You examined his features, your eyes tracing over his eyes, then his lips. You wanted to kiss him so bad…to feel his warmth on you and his cock in you. Subconsciously, you puffed your chest out to show off your cleavage. You noticed his eyes trail down to your chest, then trail back up, stopping at your lips.

“Truly, you’re such an infuriating woman,” he admitted, cupping the back of your neck and placing his lips on yours before you could respond.

You stood there, shocked, but quickly kissed him back. His hands trailed down to your waist, pulling your hips flush against his. You let out a small gasp as you felt his hardness against you, the movement of your lips allowing Ushijima to slip in his tongue. He pulled you closer, his large hands settling on your ass, the fabric of your dress barely guarding you from his warmth. Ushijima squeezed your ass, pulling you even closer.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful…” Ushijima murmured against your lips.

Your eyes flickered up to his, your hands trailing down his chest and to his belt. He watched you fumble with the buckle and helped you pull his trousers down. His bulge seemed bigger now that he was only covered with his boxer briefs. You stroked his length through his boxers and palmed him, eliciting a soft groan from Ushijima. God, you really didn’t want to get dirty in an elevator, but at this point, your cunt was practically begging for it.

Ushijima grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away from his crotch and swiftly picking you up. He gripped your thighs and pinned you up against the elevator wall, his lips attaching to your neck. He sucked on the sensitive spot on your neck, earning a small moan from you. The position you were in caused your dress to hike up your thighs, your pretty pussy on display for Ushijima. He trailed his fingers down over your folds.

“You’re so wet already,” he mumbled, pecking your lips. “All this for my cock?”

You huffed, your chest puffing out again. “Well what if it was?” you asked, pursing your lips.

Ushijima let out a deep chuckle, pushing past your folds and softly circling over your clit. Your hips bucked up and you moaned, throwing your head back. His lips attached to your neck once more, adding a bit more pressure to your clit.

“U-Ushijima, please…” you whined, rolling your hips up. “The elevators can be fixed at any--!” You were interrupted by a loud moan as Ushijima eased his cock inside you.

Ushijima was a tall man, his features larger than most, but you hadn’t expected his cock to be this big. As he pushed himself deeper inside you, you felt every inch of his cock stretch you out. You gripped his biceps, your nails digging into the fabric of his white pressed shirt. He thrust into you, picking up a hard pace. With each thrust, he buried himself deeper inside you until your clit met his pelvis each time. He was pounding into you, the lewd noises of your sopping cunt and his balls slapping against each other filling the room.

Your puffy walls clenched around him as your orgasm built in your abdomen. If Ushijima kept up this pace, you’d surely come undone soon. He adjusted his stance, snapping his hips into you at a different angle and hitting your g-spot. You screamed out his name, nails raking down his arms.

“F-Fuck, I’m close,” Ushijima breathed against your neck, thrusting into you harder.

You bit his shoulder, a scream coming out of your lips as your walls fluttered around his cock. You desperately tried to hold on a bit longer, but the pressure in your abdomen was too much, causing you to squirt on his cock. Ushijima thrust a few more times, cuming inside you. He stilled his hips as he painted your walls white and breathed heavily.

You tilt your head back against the cold metal wall, your legs trembling and your breathing labored. “Fuck,” you let out, chuckling. “The minute you pull out and set me on this floor, your cum is gonna drip down my leg…”

Ushijima let out a chuckle and pulled out. “I have a handkerchief in my pocket,” he said, adjusting his trousers and buckling his belt once more.

You shifted, feeling his cum start to travel down your thigh and grabbed his handkerchief. You quickly cleaned yourself up and jolted as the elevator began to move once more. You looked at Ushijima, smiling as you watched him fix his tie.

Maybe you didn’t hate him as much as you thought.

You rest your head lazily on your palm and let your potions partner do all the work. You watched with sleepy eyes as they dropped in the rose thorns, then peppermint. They looked more than happy, eager even, to be putting this potion together. Your potions partner’s eyes had a sheen of focus to them, practically glittering as they slipped in the powdered moonstone and stirred. The liquid gradually turned into a pearly color. It was beautiful, you had to admit, but you wanted to stay far, far away.

At least, that was your plan before you heard Slughorn going station to station asking students to take a whiff and describe its smell. You groaned as he bounced over to your station, eyes locking with yours. 

“Not a fan, eh?” Slughorn asked, practically chuckling to himself. “What do you smell, Y/N?”

“Nothing,” you answered blankly.

He shook his head, grinning like a fool. “You can’t smell the potion from there. Scoot closer and then tell me.”

You obliged with great disdain. Your partner moved out of the way a fraction, allowing you to bend towards the milky liquid and take a quick whiff.

You hadn’t expected the smell to be so strong. Leather burned your nose, a metallic scent–galleons–lingering after. At the base of it all, something crisp and tart. You huffed. What a load of shit.

“Leather, galleons, and green apple,” you answered finally, disinterest lacing every word. 

Professor Slughorn chuckled, but thankfully moved his attention to your potions partner. Not long after, he dismissed the class, and you couldn’t have gathered your stuff and fled faster. You were on your way to your common rooms when you felt someone yank on our robe. You turned toward your potions partner, eyebrows knit with irritation. 

“Pansy is going to kill you,” she said in a sing-songy voice. 

You rolled your eyes. “And why would she do that?”

Your partner dawned a disinterested look. “‘Leather. Galleons. Green apple,’” she recited, doing a horrible impression of you. 

You looked at her, face blank. “This tells me nothing.”

She playfully shoved your arm. “That’s Draco.”

You pursed your lips. “Wrong. I just like money.”

Your partner rolled her eyes. “You’re helpless. You’ll see what I’m talking about.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes. The rest of the walk to the common rooms was silent. You just wanted sleep, wanted to forget about that horrible, horrible potions class. Unfortunately, you didn’t make it to your common room before some Slytherin boys ran into you and your partner. They were rough housing, shoving and pulling each other down. Light blonde hair popped into view, its owner swaggering after the idiots. 

“Crabbe, Goyle,” Draco called after the brutes. 

You didn’t pay attention to what he said after, didn’t notice that he had looked at you with disgust when he passed by. No, you only noticed the cologne he wore that had faded throughout the day – or was that his natural scent? 

Now you had an out. Each step you took down the aisle was one step closer to getting out. The wedding cloak Robb wrapped around your shoulders solidified your freedom from this hell, you barely noticed his disinterest. Almost. It became increasingly evident throughout the night, though. Alone at the wedding table, Robb looked at everything but you. His attention was everywhere but the woman beside him. No, it seemed to be on that woman sitting all alone in the back of the room. Talisa, you’d heard the maids whisper. Robb’s lover he’d given up to secure his men’s passage across your father’s lands. She was beautiful, with a kind smile and sad eyes. She must be in love with Robb, too. 

You sighed deeply beside your disinterested husband. You could never hope to be as beautiful as Talisa. You could never hope to captivate Robb the way she did. Reality slowly dawned on you. Had you traded one hell for another? The food in front of you suddenly smelled sour and your stomach twisted into a knot. No, it wouldn’t be hell, it would just be lonely. Robb was a good man and had no ill intent. He’d leave you alone and dedicate his time to his home, his people. You would be fine.

“You look like you’re at a funeral, not a wedding,” Robb said, his gaze remaining forward.

You should’ve smiled, should’ve done your duties as a lady to reassure a man – your husband. Your lips remained downturned. “She’s beautiful. You must be very sad to give her up.”

Beside you, Robb remained the picture of regalness. “I intend to keep my vows. I am a man of honor.”

“If you say so, I will believe you.” You pushed the peas on your plate with a fork. “Will I be lonely?”

The silence stretched on for too long. Off to the corner, a few of your brothers guffawed, mouths full of ale and half chewed food.  “I cannot lie to you,” Robb finally answered. “It is possible.”

You tried to keep the tears that stung your eyes at bay. Perhaps your new future wasn’t a comparable hell to the one you were leaving, but it certainly was a form of hell. You looked forward, looking at your brothers and sisters instead of Talisa. You needed to remind yourself why this arraignment was good, even if it would only last mere seconds. 

From the corner of your eye, you saw your father push away his plate and take a long swig from his cup. Everyone else in the room noticed the same movements and in response banged their fists against the tables. With a hand raised, the banging stopped and your father spoke.

He looked at your new husband with a sternness. “The septon has prayed his prayers, some words were said, and Your Grace has wrapped my daughter in a cloak.” Your father ran his gaze across the room, addressing the audience. “But they are not yet man and wife. A sword needs a sheath.”

Laughter erupted through the room, your father joining them. Robb stilled beside you, shoulders tense and eyes hardening. Your stomach roiled at your father’s next words, though you weren’t exactly sure why.

 “And a wedding needs a bedding. What does my sire say?”

The guests, most of them your kin, chanted two words in a way that made your mouth go dry. You weren’t sure what was happening, but the hungry looks from the men weren’t easing your nerves.

“To bed! To bed! To bed!” Cups banged against the table tops once more, the sour smell of ale and wine wafting towards you as they sloshed out of their hosts. The band struck a merry tune, and with the music stormed forward some of your brothers and male guests to the wedding table. A yelp escaped your lips as harsh, calloused hands hauled into the air and carried out of the room. Happy faces blurred past you on your way out and in the distance you swore you could hear Robb curse.

Your knees landed on the cold floor as the men tossed you into an empty bed chamber. Your heart beat wildly. What in the gods was happening?

The door burst open a few moments later. Women shoved Robb into the chamber in a fit of giggles and closed the door quickly. A tense silence hung in the room as you and Robb looked at each other. His breathing came quick, his eyes matching the panic you felt – and no doubt showed. 

Robb moved towards you, holding out a shaky hand in front of him. “Are you hurt?”

You looked down at your knees. “Bruised, but not bleeding.” You let Robb help you off the floor. His hand was so much larger than yours. You could feel the callouses on his hands, could feel the warmness seeping into your skin. This was the first time he touched you all night. Even during the ceremony, he was careful not to touch you. 

As soon as you’d gained your footing, Robb let you go. You tried to ignore the sudden chill on your hand, the sudden chill in your heart. 

“Do you…know why they’ve put us in here?” you asked timidly. 

Robb’s brows knit together. “You don’t know?”

His face morphed into one of horror at your confused face. “You don’t know…” he whispered, more to himself. The tips of his ears turned a deep shade of red. You followed his gaze to the bed. “It is our wedding night.”

You nodded your head slowly. “It is, Your Grace,” you said, matter of factly. 

“And,” Robb started, the redness growing to his cheeks, “on a wedding night, a marriage is consummated. Do you… Do you know how a marriage is consummated?”

You shook your head. 

Robb loosed a deep breath. “It is when a husband and wife make love –”

“--We are not in love.”

A strangled sound came from Robb’s throat. “Yes, but the act is called that.”

You shook your head again. “I do not understand. What is this act?”

“When – It’s – A man inserts his –” Robb took a deep breath. 

Seeing Robb, the King of the North, flustered and stuttering in front of you tugged at something in your chest. His whole face was red, the deep hue crawling down to his neck. You felt bad for him, but surely whatever he was trying to say wasn’t that embarrassing. 

“Why don’t you show me, Your Grace.”

Robb made a choking sound, a hand coming up to cover the bottom half of his face. “You would not be saying that if you knew.”

“It does not matter what I know, Your Grace. If this–act–needs to be done to consummate our marriage, I don’t think my knowledge will make a difference.”

“It does, your consent does,” Robb responded with exasperation. He pointed to the bed. “We are supposed to consummate our marriage there— I’m supposed to insert myself in you, spill my seed in you. That is the act.”

Your cheeks burned with realization. Your nurse had mentioned this act once, had gone into explicit detail of what happened, how it would feel—and warned you to be cautious. Why, she’d never told you. She only grumbled something about manipulative men and abandonment. Surely, though, an honorable man like Robb wouldn’t abandon you…right?

“Oh.” You wrung your fingers, fidgeting to distract yourself. “If--If that is what is required of me, then I consent.” 

Once more, a frustrated breath escaped Robb. The chair in the corner groaned loudly with Robb’s weight as he threw himself on it. His elbows propped on his knees, he buried his face in his hands. You stood there, watching him. What else were you supposed to do? The sturdy, fancy fabric strained against Robb’s broad shoulders as he breathed deeply. His brown curls rested almost haphazardly along the nape of his neck, and fell unceremoniously against his fingers. 

Robb was handsome, you couldn’t deny that. From the moment you saw him in your father’s throne room, you’d known that much. He’d barely given you a proper look, but his eyes were mesmerizing. The blues of his eyes were dark then, cloudy. Your heart squeezed a bit at the reality of the situation. True, Robb had only married you to get his men across the Fork, but you had been hopeful he’d appreciate your beauty, be excited about it. How could he, though, when his lover was far more beautiful? How could you ever compare? 

Timidly and unsure, you knelt in front of your new husband, gingerly pulling his hands away from his face. The blues of his eyes were clear now, nearly the color of the frozen north. 

“Your Grace,” you started. 

“Robb. You are my wife now.” He slid his eyes to the side, avoiding your gaze. 

Your heart fluttered at the statement, your body choosing to forget the sidelong glance. Your hands rest on his knees. “Robb,” you said slowly, testing the way it rolled off your tongue. “I know we are not in love — we have only just met. I do know that you are a kind, honorable man in both action and spirit. I trust that you’ll take care of me. I give you my body to fulfill our duties – to consummate our marriage and bear you an heir. Please, do not be afraid of our future. We both share an understanding of what this arrangement is, and I think we’ll be able to come to some sort of arrangement.”

You held his gaze as he, no doubt, searched your face for any doubt, any deception. The blue turned stormy, but the look of horror he wore slowly dissipated. You were thankful for that, thankful that his shoulders began to relax. He placed his hands over yours on his knees and held them loosely. 

“I don’t know what I did to gain your trust, but thank you. I cannot promise that we will ever be in love, but I can promise we can get to know one another.”

You took a deep breath, the fabric of the wedding dress scratching against your skin. Everything you wore was hand picked for you. You had seen the dress when you were told a few weeks ago that the arrangement had been made. Everything had been tailored for him, it seemed – no one cared what you wanted. But what was it you wanted? Not to get married to a man you didn’t know, that was for sure. The freedom to choose your own clothes and not worry about your posture. A deep sigh pushed through your lips. Such fantasies weren’t for you – the boning of the dress poking at your sides reminded you of that. 

A rustle of the bushes had you whirling to your left. No one should be here, the gardens you were in were private. So why the hell was a long leg popping out of the flowers? The leg, clothed in black, found purchase on the lush green grass and was followed by its twin. A body emerged with an oomph, back facing you. It was a man, tall and lithe but lean. His hair was the same shade as the night and rest upon his shoulders. Slowly, he turned toward you, dark brows furrowed and set atop piercing blue eyes. Your mouth parted and your heart skipped a beat.

“Who are you?” you asked, voice wavering. You knew the answer long before you asked the question, but you needed confirmation. Needed to know this wasn’t a delusion conjured by your stress. 

Slender fingers straightened the lapel of formal wear. Shoulders squared, back straightened, he answered, “Prince Loki Laufeyson.” His eyes narrowed. “I’m assuming you’re the bride.” There was a bite in his tone. 

“I am,” you answered softly. “I am your bride.”

Loki’s limbs became visibly rigid. He looked you up and down, his brow creasing. His face was a mask of indifference, but you could see his muscles loosen a fraction. Was he pleased? Suddenly, you became too aware of his too blue eyes on you. Your skin prickled and pimpled. 

“It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding,” you said, shuffling your feet. 

Loki scoffed. “As if that would make a difference. Our lives have already been decided for us,” he responded, voice dripping with acid. 

Anger bubbled in your chest. “Why are you here, Loki?”

He stepped forward, away from the bushes. He looked you over again, really, looked you over. The corner of his mouth tugged slightly as his eyes roamed over your waist and torso. “I was running away.”

You rolled your eyes, placing a hand on your hip. “Is that so? Then by all means —” you gestured to the many exits around you “—don’t let me get in your way.” You knew Loki was known for his mischievous antics, and if this was one of them, you were not in the mood. If he were telling the truth, good riddance. You were sure Loki could be a kind man and a dutiful husband, but you didn’t want a husband. Not now at least. If he ran now, he’d be sparing you both. 

Loki tilted his head to the side. “You aren’t going to stop me?”

It was your turn to scoff. “As if I have any power over a prince of Asgard.” You waved him off, walking towards the veranda attached to your room. “I do not beg. If your desire is to run, then run already.”

You heard a dry laugh from behind you, then the crunch of grass. “I think we both know that running is not a viable option. My father would find me, then drag me to the altar himself if needed. In chains if he wished.”

You huffed out a breath, annoyed by his presence. Why state the obvious? It was like rubbing salt on an open wound. Both of your futures had been decided for you. You were to wed against your protests. You leaned against a pillar, your shoulder bumping into the marble a bit harder than intended. 

“Like I said,” you drawled, “you’re free to leave.” With your back towards him, boldness bubbled in your chest. “You’d be doing us both a favor.” Secretly, you did wish he’d leave. The chains binding you together would be broken, but would they be bound to someone else? You mused over the thought. If Loki left, would they force him to come back, or would they have Thor fill his shoes? You supposed you wouldn’t mind that. Afterall, Thor was kind and warm and very handsome. But you’d certainly become a target amongst the ladies of the court. You chewed on the inside of your cheek. You didn’t want that – didn’t want marriage at all. Why couldn’t they just set you free? 

“‘Favor,’” Loki repeated, tasting the word. “And what would that favor be? Letting them walk you down the line of marriage arrangements until one sticks? Being cut off from my family – my wealth? That doesn’t sound like a favor.”

You pushed out a breath. “Your window to run is closing.”

Footsteps sounded behind you, light and calculated. “Let’s make a deal.” Your shoulders tensed, sensing the danger behind his words. He didn’t give you an opportunity to respond before he continued. “We’ll get married and explore our freedoms in this new status. Eyes won’t be on us anymore – no one will tell us what we can or can’t do. There won’t be a need for a child, Thor bears the burden to produce an heir.” Loki scoffed. “Honestly, I’m surprised they’re forcing you to wed me instead of him.” 

You pursed your lips, thinking his words over and what they implied. Freedom. You almost laughed at the word. You turned around to face Loki, stifling your surprise when your nose almost brushed against him. You looked up at him, eyes narrowed. “This version of freedom you are speaking of will paint me to be a fool. If this is your version of a compromise to something we are forced to do, then I only ask that you exercise your freedoms in private. If I wish to exercise those freedoms, I’ll do so in private, too. It’s important that there be at least some respect.” 

Loki nodded in agreement. He looked down at you, eyes grazing over your features. He lifted a hand, his knuckles brushing against your cheekbone with a softness you didn’t think Loki was capable of. Or maybe it was a disinterest you were misinterpreting as softness. “I agree to those terms.” 

He took a step back, then another. He took another good look at you, then vanished in a plume of green and black mist, as if he’d never been there in the first place. The arrangement wasn’t what you wanted, but maybe you could work with it. Maybe you’d be able to use it to your advantage. You turned back to your room and sat at the vanity. You took a good look in the mirror. You could do this. You could get through this marriage. 

He supposed he’d always taken your mouth for granted until now. He loved the way you took him in your mouth, yes, but he’d always enjoyed fucking you more. Spilling his seed within and pushing it deep inside you. But now he wanted to know what it would be like to spill himself in your mouth—on your face. Daichi shifted from foot to foot.

He casually looked over to you, to find you already looking at him. You scrunched your eyebrows, only enough for him to notice. He knew what you were asking—If he was okay. He wasn’t, but he couldn’t exactly say that. You’d probably go into a small panic and pull him to the side just to ask what was wrong. And he couldn’t exactly tell you his fantasy. Not yet at least. Daichi knew if he told you, you’d be on your knees begging for his cum. He felt his cock twitch and shifted again. He wondered if you caught on.

He practically groaned when you walked in front of him and took his hand. He was far from touch starved, but it didn’t help the way you brushed subtly against him. Neither did the small smirk on your face help when your ass pressed against his hard cock.

Reluctantly, he let you take him to a nearby table to hear the speech. It was a long speech, long enough to sedate the intense lust driving him. But then he stole one glance at you as you took a sip of water, and there it was again. His cock straining against his slacks, begging to be taken out and stroked. As he watched you lick your ruby lips, he could feel the precum spilling into his boxers.

The sound of applause drew him out of his stupor, and he clapped along with his colleagues. He shuffled along with everyone else to the reception area where music was already playing, his hands firmly placed on your hips.

“What’s got you so hard, babe?” Daichi heard you ask quietly, your head turning slightly to face him. If he hadn’t been fixated on your lips, he wouldn’t have heard you at all.

Daichi had to suppress his irritation at the question. The answer was obvious. “You.”

“Me?” You feigned confusion. “Little ol’ me? I haven’t done a thing.”

His grip on your hips tightened and he pressed himself against you. He leaned down to speak in your ear, a gesture that to others seemed innocent. “You’ve been tempting me all night with those red lips of yours.” He pressed a hard kiss against the back of your ear. He smiled as he felt a shiver roll through your body.

“It’s a nice color, isn’t it?” you mused, a smirk gracing your lips. “I wonder how it’d look smeared on your—”

Daichi guided you back towards the entrance, muttering something about an emergency to his colleagues. Of course there was no emergency, unless they counted going back to the hotel you shared for the weekend and fucking you until morning. That was his current emergency. He’d fuck your mouth first–that he knew, needed. Then he’d have you writhing beneath him as he ate you out. Daichi opened the door for you, practically pushing you inside and rushed to the driver’s side.

It only took ten minutes to reach the hotel, and then another five to get to the hotel room. It wasn’t like he was counting. Which he was. It was just he’d never been so hard before for so long. The anticipation made him more aroused as you opened the door to the room. He closed the door quickly with his foot, hastily undoing his belt and zipper. His cock was freed, a hand stroking it sensually.

“Get on your knees,” he commanded. Daichi didn’t think he’d ever been eager enough to be so dominant and commanding, but gods be damned if he was going to wait. One more look at those ruby lips and he thought he might just come undone.

Thank heavens you obeyed. He wasn’t up to the brattiness–at least not now. He stepped closer to you, the tip of his cock tracing your bottom lip. Smearing the red lipstick. Daichi groaned deeply. He wanted to see the lipstick all over your face. At the base of his fat cock.

“Open your mouth.”

He pushed his cock in your mouth slowly as you opened your mouth, another deep groan pushing from his chest. You flicked your tongue against the head of his penis and his eyes rolled back. He let you suck him off, let you bob your head up and down his thick shaft, let you tighten your cheeks as you moved. He was trying desperately to keep himself under control, but as he dug his fingers in your hair and heard you choke on him, he snapped.

His other hand tangled itself within your hair, both of his hands now on your head. He snapped his hips against your face, balls slapping against your chin and his cock hitting the back of your throat. You let out another choking sound, and he thought he might have gone too far. Until your hand gently cupped his balls and started massaging them.

Daichi was moaning now, thrusting harshly into your mouth and guiding your head to take you in with his hands. He loved this so much, loved the way your lipstick was already smearing all over your face. Loved the way your mascara ran as tears streamed down your cheeks. God, you looked like such a mess.

“That’s it, baby, you’re doing such a good job,” he praised. And you were. He could practically feel the head of his cock twitch against the back of your throat. He was going to cum soon.

He pulled himself out of you harshly, eliciting a soft whine from your lips. He pumped himself–once, twice–until his cock was twitching as he unloaded himself on your face. He watched as the cloudy liquid streamed on your face, in your open mouth. It still wasn’t enough. He let the tip of his penis rest against your bottom lip, still hard.

“You look so fucking hot,” Daichi breathed. “You’re such a good girl.”

You smiled, the action causing slight friction against his cock. “I should wear this lipstick more often.”

Daichi let out a breathy laugh. You were always so eager to please, to tease. “You’re going to get me in serious trouble one day.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief. “What?”

“I don’t have time for you. I need to focus more on my career,” was the only explanation he gave before stepping away from your door. Wishing you well, he left. He left, taking your heart with him. Your heart would always belong to him.

If it's wrong to love you

Then my heart just won't let me be right

'Cause I've drowned in you

And I won't pull through

Without you by my side

He was your first for everything: your first boyfriend, your first kiss, your first time. You choked on the memory of your first kiss, tears falling freely onto your pillow. You had loved him so much. That day, the two of you were at his house, watching this sappy romantic movie called The Wedding Planner. You were such a sucker for happy endings, crying once they finally kissed. Ushijima had tilted your face towards his, wiping your tears away with his thumb. When he asked why you were crying, you just gave a pathetic chuckle in response.

“How can I not cry at such a beautiful ending?”

Ushijima had given you a small smile in response, resting his forehead on yours. He called you a cry baby, half jokingly, and had caught your arm when you tried to playfully hit him. You looked from his grip to his face, not realizing how close he was. Without thinking, you had placed your lips on his, giving him a soft kiss. You didn’t expect him to return the kiss, moving his hand from your wrist to your waist. The two of you couldn’t stop kissing after that. You went home that night with swollen lips.

You didn’t bother wiping away your tears. There was no point. You were sure you would be crying the whole weekend. Your heart was just too broken. He left you, just like nothing. All for volleyball. How could you gather yourself without him by your side?

I'd give my all to have

Just one more night with you

I'd risk my life to feel

Your body next to mine

'Cause I can't go on

Living in the memory of our song

I'd give my all for your love tonight

The only thing you wanted was to feel Ushijima’s arms around you. His warmth never failed to comfort you. The bed now seemed too big without him by your side. You stretched out your arm to the empty side of the bed reserved for Ushijima. Though he rarely slept over, the sheets never failed to smell like him or radiate his warmth. But tonight, they were cold and foreign and the air around you smelt stale.

Another sob racked through your body, your wails bouncing off the walls of your small room. You sat up, choking on your saliva. You needed Ushijima. You needed him to comfort you, to tell you everything was okay. Though, you knew you would never see him in person again. Once his mind was made up, he rarely changed it. The thought of calling him crossed your mind, but what good would that be? You would only embarrass yourself... Your turned towards your night stand, looking for your phone. Fuck it, you thought.

Baby can you feel me

Imagining I'm looking in your eyes

I can see you clearly

Vividly emblazoned in my mind

And yet you're so far

Like a distant star

I'm wishing on tonight

Through your tears, you saw a picture of the two of you from high school. You gently picked it up, reminiscing in the memory. Your fingers traced the features of your beloved’s face, circling around his eyes. You loved his eyes. He wasn’t an expressive person, but his eyes always gave him away. His dark olive eyes were fixed on you, watching you break down. You bent over once more, the weight of your sadness pushing you down. The cool glass touched your forehead, reminding you what was in your hands.

Rage suddenly over came you. You threw the picture against the wall screaming, glass flying all over the floor. How could you not have realized the distance between the two of you sooner? For weeks Ushijima had not come over, volleyball consuming every part of his day. You rarely had time to see him and when you did, it was over facetime.

Deep down, you understood why he chose to break up with you, but you were sure you could’ve worked it out. You could’ve gotten married and shared your life together. You could’ve given birth to strong sons. Now, all that seemed like a delusional fantasy...

I'd give my all to have

Just one more night with you

I'd risk my life to feel

Your body next to mine

'Cause I can't go on

Living in the memory of our song

I'd give my all for your love tonight

From the corner of your eye, you spotted your phone. If Ushijima had time to come over and break up with you, surely he had time to come back, or at least talk with you on the phone. Swallowing your pride, you dialed his number, each ring a stab in the chest. Finally, he answered.

“Hello.”

“Toshi-” you choked out. There was a lot of background noise coming through the phone. You could make out the sound of balls being hit and bouncing on the floor. “I- ...please come over. Let’s just talk this out.”

You heard him sigh on the other end. He started saying something, but then the signal cut out. The the call dropped.